The city gates of Wind's Breath Keep were jammed with refugees. The wooden wheels of ox carts screeched against the stone-paved road.
Peasant women clutched crying children, while the elderly stumbled forward on their walking sticks. A gray veil of fear hung over every face.
Yulgar, chieftain of the Wugu Tribe, stood beside the battlements high atop the keep, narrowing his eyes at the chaos below.
He had volunteered to Leimuster, saying that the North City Gate could be left entirely to him. In truth, he wanted to loot the treasury and then use the opportunity to break through toward the north.
Leimuster had still sent a squad of his own soldiers over to "supervise" him. Tch, a bunch of shrimp, nothing more.
"Make way! Defensive supplies have priority!"
The soldiers roughly shoved aside the refugees clogging the gates and directed cart after cart of supplies into the city. The packed refugees wailed in waves.
Wind's Breath Keep had been fully mobilized. The smithies worked through the night, sparks flying as apprentices desperately sharpened spearheads. Long lines formed outside the granaries while the clerks in charge scrambled to tally the numbers. Squads of knights went door to door requisitioning able-bodied men.
Yulgar's nostrils flared slightly as he greedily inhaled the scent of panic filling the air. This turmoil was exactly the signal he had been waiting for.
"Chieftain!" Brock panted as he climbed the steps. "The guards around the treasury have been redeployed. There probably aren't many people left inside!"
Yulgar bared his teeth, sticky saliva hanging from his fangs. He looked toward the outside of the city, where faint clouds of dust drifted in the distance. It might be the Vanguard Force of the Northwest Legion.
Even if they had arrived, Yulgar was confident he could break out with