The sun had just risen when the refugee camp at Qingfeng Town fell into turmoil.
Soldiers with long spears drawn in a line aggressively drove the refugees out of their tents, forcing them to assemble in the open space.
Peter Black and Peter Fisher were among them.
Bard stood on the cart in front of the open space, waiting for the refugees to gather.
In his hand, he held a flagpole. There was no flag on it, but rather it was covered with a burlap sack.
The shabbily dressed refugees stood silently, their bellies gnawing with hunger, utterly exhausted, their eyes numb.
Seeing that all the people in the camp had been brought over, Bard leveled the flagpole and slowly removed the burlap sack covering its top.
The refugees couldn't help but gasp softly.
The dirty coarse burlap was torn away.
A large emblem made of gold shone brilliantly in the sunlight.
Twelve pigeon egg-sized rubies were intricately inlaid on the emblem, reflecting a captivating halo.