With the sound of cannon fire, the resistors in the yard immediately panicked—cannons were not like mages, who had been native to this land for several millennia. Everyone might not have been a mage, but at least they had seen mages flinging basin-sized spells around and could somewhat cope with them.
But cannons, these bringers of death that used various calibers of ammunition, had ranges that now, by several multiples, surpassed those of the mages from Malin's workshops.
From Malin's position, he could see these people running out of options—some tried to scale the walls, only to be turned into targets and blown away by soldiers hidden in the shadows; some tried to hide inside the walls, but then the second cannonball, guided by druid scouts, passed through the wall, and the high-explosive shell turned the wall and the twenty-some unfortunate souls behind it into spirits of misfortune.
