Inside the soundproofed chamber, the irritating noise did not stop.
Instead, it intensified. It grew louder, closer.
What began as a muffled commotion sharpened into distinct, decipherable sounds: the high-pitched shrieks of terror, the wailing of won and children.
Then ca the unmistakable, tallic clash of steel biting into steel, followed by the heavy, rhythmic thud of sothing massive battering against solid wood.
The mistress curled in his arms was the first to realize sothing was horribly wrong. The blood drained from her face. She shrank back, shivering violently against his chest, her voice trembling.
"My lord... what is that sound?"
Roger's mood was completely pulverized. Every drop of his desire evaporated, replaced instantly by a blazing, indignant fury.
He shoved the woman aside and vaulted from the soft velvet mattress. His heavy fra shook with rage as he haphazardly threw a silk noble's robe over his shoulders. Barefoot and cursing, he stord toward the heavy door of the bedchamber.
"Who is it?!" he roared as he marched. "Who is it?! Guards!!!"
"Who dares to make such a racket in my castle?! I'll have them strung up on the battlents by their entrails!"
He fully intended to drag whoever was responsible out by their hair and whip them bloody.
But when Roger Lege shoved open the heavy oak door leading to the main hall, the sight before him froze the blood in his veins.
The hall was a portrait of absolute devastation. Servants were sprinting in every direction like headless flies, knocking over heavy iron candelabras and overturning oak tables.
A handful of guards were frantically trying to force the heavy double doors leading to the outer ward closed, but the sheer crush of panicked smallfolk fleeing into the hall made it impossible to shut the heavy timber.
His white-haired steward crawled and scrambled across the floor, throwing himself at Roger's feet. The old man's face was a ss of snot and tears, his voice shuddering uncontrollably.
"My lord! Disaster!"
"An... an... an army has breached the city!"
"There are so many! And... and your lady wife is missing too!!!"
"It's complete chaos out there—"
The words hacked into Roger Lege's mind like a butcher's cleaver. A wave of intense vertigo washed over him, making the room spin. He nearly collapsed.
In a single instant, his monuntal arrogance and unshakable confidence were shattered into a million pieces. His mind went entirely blank.
How is this possible? It's impossible! It must be a lie!!!
He reached down, grabbing the old steward by the collar of his tunic, and hauled him upward, spitting rage into his face. "LIES!!! THIS IS A LIE!!!"
"I'LL KILL YOU ALL!!!"
A mont ago, he had been savoring chilled wine in a warm bed. Now, the freezing water of reality had been dumped over his head, chilling him to the marrow.
The ruddy, wine-flushed color in his cheeks vanished, leaving his face the color of a fresh corpse.
He refused to believe it. Yet the chaos was unfolding right before his eyes. But how did Solomon and House Deddings do this?! Why were there no scout reports?!
Suddenly, a squire completely drenched in blood violently shoved his way through the hysterical crowd at the door and stumbled toward him.
Seeing Roger, the squire looked as though he had found his savior. "My lord! We're lost!" he scread, his voice thick with the copper stench of blood.
"The enemy! The enemy army is in the city!"
Roger's lips trembled uncontrollably. His hands lost their strength, dropping the old steward to the floor. For a long second, his throat worked but produced no sound. Finally, he managed to choke out a few ragged words: "Impossible! Impossible?!"
"Where did they co from?! How did they get in?! Why was there no warning?!!!"
The squire fell to his knees, gasping for breath, and pointed a shaking finger toward the east. "The water... they ca down the water..."
"It's Solomon's army... they... they've already taken the outer gates..."
Solomon.
The na struck like a thunderbolt, splitting Roger's chaotic consciousness in two. The last remnants of his wine-soaked stupor vanished. Beads of freezing sweat rolled down his forehead.
How could this be?! He actually dared! But why was there no movent, no mobilization reports?! Where did I miscalculate?!!!
Roger let out a primal, terrified roar. He spun on his heel and sprinted back the way he ca. He burst into the luxurious bedchamber and violently yanked his terrified, naked mistress from the sheets.
He scread at her to move, then turned his head toward the corridor, bellowing until his throat tore. "Quickly! With !"
"GUARDS!!! MY GUARDS!!! WHERE IN THE SEVEN HELLS ARE YOU!!!"
He furiously dragged on his trousers and a linen shirt, abandoning any thought of donning his armor.
Summoned by his frantic roars, just over a hundred of his personal guards finally managed to rally. They were the last organized ard force left in the inner keep, and sheer terror was written plainly across their faces.
As Roger dragged his mistress toward the deepest, most fortified core of the citadel, he scread over his shoulder. "Fall back! Everyone rally in the inner keep!"
"Quickly! Shut the inner gates! Now!"
The guards and surviving servants bolted after their lord, who was dragging a naked woman by the arm. Not a single man had the presence of mind or the desire to ogle her; they were all fleeing like frightened birds before a storm.
Finally, the agonizing, tallic shriek of the heavy iron portcullis echoed through the stone as it plumted downward.
The massive drawbridge was cranked upward, severing the stone path that crossed the inner moat.
At last, the colossal, iron-banded oak doors of the citadel were slamd shut, and several thick timber beams were dropped into place.
The booming thud of the doors closing instantly severed the deafening roars of slaughter and the wailing from the outer city. It was as if the world had suddenly gone quiet.
Roger pressed his back against the freezing wood of the door, gasping for air like a drowning man. His legs turned to jelly, and he slowly slid down the door, barely able to keep himself upright.
He looked around. The small, claustrophobic courtyard of the inner keep was packed with just over a hundred shell-shocked guards.
Scattered among them were a few disheveled minor nobles and a dozen servants who had managed to squeeze through in ti.
His wife and his brother, Ser Gyles, were nowhere to be seen.
Roger Lege's fleshy body began to tremble uncontrollably.
He looked down at his mistress. She was clinging to his arm, completely naked, shivering like a leaf in the winter wind. A wave of profound, irrational revulsion washed over him.
He suddenly rembered his own words from five days ago, sitting in the high hall, sneering at his vassals: "He doesn't have the stomach for it."
Now, the enemy was standing in his city. In his ho.
The mistress buried her face against his arm, sobbing openly. "My lord... are we going to die?"
"I don't want to die! Please, I don't want to die!!!"
Roger didn't say a word. He violently shoved the naked woman away, forcing himself to stand straight, desperately trying to summon the last shreds of his lordly authority. "Listen to my orders!"
His voice was hoarse, yet it carried the stubborn, cornered desperation of a cornered rat.
"Hold the inner keep to the last man!! If anyone so much as whispers the word 'surrender'... I will gut him myself!!"
"Gather every scrap of food and ration it strictly!! Distribute every weapon we have!!!"
The woman looked up, realizing Roger was pointing directly at her. She opened her mouth to cry out his na, but the words that left his lips were so utterly ruthless they froze her soul.
"This woman! If you fight bravely and hold these walls... you can have her every night! She belongs to the guards!"
Ignoring the woman's sudden, despairing wail, he turned sharply to his squire.
"Go!!! Send the ravens!!! Send for my son and the vassals! Now!!!"
Now that he was temporarily safe behind impenetrable stone, the fog of panic began to lift, and his tactical mind reasserted itself. He stopped the squire.
"Wait!! Tell my son not to march here alone!! Tell him to mobilize the entire domain! Gather all the vassals, and then march to relieve the siege!!!"
Roger Lege clenched his fists so tightly his nails dug into his palms. Solomon can't have many n! He absolutely won't dare to storm the inner walls! I still have a chance! As long as my son gathers the host and traps them against my walls... the Black Lion is a dead man!!!
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