Meanwhile, at Golden Scale Port in Field Territory, after three long months of siege and increasingly fierce bombardment over the past month, the end had finally come.
The once wealthy, bustling port was now a sight of utter devastation, like the carcass of some giant beast gnawed clean until only its skeleton remained. The towering city walls had collapsed in many places, exposing the scorched districts beyond and ruins that still trailed wisps of smoke.
The heavy artillery Duke Schmidt had assembled roared without cease, pouring death and fire into the city day and night. It ravaged the defenders' already-low morale and meager stockpiles of supplies. Hunger, disease, and despair spread among the rebels and trapped civilians like an invisible plague.
Luo Yao and Fatis stood upon the shattered terrace of the Governor's Office, looking out at the endless besieging camps beyond the city, their banners snapping in the wind, and farther still, the warships cruising across the sea like shark fins, flying the banners of the Schmidt Family and Carnford. Their faces were ashen; in their eyes remained only the madness of men driven to the end of the road, and the numbness of those on the brink of death.
"We have enough food for five days at most. The gunpowder is nearly gone. The wounded have no medicine. Deserters flee every day, and even executing the ones we catch on the spot does nothing." Fatis's voice was dry. The ambition and composure he had possessed when he opened the gates were long gone, leaving only profound regret and fear.
He had thought that siding with Luo Yao and offering up Golden Scale Port would earn him wealth and glory—perhaps even allow him to carve out a domain of his own. He had never expected the Schmidt father and