The light snows and rain had given way to deep winter. Thick snow drifts had piled up in every corner of the castle’s yard. The streets in the city that surrounded the castle were thick with the stuff. Hungry workers would shovel paths for horses and carts to make their way through, but it would soon fill in again, forcing the workers to start anew.

  Fenn Castle was cold, and the city even colder. The people were starving, and no ships were coming to resupply them. The docks that King Drahius had carefully protected were quiet and empty. He didn’t understand what had happened. He’d given the Captain’s Guild a lot of gold to ensure the food supplies would continue to come through the winter.

  But they stopped completely. The dock was still in good repair, and the lake remained unfrozen.

  It clearly had something to do with the Camulani army that surrounded the city. Either the ship’s captains didn’t have the stomach to sail into a siege, or the boy general had convinced them to stay away. He was leaning towards the latter, as his scouts reported that rather than starving, the boy’s army appeared to be thriving.

  And what had happened to General Fliree and Fisborne? According to the limited reports that Drahius had received, the boy had handily beat their army. Fliree had said that the ambush was the best way to negate their new magical weapon. Destroy them before they can deploy it, was what he’d said. But instead, it was the Fennish army that was destroyed. A large group of his knights had been killed, the fyrd was scattered, and the soldiers gone.

  There was no sign of either of the generals. They were either dead or prisoners.

  “So, our projections are that the food stores, if adequately secured, should last us, here in the castle, through the winter,” Lord Avaris was saying. He’d called an emergency council meeting when he realized that the ships weren’t just delayed, but that they weren’t coming at all.

  “But what of the populace?” Star Yurix asked. “They are already starving. If we don’t distribute more food to them, they could resort to…other ways to fill their bellies.”

  Cannibalism was what he was referring to. If the situation got dire enough, Yurix believed that the peasants would start eating each other. Drahius scoffed. There was no way his people would start eating themselves.

  “The Fenns will never resort to such drastic measures. We are much too civilized for that. They will choose death first.”

  “Don’t be so sure,” Baron Lackis said. “When faced with annihilation, people will do unfathomable things to prevent it.”

  The man looked ridiculous in his long moustache that hung below his chin. He needed to look more respectable. He was the Supreme Judge! Drahius had considered ordering him to shave the thing but hadn’t yet. If the thing got any longer through, he would hold the man down and shave it himself!

  “I’ll hear no more of that talk. The Fenns are not a people to be disparaged. Our citizenry, while a valuable asset, would be nothing without us. We need to ensure that we in the castle have enough to survive the winter.”

  “Your Grace,” Lord Avaris started. His voice carried a tone that suggested that the chamberlain knew better than the king and wasn’t afraid to tell him so. “We already have enough food to survive beyond winter. The rest should be distributed to the hungriest of our people. Baron Lackis has a point, and if word got out that our people were eating themselves? Well, the army around this city would be the least of our worries.”

  “Don’t forget the disease,” Jor Yoxin, his royal mage said. His elvish ears twitched as he spoke. “When people starve, sickness spreads. And no matter how much you protect the food inside the castle, you can’t keep the disease out.”

  “And the crime,” Lackis added.

  “Enough,” the king said softly. He reached a hand under his coat and felt his ribs. They had not been so prominent even a few months ago. Of all people in the kingdom, he couldn’t afford to starve. He was king! “The food stores stay where they are.”

  “As you command,” Avaris said. He knew he had riled Drahius’ temper, and he knew the consequences of such things. The chamberlain didn’t want to wake up and find himself imprisoned, so he wisely shut his mouth.

  “Now what news of this boy’s army?”

  He didn’t want to admit it in front of his council, but he was worried. This boy, Prince Aeolwyn, if the reports were to be believed had beaten and scattered his army twice, and now was encircled around his castle. The odds of his siege actually succeeded were high, no matter how strong the walls of Fenn Castle were.

  Taken from Royal Road, this narrative should be reported if found on Amazon.

  Part of him toyed with the idea of opening the gates to the boy. According to law and tradition, he could sack the city, and, as a conquering general, would be offered the crown. But, also by law and tradition, he was to offer it to the next-highest ranking member of the nobility. Drahius’ son, in this case. That would keep his house on the throne, but it was questionable what would happen to Drahius himself. He could be exiled, imprisoned, or even executed.

  He wasn’t about to let that happen. His son might be of age now, but Drahius was far from old. He was still in the prime of his life! In fact, if he’d been able to leave the castle, he would have led the army himself. But, as king, he was needed here.

  “The army seems to have stabilized,” Avaris said. “They are neither freezing to death, nor starving. According to reports, the dock they began construction on is nearly complete, and they are receiving shipments of supplies, presumably from King Alfyn.”

