In the city of Whitefall, the weather was also unusually warm for the winter season.
That day, at the city's barracks—which were infinitely inferior to those of Goldenveil—a thousand men stood assembled in tight formation.
Before them stood Alistair Vaelor, their Leader. A golden Lord who had already slain many of his peers.
Over the past few months, aware of how rapidly Goldenveil was growing, Whitefall had refused to fall behind.
Alistair had forced the two vassal villages to join Whitefall, attacked three other neighboring villages, and personally led the assaults on more than five goblin camps. As a result, Whitefall's population had swelled to nearly nine thousand.
From those nine thousand, he had recruited a thousand guards and organized a militia of two thousand soldiers.
With such a force at his disposal, he was fully confident that Ethan would never stand a chance against him.
"How is their training progressing?" Alistair asked.
