Chapter 349: The Exiles
Dawn crept over the eastern horizon, its first golden rays barely piercing the thick mist that hung over the capital. A somber silence clung to the air, as though the city itself were holding its breath.
At the northern gate of Savadra, two grim processions slowly converged.
The first to arrive were the prisoners, their wrists bound in iron cuffs, ankles chafed from days in chains. They were flanked on all sides by fifty armored soldiers. Dust clung to their clothes, most of which were tattered remnants from their time in the dungeons.
Despite this, General Odin Norse and his sons stood tall, their backs unbent, eyes forward. Their steps were heavy from hunger and thirst, but their pride was intact, a final tribute to the fallen honor of the Norse army.
Moments later, a second group arrived from the south. A hush fell over the crowd gathered near the gates.
The wives and children of the convicted officers were herded toward the men, escorted not with compassion, but with the same cold discipline reserved for enemies of the kingdom.
The Northem soldiers around them held their weapons stiffly, their gazes flat, as if daring anyone to pity the condemned.
General Odin’s jaw tightened at the sight. Though fatigue lined his face, his voice rang out with unmistakable scorn.
"I did not realize the honor of Northem’s soldiers had fallen so low," he said sharply. "To treat women and children like criminals, you disgrace the uniform you wear."