“Nobody touch her!” he yelled. Four deep cuts ran down his forehead, over his left eye and cheek. “Let her live... Death would be too merciful of a fate for a w***e like her.”
Ash shook his head. The battle was over and the king’s order fulfilled. So why were his hands shaking and chest hurting?
“I’m probably just tired...” he thought and made his way through the burning ruins of what would soon become a ghost town.
Chapter 32
4th of Zund, 322 A.D., Kingdom of Arabist, Zadastra
B
lackbeard and Ash put the boxes, the tubes, and the trunk onto their cart, bribed their horses with hay and, in Guido’s case, sugar, and hurried to the tavern. The Bent Horseshoe, as befitted similar institutions, reeked of booze and good time. The only difference from the ninety percent of other tavern
