Standing atop the sturdy walls that now sliced through the city of Nogart, I crossed my arms over my chest and looked out towards the plains, which were bathed in rays of glittering gold as the sun reached its zenith, signaling the remaining hours we had before the Cultists made their showing.
Perhaps they would be coming at dusk, perhaps they wouldn't show until midnight; perhaps they wouldn't show at all, since the Cultists that were stationed here might have sent a message back to Amioux or wherever else they were stationed, telling them to steer clear of Nogart no matter what.
We just had no guarantee that any of those suspicions had more merit than the other, since they could be coming for revenge, could need this area for an important ritual or just desperately need a new base of operations outside the Empire and away from the Confederation, or maybe they just had no idea that the Cultists here were dead.
