Brandille turned his back on his comrades, began to inton a song, and hopped off to the west. Towards where, on the horizon, Fort Kronk rose like a mirage on the high, dark cliffs of the Dragon's Backbone.

Brandille turned his back on his comrades, began to inton a song, and hopped off to the west. Towards where, on the horizon, Fort Kronk rose like a mirage on the high, dark cliffs of the Dragon's Backbone.

{{Couillard}}

{{Couillard}}

Belenor, who was striving to follow in the footsteps of the soldier ahead of him, sighed and looked up for a few moments. The troop was walking across an imposing root bridge about ten metres wide, which allowed them to cross a long crevasse. Going around it would have lengthened the end of the journey by two hours. On the horizon, Fort Kronk seemed so close and yet so far away. For a long time, this fortress had been designated as the last inhabited area of the known world, where the maps became mute. Beyond it, there was nothing more than a sea of dunes stretching westwards into infinity. The fort had been built in the broken bend of the Dragon's Backbone, where the continental plateau met the mountainous root barrier and the immense cliffs to the south, which separated the Desert from the Wide Puddle. The crack in which the Fyros had settled was very similar to the one that hosted the city of Fyre. But unlike the imperial capital, which had expanded and consolidated decade after decade, the fortress at the end of the world had never been anything more than a fort, as its name so aptly indicated. A fort that, as soon as it was built, became object of covetousness and source of conflict. To this day, no one was able to say who was really behind its construction, so many different tribes had fought to possess it. The huge, rugged plain between Fort Kronk and the Desert of Fire was considered the largest battlefield in the country. Never had so many Fyros died as in front of Fort Kronk, as evidenced by the number of weapons and pieces of armour from all eras that the strong winds managed to dredge up daily. The last battle, only a few months old, had pitted the Dune Riders tribe against the short-lived coalition formed by the Tears of the Dragon. It is on this occasion that Tigriron, the father of Melkiar, the commander of the coalition, succeeded in recapturing the fortress from their long-time enemies. Enough, thus, to supply the desert plain with more swords. At this moment, perched on the imposing root bridge, Belenor feared that a new torrent of air from the depths would raise a storm of sawdust… and blades. But there were worse things than blades in this desert of a hundred perils. There were the gigantic and magnificent purplish thistles that covered the Backbone at Fort Kronk, and whose imposing thorns were regularly torn off by the violence of the winds. The Fyros thought back of Eurixus, killed a few hours earlier by one of these thorns, and shook his head.

Belenor, who was striving to follow in the footsteps of the soldier ahead of him, sighed and looked up for a few moments. The troop was walking across an imposing root bridge about ten metres wide, which allowed them to cross a long crevasse. Going around it would have lengthened the end of the journey by two hours. On the horizon, Fort Kronk seemed so close and yet so far away. For a long time, this fortress had been designated as the last inhabited area of the known world, where the maps became mute. Beyond it, there was nothing more than a sea of dunes stretching westwards into infinity. The fort had been built in the broken bend of the Dragon's Backbone, where the continental plateau met the mountainous root barrier and the immense cliffs to the south, which separated the Desert from the Wide Puddle. The crack in which the Fyros had settled was very similar to the one that hosted the city of Fyre. But unlike the imperial capital, which had expanded and consolidated decade after decade, the fortress at the end of the world had never been anything more than a fort, as its name so aptly indicated. A fort that, as soon as it was built, became object of covetousness and source of conflict. To this day, no one was able to say who was really behind its construction, so many different tribes had fought to possess it. The huge, rugged plain between Fort Kronk and the Desert of Fire was considered the largest battlefield in the country. Never had so many Fyros died as in front of Fort Kronk, as evidenced by the number of weapons and pieces of armour from all eras that the strong winds managed to dredge up daily. The last battle, only a few months old, had pitted the Dune Riders tribe against the short-lived coalition formed by the Tears of the Dragon. It is on this occasion that Tigriron, the father of Melkiar, the commander of the coalition, succeeded in recapturing the fortress from their long-time enemies. Enough, thus, to supply the desert plain with more swords. At this moment, perched on the imposing root bridge, Belenor feared that a new torrent of air from the depths would raise a storm of sawdust… and blades. But there were worse things than blades in this desert of a hundred perils. There were the gigantic and magnificent purplish thistles that covered the Backbone at Fort Kronk, and whose imposing thorns were regularly torn off by the violence of the winds. The Fyros thought back of Eurixus, killed a few hours earlier by one of these thorns, and shook his head.

:''"Homins! To the west!"'' shouted Tisse, who was watching the surroundings from the area secured by Xynala.

:''"Homins! To the west!"'' shouted Tisse, who was watching the surroundings from the area secured by Xynala.

:''"Soldiers, do not weaken! We are better equipped and trained than they are. No matter how many of them there are, as long as you follow what we have learned, nothing will happen to us!"

:''"Soldiers, do not weaken! We are better equipped and trained than they are. No matter how many of them there are, as long as you follow what we have learned, nothing will happen to us!"