‘Ready, my Lord?’
It was Lord Ustral now. That was less of a laugh than a sick joke. Ustral scowled at the burning keep across the immense breadth of the turbulent river. His keep.
Down on the quay ships laden with knights, cavalry, siege engines and men-at-arms waited.
The three queens had kicked him in the nuts. Kicked the whole empire in the nuts. There really was very little choice.
High summer, the sun was merciless. Overhead a buzzard wheeled. Ustral realised this was likely his last day.
He blinked back tears, spun on his heel. ‘Ready. Lead on.’
#11 In the ‘Beyond the Streets’ sequence. Audio version coming soon.