The Black Vanguard.

Ten days later.

The clang of metal echoed like a thousand hammered thumbs against a massive metal pot. Men yelled, their voices hoarse from a day of shouting orders over the din. Sweat dripped freely, leaving salty tracks on sunburnt faces.

The western edge of Azkai burned with relentless energy, a beehive of activity fueled by fear and desperate hope, and most importantly—money.

Here, under a sky as white and unforgiving as a bleached bone, a wall was rising. Ten days in, and the darn thing already stretched as far as the eye could see, a black stone serpent slithering across the dusty plains.

It wasn't done yet, not by a long shot. Forty feet tall it was supposed to be, this wall, a barrier to keep the beasts out. Right now, it looked more like a grumpy teenager, all gangly and with a long way to grow.