'My Lord!' Cried a baby faced youth. One of the men in his service. A funny term, "man". The lad was barely old enough to forget the taste of his mother's milk. A good lad though, nevertheless. It was about time that he killed his first man. A siege would not yield much hope of that unless the King's forces were delayed in arriving. The last news he heard of King Brenjulf came from a messenger riding a few days ahead of him. He reported that the King was bringing a sizeable force ahead of reinforcements from Wræclas. If he didn't arrive in time, the boy would get to hear the bittersweet music of the sword song. To be overwhelmed by the battle madness. Perhaps it was for the best if the King was late. More fun for them.
