In the temporary command hall in the outer city of Willow Town,
Olivier came in covered in dust, his voice tinged with the weariness and formality peculiar to a noble's steward.
"My lord, all the supplies have arrived."
Suleiman sat before the map, slowly moving his finger over an area representing the lands directly ruled by House Legg. Now that their intentions had been deliberately revealed, he was estimating how long it would take House Legg's vassals to muster.
He no longer needed supplies. Willow Town had more than enough grain stored away. But the order had already been given, and he did need someone at his side who understood noble affairs.
Without looking up, he said, "You're just in time. I need someone who knows a thing or two about noble affairs."
Olivier's gaze swept over the desk and the crumpled parchment on it. The writing was hurried and desperate. "What's this?"
Suleiman's tone was as casual as if he were discussing some trivial matter. "A surrender letter. Some people in the inner keep wrapped it around a stone and threw it out."
"The inner keep is out of food and water. They can't hold out. They want me to attack, and they'll open the gates in the chaos."
Olivier's heart skipped a beat. Didn't this mean they had won the war? He stepped forward, unable to hide the urgency in his voice. "Then why not accept their surrender? My lord, if you capture Roger Legg, this war can be over."
"If you give the order to attack, those traitors will open the gates from within. Willow Town will be entirely yours."
He looked at Suleiman's calm profile and pressed him, baffled.
"Why continue the siege without attacking?"
Suleiman finally looked up. He shook his head and pressed a