A slave, shivering in the cold and covered with soot, swung open the thick canvas flap to the tent and knelt down using her body to keep it open. An equally naked man emerged from the tent, body composed of hard edges, as if it was chiseled from a canyon wall using the least amount of strokes. General Dhava looked as dangerous as rumors painted him.

The general waved and a slave jumped to his feet and bellowed, “What dog dares to defy the mighty General Dhava, Western Lord of the Invincible Iserian Empire?”

Grey-Fang sounded the horn again, an even longer note this time. A change in the wind carried the exchange up to him.

“My lord, that looks like a barbarian from one of the villages we put down yesterday. He has his life, he should be running.”

“Perhaps. I don’t think he cares much for his life at the moment.”

“Then why is he here?”

“Revenge.” There was a moment of thoughtful silence before the General continued. “Tell him this, if he can make it to me, I’ll fight him one on one.”

“But-”

“Tell him.”