I remember that the sky was grey and leaden. The clouds were almost impenetrable, and they cast everything into an early, foreboding twilight. It was a heavy feeling, an oppressive weight settled about your shoulders. The sky pressing down, the walls closing in. I am not normally a claustrophobic person but even during my watch on the north-western tower I felt strangely trapped, more like I was enclosed in a dim airless room than a high perch with a view for leagues around. I wasn't the only one to feel like that, I could see that same slow-mounting tension in the eyes of every man on the wall, hear it in the terse, clipped conversations. Hushed, for the weight of the sky.
It had been like that for days, or at least it certainly felt like days. We only had the hourly toll of the Palatine Bell to mark time by between the times of the lightening of the grey at dawn and the darkening of it at eventide. If it weren't for that bell, I tell you now we would have lost all sense of time. We would have spent an eternity in the damnable twilight, driven to madness before long. It was hard to call to mind the memory of true warmth, of golden wheat fields in the summer time beneath a clear sky. I had lost all hope of seeing such a blue as the sky again.
Morale was low, as you might guess. We were growing weary and dour. Gods if it would have but rained! Then the clouds would have broken before long and we could have seen sun and sky again! But no. It had been three months of that overcast and there was no sign of it stopping any time soon. It wasn't natural, of course it wasn't. We all knew that. They meant to break our will with this monotony. They meant to sap our morale until we threw down our arms and came crawling out begging them for one last glimpse of light and hope before they snuffed us out.
Hah, say what you want about those bastards, but they were patient. They would wait us out. Either our minds would break or our supplies would run out. Either way, why bother risking an honest war? Far safer for them to just sit there in their fucking camp and wait for the inevitable.
We were stuck here, sure as anything. We couldn't sortie out; they'd cut us to pieces if we tried. Couldn't resupply, either. Reinforcements? Well that was our only hope, but we had no way to know if any of our messengers had gotten through or if anyone was coming. Some of us had already given into despair by the third month and there were... rumours. Whispers of mutiny. Now don't misunderstand me, I am no whore-son rebel. I never even countenanced the idea of turning my back on the Lord Protector. Gods know the man had done enough already to earn that title a dozen times over. I was there at the Battle of Praecedere Aurora. I'd have marched to the Twelve Gates if he'd commanded me!
But some of the men... the new blood especially... they hadn't seen what I'd seen. They didn't know how much he cared. There were seditious whispers, late at night. The weight of the sky wasn't the only anxiety growing in the keep.
So it was dark days all around. You didn't know if they'd finally run out of that damned patience and just decide to smash us, or if the sky would come falling on our heads, or if some poor sod wouldn't crack... or if those ungrateful little fuckers would start something after they got into their cups and turn the whole garrison in on itself. You had to keep yourself alert, sleep with an eye open. Keep a dagger under your pillow.
My squad was billeted in the barracks not far from the western wall. We'd get rotated along the wall for our watches and patrols, starting at the north and going along the length of it. We'd get three days on the wall, two days in Three Jewels and two days off-duty. Some days I'd almost prefer to be stuck up on the wall in the bone-chilling winds and the heavy sky than patrolling the Jewels dealing with urchins and pickpockets and those sneering Guilder cunts. Almost.
The only one that kept me sane through all of it was Lillian. Gods bless her. She was my Second, and sometimes I think she'd have made a better First than I was. She certainly was better at diffusing tensions amongst the squad than I was. I don't know how she managed to keep most arguments from escalating with just the right word or a glance, but she did. She had the brightest smile, too. Even in those days under the sky. She was one of the very few who hadn't let it get to them. Her laugh was still as clear and ringing as ever it had been and her eyes still had that mischievous gleam in them. Sometimes I think her Da was secretly an avatar of the Trickster or something. I can't think of any other explanation for that look in her eyes, like the whole world was a secret joke and only she got the punchline. She was tall and she had the sort of body you'd expect from a soldier. Toned muscles, surprising amount of strength. She wore her dark brown hair short, like we all did and her ever-laughing eyes were brown too.
