Thousands of soldiers were silently marching in the rain, in perfect unison, without a single noise. As far as the eye could see, everything was grey and white—armor, plumes, cloaks, reflecting off each other.
"Who are they?" The old soldiers on the city wall looked at each other in awe below the fortress. Such an army was clearly a formidable force, the toughest opponent on the battlefield; but could Erune still have such a powerful army, were they from Kurkoburg? Or the icy battlefield on the Northern Plateau?
Until a banner pierced through the darkness—a heraldic unicorn white lion, passing through centuries, bearing the most glorious period of this ancient kingdom, shining brightly.
"They must be significant," the captain beside him muttered to himself, turning back, "It's the White Lion Legion! The White Lion Legion has arrived, open the gate!"
"Open the gate!"
"Open the gate——!"
