To break a warrior's weapon was common; to break the spine of them so thoroughly that their proud warriors hauled timber in open daylight without daring to run? That wasn't just a military victory. That was the work of a force that had shattered their very souls.
As the escort turned the corner near the forge lane, the clatter of the delegation slowed to a near halt.
Sitting on a stack of ironwood beams right beside the thoroughfare, leaning his back against the timber with his legs stretched out casually into the dust, was a young man.
He was clad in dark, supple leather that looked deceptively simple, his dark hair ruffled by the hot breeze, and an easy, half-amused grin etched onto his handsome features.
He looked entirely at ease, like a lazy hunter resting in the shade. But the blade leaning beside his knee told a different story.
