The people of Zaoging were exhausted. The war, once a distant conflict, had finally arrived, and the vibrant city now bore the scars of a brutal siege. The streets, once alive with commerce, were now choked with a quiet desperation, a fear worsened by two full days of unsettling silence from the enemy. With every tense, terrifying hour, their meager rations dwindled, and the weight of their constant losses grew heavier in their hearts. They were silent witnesses to their leaders' ambitious plots, caught in the crossfire of a kingdom that was slowly, but surely, bleeding out.
The stillness of the war had driven the people of Zaoging indoors, turning the city into a ghost town. Instead of the familiar cries of hawkers and the lively hum of commerce, the only sound that echoed through the empty streets was the sinister buzz of flies, a constant, low drone. The sound was a living testament to the decay, a gruesome hum over the rotting flesh left unburied in the open air, a grim reminder of the violence that had so recently swept through their lives.
The crisp, clean scent of autumn was utterly gone. In its place was a sweet and sickly stench that clung to the cobblestones and seeped into every alley. This was the overpowering odor of rotting flesh, a foul perfume that settled in the back of the throat and lingered on the tongue. The smell was a suffocating new reality, a grim confirmation that the deserted streets weren't just silent—the city itself was dying.
With death certain at the hands of the bandits or Batzorig's army, a new wave of whispers spread like wildfire through Zaoging. The gossip claimed the Magoli general would spare those who surrendered. Hundreds of people—those with nothing left to lose and those simply starving—decided to seize their own fate. They gathered at the south gate, their faces a mix of desperation and grim resolve, demanding that the soldiers open the gate and grant them passage to Nue-Li City. The clamor of the crowd, a sound so long absent from the streets, now swelled into an urgent, terrifying chorus of pleas.
The clash at the south gate was not one of swords and shields, but of raw desperation against cold duty. The crowd swelled, their pleas turning into a chorus of demands. "Open the gates!" they screamed, "We will not die for a hopeless cause!" They were not armed with weapons, but with the terrifying force of their numbers and their overwhelming fear. Hunger had hollowed out their faces, and their eyes, once filled with the quiet desperation of a besieged city, now blazed with a manic resolve to live.
The Gimsong soldiers, weary and underfed themselves, stood firm. They formed a tight line, their spears held horizontally to block the growing pressure of the crowd. Their faces were grim, their eyes pleading with the people they were meant to protect.
The clash at the south gate was not one of swords and shields, but of raw desperation against cold duty. The crowd swelled, their pleas turning into a chorus of demands.
"Open the gates!" they screamed, "We will not die for a hopeless cause!"
They were not armed with weapons, but with the terrifying force of their numbers and their overwhelming fear. Hunger had hollowed out their faces, and their eyes, once filled with the quiet desperation of a besieged city, now blazed with a manic resolve to live.
The Gimsong soldiers, weary and underfed themselves, stood firm. They formed a tight line, their spears held horizontally to block the growing pressure of the crowd. Their faces were grim, their eyes pleading with the people they were meant to protect.
"We have our orders!" one soldier shouted, his voice cracking. "The gates will not open!" But the people, fueled by the whisper of hope from the Magoli general, did not listen. They surged forward, a human wave crashing against the soldiers' formation.
The air filled with shouts, the thud of bodies pushing against shields, and the clatter of armor as the soldiers tried to hold the line, their duty now to imprison the very people they were sworn to defend.
"Let us out!" The people chanted in unison, their voices no longer scattered pleas but a single, powerful demand. The sheer force of their collective will, combined with the press of their bodies, began to push the soldiers back, inch by agonizing inch, toward the locked gate. The soldiers braced themselves, their boots scraping against the cobblestones, as they struggled to hold the line against the desperate human wave.
A woman surged forward, her face etched with desperation. She grabbed onto the shaft of a soldier's spear and pleaded, "You can't lock us in here. It's our free will to leave and go! My children are hungry; we have nothing to eat!"
"Yes, if you keep us inside, we will die of hunger in the next two days," a man shouted, putting his shoulder against a soldier and pushing him back.
"We want to leave!" another bellowed, shoving a different soldier with all his might. "If the Magoli Eastern General give us death, then let us die in Nue-Li instead of here!"
