Earlsborg is surrounded.

The halls rang out with hurrying footsteps. 'Lord!' the steward, an old man with one eye and a beard as white as the snow on the far mountain tops. 'The ogres have slipped past our watchmen and are even now marching towards Earlborg! Men say it is time to flee. For what can withstand the might of these great beasts with their terrifying cavalry of monstrous wild things.'
Uter nodded. He could hear hammering from the armoury. The smiths were making him a suitably impressive suit of full plate as they talked. He wondered if he'd live long enough to wear it. A vision came into his head, of his broken and bloodied body, the bright armour stained red, and an ogre foot upon his chest, crushing the life from him. He banished it as he had banished his mother. Locked them both away and made no sign.
'But there is worse lord!' the man said.
Uter nodded. Go on.
'It is your mother lord.'
Uter nodded. Speak.
'The Countess.'
Uter allowed himself a wry smile. His mother was no more a countess than he was a mermaid.
'She has bribed the garrison at Ormshole, and now they have deserted their posts and the castle, which Marshall Kurdt von Uffen won with such great slaughter against the long-ears.'
'I heard it was Barrt the Fierce who defended the place. Kurdtt didn't arrive till the elven foe had already fled.'
'Well,' the steward said. 'Anyway! We are surrounded and two great hosts of the ogre kin are upon us!' His voice rose in pitch and volume until the last words came out in a terrified shrill. 'We are doomed! Flee my lord flee! The end if nigh and we would not have you slaughtered as your poor father.'
Uter looked at the man, and he stopped his mad ravings. 'We do not speak of that, Lord Steward. Understand?'
The man nodded dumbly.
'Send word to Father Ulric the Black and Kurdtt von Uffen. Order them to meet the foe with all the strength at their disposal. I want no heroics. Just slow them down. How many men have we here?'
'Few my lord. Just those who survived the battle where your father...'
'What about the new army we raised?'
'Those men are untested, lord and they have been listening to tales.'
'What tales?'
'Of the last battle. And how no man could stand against the foe.'
'Well,' Uter said, 'they had better stand this time, or we shall all be filling the guts of the Great Maw!'
The steward nodded and calmed sufficiently, he turned to go.
'And Steward!' Uter said. 'If you come to my hall like that again, I shall feed you to the ogrekin myself. Understood?'
'Understand, my lord.'
'Good. Now go.'
Uter watched the man leave. How had it come to this. Shiester! he thought. How the hell can we stop the ogres!?