For a raider to burn his enemies, to show them even that minimal level of respect that would normally be reserved for allies, that was unheard of.
One would not expect that honour of that sort would be respected by raiders. One would have thought that it would be looked down upon as a weakness. But with Vol's allowances, the man almost bowed on instinct, as though addressing a Lord. The title of Commander had thrown him off, as had the feeling of reverence.
"Thank you," he said simply, turning his bow into an awkward but deep nod of the head. Others were watching and they were taking notes as well. For allies to be buried and enemies to be burned…
Those were the ways of the past. They were from a time when raiding was a more honourable profession. A time of Kings. A time when the Yarmdon armies had staked a claim on multiple parts of the continent – a time when even the strongest of Stormfront High Kings grew fearful of their approach.
