Henry observed the situation from atop the Southern battlement. Their siege engine destroyed, the Alliance broke disorganised before the walls, certain of their exposed state. Noticing a battle-mage hurling explosive spheres of conflagration at one of the point-cannons guarding the walls, Hank levitated down to the field proper. And the mage falls, clutching at his chest, dead before his head even reaches the ground. A face contorted in pain yet not a drop of his blood has marred the snow around him.