The march toward the northeastern border was a grueling, agonizing descent into a frozen hell. For four relentless weeks, the Violet Thunder Vanguard crawled through the churning, waist-deep mud of the eastern provinces. The monsoon rains never ceased, beating against the profound-steel armor of the infantry with the deafening, continuous roar of a collapsing waterfall. The heavy, iron-scaled drakes pulling the command carriages strained against their yokes, their massive claws gouging deep trenches into the flooded roads.
Alaric rode in the supply carriage positioned exactly twenty yards behind Noble Consort Cui Yulan's mobile fortress. The physical proximity was the cornerstone of his psychological siege. Throughout the torturous weeks of travel, Alaric did not rest. He utilized his Archmage perception to map the intricate, fluctuating defensive arrays surrounding her carriage.
