The gates of Eppen stood unguarded as if the city itself had already given up the will to resist.
Ryntum's vanguard passed through without slowing.
Their presence causes arguments in the streets to die mid-sentence. Raised fists froze in the air. Merchants stop haggling over passage, refugees stop shouting at dock officials, and soldiers stop brawling over rations.
Every sound collapsed into a suffocating silence the moment the army appeared.
Boots struck stone, rifles rested against shoulders and banners bearing Ryntum's sigil fluttered in the air.
There was no need to announce themselves. No one in Eppen failed to recognise them.
Everyone's eyes were wide open in horror.
In an instant, panic erupts like a dam breaking.
Crates were abandoned. Carts overturned as horses bolted in terror. Coins spilled across the ground.
People screamed, collided, fell, and scrambled back to their feet, fleeing in every direction at once.
"Ryntum! It's Ryntum!"
