The siege stretched into a second month. The Silverport Legion, a machine built for swift, decisive victory, began to rust from inaction. The constant, low-grade hum of Aethelburg's existence—the songs of preservation, the sight of rooftop gardens defiantly green—was a form of psychological warfare they were not equipped to handle. Their discipline remained, but it became brittle, a shell over a growing core of doubt and strange, unwelcome curiosity.
Commander Valerius's reports to Silverport grew increasingly terse and frustrated. "The city does not break. Morale remains… inexplicably high. Requests permission for a full-scale assault."
The reply from Finnian was immediate and cold. "Denied. Maximum asset preservation is required. Continue the siege. They will break."
