Chapter 99: The Marching Vanguard
Ethan relit a torch and moved steadily for the dungeon exit. Squeezing through the narrow limestone fissure, he extinguished the flame against the damp rock face before stepping out into the open air of the Megiddo foothills.
The lowlands below were choked in a colossal wall of white dust. Through the heavy haze, a deep, rhythmic rattle vibrated right through the soles of his boots—the dry, mechanical screech of metal grinding hard against unyielding earth.
Ethan pulled the tattered linen of his Medjay disguise tighter over his head, blending his silhouette into the jagged shadow of the ridge face. He remained completely motionless, watching the horizon.
Through the shifting screens of powder, the vanguard emerged. It wasn't a sprawling grand army of the republic, but a compact shock force that march with intent.
Row after row of newly forged, heavy iron chariots cut through the parched valley floor. With the ongoing regional bronze shortage choking out traditional armorers, the Canaanite commanders had clearly invested heavily in the new metallurgy of the north. The dark, unpolished iron wheels ran in flawless, terrifying lockstep, their massive rims pulverizing the limestone tracks.
The valley floor was severely parched, the earth baked into hard, pale clay that offered no resistance to the grinding wheels. Yet, the legendary "waters of Megiddo" still clung to a desperate reality; the Kishon riverbed was a trench of cracked mud, but tiny, sluggish streams and shallow, oil-filmed puddles still trickled through the deepest rifts. The boiling sun turned these final remnants of water into shimmering heat waves, serving only to generate the massive dust trail that masked the army's true size.
They were moving with singular purpose, steering completely clear of the upper mountain trails. Ethan tracked the line of their spears through the dust cloud until the rear-guard began to clear the ridge bottleneck, marching steadily down the plains toward Taanach, by the waters of Megiddo.
Ethan let out a quiet breath behind his linen wrappings, his eyes narrowing as the dust kicked up by the supply wagons began to settle.
Distinctive blue-and-silver banners clutched by riders on premium horses marked the rear flank—Merlion Guild. Flanking them were vanguard outriders sporting the sharp crimson-and-gold trim of Orchard Apex, while a heavy infantry block carrying thick tower shields bore the deep-sea green accents of Sentosa Vanguard. The high-tier corporate players were out in full force, their avatars gleaming with specialized faction armor as they kept pace with the Canaanite regular troops.
Every rotation of those dark, unpolished iron wheels was a rang out with the sound of a new revolution. Ethan felt the weight of his own pack, where the heavy, green-patinated bronze scales he had stripped from the wardens pressed hard against his spine. A metallurgy transition was happening right in front of him.
The soft, elegant glint of old-world bronze was starting to be replaced by readily available iron. With the tin shortage, and rumours of raiders from the sea, bronze .
A new war is starting... Ethan contemplated, imagining what this small force could mean to market prices.
He needed find out more.
Waiting until the heavy crunch of the iron wheels finally faded into the distance, Ethan gathered his gear and retook the higher, isolated ridge paths leading back toward the fortified city gates of Megiddo.