The word of it spread quickly—rumors at first, then first-hand accounts—from mercenaries and soldiers and citizens who had fled Armesk for the cities and towns of Logne and Amer and Argalon. Men sat in taverns and spoke eagerly of it—of mad General Amrik who had sought a crown and his commander who’d turned his men against him and left him disgraced and unmanned in the bargain. Soldiers guffawed and drank jacks of beer and skins of wine to it, far into the night.
Armesk with the passing days and months became a dead city. Amrik’s soldiers occupied homes and patrolled the streets, watched over the farmers and flockers of the fields. Yet Lord Amrik himself was never seen. He had hidden himself in the palace, and his first commander, Sidoum, relayed all messages. Soldiers guarding the royal
