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Bringing the barbarians inside the fortress would only invite disaster. Even under Ketal’s command, they could not be trusted to regulate their emotions, and if an opportunity presented itself, they would swing their axes without hesitation. Ketal therefore ordered them to wait in the forest nearby and not set foot within the palisade.
He returned to the stronghold and reported to Arcane that the barbarians had been handled for the moment. Arcane regarded Ketal and the Tower Master with reverent eyes and showed them to a small hut that could serve as a place to speak without interruption. The Tower Master wove a curtain of silence around the walls and sat.
“So those really are the barbarians of the White Snowfield,” the Tower Master said. They were the figures of legend, the most dangerous beings said to stalk that frozen realm. “They are strong.”
The Tower Master had not expected as much. He had assumed the fearsome reputation of the ashen-haired barbarians rested entirely on Ketal himself, a tribe buoyed by a single extraordinary man. Seeing the three in person stripped that assumption bare. Each of them carried the pressure of a Hero fighter.
“And they are blindly devoted to you,” the Tower Master added.
“They...
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