Chapter 11: The Last Front
After three days of hard riding, they finally reached the city’s portal network to reach the northern part of the empire.
A shimmer of blue light swallowed them, and by the end of the next day’s ride,
"We’ve arrived," the carriage rider said flatly, the first and only words he had spoken the entire trip. Baines didn’t care. He had spent years in silence. What were a few more days?
Before them stood a massive fortress; its towering double doors were wide open, a steady stream of people moving in and out.
After a short word with the guards, they were allowed to pass. This was the Last Front.
One would think this place would be in current danger or only see the army moving around in hurry or dreary, however it was anything but.
In fact, it looked more like a thriving border town. Markets bustled with activity. Children laughed as they played in the snow, hurling it at one another. Women carried baskets. Soldiers lounged about, some training, some drinking, and others simply watching it all with quiet disinterest.
The only thing truly remarkable about the place, besides the fortress, was the cold. Ice clung to everything: rooftops, carts, and uniforms.
’This?’ This is what Vole called dangerous? Baines wondered. He had expected tension in the air, urgent alarms, and walls under siege. Not... this.
However, he said nothing and kept a watchful eye as they moved past a second set of gates.
Then, it hit him immediately.