The dwarf unrolled the missive and grunted, “That bastard Roger is at it again.” He laughed, slapping his belly with a hearty thump.
Fetching his warhammer-axe, he ran a calloused hand along the blade. The rune carved into its steel glowed faintly. “It’s been a while since ye tasted Norland and Mareno blood,” he muttered with a grin.
Summoning his steed, he swung into the saddle and turned toward Drusco. For a moment, he furrowed his brow, trying to recall the war-cry of Ashford’s knights. Then it struck him, and he roared to the skies:
“BLOOD FOR ASHFORD!”
With another slap to his belly, he spurred his mount forward.