The last rays of the setting sun bathed the battlefield in a blood-red light, turning the stony woods into a scene of carnage.
Arthur stood atop a jagged outcrop, feeling the weight of the day pressing down on him. His armor was slick with gore.
With Zack's help, he unbuckled the straps of his armor, piece by piece.
He upended a waterskin over his head. The cool water washed away the blood and grime, pooling into dark, reddish puddles on the slate beneath his boots.
"My father treated you like his own son! We grew up together!" Bear Di's furious roar echoed from nearby. "He received your invitation and came to meet you without even bringing a guard. Why did you kill him?"
Arthur turned to look. Bear Di had Chian by the collar of his tunic.
The son of the Vulture King was shackled in heavy iron chains. His head hung low, his messy black hair obscuring his eyes.
"Whether you believe me or not," Chian's voice was rasping but calm, "I didn't want to kill him."
He slowly raised his head, revealing bloodshot eyes. "But it is true that he died because of me."
"Tell me who killed my father!" Bear Di's knuckles turned white as he tightened his grip.
Chian simply repeated, "He died because of me."
Just then, soldiers of the Mountain Corps dragged another prisoner forward.
"I did it! Kara of the Mountain Shadow Tribe." The gaunt man grinned, revealing rows of jagged, yellow teeth. "I stuck a dagger right in the old man's neck! Cut off his head and sent it round to the other tribes, too."
"Haha—" His laughter was cut short as a soldier smashed a mailed fist into his face, sending him stumbling backward.
Gerold Dayne walked over to Arthur, dragging his feet with exhaustion. His purple cloak was stained dark with dried blood. "Kara?" He took a swig of unsweetened lemon water, the sour taste jolting him awake. "Where did you hide those seven thousand gold dragons? Maybe that coin could buy your life?"
"That gold is proof of my valor." Kara spat a mouthful of bloody phlegm onto the ground. "Kill me. You won't see a copper of it."
Gerold laughed and tossed the waterskin to his squire. "Then keep it to spend in the Seven Hells."
A squad leader from the Mountain Corps approached briskly, his armor clanking with every step.
"My Lord." He saluted sharply, fist to chest in the Mountain Corps fashion. "We've confirmed the captives. All the surviving wildling chieftains are here."
Arthur nodded slightly, his gaze sweeping over the seven captured chieftains kneeling before him.
According to the squad leader, only one belonged to Chian's faction; the other six were chieftains Kara had brought down from the north.
"Let the judgment begin." Arthur beckoned to the soldiers holding Kara. They dragged him forward and forced him to his knees.
"Kara." Arthur looked him straight in the eye. "I had intended to recruit you. Winning the grand melee proved your skill."
He paused, a hint of genuine regret in his voice. "With your ability and standing, had you been loyal, I might have made you Governor of the Wildlings."
"Loyal?" Kara twisted his face into a hideous grin, blood seeping from his split lip. "Free folk do not kneel to greenlanders!"
Arthur had to admit, he admired men with backbones of steel. But when forging a sword, material that is too hard is brittle—it breaks before it bends.
He waved his hand dismissively. "Bear Di, since he owes you a blood debt for your father, he is yours to deal with."
"Thank you, My Lord." Bear Di's voice trembled with emotion.
He grabbed Kara by his hair and dragged him toward the woods. Kara's curses faded into the twilight.
Arthur turned his gaze to Chian. The son of the Vulture King stood tall. Even bound in chains, he maintained the dignity of a chieftain.
"Your father, the Vulture King, was a warrior," Arthur said, his voice carrying clearly in the dusk. "He caused me and Starfall great trouble. But he died on a spear."
He took a step closer. "Though you are not your father, you have shown some of his spirit. I will execute you with Dawn as a mark of respect."
Chian nodded calmly and allowed the soldiers to lead him away.
Next came the seven lesser chieftains.
Arthur spoke bluntly. "You led your tribes to invade the lands of Starfall. The sentence is death by hanging. There are seven of you; fitting company for the journey to the afterlife."
Three of them immediately collapsed to the ground, pressing their foreheads into the dirt.
"Lord Sword of the Morning, we were bewitched by Kara!"
"I will bend the knee to you, My Lord! I swear it!"
"Please, have mercy!"
The other four stood silently, their eyes filled with hatred.
The squad leader looked troubled. "My Lord, we don't have a gallows that can hold seven men."
Arthur looked around, his gaze settling on a gnarled, crooked tree near the camp entrance.
"Hang them from that tree. When the other chieftains arrive, let them view the bodies before bringing them into my tent."
As it turned out, a single crooked tree could not bear the weight of seven grown men. When the sixth man was hoisted up, the trunk groaned in protest and snapped with a loud crack.
The soldiers had to hang the seven men from seven separate trees.
News of the battle spread through the Red Mountains like wildfire.
By the afternoon of the next day, the six remaining chieftains of the lower Torrentine and Red Mountains had answered the summons and arrived at the Vulture Tribe's camp.
Inside the great tent that had once belonged to the Vulture King, Sharpwing perched on a wooden stand, its piercing eyes scanning everyone present.
The tribal chieftains stood trembling, afraid to look directly at Arthur, who sat in the high seat.
Their fear stemmed not just from the seven corpses swaying in the breeze outside, nor the giant raptor watching them, but from the terrifying power Arthur had displayed in crushing the combined forces of the Vulture Tribe and the northern clans.
"It pleases me that you did not join the rebellion and that you obeyed my command to send hostages," Arthur said, his voice echoing in the silent tent.
Suddenly, his tone shifted. He pulled out the covenant, stained with bloody fingerprints. "But the fact that you knew of the plot and did not report it—that you signed a pact with traitors—that displeases me greatly."
The chieftains panicked, their excuses tumbling over one another.
"Lord Sword of the Morning, I didn't know Chian's true ambition! We were forced into it! Bear Ni refused to sign, and look what happened to him!"
"Yes, yes! He was mad! Bear Ni watched him grow up, and still, he killed him!"
"And allying with the northern tribes... it was like inviting wolves into the fold!"
One older chieftain even broke down weeping, snot and tears streaming down his face, looking nothing like the iron-boned free folk of legend.
The true hard men, Arthur thought, either died in the last two wars or are already serving in my Mountain Corps.
"Enough!" Arthur shouted. The tent fell instantly silent.
He tossed the parchment into the fire pit. The sheepskin curled and blackened in the flames, quickly turning to ash.
"Words are wind. I need you to prove your loyalty with action."
Watching the covenant turn to ash, the chieftains let out sighs of relief. At least their lives were safe.
"How shall we prove it?" one chieftain asked cautiously.
Arthur stood up. "With the mattock or the sword."