Sentinel was soon to be under siege.  The amassed Redguard forces had arrived in time to organize a defense.  Rations had been drawn up, and it was clear that—excepting disease or treason—they would be able to hold out for some time.  The troops had been split between those atop the walls and manning the defenses, and a guerilla force hidden in the countryside.  In terms of raw numbers, they were outmatched.  But they had been outnumbered by the Dominion during the Great War, and that didn’t stop prevent victory then.  There was a reason the Redguards were known as the most naturally gifted warriors in all of Tamriel.

Azzhlan was perturbed by the Dominion immediately striking against Sentinel.  The city of his birth, where his family had ruled for generations, was the best fortified cities in Hammerfell, with Rihad in the south and Hegathe in the west being the only cities to come close.  It spoke to the Dominion’s confidence that they made their first major assault here.  

A frown creased Azzhlan’s brow.  [i]It’s probably just their fanatical obsession with their own supposed racial superiority.  Nevertheless, I cannot help but feel that there is something more sinister in play here.[/i]  Leaning on the edge of his balcony, Azzhlan’s gaze turned toward the sea.  They had been unable to muster their entire navy in time for this confrontation.  Most of the ships had been posted in the Illiac Bay region, and they were prepared, but so many were unavailable.

There was nothing he could do now.  The die had been cast, Until engagement in the siege began, he could do nothing, and he was limited even then.  He could fight, he had done it for most of his life, and he would do so again, but a siege was different.  A siege required patience, and strict rationing.  He had both, but the nervous anticipation of the coming battle gnawed at him.  Ironically, he would be more at ease when the enemy was at the gates.

The enemy.  His mind went back.  Back to the Great War.  He had known that it wasn’t over.  The Empire was too cowed to fight the Dominion, and the Dominion too stable to fall without being toppled.  There would be more war, more death before the end.

His mind wandered.  He still remembered.  All his oldest friends had stayed by his side throughout the war.  Until they died.  And die they did.  One by one, they had given their lives to preserve his, so that their people might not lose hope.  So that he, their friend, might live.  Azzhlan’s cheeks were wet.  He had sat with each and every one of them as they breathed their last.  Eight of the greatest men Azzhlan had ever known.  Only he and Avik remained.

Azzhlan’s gaze fell now upon the Aldmerri forces amassing for the siege, and an old anger stirred inside of him as he clutched the sword his father gave him.  [i]The Dominion has not learned.  They will not learn unless they are made to.  We shall fight them off again, and when the Ansei are with us again, the Thalmor shall die in droves.[/i]