The icy night wind swept through the valley like a knife slicing across faces.
Vaerik led his troops onto a small path leading to Clear Feather Ridge.
The mountain road was narrow, with vertical rock walls on both sides, just wide enough for single-file passage.
Horses could no longer proceed, so everyone dismounted and forcefully pulled their reins, walking forward one after another in line.
"This... how can there be a mountain road here?" John panted, looking down at the deep valley below his feet, his scalp tingling. "It's not marked on the map at all."
"Probably an old smuggling route," Vaerik replied casually, his expression calm. "An old hunter told me about it."
He didn't explain further and continued leading the troops forward.
Behind them, Bond silently observed the advancing column.
He was an envoy sent by the Governor, nominally there to provide military advice, but actually to supervise whether nobles were paying lip service or betraying the Empire.
