Noon in Highgarden never truly scorched the skin. The winds from the southern plains always blew low, carrying the sweet scent of ripening wheat across the battlements. But today, that coolness seemed to evaporate. The atmosphere felt dry and stifling.
Alistair Solari paced along the outer walls. Clack... clack... The rhythmic echo of his boots on the marble stone resounded. His aura pulsed, radiating like ripples of heat over a desert. Every soldier he passed instantly stiffened their back, their hands trembling slightly as they gripped their spears. His presence wasn't merely an inspection; he was flaunting Highgarden's last set of fangs.
"Archers on the eastern tower. Add two more squads," Alistair said flatly. Each word fell with an unyielding weight.
