Clang! Clang! Clang! The massive bronze bell rang out, and the crowd outside the castle instantly converged and surged toward the gate. Armored infantrymen rushed up onto the walls, their sharp spears gleaming in the sunlight.
"Alert! Alert!" Chaos erupted atop the walls, but on closer inspection, although the heads crowding Rosgarth's ramparts appeared disorderly, every unit was swiftly taking up its combat positions. There was order amid the chaos.
"Damn, they took us for bandits!" Omsk chuckled.
"Idiot..." Marquis Al-Teglang-Franz opened his mouth, barely restraining the urge to curse this fool.
"Your Majesty, it seems the people here are extremely wary of us..." Marquis Al-Teglang-Franz said unhappily.
"Normal. This is a settlement made up of Northern Territory drifters and outcasts. It's only natural for them to be wary of outsiders." Roland shook his head. Forget Rosgarth being on high alert—even Gondor would be stunned for a few minutes if this force marched up to its gates, let alone a tiny place like Rosgarth.
"His Majesty Roland! What's going on?" Bard squeezed his way forward, frowning.
"Lord Thranduil... are your people reliable? Didn't you say the scouting rangers had notified them in advance?" Thorin turned toward Thranduil, who sat atop a towering Moon Elk, looking thoroughly amused.
"..." Thranduil's face visibly alternated between red and white as he rode the Moon Elk.
He quickly summoned an attendant and spoke to him in a low voice, clearly asking about the situation. But judging from the confused looks on both their faces, they were unlikely to figure anything out.
"Heh! Beornings? Your Majesty, we've given them far too much face! Give the order! Three minutes to breach the city, five minutes to occupy it!" Caslo had been angered into laughter by the Beornings' battle-ready stance. As far as he knew, Lion Territory