Story:

And alongside the Astonian knights stood their new allies:

Ranks of dark elven assassins, hooded and silent, led by their leader Velmira—

And beyond them the Nomad cavalry in their desert silks, curved sabers sheathed, banners snapping under the command of Sultan Selim.

The combined host was something substantial, and every soul on the inspection ground knew it. This was no longer a border uprising. This was an army ready to take the war to its next stage.

Velmira spoke from beneath her hood, softly, to no one but Gideon's ear: "The campaign will cost blood, my lord. The empire's garrisons are not soft."

"Every reclamation costs blood," said Marina from the shadows, unasked. "The question is whose."

"Ours to spend," said Sultan Selim easily, from his saddle at the flank, smiling his wolf's smile.

"And I have never seen a cause where the spending looked so likely to be repaid. Alexandria, my lord—" he swept his hand toward the north with the whole gesture of a man pointing at a golden plate, "—is the richest city on the continent. Lead us to it."