The night was quiet under the moonlight.
Thick black clouds occasionally concealed the moonlight, then let it shine through, brushing the advancing knights with sheets of light like a brush.
The summer night was shorter than expected.
The horses' mouths were gagged, dim lanterns swayed at the saddles, with only the sound of wind and the subtle clatter of hooves in the night air.
Standing on horseback, lifting the beak-shaped visor, Alaric widened his eyes, peering into the distance.
The torchlight and campfire, like beans, were starkly visible in the dark, illuminating the chest walls and cylindrical barriers below the torches.
On the barrier, a red-black flag representing the Holy Alliance fluttered in the wind.
"Stop!"
Alaric whispered.
Like a lamenting horn echoing in the wind, it was then that the advancing blood knights halted.
Alaric concentrated on observing ahead, feeling relieved only when there was no movement.
