The iron hoof tramples the dusk of Calradia.
The smoke and dust obscured the sun, and the caravan snaked through the scorched earth; the rogue bandits' scimitars flashed with cold light, robbing the remaining vitality. On the shattered territory, Nord battle axes, Swadian heavy cavalry, Kugit bowstrings, royal flags and ambitions were torn in blood and fire.
I stood on the top of the mountain, my armor covered with dust, and my gaze swept across the devastated land. In the distance, the torrent of enemy cavalry rolled across the field, and the sound of hoofbeats was like muffled thunder that shook people's hearts.
No need to say more. When the reins were tightened, the war horse neighed and swooped down like an arrow from the string! The blade of the sword was unsheathed, and a cold light suddenly appeared, pointing directly at the core of the churning smoke.
Crash! The sound of gold and iron tore through the air, and roars and wails exploded instantly. In this land cursed by dust and crown, every charge is writing a new legend of blood and fire.
So-so, so-so