Listross’s dark, rage-filled eyes turned to Eppra. He tightened his grip on his sword. “You little-!” The door to the manor house flew open and Grink ran to Listross, his right hand man at his side. “Prince. From what my men and I can tell, battle between us and the Ferronians started at the Rigor farm. News started coming this way. We subdued the blacksmith and his family before he awoke, but, as you can hear, they’re almost here.” “To arms!” Listross pointed his weapon towards the door as seven men from the city pushed into the room, engaging all the Tavalaskian men. Listross took a step back as he parried a blow to his torso. He nearly tripped over Magistrate Ossillion in the process.
“Sire!” Grink stormed into the house. Listross yawned and rubbed his eyes. He had fallen asleep on the couch reading to Emmya. They had traveled all night to get back. Thyrin and his group had taken both wagons their old master had owned and loaded them with supplies. Thryrin argued a bit about his group having to move into the barn, but when he saw the size of the manor house, he conceded. “Listross, wake up.” Grink frowned at him. “Someone’s coming.” Listross sat up, alert. “Who?” “Not quite sure, but Bolfreed and I were scouting, and saw them in the distance.” “Them? Go get a closer look, but don’t get caught.” “Understood.” Grink spun and left, leaving the house to be quiet once more.