The sound came first.
Dry.
Rhythmic.
Hundreds of hooves crushing wet earth as the long formation advanced through the narrow roads carved through the middle of the forest.
The morning mist still lingered low between the gigantic trees.
The high branches blocked entire fragments of the sky while golden beams of light cut through the vegetation in narrow lines over the march.
No soldier spoke.
The silence advanced alongside them.
Heavy.
Disciplined.
As if even the sound of their own armor had been domesticated through years of training.
Black banners moved slowly above the formation.
Waving together with the cold morning wind.
And at the center of the standards—
the spiraled dragon coiled around the astral core marked by the crescent moon and the ancient stars.
The horses advanced without hurry.
Without disorder.
Without the common chaos of armies on the move.
Everything followed a precise rhythm.
Calculated.
Like gears moving through the forest.
The black armor reflected the fragments of light cutting through the trees.
On the soldiers' chests—
the dragon symbol remained engraved across dark plates marked by discreet metallic details.
Long rifles were attached to the saddles throughout the formation.
Dark metal.
The stocks marked by old scratches from use while short blades and military knives remained fastened to the soldiers' belts and legs.
No unnecessary ornamentation.
The entire unit seemed built for a single function.
Advance.
At the front of the march—
A woman with short, disheveled silver hair guided the black horse without showing the slightest hurry.
The dark military coat fell heavily over the saddle.
Black furs covered her shoulders while golden details ran discreetly through the dark fabric of the uniform.
The right side of her face remained partially hidden beneath the mechanical structure attached by small bronze gears.
And the artificial red eye silently reflected the beams of light crossing the forest.
The Higan Saber rested at her waist.
Motionless.
Like a tool of execution.
Her eyes scanned the road ahead while the formation continued marching behind her.
Men trying to hide their own fear as they advanced toward things human beings would normally avoid.
The wind crossed the open road between the trees.
Ekaterina spoke without altering the rhythm of the march:
"How long have we been advancing?"
Her voice came out calm.
Almost casual.
But it immediately cut through the formation's silence.
"Seven days."
The answer came beside her.
Low.
Clear.
Ekaterina's artificial red eye moved slowly.
The woman riding the white horse remained a few meters to the right of the main road.
Her posture remained upright.
White garments moved softly with the cold morning wind.
Red bands crossed the pale fabric like ancient ceremonial markings.
Unlike the black armor of the formation—
she looked closer to a priestess walking toward a ritual…
than to a woman marching to war.
Dark hair adorned with small red points moving softly with the wind.
Her silver-gray eyes remained fixed on the road ahead.
As if observing something beyond the forest itself.
"We'll reach the army soon."
Her voice came out calm.
Without hesitation.
Like someone merely confirming something inevitable.
Ekaterina watched the woman for a few seconds.
A small smile partially crossed the visible side of her face.
"Lady Sèsinmè..."
The red eye turned forward again.
"I don't recall receiving orders saying you would be part of this march."
Sèsinmè remained silent.
The white horse continued advancing beside her while beams of light slowly pierced the mist between the trees.
Then she answered:
"Some paths require presence."
Her silver-gray eyes remained turned toward the road ahead.
"Especially those destined to end in blood."
Ekaterina's small smile grew by a fragment.
The artificial red eye slowly followed the forest around them.
"Fascinating."
Her fingers subtly adjusted the dark reins.
"I've always admired those capable of seeing beyond the surface of things."
A brief pause.
"Ordinary men rarely notice what has already begun destroying them."
The leather of the saddles creaked softly as the march continued through the narrow road.
Golden beams crossed the branches above them.
"Which makes your presence even more curious, Lady Sèsinmè."
Fragments of light slid across the metallic structure attached to Ekaterina's face.
"Those capable of seeing paths rarely agree to follow the will of others."
A brief pause.
"Especially when kingdoms begin moving around them."
Sèsinmè remained silent for a few seconds.
The wind slowly moved the small red points attached to her dark hair.
"Paths can also converge."
Her eyes slowly lifted toward the mist suspended between the branches.
"Even those that should never have met."
Her voice came out low.
Distant.
Like someone merely acknowledging something inevitable.
Ekaterina watched the woman beside her without slowing the horse's pace.
The small smile remained.
"Convergence usually requires mutual interest."
Her fingers slowly slid over the dark reins.
"Especially when it involves men like the Lord of Vhaelor."
Somewhere deep in the forest—
a bird abruptly took flight between the high branches.
The forest swallowed the sounds again soon after.
Leaving only the rhythmic advance of the march between the trees.
Sèsinmè finally looked away from the road.
For the first time—
resting her eyes on Ekaterina.
"Every path demands offerings."
Her voice remained calm.
Without hostility.
Only awareness.
"And I believe yours demanded more than most."
The hooves crushed shallow puddles scattered along the narrow road.
Dark water spread across mud and roots.
"Especially once men started being treated like weapons."
Ekaterina's small smile slowly faded until it disappeared.
The red eye remained motionless on Sèsinmè.
Like someone recalculating something invisible.
Her voice passed calmly through the rhythmic sound of the march:
"Morality rarely survives war for very long."
The light briefly vanished between the branches above them.
"And the men who insist on it usually disappear along with it."
The damp scent of the forest began mixing with distant smoke.
Sèsinmè turned her gaze forward again.
"Maybe that's why..."
