The army marched in measured rhythm through Yarzat's streets, the iron-shod tramp of their boots reverberating off the stone . The echo rolled like a steady drumbeat, hollow and ominous in the strangely empty city. Windows had been shuttered, doors bolted, alleys deserted. No children peeked around corners, no merchants dared to linger by their stalls.
Had it been a sack, the city would have drowned in chaos, screams, fleeing families, and cries of doom. But the people had quickly understood when they saw that their door remained unbothered.
They probably came to the conclusion that this was an internal conflict.
And if it was a matter between lords and soldiers, then best to bolt the shutters and pretend nothing was happening.
