Author's Note: Sorry, sick...... Sick...... Finish...... A good holiday is all about recuperation...... I'm sorry.

The people were urged to leave as soon as possible, and the return was longer and more painful than when they came, for they had hope, and now there was almost nothing but despair left—for the cattle frightened by the flames had been killed by order of the knights of the royal capital, so that their wagons and ox carts (which had been left here) had become useless logs, and they were forced to leave behind what little possessions they had, and the dead with nothing but food and water. Originally, they could get what they could get as long as they could get to the other side, but now, they might have to live on those few not full skins for the next few days.

Soldiers walked among the fallen cattle with torches, cutting off their legs and holding them on their shoulders, blood running from their necks to their chests.

The two carriages without tents were temporarily tied with leather ropes, and since there were no horses or oxen, it was permissible for men to pull them, and those precious places were only possessed by the knights who were seriously injured and unable to walk, and besides them, even children had to walk on foot, so some men and women carried up the children who were not up to their waists, whom they did not necessarily know before, and perhaps there were some contradictions and festives, such as the little bastard who was missing his front teeth, who more than once stole the apples, bread, and salted fish of his neighbors. As a child raised by ** and dung workers, he is nimble, not afraid of dirty, and is used to being chased and intimidated, so when the accident suddenly happened, he did not hesitate to burrow into the thick bat dung, dodging the threat of flames, crossbow arrows and swords, but was trampled by a frightened black bull and broke his leg, he endured it and did not cry and scream, but climbed behind a stone and hid, hoping that he would survive...... He survived, but he couldn't crawl to escape as he thought he would, the bean cakes and dried dates he had hidden in his clothes were gone, his legs hurt like someone had been beaten repeatedly on an anvil with the slightest movement, and all his strength was used to support his upper body so that he wouldn't drown in the stinking feces - he could almost imagine himself being left behind, the sticky footsteps of the people faded away, leaving only bats, Rats and beetles, as soon as the fire is gone, and the surroundings are plunged into darkness, they will rush up and carve him up alive.

He almost screamed in fright when he was grabbed and put on one shoulder, but he quickly recognized the broad back and the big ass that was more than enough to put on a breakfast that only a lord was entitled to—he had been sitting under this big ass for stealing a jar of honey and tormented by high heat, sweat, and stinky farts for an entire afternoon, "Mrs. Garcia?"

"How?"

"What about your daughter?" he remembered that she had a little daughter who was not in good health, and that the jar of honey had been bought for her to nourish her body with milk.

"Dead. ”

Some people decided to stay here, such as a craftsman who had amassed a lot of gold coins because of his skill, whose property he had brought out of Thundercastle had been plundered by thieves, his eldest son had died in last year's war and his second son had just died fighting for his loved ones, his youngest son had died with his mother under the crumbling rocks, his coat and his hair and face had been set on fire, his fingers had been charred and curled up, he was still alive but there was no hope. He took off his necklace and ring, gave it to the servant, blessed him, and then asked him (if he was still alive when all was over) to give them a funeral, "if there is no way to find us afterwards," he said, glancing at the cave where the rubble still fell from time to time: "Let us erect a little tombstone where the sun can shine, and tell the people that we are buried here." ”

There are also those who choose to stay for the sake of their loved ones, they are still alive, the problem is that they are either buried under the boulders or are too badly injured to move, the soldiers do not hinder them, there is no time to persuade and wait now, they can only protect those who are willing to leave and take the first step- But a knight who had followed the carriage on foot stopped suddenly, for he saw the girl he liked the most, who had not ridden in a carriage or ox cart like the other girls, and who had walked slowly behind the line with her old father, which had allowed them to escape the first flames and swords.

They would have been fine had it not been for an arrow that had lost its head and entered the old man's back, and if the knight's horses had not been killed, and his servants would have been able to carry the beloved girl's father on their shoulders and leave here with them, "Marianne." "It's dangerous here......," he whispered, "It's dangerous," he didn't finish, but both Marianne and her father seemed to understand what he meant.

"But where can we go?" the girl asked, "where else can we go?" she said, and that's what most people think, "even if we could get to the plains, the orcs would catch up with us." ”

"No," whispered to the servant, "Castle Thunder will keep them." ”

The survivors would not be able to get a glimpse of the inside of Thundercastle beyond the towering walls, and if they did, they would be terrified.

The lords of Thundercastle have abandoned the double walls, fortresses, and outer fortresses, and the flying mages are constantly removing the soldiers who have shot all the arrows from the top of the towers. The orcs pounded violently at their feet on the iron flap door, or lit a wall of fire in front of the chasing orcs, or created a swamp, one mage cast a spell to fill the air with choking smoke and a pungent stench, while another squeezed a piece of grease to make the orcs blinded by the stench of smoke rush faster—faster into the storm trap created by the third mage.

Elven warriors scurried and jumped and glided on solid rooftops, their long hair burning like gold in the crimson afterglow of the twilight, and every orc who came too close to a human soldier was given an arrow from them, and sometimes they simply stood on the head of a dripping beast and did not move. So the orcs chasing the humans would foolishly think they could easily catch an elf in front of them—the younger and the worse of the elves would wait patiently until the filthy furry was about to touch their toes, and then raise their longbows slowly—flick their noses with the bowstring, or slap them in the eyes with the back of the bow.

This situation was quite favorable for humans until the orc priests crossed the walls.

Looking down from the tower of Rosada, the tallest building in the inner city, the orcs had crossed the preset center line, that is, more than half of the city, like black maggots covering the gray-white cheese, dense and disgusting—without the help of elven warriors and mages, it would have been difficult for the human soldiers to rush to the foot of the single wall on time as planned, the side doors of the wall were opened, and the knights and soldiers climbed the stairs in the hollow wall.

"Seal the door!" shouted one of the knights, who was still three hundred feet from the single wall, but the white mist from the orcs could already be seen behind him.

Pre-prepared mud pours down, closing side doors, and under the catalysis of the spell, they condense and harden, making them more difficult to shake than rocks when the changes are complete. The attendants who followed the knight, as well as a few soldiers, couldn't help but show a look of despair and resentment, but they didn't waste time and energy complaining about the injustice of fate.

They turned, their weapons clenched.

Mage Alfred, who had returned in time, threw a fireball, and he had not many spells left, as did the other mages, which bought him a little time, and the soldiers threw their ropes from the battlements, "Hurry, hurry!" they cried.

The knight turned his horse's head, grabbed one of the soldiers, and ordered the other to jump behind him, his obedience concoction, while the other two soldiers were grabbed by the arms of a pair of elven warriors, and ran away like children hanging from their parents' arms.

"If you're going to do something!" yelled at Baldwin, "now is the time!"

Then Thundercastle collapsed in its entirety before their eyes.

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