Chapter 332 - 328 - The Empires Teeth
The trees rustled faintly at the edge of Le Pont Noir, a shallow valley split by a long-frozen stream and bordered on both sides by hills thick with pine and snowfall.
The fog hung like smoke, and the white silence was shattered only by the muffled grind of distant boots and the occasional clink of armor adjusting under fur-lined cloaks.
Winter is not a time to wage war, but Romanus at least was prepared for it, having lost no forces due to the environment itself the entire campaign so far.
Julius stood atop the central ridge, where his forward command had been established — not in a tent, but exposed on a makeshift wooden dais surrounded by raised stone and a half-circle of sharpened stakes.
His Iron Cavalry waited in silence behind him, their horses breathing mist, their weapons unsheathed.
Before them, stretching beyond the frozen ridgelines, was the corridor.
Their corridor.
And today, it would be sealed in blood, while removing defenders that would prevent further land grabs once the spring thaw comes and their troops can march at peak efficiency, while Francia is troubled by Elheats advance from the south, along with the Marines invasions of the West.
"Positioning complete,"
Sabellus reported, dismounting beside the command dais.
His cloak was streaked with frost, but his eyes burned with clarity.
"Are the flanks concealed?"