Three thousand clawed feet stamped at the ground in reasonable unison. It was impossible to drill true discipline into an army that had just picked up the concept not one year ago, but Rebat felt that he had done a well enough job. Three thousand helmets glittered in the blinding sun, their glare extending out for miles around them. No doubt the troops were feeling quite uncomfortable under there. Metal is said to trap heat like cloth, and scorch the wearer like fire. However, he knew for a fact that some of those helmets have deflected glancing blows from dracon spears, and one of them saved his life in battle against a Meratid, so he insisted despite complaints that his entire army would be thoroughly equipped with plate. 

Slowly, once again, the mountainous walls surrounding Hekaga rose into view. Most of the soldiers were rural folk, either living among the secluded tribes of the north or in the households of dracon slaveowners on plantations. Such majestic walls stunned most of them where they stood. Even beautiful Traeton, with its cracks filled in with gold, seemed small and decorative compared to actual walls with might and purpose. Rebat halted the army, not that he needed to. Most of them wouldn't go forth anyways. However, this is where he must make his signal. With a bow in hand, he drew one arrow from his hip. A flathead, with a red scarf tied around the shaft. He drew back the bow and loosed, letting the red signal fly upwards for all the city's garrison to see. Soon, he shall meet the Hekaga general.