During the quake, the barbarians in the prison cell looked at each other meaningfully. No noise or panic. They even shut their eyes as they felt the light breeze caress their faces and bring a familiar scent to each other's sense of smell.
Their brother's scent. The barbarians exchange meaningful smiles at one another when they recognize the scent. The smell grew sharper even when a thin crack appeared beneath their feet.
They know who's coming this time.
The five barbarians sat in a circle in the middle of the room, and one of them, the only red-haired barbarian, drew a picture on the floor with a piece of chalk that had broken in half. The red-haired recounted the fighting conditions 1122 years ago when they invaded the land of Alras.
"I think it was otto," the redhead yelled, pointing at the figure he had drawn on the floor.
Everyone laughed at the redhead's conviction.
