I met him, you know. Harkon. Came marching into the city, with about two hundred soldiers, and a dozen cannon. I was just packing the last of my things, getting ready to leave. He saw me packing, and said, 'hey, citizen. Are you fleeing the city?' then he laughed. He told me to unpack, because the Saracens would be beaten back easily, and wouldn't even get a chance to touch the city walls, let alone my house. Well, screw him, thought I, and I kept packing. But I admired his confidence.
-Inhabitant of Rostovondon, who fled the siege of summer 1XXX.
Rostovondon is made to be defend against attacks from the south. Situated at the mouth of a pass through the black hills, the defences are built into both sides of the hills. Although the fortifications are ruined, there are still elevated and hard to reach areas, from where cannons and archers can harass an attacking force mercilessly. And with about two weeks before the Saracen would arrive, Harkon had plenty of time to set up his cannons in easily defendable positions, and reinforce the walls with earth and wood.
Meanwhile, scouts are sent ahead to survey the enemy force. Is the banner of a famed general in their ranks? Are those warhorses? Does the sun shine brightly off steel armour? The enemy has been slow-moving, and there are plenty of places in the mountains and the hills from which one can watch without being seen.
Everyone sits in Rostovondon, reinforcing the defences. Scouts are sent down the pass to observe the enemy army.