The smell of rust in Falling Rock Town was stronger than any other dusk before.
The howl of the rot-clawed wolf is still lingering at the base of the city wall, the bloody scabs of the sixteen-year-old recruits have not dried up, and the last half bag of black bread is glowing coldly on the iron plate in the kitchen - this small town on the border of the empire has long been choked by despair, and even the wind is counting down the time for it.
Until that dazzling white light hit the square...
