The night did not belong to silence anymore.
It belonged to marching feet.
From the hill above the western road, Nathan watched Norihiro's army advance beneath a long line of torchlight. The soldiers moved through the darkness in disciplined ranks, their armor reflecting faint orange flashes whenever the flames shifted in the wind. Spears rose above them in countless dark points. Horses carried officers along the sides of the column, while supply carts groaned under the weight of food, arrows, and medical equipment.
Three thousand men.
Perhaps slightly fewer after the guards Norihiro had left behind in Minami Kyoto.
But still enough to turn the road into a river of iron.
Nathan stood hidden among the trees with Yukihime beside him. They had climbed the hill before midnight, choosing a position that gave them a clear view of the road without exposing themselves to Norihiro's scouts.
Below, Norihiro himself rode near the front.
