Nefarian's wings sliced through the clouds as the wind howled in their ears.
Tristan gripped the leather handle of the saddle, forcing himself to acclimate to the high-altitude air currents and focus his attention on the land below.
South of the Royal Capital, an invisible line stretched across the land.
To the south of the line were the territories in the central and southern parts of Sword Tooth Province that had joined the alliance. The fields were a patchwork of varying shades of green, proof that life was slowly returning.
To the north of the line, it was a different scene entirely. The land was a vast expanse of withered yellow, punctuated only by a few desperate patches of green.
"My lord, look."
Tristan pointed into the distance, toward the domain of the Marquis of Minas Hill.
Velin had Nefarian descend to a lower altitude.
