The cold wind grew even more piercing, the fluttering flag clapping against the metal flagpole, producing a sound akin to thunder. The soldiers within the fortress were quickly mobilized under urgent orders to take up positions along the walls, sentry towers, and bunkers. A Knight clad in a deep blue short cloak ran along the entire stretch of the city wall, holding high a lance adorned with a narrow Swallowtail Flag, shouting commands as he passed. Under the increasingly dim sky, the magic symbols in the gaps of the Knight's armor traced a streak of light along the wall.
Maryland withdrew his gaze from the wall and turned to his long-time deputy, "Payne, how long before the Typhon forces reach the Palamere Highlands?"
"Within two hours," the deputy immediately replied, "if the rain doesn't start before then."
"Two hours..." Maryland frowned, "Did the scouts clearly see the specific flag and size of that Knight corps?"
