The missive was the third one he had received this week, this one from lord Tomar. Ragnar sat at his desk in his study and read through it again. The words were chosen carefully the way the man always wrote when the news was bad.
A farm on the outskirts of the city had been set ablaze three nights ago. The family inside had barely managed to escape. The granary had not. Livestock lost. Fields scorched to dirt.
However, the description of how it was done perfectly matched the style of attacks that had been carried out in the eastern provinces by the rebels.
The method was not unknown to those who have studied the eastern reports. It didn't look like this was a coincidence.
Ragnar set the letter down on the desk.
He exhaled slowly through his nose and looked at the far wall, trying to find some measure of calm in the position he found himself in. Yet it never came.
The anger was already there, steadily building by the second, and there was nothing to redirect it toward.
