Night fell, and the raiders took off from the foundry. Every man who was capable of bearing arms and sworn into the brotherhood found themselves gliding through the snow and headed towards a single direction.
The gates of Elysium were always manned by somebody, patrols frequently walked among its lanes. The change of the guards happened at exact intervals, and overlapped in perfect synchronization.
But tonight, the snow-covered streets of Elysium were far from empty. Dean stood on his balcony, gazing through his FPV drone. It was one of several sent to scout the perimeter.
He could see the heat signatures of the Elysian Militia walking through the streets, weapons in hand. They had each been assigned a sector of defense and trained towards those purpose.
Ultimately, their job was to assist the hoplites in the event of an attack, which Dean was certain would come tonight or the night after.
