For most of Silverymoon's people, everything that had happened yesterday had felt like a dream.
Solam's arrival had initially checked the Black Orcs' offensive, and their supplies had been burned. At first, almost everyone had thought this damned siege would finally be over. After all, even the most ignorant person knew that no army could keep fighting without food.
The residents of Silverymoon, who had spent more than a month in constant fear, finally breathed a sigh of relief.
But that relief lasted only until the next morning, when those damned Black Orcs launched another attack—one fiercer and crueler than before.
In less than two days, Silverymoon had once again been driven to the edge of the cliff!
This situation was even more dire than any before it. Silverymoon's residents could see Black Orcs climbing onto the walls just by looking through their windows. At the time, many pessimistically believed that Silverymoon's doom was inevitable.
Many began offering their final prayers. The men picked up crude swords and knives, hoping to protect their wives and daughters before destruction arrived. They knew it would be useless, but they could think of no better course of action.
The resilient and courageous nature of the North would not allow its men to kneel on the ground and watch those monsters violate and slaughter their wives and children. They would be the last line.
The women hid their children in concealed cellars, clutching kitchen knives or scissors as they anxiously awaited the final moment. They did not know what they could do to avoid that unimaginable fate. All they could do was seize whatever weapons they could find to protect their vulnerable selves—or end their own lives at the last moment.
At that moment, the entire city had sunk into a tragic, desperate gloom.