Arthur watched in horror as this army of pale orcs charged down the grassy hill toward the city. The air was filled with the sounds of people screaming and children crying as the scent of burning flesh and blood reached Arthur’s nostrils. He could see pillars of smoke rising from the direction of the wall that had been blasted apart by the orcs’ cannon.
That cannon.
Arthur had never seen anything like it before. The raw arcane power that he had felt vibrating through his entire body when it fired had rocked Arthur to his core. If this army could so easily reduce stone to rubble, what could they do to the whole of Dragonstone?
Arthur felt a small hand tugging on his arm, snapping him out of his trance. It was Boney. Arthur had never seen this look of determination and fear on Boney’s face before. Though less than half his size, Boney always seemed to have an air of whimsical and almost child-like confidence around him. Not this time.
“We have to get out of here! Arthur?! Arthur, we have to go!”