Summer 1095 SR
The march into Torburg continued in silence. The executions had put everyone in a foul mood despite the right of it, and Ludwig had to wonder if his men were pondering their own futures.
The tournament grounds to the south of the city were littered with tents, guards, and campfires. Into this hodgepodge of soldiery walked Ludwig, determined to report his arrival to someone in authority. He halted his men, picking out a clear area for them to rest, then made his way towards a cluster of pavilions that held the standard of the duke.
As he closed the distance, a familiar voice called out.
“Sir Ludwig? Is that you?”
“Sir Galrath? I didn’t expect to find you here.”
The knight smiled. “Why ever not? I am, after all, in the service of His Grace. Will you partake of an ale wit
