Lord Enrique glanced tiredly at the houses within the city that had been crushed by boulders.
The castle was left with just the main tower still standing, but it was also battered by wind and rain, riddled with holes.
The air was filled with a faint stench of decay and a somewhat pungent smell of tar.
It was the scent of bodies yet to be cleared from the ruins and burnt houses.
The Saracens had placed a vicious flame curse on the stone projectiles… though some said it was merely some kind of oil.
But Enrique had never seen oil that could burn for so long.
Some had only been splashed with a bit, and not even water could extinguish it, leaving their skin to roast into charcoal.
"Do they want to bury us alive with these stones?"
"I feel they want to stone us."
"Damn, are those sons of bitches treating us like whores for execution?"
"When will His Majesty the King finally arrive? It has been the sixth day."
The Crusaders fell into silence.
