The sun had not quite risen when Lady Black returned to Saurus and Hadwin in the early hours of the night. Sleep had eluded almost all the volunteers that had agreed to help take the city gate. Saurus stood, arms outstretched as Hadwin helped him with his armour.

“Mail and plate armour—” Saurus barked, “was all but abandoned in the naval battles across the Yuan Sea.” Hadwin fastened the leather strap under his Lord Commander’s armpit reluctantly. “Men sink like rocks in armour as heavy as this.” Saurus looked down at his attire. He wore a mail coat over some mismatched plate and under it all, a city guard gambeson.

“The Lady says you should not fear the water, my Lord,” Hadwin argued. “And that it’s essential if we’re to take the main gate. The Royal Guard are nearly four hundred strong from wall to wall.”

Saurus was not persuaded. Not only was he wearing a set of mismatch armour—'his being broken beyond repair’—but he was expected to wear it underwater?

“If that’s true,” Saurus went on hotly, “then I expect to see the Lady Black in full plate and—” The flap to the tent lifted open, revealing the woman in question; her hair was as shiny as ever and as dark as the night sky above. Outside Saurus caught a glimpse of a small group of soldiers, each one sharpening his or her sword under naked torchlight and donning into armour.

“Lady Black,” Hadwin said smiling.

“I was beginning to fear you would not return.” Remarked Saurus trying to keep his tongue cool.

Despite the woman’s usual tendency to retort in some way, Lady Black only stood there, gazing around absently, she carried her eyes dreamily to Hadwin who said: “Is all well, my Lady?”

Saurus felt an uneasy silence befell them, like a desperate calm before a storm. Perhaps this Lady Black was feeling it too as she gave no answer for a while.

“Are you and your soldiers ready?” she asked, at last, looking up at Saurus, her eyes flickering with chips of crimson stone.

“Yes,” Saurus answered.

Outside the tent, stood twenty-three men and women. Each one belonging to a different background and profession, but all unified under a single cause: To help retake the city of Leeside and free the citizens inside. Hadwin had not needed to convince many of the twenty-three, all of whom voluntarily agreed to come along on Saurus’ ludicrous plan.

They were retired soldiers, fishermen, blacksmiths, mercenaries, and merchants that all agreed to fight. They all stared at Saurus as he left his tent, then cast curious looks at Lady Black as she moved to stand beside him, all remained silent. Saurus saw the girl with the mouse-brown hair, her hair now braided into a long knot that stretched down past her thigh; she carried a sword on her hip and had a shield on her back. Katlyn, Hadwin had said her name was, and looking at her now, you wouldn’t have assumed she was anything but a sell-sword.

Saurus looked out over the shoulders of his loyal twenty-three, at the hundreds of tents that lay dispersed across the sodden ground outside the walls of Leeside. He wondered how many of the people inside those tents would take up arms if he and this small band of heroes managed to do the impossible and open the main gate. Hadwin had assured him they would, but Saurus knew the hearts of common folk better than most. They wished for the simpler things in life and avoided conflict as if it was a ravaging plague, only allegiance to their respected Lords could sway most to fight, and Saurus was certainly not that. To these people, he would be little more than a title, a title in an Empire half the world away.

“We’re with you Saurus!” Yelled Thomas, a city blacksmith, as if seeing the curling thoughts in Saurus’ mind. The man’s swollen right arm clutched at a Warhammer, while his right— ‘much leaner arm’—clutched an oaken shield. There was a round of supporting roars from the people before him; Hadwin joined the war chant, bashing a hammer fist against his chest plate. The surrounding area rang with the beats of fist on metal, sword on shield, then Lady Black spoke up.

“We’re losing the concealment of night.” She said, her voice static and just about making it over the continuous war beats. The pounding subsided, then Black retrieved a veil containing something blue from inside her robes. The glass container took the shape of a teardrop, and through the translucent glass, they all saw what looked like the crashing of waves as the moonlight shone off it. When none of the surrounding onlookers said anything, Black gazed upon the veil with greedy eyes.

“This is a water-breathing draught,” she said holding the teardrop up for all to see. There was a sudden spark of murmurs between the twenty-three, even Hadwin gasped. Draughts of this kind were known but rare, usually given to high Lords and Captains on ships in times of war, or in high storm seasons. “It gives the drinker the ability to breathe underwater all day.” She went on, “A couple drops should give us at least an hour of its effect, time enough for us to swim under the city, unbeknownst to the Spider King.”

“Should?” Someone called out, and Saurus felt sudden unrest grow steadily with each of the woman’s passing words. He didn’t know what the Lady Black had in mind until now, only given the promise—he and his fighters need not fear the water, and to equip themselves as they usually would. To some of these people, that would have involved donning blacksmith aprons and fishing poles Saurus thought. The biggest cause to their concern he knew, however, was, how she had in her possession a potion that only the richest of folk could afford, Saurus was not shocked to find these people doubtful, regardless, Saurus stepped forward.

“I’ll be the first to try the draught.” He spoke.

“Ay, I as well.” Added Hadwin, moving beside him.

There was muted acceptance among the twenty-three and Saurus held out a hand to Black, she handed him the draught gingerly. The veil felt strangely cold in his grip and when Saurus investigated its stormy content, it reminded him of the Dober Cliffs. The water inside crashed against the glass to explode into plumes of white foam. He held the draught high for all to see as if it was a holy symbol.

“I hold in my hand the key to Leeside,” he shouted, loud enough to reach the ears of all his brave twenty-three. “There is a King pretender in your walls. A pretender that wants to lay claim to your home. He thinks you are sheep to be easily herded around, too afraid to turn against the single dog that masters you.”

There was a growl of disapproval from a merchant in the back.

“We are not sheep, but wolves!” A soldier yelled, no doubt ex-empire.

A wave of approval erupted among the twenty-three.

“You are a pack,” Saurus went on, “You must protect your own and hunt that what threatens you—to tear apart that which wants to disperse you.”

Hadwin pounded his chest plate hard, sending a rattling clang to ripple throughout the group. “The lone wolf dies! But the pack survives!” He added, roaring.

There was an uproar of noise, causing many of the surrounding refuges to leave their tents and observe. Lianne cupped her hands over her mouth to issue a howl imitating a wolf, its temper long and shrill. The others took up the cry and before Saurus knew, the whole camp became a pack of howling wolves. Even Hadwin joined in, and after a while, Saurus felt compelled to take up the call. He only wished the howls travelled far beyond the stone walls of Leeside, to chill the hearts of any defenders listening inside.