The days drifted by in a tense, expectant calm since the parlay between Alpheo and Ilbert. The offer made by the prince had been accepted in principle, but all that remained was to wait—for Lechlian's response, for reinforcements, or for the deadline to pass.
It was a quiet siege now, the kind where swords were sheathed, and diplomacy danced its subtle waltz, with soldiers from both sides mostly relaxed knowing that no assault would be made.
This was not unusual in wars of noblemen. Rarely did lords wish to defy invaders to the bitter end, for they understood well the unpredictable savagery of a sword once unleashed at the conclusion of a long siege.
Compromises such as this—a negotiated surrender veiled in loyalty—offered a way to temper devastation while preserving the appearance of honor.
