333
The commander walks slowly around your horse, his fierce gaze never once leaving your direction. ‘My dear friend, your companion appears to have lost his voice,’ he says to Banedon, with mock good manners. Then he signals to his men on the parapet and you hear the sound of a dozen crossbows scraping on stone as the soldiers steady their aim. Slowly you raise your hands in surrender; to resist would be suicidal.
