At the same time, somewhere in the Autumn Kingdom, more precisely in the Duchy of Ferel.
In the Duchy of Ferel, the atmosphere buzzed with frenzied activity. Men and women, dressed in mismatched armor and wielding weapons of varying shapes and sizes, hurriedly gathered in the main courtyard. Horses neighed and stamped their hooves impatiently, as wagons laden with supplies creaked under the weight.
Blaire, the Duchess of Ferel, paced back and forth, her brow furrowed with worry. She fidgeted with the edges of her cloak, feeling the weight of responsibility on her shoulders. "Hurry up, we don't have all day!" she called out, her voice tinged with urgency.
Sir Allister, a seasoned warrior with a grizzled beard, stood at the forefront of the troops. His weathered face bore the scars of battles fought and won. He bellowed orders, his voice rough like gravel. "Form up, you lot! We need to get this show on the road. No time to waste!"