The Performance on the City Wall

Short and stout, Viscount Krick stood atop the towering city wall, his face tense with panic. His round eyes stayed fixed on the north, anxiety written all over his face.

Not long before, a vast fleet laden with grain had sailed out of the harbor in that direction. It was carrying supplies to the Duchy Army.

Blackwater City's gates were shut tight. Below the wall, a group of cavalry patrolled back and forth.

The riders clearly belonged to Victor's army. They shouted up at the wall, their voices ringing out: "Blackwater City! Surrender now, or you'll die!"

They kept shooting arrows at the defenders, too, but by the time the arrows reached the top of the wall, they had lost most of their force.

Blackwater City's walls were simply too high and sturdy for ordinary arrows to pose much of a threat.

Gaita hurried to Viscount Krick's side. "Governor, please leave the wall!

Those Northern barbarians down there are shooting arrows at us. You might get hurt!"

Fear showed on Viscount Krick's face, and sweat covered his forehead. He wiped it away but shook his head. "No. I have to see the fleet catch fire with my own eyes before I leave. Otherwise, I won't be at ease!"

Gaita could do nothing but stand beside Viscount Krick and wait.

Not far behind them, two officers who appeared to be battalion commanders were whispering to each other.

One stared at his companion in astonishment. "I can't believe it! Viscount Krick, who's always been scared of his own shadow, actually dared come up onto the wall! Isn't he afraid an arrow from the Northern Frontier Rebels might hit him?"

The other was just as surprised. "I know. I always thought Krick only used his noble status to profit from smuggling and shady