September 20th, 1733 A.D., according to the common human calendar, was still over a month away from the true winter in the Valeria Empire's official calendar. Yet Liya Tower, the military stronghold situated at the nation's northernmost frontier, had already begun feeling the approach of blizzards due to its high latitude.
Howling winds carried snowflakes deep into the knights' armor. The shrieking gales blended with the metallic clashing into a sharp, unceasing whine, like iron being hammered repeatedly beneath a forge's bellows. Occasionally, explosions from catapults and offensive spells punctuated the soundscape, forming the battlefield's unchanging symphony.
On the city walls, Lyra gently wiped her cheek with the back of her leather-gloved hand. Her long, delicate lashes glistened with tiny droplets from melted snow. Her clear, sapphire-blue eyes reflected the sunlight above, radiating a tranquil brilliance like a starlit sapphire sea.
