ATTACK - III
The sound of marching filled the cold morning air, steady and unrelenting a rhythmic drumming of thousands of feet pressing down into the earth.
It was not the sound of a simple army on the move, but a force that carried intent.
Men in armor, bearing banners of crimson, gold, and black, moved in tight columns, their shields strapped to their arms, spears pointed skyward like a forest of deadly thorns.
Kael rode near the front of the vanguard, the thunder of his horse's hooves a comforting companion as he surveyed the horizon ahead.
To his right, Alexander kept pace, his face set with an expression of quiet confidence.
"Listen to that," Alexander muttered, a half-smile on his face. "That's the sound of men who know what's coming."
Kael didn't answer immediately.
He could hear it too beyond the clattering of armor and creak of leather saddles, there were whispers among the ranks.