'I'm tired of this.'
'Tired of what, Your Majesty?'
The king waved his hand vaguely at the burning city beyond. 'This.'
'The siege?' The Lord Marshal had watched it progress, slowly but surely, for three months now. The hordes of the dead had scarcely seemed a threat, ambling around outside the imposing stones of Kaldir's Wall. Now Kaldir's wall was full of breaches and the lower city was aflame. No one had accounted for the undead engineers and their clunking machinery.
'Can't you make it go away?' the King said, frowning at the great plumes of smoke that blotted out the stars and the rising embers that replaced them.
The Lord Marshal regarded his lord. Had he lost his mind?
'I'm afraid not, Your Majesty. As our numbers dwindle, the enemy's grows. We cannot risk further sallies. We must be firm in our resolve and use what advantages we have left to us.'
'Oh,' said the King. 'Bother.'
'Balthar's Wall still stands strong. Their assaults wash against it and our own siege weapons have kept theirs at bay, for now.'
'Uh.'
'Furthermore, our mages are hard at work devising new wards to repel the dead from the walls and, with hope, from the city entirely.'
'I see.'
'I'm am glad to be of service, Your Majesty.'
The King was silent for a moment. The creak of the wind carried a distant scream.
'Lord Marshal?'
'Yes, Your Majesty?'
'So… exactly when will the hunting be back on? It's just that summer's around the corner.'
The Lord Marshal ground his jaw but forced himself to smile.
'As soon as we're able, Your Majesty.'
Paddy Dobson
12th October 2020