The morning air hung heavy with the scent of smoke and damp earth as Asag stood motionless atop the battlements, his fingers tracing the rough edges of stone pitted by the harm of a siege. Below him, the city stirred like a wounded beast—the clang of armor being adjusted, the murmur of exhausted soldiers exchanging quiet words. His gaze swept across the enemy encampment, noting the purposeful movements that signaled fresh preparations for assault.
Then he saw it—the siege tower. A hulking monstrosity of dark timber, its surface slick with freshly treated ox hides that would resist fire and arrows alike. It stood motionless for now,like a giant that would not be bothered by ants, but its very presence sent a ripple of unease through the defenders lining the walls. Even the veterans, who had faced countless assaults without flinching, gripped their weapons tighter at the sight.
