"Broadstone, I suppose," Verdant eventually concluded. "Though it does look rather empty."
Even from a distance, one could see the lack of defenders, though the fog did what it could to obscure their efforts in that regard, it was slowly being beaten back by the small smidgen of sunlight that came from up above.
It was the quietness too that came with a strong hint of oddness. The wind filled their ears, naturally, but if an army was camped nearby, there ought to be signs of it. Smoke in the air, or noises carried along towards them. The clanging of steel, as the camp smiths repaired armour and weapons. Yet there was nothing.
The army steamed ahead, pushing Oliver now, as the General found himself growing wary. Their morale was still as high as it could be. They were itching to turn their weapons on someone. At the moment, it was only the snow that they had to contend with as a foe.
