The tides surged through the night, shadows looming over the edges of the dyke.
A group of knights held their breath, cloaked in gray capes, lurking in the shadows.
But all around was quiet, with no signs of impending war.
"Are they really coming?" a young knight asked, unable to hold back.
Eliot furrowed his brow: "Stay quiet; Lord Louis said they would come, and they will."
Then he turned and asked his adjutant in a low voice, "Have the timber and barrels of oil been moved?"
"Everything has been moved, except for some old wooden racks. Let them burn those, it's fine."
Eliot nodded, reassured, and continued to stare at the black water.
Before long, a loud "boom" tore through the night.
A deep-sea giant fish, over ten meters long, driven by a swarm of fish-men, suddenly rammed into the dyke.
Wooden stakes trembled, mud splashed skyward, and the droplets landed like an arrow shower.
