The fortress' passage proves to be a persistent distraction from the repetitive task of shaping planks and weaving them into a bridge that occupies your men for the following days. The Illuminated, for all their official position as rulers of the Empire, are reclusive and seldom seen this far from the capital, leaving most of the administration to humans, and this has been the source of countless rumours and legends. The inconceivable nature of your experience in the shadow of that flying stronghold has reminded you all of the extent of their power, and why many provincial people go so far as to treat them like demigods.

And yet, life and work continue on unchanged, and the bridge takes shape. The entire passage feels so unrealistic, that it fades to the back of your mind, like a vivid dream, or perhaps a clear memory from some far away time, something you can recall every detail of, yet can't confidently place within the timeline of your life.

You, of course, know that this isn't the last you've seen of Imperial might, however. Your deductions are quite correct about the impending activity of war, and a scant two days after the temporary bridge is complete, an army appears on the horizon, marching straight for your camp.

It is another of those Moolyager spring days, the skies pouring endless rain upon your heads, but despite their drenched cloaks covering their usually resplendent armour, the banners and pennants hanging limp from poles, their hair sticking to their faces and the water dripping unceremoniously from their noses and ears, the Illuminated cannot help but be imposing. It's in their eyes. They don't have any, not like men or kobolds or gnolls, nor like any animal you've ever seen. What they have are orbs of light, tiny coloured stars set within their skulls, that you simply can't look straight into. They may be fair of face, and you've heard that rich women will pay fortunes for wigs of Illuminated hair that look like threaded silver or gold, but it's the eyes that distinguish the Illuminated from lesser people. It's their eyes that forces their subjects to avert their gaze.

And now, you've got nearly a hundred Illuminated Nobilites riding through your camp, followed by thousands of Legionaries and Servicemen. And they appear to be waiting for something.