NOVEL WEB Chapter 138: Looming war
Chapter 138: Looming war
In the city of Confluendi, a dark mood had settled like a storm cloud. Three weeks had passed since the first whispers of defeat arrived,brought by ragged and fleeing soldiers who had barely escaped the battlefield, whose fate would be that of the chopping block as ordered by their young lord's regent.
A week later, the tension deepened into despair. The body of their fallen lord was paraded through the streets by royal envoys, a cruel display meant to hammer home the power of the crown and the consequences of defiance. The sight of their once-proud leader's lifeless form, battered and bloodied, had a profound effect on the people.
Crowds gathered in silence as the procession moved, the only sounds being the clatter of horses' hooves and the quiet murmurs of disbelief.
Yet the message was lost on the streets apparently when it was whispered that their young lord's mother had refused to send even a token envoy to congratulate her nephew on his coronation.
The tension in Confluendi thickened like a palpable force, and the people knew, without a doubt, that war was coming to them.
A state of martial law had been declared in Confluendi. The city's gates, once open to trade and travelers, were now shut tight, as if bracing for an inevitable assault. The air buzzed with the urgency of preparation. All food that could be gathered, whether from surrounding farms or hidden stores, was brought within the walls.
The granaries overflowed with sacks of grain, dried meats, and whatever else could be salvaged. Even the smallest scraps were collected, as if every crumb would be needed to survive the long, grim days ahead.
In the armories, the clang of iron echoed as weapons were distributed to the enlisted population. Old swords, rusted but serviceable, were handed to men who had never held a blade before. Bows were strung, arrows bundled, and every able-bodied citizen was pressed into service. Blacksmiths worked around the clock, hammering out nails, shields, and makeshift weapons. The city, once filled with bustling markets and the smell of fresh bread, was now consumed by the odor of iron and sweat.
Outside the city, workers toiled in desperation, digging moats to slow the enemy that the widow of their late lord believed was coming . The ground was hard, and the work grueling, but the fear of what would happen if they failed drove them forward. They carved deep trenches around the city's perimeter, fortifying their defenses with whatever they could find—spiked barricades, hastily built ramparts, anything to keep the enemy at bay for just a little longer.