The air inside the city of Myr was rife with a sense of tension, anxiety and nervousness. Like its two counterparts, Lys and Tyrosh, which were also on the brink of facing an attack from the forces of Lord Aeos, the city of Myr was in a state of lockdown. The streets were desolate and quiet, the marketplaces and commercial squares were abandoned, and the gates of the city were closed shut, with no one capable of either entering or exiting. Though the things were calm on the surface, there was a sense of chaotic undercurrent beneath that calm.
Beneath this calm facade, there was an undercurrent of chaos and a foreboding that something massive was about to happen. Something big and monstrous.
But compared to Lys and Tyrosh, the sense of nervousness and fear was particularly high in Myr. Why?
Because unlike the other two cities, Lord Aeos himself was present in the enemy camp. The strength of the forces coming to assault the three cities was more or less similar, but the presence of a single man, though he was no ordinary man, had shifted things entirely.
He was not a monster who could breathe fire (well, he could, but the Magisters did not know that), nor was he a colossal titan whose punch would shatter the walls of the city.
What he did have, however, was the power to inspire, motivate and energise. Be it the soldiers or even the citizens of Myr, all of them looked toward him.
For many, he was nothing less than a God who had descended upon the land to free them from their misery. His mere presence gave them an unshakable confidence, a stark contrast to the dread the Magisters were destined to feel.
Similarly, his presence had made the Magisters extremely nervous and fidgety. Unlike the cities of Lys and Tyrosh, where the Magisters, despite cutthroat competition and jealousy, had united for a resistance, however small and brief, the Magisters of Myr were fractured. Although they were trying to put on a show of unity and solidarity, internally they were all suspicious. Because of their anxiety, they were not truly able to trust one another. Either they were speculating that their colleagues would fold under pressure and surrender to Lord Aeos, or they themselves were considering the option of surrender.
They understood that on a mere wave of Lord Aeos' hands, thousands of people inside the city would be ready to willingly throw their neck on the edge of the sword. And this was making them frightened and was shattering their confidence.
A group of Magisters were standing on the walls of the city of Myr. Their eyes were fixated on the camp of Lord Aeos far away from their walls and from the range of their arrows. The camp was sprawlinging humongous with hundreds of dark coloured tents in their view.
In the centre of the camp was a majestic tent and it did not need to be told that this particular tent belonged to Lord Aeos himself. Personally, Jon did not have any preference or requirement to stay in such a luxurious text. But politically, he was required to do so.
He was Lord Aeos, ruler of three cities which was an empire on the rise. He had a certain status, reputation, prestige and a political standing that he needed to maintain. He was a man of power and authority and he needed to project that power and authority which he represented.
Lord Aeos and his men had reached the outskirts of Myr two days ago. The Magisters of Myr and their commanders had become anxious, expecting either a blistering assault on the city trying to breach the city walls or for the invaders to prepare for a formal siege. But to their utter surprise and shock, Lord Aeos did no such thing.
They did not lay siege. The gates of Myr remained unblocked, and they were not impeding any entry or exit through them. Instead, they had simply set up a camp, and the soldiers had gone into a state of rest. They had set up hundreds of tents and made themselves quite comfortable as if they were not here for an assault but for some kind of games. And all this scenario had left the power-wielders in Myr completely flabbergasted.
"My lord," one of the senior commanders of the Myrish army asked to a man standing next to him. "what do you think they are trying to do?"
The Magister simply shrugged, his eyes still fixed on the sprawling tents in front of him. This had been the routine for the Magisters for two days now. Every day, they spent more than a few hours standing on the wall, staring in the direction of Lord Aeos's camp with the fickle hope that they might find some clue as to what he intended. But they had found nothing. And as for Lord Aeos, they had barely caught his glimpse a few times.
And as for the question his commander had asked, it was not the first time he had heard it. And every time, he had given or thought the same answer.
"I do not know," he finally said, shaking his head. "I do not have the slightest idea."
"Even if he is trying to provide rest to his men," he continued, "not to say that they have already been sufficiently provided with rest, it makes no sense that he is taking no action."
"He very easily could have blocked our paths and prepared for a siege. But no. He is not doing anything. He is not even preparing for anything."
"Magister," an old man standing not far from them interjected. He, too, was a Magister of the city, albeit lower in status. "I have a gut feeling that something big is about to happen, and whatever Lord Aeos is trying to achieve is something that we will not be expecting."
The Magister and the commander heard this but did not reply. Like the old man, they shared a similar feeling, but they had no idea what to do about it.
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