A Week Later, Midday, Forested Ridge
The sky was clear when it happened.
One of Lumberling's golden eagles gave a sharp, echoing shriek above the trees, two piercing cries followed by a circling glide.
Everyone in Duskspire stopped at once.
Lumberling's eyes snapped to the sky. His expression shifted.
He turned to his nearest elites.
"Prepare for battle."
Skitz immediately relayed the command. Aren and Gorrak began repositioning troops, weapons unsheathed in smooth, practiced motions.
"What?" Gerald frowned from the center ranks. "Is there an enemy?"
"Sengolio," Lumberling said, voice low. "Armor glint and banners match their standard. Light cavalry and infantry."
Gerald's jaw tightened. "The Sengolio army? Here?! That doesn't make sense, this is too far from the front. We should retreat now while we can!"
Some of Velric's soldiers were already murmuring nervously, gripping their spears tighter.
But Lumberling didn't flinch.
