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Chapter 99: Blood in The Wheat
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Chapter 101: March to Sea
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... of his conquest.
"Winter," he said softly, "will be the least of their worries."
The fires crackled. Somewhere in the city, a bell tolled — hollow, mournful.
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The stench of scorched wheat and charred flesh drifted on the wind, seeping into Westerloch’s empty streets. Even here, in the province’s heart, the silence felt unnatural — as though the city was waiting.
The Duke’s blood still stained the cobbles in front of the keep, a dark, stubborn smea ...
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