Whether or not they would find what they wished for there, even Vol had his doubts, but he could see no other option. He needed a place to build his army, and no other country would be more willing to accept him than the Syndrans. That was, if he proved himself to be a true enemy of the Yarmdon.
Of course, it was never meant to be so simple.
When they'd decided on their course, it had not taken them even a day to reach the nearest Syndran town, with the help of Penelope, and a little guesswork from Harland.
From a distance, their ship had seemed like any other Syndran vessel, for it was exactly that. But the closer they got, the more the townspeople grew uneasy. Though they were well enough dressed, it would have been an understatement to call their crew disheveled. There wasn't a single man or woman amongst them whose clothes were not stained by blood and cuts.
