Togashi Hoshi stood in a high place overlooking North Wall City. Behind him in a loose array stood the Tattooed Monks, their tattoos brilliant in the early morning sun. Nearby a lone Hitomi woman checked and rechecked her daisho, while two Mirumoto spoke together in low voices.
The son of the Dragon nodded once, and all around him rose his banners as the forces of the Dragon began their attack. In that moment, those with the the eye of the falcon could see clusters of banners rising in other locations on the perimeter, and one in the center of North Wall City itself. It was like dropping a pebble into a bowl of water. The ripples spread outward from the center to the walls, and as the Dragon army converged on the city the bowl was shaken, and the pattern became more complex.
With a single stroke, the outlying border forces and checkpoints had been eliminated by fanatical Hitomi, determined to cleanse their family’s name with their own blood, so there was little to stop the Dragons’ approach. But those in the city fought with desperation, knowing that a quick death would be the only mercy shown them, and the final outcome was still uncertain.
It does not matter. There is no turning back.
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