"Your Grace," the messenger bowed low as he stepped into the throne hall.
His voice carried across the marble chamber, where the gathered nobles stood in small clusters, those were the nobles who had answered the prince's call to arms and were currently waiting in the capital to march toward the enemy that was to move one moment or another,.
The man's gaze did not linger on them. His eyes stayed fixed on the polished stone beneath his boots as he spoke.
"His lordship Samuel has fallen under attack by bandits on his way to the capital. He has, by the gods' grace, managed to save his life and avoid capture, but most of his army and the supplies they carried have been lost. He sends his regrets, Your Grace, and begs to inform you that he will be unable to answer the call to arms in the near term."
