The warhorses trotted through the meadow without encountering any resistance. Then they galloped through the woods, and the Golden Roc Fort camp that was at the entrance of the valley came into sight.
The swordsmen were arranged in groups of four to five, with the Dragon King at the forefront. A weapon carrier was behind him while the others following closely behind him. They were carrying a makeshift Black Blood Flag that was made from long robes.
The warhorses neighed with uneasiness. They were heavily breathing as their hooves dug deep into the ground and loosened the soil. They were fully rested and were waiting for their owners to loosen the reins for them to run wild.
The machetemen had been binge drinking for two days. In this remote and backward place, they could only find enjoyment from drinking superb wines. The enemy was far away, so why not enjoy themselves a little?