bowed. “Your majesty, the assault on the city is already proceeding. It has minimal defenses, and we anticipate being in full control of it within hours. The men have been instructed to kill all who resist.”
“And my Quiet Men?” Ravin asked the third figure there.
“Are in place in settlements within the kingdom, ready to receive your troops on the march from Astare to Royalsport,” the man said.
King Ravin nodded. Finally, he turned to the frightened messenger. “You are going to tell me that my forces in the south have been defeated.”
It wasn’t a question, but even so, the man nodded. “King Godwin fell in the fighting, and Prince Rodry is dead, but they managed to recover Princess Lenore, and the bridge was destroyed with your forces upon it,” the man choked out.
King Ravin shrugged, and he saw the messenger’s eyes widen in surprise at that. “Did you think I didn’t anticipate any of this?” he asked. “The attack on the south was always destined to fail, and if they have recovered one princess, what do I care?”
Not that the princess wouldn’t be his in due course. Everything in the Northern Kingdom would be. He strode to the side of the ship, taking in the vastness of his fleet. So many men stood ready there, from all parts of his kingdom. There were tribesmen from the deserts and armored city dwellers, former pirates from the coast and slave legionnaires who had never known anything but violence. All wore the red of his colors now; all wore the same armor.
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