The greenish-white sun hung high in the sky. A massive banyan tree in Alborto spread its skinny branches, casting dim shadows on the grassland. The early winter of Deiss was already freezing cold, even the land on Alborto Basin was beginning to form thin ice and frost.
On the high slopes of the south of the Basin came a loud and clear bugle call, followed by the sound of marches in orderly steps. The clamor of noises sounded like a sudden gush of mountain torrents. A fully-armed knight appeared on the high slope. He stood alone underneath the banyan tree, in his hand held an army flag. The golden lion on the flag shone brightly under the reflected rays of faint sunlight. The knight held tightly onto the rein focused on inspecting the plain land that stretched beyond his eyes.
