Step by step, the nobleman gradually came closer to the ground. It was a strange thing, to see a man so thoroughly stripped of his power. He'd laughed off Vol's threats at first, but he wasn't laughing now. The fact that Vol would likely receive unimaginable punishments for the crimes that he was about to commit meant nothing to the man – not when he wouldn't be alive to see it.
"You're much smaller now," Vol said, once the man was forced to stand in the mud with the rest of them. Indeed, for a Yarmdon man, the nobleman was remarkably small. Even amongst the Stormfront, he wouldn't have been a particularly big man.
The nobleman gulped, as his guardsmen made an effort to surround him. He glanced over his shoulder, to see Northy there, glaring with mad eyes, his red hair sticking up in wild tufts from where he'd neglected to brush it.
