Setting it up!
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Three people ‘ran’ Windermere Castle: Duchess Carlotta, Lord Davies, and the Reverend Be-Not-Dismayed Baxter, representing the civil, military, religious authorities, respectively. Naturally they must meet to discuss the beacon-fire message.
Naturally, Carlotta reminded herself.
Davies was reading the message, for the benefit of the reverend. “
Fire in camp. Alchemists dead. Running low on peppercorn. Sickness soon. Help. Help and then it started the message again.” The officer looked most exceedingly grim. “I have no idea how long they have been sending it out.”
“Can we speak back to them?” asked Baxter. He sounded tired and looked gray, half like a revenant himself. Three weeks of siege had bowed his back and stripped him of most of his hair. “Even if it is just to offer our prayers?”
I’ve wanted to come back to this one for quite some time.
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By the beginning of the third week, Carlotta, Duchess of Haversham, had finally begun to admit to herself that the Royal Army was not coming to take care of these walking dead. She felt this should not be seen as a reflection upon her: after all, she was one of the first to come to this conclusion. Most of the rest of the people in Windermere Castle were still fondly and foolishly expecting a dramatic rescue. She had quite enjoyed her own self-delusion, really.
Alas, wishful thinking was supposed to be something that happened to other people. A noblewoman of high rank (and good family) in the Imperial Republic of Briton needed to be considerably clearer-headed, even during the end of the world. Especially then, even. And at least she was in a castle. Carlotta was morbidly certain that many in her country were either making do with hasty barricades, conveniently isolated islands or lonely moors, or of course just