The first barbarian to die in the capital's streets died confused.
He was a Fourth Realm warrior from the Broken Tooth clan, a man who had descended from the Gorath Highlands three months ago with the first wave and who had survived Fort Harken and the Harken Valley and every engagement since. He had fought well. He had killed seven Threian soldiers across the campaign's engagements. He had earned the wine that the celebration provided and he had consumed the wine in the quantity that the earning's celebration demanded and he had fallen asleep on a bench in the market district's central square with his boomstick across his chest and his hand axe at his belt and the specific unconsciousness that highland wine consumption produced in warriors whose tolerance for fermented goat milk did not translate to tolerance for Threian vintages.
He woke to the sound of seven thousand orcish voices roaring inside the capital's walls.
