The first and second legions of Goldenveil's army—10,000 men in all—left the city in a glorious march.
The streets teemed with people—men, women, and children—crowding the sidewalks and windows to watch.
Their imposing, noble armor gleamed in the sunlight, the golden details catching every ray and scattering it into dazzling sparks.
Cloaks billowed gloriously in the wind, cutting through the air like living banners, while the weight of their boots echoed for blocks on end—a steady, disciplined rhythm that made the very stone pavement tremble beneath the spectators' feet.
The people watched the march with concern, excitement, and pride.
Children dreamed of one day wearing that armor, while mothers, sisters, and wives prayed for the safe return of their sons, brothers, husbands, and fathers.
Each legion, consisting of five thousand men, was divided into ten cohorts and fifty centuries.
