The air was heavy , not because of the smoke from the enemy camp or because the cool winds from autumn were about to leave their last caress before winter took over.It was the tense nerves of both sides that caused the air to be still.

All understood all too well that a bloodbath was inevitable. Alpheo harbored no illusions about the significance of the forthcoming parlay; he entertained no hope that any meaningful resolution would be reached. His decision to participate had been born of curiosity rather than expectation—a desire to ascertain what, if anything, might transpire.

Alpheo was no fool; he understood the stakes all too well. He had no intention of allowing the emissaries sent by the enemy prince entry into the city, where they might spread falsehoods about the generous rewards awaiting those who would betray their own.

And so for this reason the meeting was convened in front of the gate, where archers stood vigilant atop the walls, arrows already nocked and ready in case they tried anything shady.

The Empire of Rolmia and the principalities in the south shared many commonalities: language, religion, and trade routes. Geographically close, such cultural exchanges were to be expected. However, despite these similarities, there were notable differences. Before Rolmia ascended to the status of empire, its culture bore striking resemblance to that of the princedoms. Yet, as the empire expanded through conquest, elements of the conquered territories began to permeate the conqueror's culture.

In the past, messengers were revered as sacred, protected by both divine and secular law from harm. However, as the empire grew in strength and the civil war grew more brutal, messengers became associated with one faction or another. When they delivered unwelcome news to their foes, they risked facing retribution. Unlike the Rolmians, the princes clung steadfastly to their ancestral customs, revering messengers as sacrosanct and untouchable. To harm them was to invite the wrath of both gods and men.

Still Alpheo was not of the south, so he had no interest in leaving his well-being over the shield of custom .

‘‘Good morning ‘‘Alpheo declared with a smile as behind him, rows of archers raised their bows and aimed at the man on horseback. The envoy held up a hand, a gesture of peace, and called out, his voice carrying over the distance between them. "I come as an envoy, seeking parlay.I am not man seeking to give harm , but tasked as emissary" he declared, his words echoing against the stone walls.

Alpheo's mocking smile widened at the envoy's words, "Your safety is assured as long as you don’t try anything funny" he replied, his tone calm yet resolute. "Know this: the reason you still draw breath is because I allow it, so I suggest for you to go on quickly about your business before I give the order for my men to make a hedgehog out of you."

The messenger's posture stiffened at Alpheo's words, his grip on the reins tightening as he took a deep breath to steady himself as he muttered some low breath insult about Alpheo's barbarity. Clearing his throat, he began speaking,

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"My liege seeks no bloodshed," he stated firmly, "He is interested in the city, not the lives of the men within."

Alpheo's gaze narrowed at the messenger's words, his skepticism evident in his expression. "If he is not seeking bloodshed, then he is marching in the wrong direction, my friend, is he perhapse lost?" he retorted, a wry smile playing at the corners of his lips.

Undeterred by Alpheo's sarcasm, the messenger continued this time in a higher voice "He will allow free passage to the garrison out of the city and will spare the people from a sack, provided the gate is opened before an assault is made."

"And what if we were to refuse?" Alpheo questioned, his tone laced with defiance.

"Then the gate shall be opened by force of arms, and soon it will be baptized in the blood of its citizens," the messenger replied solemnly.

Alpheo chuckled at the messenger's words, his laughter carrying a hint of defiance. "It seems to me like the only thing that will be splattered shall be your men's blood," he remarked boldly. "I suggest your prince turns back now, while he still has an army with him. This will not be the tale of his glory, but his graveyard , if he is so stubborn to keep the siege ."

The messenger's gaze remained fixed on Alpheo's face, his expression unreadable. "I have not asked before, but are you the city commander?" he inquired.

"Aye, honored to meet you " Alpheo confirmed.

"I don't recognize your banner," the messenger observed.

"It's that of the free company I lead," Alpheo explained. "I have been employed by his grace Arkawatt of house Heroine to defend the city, a task which I am very much obliged to accomplish. Perhaps after your grace's men fall beneath these walls, and my contract ends, more opportunities will flourish between us. But until then, we are enemies. We will not yield the city. If your liege desires it, he shall earn it by conquest."

The messenger sighed, his resolve faltering. "I see we have nothing more to talk about then," he conceded.

Alpheo remained silent, his expression impassive as he nodded in acknowledgment. "I bid you farewell then, mercenary," the messenger said "This city shall be your tomb."

"Or maybe it will be yours," Alpheo replied, his tone defiant. "I look forward to seeing your men fall. Farewell, emissary," he concluded, turning his horse and trotting back into the city with a smile on his lips.

As soon as Alpheo passed through the gate, his smile faded, replaced by a stern expression. He turned to Jarza with a sense of urgency in his voice. "Double the slingers on the front gate," he commanded, his tone firm. "They will try to fill the moat as soon as possible, and I want stones to rain down on their heads. Do not worry about conserving stones. We have plenty in stores, and if even one more man falls during the works, it will be an advantage for us."

Jarza nodded in understanding, his gaze shifting toward the gate they had just passed through before turning back to Alpheo. "Still, won't the enemy simply forcefully recruit peasants to do the work?" he queried, his brow furrowing in concern.

"It's precisely why Alph sent me to collect those wastes " Egil interjected. "Even if they try to force peasants to work, they'll find barren fields and no peasants to coerce into doing their dirty work. If they want the moats filled, they'll have to use their own men."

Jarza's hand met his palm with a resounding slap of realization. "Ah, that explains why you've allowed so much dead weight to waste our food stores!" he exclaimed.

"You thought I did it out of pity?" Alpheo retorted with a sardonic smile. "They are not my people, and I couldn't care less if they were to starve or be hanged. As long as the enemy dies, I would gladly impale the lot of them," he declared in a neutral tone.

"Come on now! Everyone has a task," Alpheo continued, rallying his companions. "We shall reconvene this evening for supper in my room. It has been too long since we shared a meal together," he added with a hint of nostalgia in his voice, as he wondered when would be the next time they would feel such peace...