They crossed into Western territory at dawn.
Killan had expected resistance at the river, but there was none.
The bridge in front of them stood intact - no sabotage, no burned timbers, no archers in the tree line. The land beyond rolled outward in muted gold hills and narrow forest breaks, deceptively gentle terrain.
Too gentle. Too quiet for his liking.
Harlan rode up alongside him as Athax's vanguard cleared the crossing.
"No scouts?" Killan asked quietly.
"They reported movement two days ago," Harlan replied. "Nothing since."
"Either they're retreating or inviting."
Killan signaled forward advance anyway.
If the Western troops were falling back, they needed to press. If they were baiting-
Killan's jaw tightened.
Then they would step carefully.
His troops moved in disciplined columns. Santi commanded the rear guard. Eir's archers staggered along the ridges to maintain sightlines. Standard procedure.
The Northmen, including their general, circled their troops.
