The City of Nortis stood like an iron fortress guarding the only major passage from the Western part of the Duchy to the Eastern side.
Thick silver-gray walls protected it. Towers were positioned at regular intervals, armed with archers and ancient engines of war. Nortis was a blockade, a shield that prevented any hostile army from marching straight to the capital and the Main Ducal Estate.
And now this very city was under attack.
If Nortis fell, the roads would open like a wounded artery. The enemy could march without resistance, and the Duchy would be thrown into chaos. Eastern territory would crumble. Villages would burn. There would be no stopping the catastrophe.
A horn blasted from the highest tower.
Bhoooo!
Soldiers ran through the streets, putting on armor, grabbing weapons, rushing toward the fortress walls. The city bells rang wildly, shaking windows and rattling hearts.
At the gates, the first line of defenders arrived just in time to see the horror approaching.
