“From the passes, the city of Sumbria could be seen bask-ing under a warm autumn sun, while high above the val-ley, the great mountains shone with crisp new snow. Across the valley floor, the fruit trees hung heavy with the last crops of fruit, while the fields had all been shorn into stiff mats of brittle stubble. The dense-packed carpet crunched and splintered underfoot, making infantry lurch and curse as they struggled out into the open fields.The army of Sumbria marched up through the south-...ern pass, made its way beneath the gigantic overhanging mass of rock and ice that loomed above, and thundered through into the valley like an all-destroying wave.It was unseasonable weather for an attack; an autumn campaign had been utterly unheard of for nigh on a hun-dred years. Rain might dampen bowstrings, swell the rivers, and churn the roads; snow might block the passes and bring sickness to the men. Only the most furious, impassioned warriors would stir themselves to war at such a time. Few causes couldn't wait for the long winter months to blossom bloodily into spring.Few causes-but for the foulest insult of them all.MoreLessRead More Read Less
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