The icy mountain wind swept relentlessly across the broad, snow-covered plain as a single rider slowly made his way toward the formidable gates of the Supreme Citadel under a high white flag.
Every single pair of sharp eyes stationed along the high stone ramparts watched his steady progress.
The rider wore a thick silver cloak embroidered with the proud emblem of the Silver Leopard Clan, its metallic thread shimmering beneath the pale afternoon sun.
His horse moved at an unhurried, measured pace, leaving a clean trail of deep hoofprints through the untouched white snow.
High above on the towering Citadel walls, hundreds of elite Manticore archers maintained their tactical positions.
Not a single heavy bow was lowered, and not a single soldier relaxed his stance.
Captain Ronan stood directly on the cold stone battlements, his hand resting firmly on his sword hilt, with General Rowan standing silently by his side.
