December 25th, 1193 of the Bright Era, approximately 7:20 AM.
At the same moment the vanguard led by Visdon set off, Rus's squad was already in position, lying in ambush near a hill not far from the Scorpion Nest.
The wind had carved a narrow slit along the crest of the hill. When the wind howled, its speed was so fierce that even pebbles couldn't remain perched. Yet now, two pairs of eyes peered through the crevice.
One pair was pitch-black—belonging to Margaret.
The other, of course, was Rus's. His eyes were dry from prolonged focus, but he never looked away from the Scorpion Nest's gate.
"Baron, you should take a break," said Vlav, approaching from behind with a waterskin. "You've been staring for over three hours!"
Rus took a sip, then passed it back. He trusted his judgment. That trust made him all the more determined not to miss even the smallest detail.
