Spring 1095 SR
Ludwig took another swig of ale, desperately trying to remain awake. Surrounding him were the Grim Defenders, celebrating his accomplishment. His winnings had been small, enough to last him a month if he was lucky, but many of the mercenaries had wagered on his success, and they were now in a good mood and wanted to spend their ill-gotten gains.
Sigwulf slapped him on the back. “That was quite the fight. I’ve never seen anything like it.”
“So it was,” added Brother Vernan. “Saint Mathew certainly had you under his gaze this day.”
“It wasn’t Saint Mathew,” said Cyn. “It was me!” They all cheered, raising a cup once more.
Ludwig felt his head nodding and quickly snapped his eyes open, but then the faces surrounding him began to turn fuzzy. Slowly, his head tilted back, a
