Ratto dropped to his knees the very instant the heavy oak door groaned open.
How long had he waited for this moment? Ever since the fateful day his king had taken him aside in the shadows and revealed the scope of his aspirations, Ratto had been rehearsing this meeting in his mind.
He had something to ask of him.
"I greet His Majesty," Ratto said, his voice tight with a reverence that bordered on piety.
The King of Yarzat looked just as regal as Ratto had left him, though the violence of the world had just left a fresh signature. A really nice souvenir from the mud and madness of the Ford.
Nearly a month and a half had bled away since that terrible day. The ravenous war-lust that had nurtured the Yarzat legions through the campaign was finally beginning to recede, cooling alongside the bitter winter frost as the vast host began the slow process of breaking down.
