There is a rustling in the streets as you toss and turn in the night. Bodies are being dragged against paving stones and you hear the voices of guardsmen directing volunteers and servants on where to stack the alarming number of dead.
In a city of 20,000, nearly 3,000 were killed as Cyanwrath walked unopposed through the streets.
It all took less than 3 hours, and mamy eyes look to you as you enter the governor’s mansion in an attempt to get some sleep and avoid the memories of watching the royal family snapped and tossed away like ragdolls.
Some of you sleep soundly, others lie awake.
Summer has passed, Yearspass day is over, and soon it will be cold enough to build fires in your hearths, that is, if you still have hearths to come home to.