The wind whipped at their cloaks, carrying the scent of pine and damp earth. Two figures, cloaked in the deep blue of the Lazican night, raced across the windswept lands. They were seasoned spies, their movements practiced and precise, their gazes sharp and alert.
They had been sent ahead of the Lazican army, tasked with gathering an update on the information about the fortress near the border, a stronghold on the edge of the old Lazican territories to the south, now occupied by the Ereian invaders.
The last information that they had in their hands was from months ago. They had to ensure that the information that they had was precisely correct or if there were changes, they could inform their allies.
"How much further?" The taller of the two, a wiry man with eyes the color of storm clouds, asked, his voice strained.