How much I hate sieges, Alpheo mused grimly as he strode out from the central command tent, his boots crunching over the dried grass and mud of the encampment stretched before the city's towering gates.
The scent of sweat, horse shit, and smoldering campfires filled the air, a familiar perfume of war one that he had grown accostumed to since he had been a boy-slave that followed the Imperial army in their many campaigns.
Around him, soldiers not assigned to immediate duties found a thousand ways to battle the second most dangerous enemy in a siege: boredom.
Groups clustered beneath makeshift awnings, rolling dice over worn pieces of wood, polishing armor that would not see use today. Others simply stared at the stones of the city, their minds drifting to distant homes and better meals.