The white horse slowly began moving a few meters ahead of the formation.
"so many men begin dying long before war reaches their bodies."
"And so many kingdoms rot before they even fall."
Ekaterina watched Sèsinmè move ahead of the formation.
Her fingers lightly adjusted the reins.
The black horse slowed almost involuntarily.
The wind crossed the narrow road soon after.
And with it—
the smell of smoke finally began reaching the forest.
Distant.
But unmistakable.
Then the sound finally reached them.
Muffled.
Metallic.
Strong enough to make some horses stir beneath the reins.
Ekaterina raised a hand.
The entire formation slowed almost instantly.
Hooves crushed wet mud.
Metal chains swayed softly between the saddles.
Until the march came to a complete halt.
Only the sound of hooves still crossed the narrow road.
This time—
no one seemed willing to say a single word.
Ekaterina slowly pulled the black horse's reins.
Turning toward the formation behind her.
Hundreds of figures remained motionless beneath the dark standards.
Young.
Disciplined.
Trying to hide their discomfort while the distant smell of smoke and blood finally began reaching them.
The artificial red eye scanned the line of soldiers.
Calculating.
Observing.
Measuring who still controlled their own breathing.
"We're approaching the war line."
Her voice came out low.
Calm.
But it crossed the entire formation effortlessly.
No man looked away.
"And unlike those dying ahead..."
Ekaterina's hand lowered toward the revolver attached beside the saddle.
The dark metal of the Taurus RT838 briefly reflected the light cutting through the trees.
"You carry something this era still does not fully understand."
Some soldiers involuntarily moved their eyes toward their own rifles.
She noticed immediately.
The slight movement of hands.
Rigid jaws.
Breathing forcibly controlled.
"Remember this before we cross the rest of this forest."
Her fingers rested on the revolver.
Firm.
"Weapons do not compensate for unstable hands."
No man moved.
"Fear exists for every one of you."
The red eye slowly crossed the formation.
"The difference between surviving or dying..."
A brief pause.
"is discovering whether it controls your hands before the first shot."
No one answered.
But several soldiers straightened their posture almost at the same instant.
Others subtly tightened the reins trying to hide the trembling in their fingers.
In the distance—
another blast crossed the forest.
Stronger now.
Closer.
Some horses stirred again.
Ekaterina did not look away from the formation.
"No one fires without direct orders."
"No one abandons position."
Her voice remained exactly the same.
No rise in tone.
No apparent threat.
Which only worsened the weight of the words.
"And any man who compromises this unit..."
The red eye slowly crossed the younger soldiers.
"will answer for it before the enemy even has the chance to."
No sound crossed the formation after those words.
Because they all understood exactly what that meant.
A faint trace crossed the visible corner of Ekaterina's mouth.
Not humor.
Resignation.
Like someone who had already watched men die that way far too many times.
"Courage tends to disappear quickly once war finally looks back."
The wind slowly crossed the forest.
Mixing smoke into the damp air.
"After that..."
Her fingers lightly adjusted the reins.
"discipline decides who keeps breathing."
She slowly turned the horse.
Ahead—
the trees were beginning to thin beneath the growing smoke.
And Sèsinmè remained motionless a few meters ahead.
Silently observing the horizon.
Ekaterina lightly pressed the reins.
The black horse began advancing again.
Behind her—
the formation resumed the march beneath a different weight now.
Like men finally beginning to understand where they were being led.
The hooves crossed the final stretches of wet mud while the forest slowly began opening before them.
The light grew stronger between the ancient trunks.
The smell of smoke became thicker.
Hotter.
And as they advanced—
war stopped existing only as sound.
Now it could be felt.
In the vibrations crossing the ground.
In the muffled roars echoing between the trees.
In the screams abruptly cut off in the distance.
Ekaterina slowly guided the black horse until it stopped beside Sèsinmè.
The forest line ended at a vast rise of dark earth and exposed roots.
And below them—
the plains opened as far as the eyes could reach.
Vast.
Marked by deep scars cutting through the territory.
Colossal walls of dark stone cut across the region like scars raised from the earth itself.
Fortresses rose along the defensive structures.
Watchtowers overlooked entire kilometers of plains while enormous reinforced gates controlled the only passages wide enough to move armies.
Even from that distance—
it was impossible not to understand the importance of that place.
Whoever controlled that wall controlled the flow of the northern borders.
Roads.
Supplies.
Military movement.
The very speed of war.
Below, the battle consumed the plains.
Thousands of men advanced through the mud beneath banners torn by wind and blood.
Infantry lines collided violently against one another while mounted formations tore through the flanks at brutal speed.
Arrows crossed the gray sky in dark waves.
Horses fell.
Men disappeared beneath the mud crushed by the continuous advance of the formations.
The sound reached the rise with delay—
Screams.
War drums.
Everything fused into a single brutal mass of distant noise.
The pressure of war could be felt through the ground beneath the horses.
Behind them—
the hundred soldiers remained motionless.
Silent.
Because for the first time they could see what until now had existed only in Ekaterina's words.
The true scale of war.
The artificial red eye remained fixed on the field below.
Analytical.
Cold.
Like someone observing not a tragedy—
but an inevitable calculation.
Beside her—
Sèsinmè watched the field like someone watching paths finally converging before her.
Neither of them spoke immediately.
Because some landscapes needed no introduction.