The night is yet to end, snow falls incessantly. The outer walls of New Frost Halberd City resemble a silent giant beast in the wind and snow, cold and gloomy.
Before dawn, Rudolph led an almost ceremonial personal guard to the city gates.
Their armor was unstained by blood, the cavalry formation as precise as an arrow drawn, with not a step out of place.
If not for the fatigue and terror in their eyes, this group would almost seem to be returning in triumph.
Rudolph sat high on horseback, his expression stern.
After retreating from Flame Valley, to ensure a dignified entry into the city, he even used strong liquor to wipe the scorch marks and bloodstains off the armor.
This was not for dignity, but for credibility.
If even his demeanor revealed despair, then no one would believe a single word he said.