  “Don’t count out the possibility that he’s stealing our food,” Drahius said.

  The table erupted in grumbling as soon as the words left his lips. None of his council believed such a thing possible, considering how much Drahius had been paying for all that food. He’d heard that they were whispering among themselves that the king had gone mad.

  His own council was saying that! Never to his face, of course.

  “And what about the two generals? Are they out somewhere rebuilding our army?” Fillem asked. The boy was still furious that the king had ordered that he stay behind when the army marched against the Camulani army. He had proven himself time and again in joust and tournament, but never in actual war. He constantly demanded his right to fight against this enemy, but as crown prince, he was much too valuable to waste on the battlefield.

  “There are no signs of them, Highness,” Avaris said. “I believe them to be dead or captured.”

  “What of the elvish army, Traxxus?” Drahius asked. “You promised they would be here by now!”

  The elvish ambassador smiled a weaselly smile. It gave him an untrustworthy look. “They will be here any day now, Your Grace, and when they do, your enemies will be smashed into oblivion.”

  Drahius doubted that. They would probably wait until the day before the king died of starvation, then they would beat the Camulani army, march into the capital, and take the throne for themselves.

  He knew he shouldn’t have trusted the elves.

  ***

  The tavern’s smoky warmth chased the coldness away. A large fire was constantly roaring in the fireplace, though who knew how long the wood would last. With the gates locked up and a siege going on, it wasn’t like they could venture out into the forests for more.

  The patrons sat around tables, sullenly staring into their glasses, wishing their bellies were full. Their hollow, gaunt faces were beginning to show the depths of starvation. Some glared lustily at those who still could afford meals. Large bodyguards with massive cudgels kept the hungrier from stealing the food from those in the tavern with coin.

  Col sat with his friends. As a forester, he’d been out of work since the gates had shut. In a regular year, he’d be up to his ears in work felling trees and collecting driftwood to sell to the taverns, inns, and residents of Fenn City. Like the others, his mates were in a sour mood wishing the stale beer were a hearty bowl of soup.

  The beer tasted like it had been made from piss and last year’s dregs. It was as though they had found the moldiest and stalest piece of bread and mixed it with the dirty water that ran through the streets and fermented it. It was disgusting, but it was the only thing they had.

  “What is the king doing?” Thurstan asked. He was a dockworker, and without any ships arriving, he too, was out of work. His formerly burly and broad shoulders were thinning out now, and the skin sagged where there used to be bulging muscles. “Doesn’t he know we’re starving?”

  “He doesn’t care,” Betram said. Bertram was the only one whose body hadn’t changed from the lack of food, but then, he’d always been lithe. Though he wouldn’t admit to it, even to his friends, the rumors were that he was a thief. He supposedly spent his nights stealing food and gold from whoever’s house he could find his way into.

  “We should make him care,” Amis said. Amis was the toughest of them all. He’d been a pit fighter before the siege, and still kept a great deal of muscle. They liked having him around. If his scarred face didn’t scare villains away, his cauliflower ears and broken nose told them clearly what sort of person they’d have to tangle should they want to cause trouble.

  “How? He keeps his castle shut tight, and all petitions have been cancelled for the duration of the siege.” As soon as the town gates had been shut, Col had gone to petition the king to let him out to do his job, but the guards wouldn’t let him anywhere near the castle.

  “We storm the castle!” Amis said. “Take the king and throw him over the walls.”

  “Then what?” Thurstan asked. “The town guards would kill us where we stand!”

  “Then we open the gates to that prince general outside!” Amis slammed his fist on the table. “I’ve heard people say he is a kind and merciful man. He’d reward us with lands, titles and then drown us in food and tits.”

  “Maybe he’d do that for his own men, but we’re the enemy,” Col said. “We’d be lucky to come out the other end with our lives intact and our women un-raped.”

  They quieted down as the other bar patrons started staring at the suddenly animated conversation. Some glared like they’d broken some sacrosanct silence. Others looked like they were suddenly interested in what coins they might have in their pocket. At least no one had wondered what they might taste like in a stew with some peppers. Not out loud at least.

  “I’m not the only one who thinks so,” Amis said. “Others agree.”

  “Hush,” Col said. “The walls have ears around here.”

  Col knew Amis was right. He’d heard people claiming that the king was hoarding food and medicines behind his walls. It was said that he was having lavish feasts every night while the people starved.

  Everyone was starving, and no one was blaming the army outside for it. Despite the nobility’s best efforts to paint the prince general as the enemy, he wasn’t the one hoarding food that rightly belonged to the people.

  This were soon going to reach a tipping point. Then the whole town would explode in rage. And Laryn help any noble who the raging peasants found.