"Harik Eraldsen! What is the meaning of this?" King Balmir demanded as he stared at his vassal.
"I can't, Your Majesty. The raids were going as planned. The sand eaters ran at the first sign of our ships as always." Harik frowned as he shook his long, dark hair from his face. Making the scars of many battles visible. "However, recently they finally grew a spine. They started intercepting our warriors and met us in battle."
"That's not what I'm talking about! How have you lost so many men!" King Balmir roared in displeasure as he slammed his mug made from bone on the arm of his crude wooden throne.
Harik's frown deepened as he glanced around at the others in the tent. They were all Captains or Jarls in the King's army that had been gathered for the raids this season. However, all of them wore grim expressions. Harik was aware that many of them had encountered the same problems as he had.
