On the Eve of a Great Battle

At last, after approximately four hours, the royal army arrived at the empty plains outside the north city gate.

"Worchester is in front."

Seen from afar, the great and mighty army was like a piece of black sail on the yellow ground, looking extremely bright under the fiery sun. They had halted about a mile away from Worchester, and the commanding general, who was leading them on his horse, turned around to nod at Grant as he gave his report in a reverent and respectful manner.

The red and white flags above their heads fluttered in the wind; there were duplicates of crosses embroidered on every one of them.

"The Runic Defense Technique…" Grant, in the long robes of a Pope and sitting on a horse fitted with a silver shaffron, gazed at Worchester. His eyes slowly narrowed.