The air was thick with tension as Cardinal Peter's small entourage descended into Warlord Fabian's camp.
The stark contrast between the immaculate, disciplined ranks of the Saints Cult and the chaotic sprawl of Fabian's forces was undeniable. Massive tents dotted the dusty ground, and soldiers milled about with an air of barely contained aggression.
The scent of unwashed bodies and campfires mixed unpleasantly, creating a suffocating atmosphere.
"Huuu…"
Peter walked with purpose, his pristine robes trailing behind him.
Beside him, Knight Maria followed, her jaw set in a grim line. Her presence in Fabian's camp was bound to invite scrutiny, but Peter trusted her to hold her composure. Behind them, a few Saints escorts maintained a sharp vigilance, their hands resting lightly on the pommels of their swords.
Fabian awaited them in his grand tent, a structure so gaudy it bordered on grotesque.
