Captain Halwyn stood atop the wall directly above the gate, surveying the Goblin army. He decided to pretend to consider Cir’s offer for surrender, to give himself time to consider his defence, if it became necessary, though he couldn’t see how the Prince could manage to mount a viable attack on the fortress city. The Prince’s last attempt had resulted in the slaughter of many Goblins, now consigned to the waters of the river Mirrow.
What are you about, my Prince? he thought. What have you got up your sleeve, if anything? Is it a dagger you conceal, or bravado?
His casualties thus far had been negligible; two Elf soldiers manning the walls struck and wounded entirely by chance as the Goblins tried effectlessly to fill the sky with arrows that skipped harmlessly off stone. Cir had been insane to waste lives on an impossible attempt to cross the ravine and scale the walls of Mirrindale. Even were there no defenders, the task would still prove exceedingly difficult. With grudging respect, Halwyn realised Cir probably did not know that the Thane and most of the occupants had left, leaving enough stores to last for perhaps as much as two years. The Thane had planned well.
The Merchants were troublesome, and there was some dissent amongst the soldiers, as was expected. A few of the Merchants had tried to bribe Halwyn and some of his soldiers to surrender Mirrindale to Cir and accept his terms. Few were willing to fight, and even fewer were willing to accept that there was no sense in trying to negotiate with or bribe the Goblin army or its leader.