Harik stared at the muddy ground as his feet carried him forward. His hands were bound tightly and tied to the next prisoner behind him. Every warrior from Eraldsfen that had survived the raids was there. 'Why can't they just accept that the gods have returned! It's foolish to oppose them!' Harik's body trembled in rage as the freezing rain lashed at his skin.
There was no way to escape as they trundled through Korden's gate to the sound of the citizens cheering. The Jarl's warriors around him cheered in response as they waved. Harik's eyes drifted up to glance at the faces by the side of the road. But his expression froze. His eyes had landed on a man in a thick cloak walking towards them, holding out a drinking horn full of mead towards the warrior closest to him.
