Anfey stood on the outskirts of the city and watched the army approaching. The closer the army got, the more intimidating it was. It was a cavalry unit, and the riders all had the same armor and weapons. Even their horses appeared similar. The only man in different armor was the one in front, his silver gear a stark contrast with the black riders behind him.
An army was not a place to show off. Everyone knew that the fastest way to victory was to take down the head of the army. A leader would make himself a moving target if he dressed in such an eye-catching way. This man was either a fool or was powerful enough to know that no one would try to target him.
