I ran to the ramparts expecting to see a vast horde of armed men surrounding the city, but instead, a lone warrior in chainmail approached at the head of a ragtag band of peasants. There must’ve been two hundred of them.
To my left, I saw Sir Robert and approached him. “Who are they?” I asked.
“Refugees would be my guess,” he replied. “They look half-starved. Groups like this have been showing up every week or two, so I have been told. Mordred’s troops have been burning and pillaging to the east. They have nowhere else to go.”
A tall knight joined us and hailed the rider as he reined in before the gates. “Sir Percival, welcome back from errantry. I see you brought in more strays.”
The rider removed his helm and gave the speaker a wan smile. “Greetings, Sir Kay. Mordred slew their Lord and a thousand their neighbors, very not even the women and children. This is all that remains of their village.”