The order was not announced with shouts or the beating of war drums. It descended in silence and precisely because of that, the entire northern region felt it like cold seeping into the bones.
Security was expanded all the way to Zelthar's outermost borders.
Not only the city gates. Not only the castle.
The frozen forests once thought untouchable were now marked with the tracks of iron boots. Rivers locked in ice were guarded on both banks, Zelthar's scouts blending seamlessly with the shadows of blackened trees. Ancient paths unused for centuries remnants of ancestral war routes were opened once more, marked by old runes pulsing faintly beneath the snow.
At night, torches were lit in long, unbroken lines along the boundary, forming a wall of light. The flames did not warm they marked the edge of death. Anyone who crossed without permission would be deemed an enemy.
The guardian runes were activated.
