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“Sir, this is a message... from the enemy,” the knight announced as he handed over a scroll. In the tense silence of the fortress, all eyes turned toward the parchment.
“What does it say?” Azif asked, casting a worried glance toward Bran Gamunt. As Bran began reading, his expression grew darker, confirming Azif’s worst fears.
“Sigh…”
The cut on his neck, made by Lakna, still throbbed. But Azif knew all too well—if Karyl had put just a little more strength into his strike, it wouldn’t have been just a wound; his head would have rolled. The thought left a bitter taste in his mouth.
“The letter suggests surrender. It claims that this is the best way for both sides to avoid unnecessary casualties. If we comply with their demands, they promise the soldiers within the fortress will be spared.”
“Surrender?" Azif bit his lip in frustration. The thought of surrendering voluntarily was unthinkable for a proud knight of the empire. However, the nightlong roars of the tortured Red Dragon had already shattered the morale of the soldiers. Their will to fight was gone.
“What do you intend to do? Surely you don’t mean to surrender. The empire still has a 500,000-strong army, and Lord Jarvant commands 300,000 in the south. If we can hold out long enough to join forces with them, those bastards will—”
“When?” Bran cut him off, his tone weary.
“...What?”
“Sir Jarvant is up against Digon, the tribe that rules the south. Their leader, Miliana, is a Sword Master, and her tactical prowess rivals that of any...
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