Standing on the city wall, a jar of wine in his hand, Xang watched the chaos unfolding beneath him at the city gate. He listened to the desperate chanting and the screaming of the citizens with a weary detachment. With a final gulp, he emptied the jar and let it fall. The empty wine jar slammed into the street with a loud bang, shattering into a hundred pieces. The sudden, violent noise sliced through the clamor, and the people fell silent, their eyes now fixed on the ominous figure above them.
The crowd below was still and silent, their eyes fixed on Xang. He took a slow breath, his voice cutting through the tension with a cold, clear authority that carried to the back of the crowd.
"Look at you," he began, his voice devoid of emotion. "Starving, panicked, and ready to turn on the very men sworn to defend you. This is exactly what the enemy wants. They didn't retreat. They didn't pull back their siege engines. They have a brilliant strategist on their side, and he knows that a starving, frightened population will do their work for them. He wants you to believe you have a choice. He wants you to believe that if you break down the gates, you will find safety."
He leaned forward slightly, his next words a chilling promise. "The enemy below isn't waiting for the city to surrender. They are waiting for you to tear each other apart. They are waiting for the people who claim to love this city to destroy it from the inside, so they don't have to risk a single one of their own men. So, I will not say this again: step away from the gate. If you have any will to live, you will get back to your homes and allow these soldiers to do their job. Because the moment this gate opens, you will find only death, not safety."
"What does he know about being hungry?" a man yelled from the back of the crowd. "He stands up there, fat and full, talking about strategy! We'll be dead in two days!"
A woman clutched her son tightly. "He speaks of tearing the city apart from the inside, but our children's stomachs are already tearing us apart. If the Magoli general shows mercy, it's a chance we have to take!"
"We're going to die no matter what," another man screamed, his voice raw. "Here, we die slow from hunger. At least at the hands of the enemy, it would be quick. Let us out! We've made our choice!"
"If that is what you have decided, there is nothing I could do, but I can't open this gate without the general's permission," Xang said, his voice as steady as stone. "If you want to leave, you will have to wait."
"Why do we need to wait!" a man shouted from the crowd, his voice raw with frustration. The chant began again, hundreds of voices swelling into a single, desperate chorus.
Xang watched the chaos resume, his words already lost to the wave of desperation. He had tried to appeal to their reason, but starvation had stripped them of it. Their fear was too strong, their hope in a rumor too fierce. He knew he could order his soldiers to disperse them with force, but it would only create more dead bodies and more chaos. There was only one person who could make a decision this grave. Without another word, Xang turned away from the railing, walked down the stone stairwell, and began walking toward the main city keep. He would seek permission from General Xue to open the southern gate.
From their vantage point on a small hill, Payam and Koorush watched the silent, stoic city. The vast army of the Zasra stretched out behind them, a silent sea of tents and banners. The two days of waiting had been a cruel weapon, and a satisfied smile played on Payam's lips as he considered the psychological turmoil he had caused. He knew that behind those silent walls, chaos was now brewing, a desperate clock ticking down to zero.
Just as Payam was about to speak, a soldier came running, his breath ragged, and handed a small piece of paper to him. Payam unfolded the paper, his eyes scanning the contents. A slow, satisfied laugh rumbled in his chest as he finished reading. He then handed the piece of paper to Koorush, his grin wide.
"Our time has arrived," Payam said with a smile, his eyes fixed on the distant city. "Let's frighten those kittens more."
Koorush turned to a soldier standing nearby. "Attack the base of the city wall again, but this time, aim at a different spot," he commanded. "We want to make sure those walls are still standing."
A thunderous roar tore through the two days of silence. From the Zasra camp, the catapults roared to life, not with rocks, but with heavy, iron-tipped battering rams. The first volley struck the city wall with a sickening crack, a sound that resonated deep within the stones and sent a fresh shiver of dread through the Gimsong soldiers. The Zasra soldiers continued to pound the wall at a new location, their aim meticulous and relentless, their goal not to breach the wall but to weaken it further without bringing it down completely.
Within the city, the renewed attack sent the people at the southern gate into a frenzy. The sound of the new barrage, a different kind of horror than the previous rockfall, pushed them past their breaking point. Their desperation erupted into violence. The chants of "Let us out!" became animalistic roars as they shoved against the soldiers, their pleas for freedom now turning into a struggle for survival. They clawed and kicked at the Gimsong soldiers, their eyes wild with panic. The thin line of defenders could not hold back the desperate mob any longer. The clash turned bloody as the soldiers, in a desperate attempt to protect themselves and the city, were forced to use their spears to push back the frenzied crowd.