The rest is over, now he prepared for his first conquest as a saint. He rose from the quicksilver bath rejuvenated and molded himself a full plate armor from the same. He went outside and rallied his soldiers, human and ascendant. He ordered trebuches built on the edges of the forest, his army went and gathered there in camp while his engineers worked to build the war machines. Now it was just a matter of time and patience before the first onslaught, he kept the Maiden hidden from view, she would turn the tide when the time is right.

The camp was up by nightfall and Macaroth looked to the walls that stood in his way, he grew to despise every rock stacked up to make this great obstacle, but soon it would not matter. Under the cover of darkness small bands of people deserted the city and made their way to Macaroths side, even though it was dark out he could be seen luminous, like a distant star in the fields, his magic was boiling within him as his will to wrath rose against the foolish mages.