Chapter 4: Hound, The Alpha Dreadclaw
Kaelor stood still, cold breath misting from his lips, as his gaze swept over the crowd one last time. Their eyes had been full of exhaustion, of quiet accusations.
His eyes returned to the broken hunter.
Hound’s body was a ruin, his chest gouged open, his right eye shredded, his breathing wet and shallow. The man was barely holding onto life, and dragging him through the dirt had only made it worse.
He didn’t belong on the ground. He belonged on a bed, surrounded by the town he had protected.
"You all saw me arrive," Kaelor muttered, his voice low but firm. "Our carriage was ambushed. My mother was murdered. I’ve been walking in mud for hours and now stand in a town that was supposed to be mine... I am exhausted."
He gestured to the hunter, his tone tightening. "Take him. Treat his wounds. Bring him to me in the morning, if he survives the night."
But Ned’s voice cut through like an axe.
"We don’t have the means to heal him. And the wolves aren’t waiting. Yesterday, they devoured Josh’s son. The day before, we lost six men, eaten alive. The rest came back with half their limbs. Most are dead now."
He turned to the people, though they had already begun to disperse. "We have suffered enough. The Duke doesn’t care, neither does his vassals, nor any knight, no help has come."
Then he left, just like that, taking the rest of them with him, as if to make a final statement:
You want to rule? Rule this.