Two and a half weeks had passed since the League's host had first coiled around the Bastion, worming itself and cutting off any link the force inside may have had with their prince. .
For the defenders, it was a pleasingly boring time, at least so it was for those without a bow or a sling in hand, all they did was wait, while of course sharpening blades and watching the horizon all they wished musing about what shapes the clouds had.
But for the men of the hour?A great deal of work they had, for it was theirs task to bid welcome to every soul that dared approach the ditch with a barrow of dirt.
There were many who were owed such a greeting , and the Bastion's stores of ash-wood and lead were more than sufficient to go around.
