The garrison officer stood tall upon the ancient city walls, his stern gaze fixed upon the distant horizon where the Sicilian army approached with an unsettling determination. A furrow creased his brow as disbelief tugged at the corners of his mouth. "They're not stopping to make camp?" he muttered to himself, the words a bewildered whisper carried away by the wind. "What madness is this? Are they truly intending to assault the city directly, as it stands?" THe general muttered not believing that the enemy would not even send an envoy to request the city's surrender, an offer he would certainly refuse but also use it to stall for time as they prepare more defenses .
A ripple of unease coursed through him, prompting an instinctual tightening of his grip on the hilt of his sword. The typical prelude to a siege, the meticulous assembly of enemy forces in orderly camps, was conspicuously absent. Instead, a sense of urgency hung in the air, leaving the garrison officer on edge.
