He gave his orders and shortly a few warriors returned carrying a wooden table and a chair. They positioned it in the road before Lykos. He sat, theatrically nonchalant as bread and cheese were placed before him, a cup of wine. He began to eat. Men were led before him now, warriors of Ripa roped together. With kicks and punches they were forced to their knees on the road before Lykos.

‘Kill them,’ Lykos said, crumbs of cheese spilling from his mouth. He washed it down with wine as the prisoners’ throats were cut.

The row of warriors upon the wall watched it all in stony-eyed silence.

‘Should have their attention now,’ Lykos said as he stood and the table was carried away. He belched.

‘You up there,’ he shouted. ‘Anyone worth talking to?’

His voice rebounded from the black walls.

‘I don’t expect someone my equal – no deities amongst you, I would guess. But Lamar, maybe even Krelis, or Peritus the cowering worm, of course. Any of you will do.’

‘I’m going to enjoy killing you,’ a voice called back, a large man appearing above the gate. Very large, towering at least a head over any others around him. Lykos recognized him. Hated him.

‘Well met, Krelis,’ Lykos called back. ‘A beautiful day, no?’ Krelis was Ripa’s beating warrior-heart. He had led the shipbuilding and then defence of the bay and coastline surrounding Ripa. His ships had not been as sleek and deadly at sea as Lykos’ own galleys, but they were big enough and fast enough to consistently spoil Vin Thalun raids on villages along the coast.

‘It’ll be a better day when your head no longer graces your shoulders.’

Lykos pulled a face. ‘A little too aggressive a start for a peace talk, I think.’

‘This is no peace talk. Look what you’ve done to my town.’

As if to prove Krelis’ point, black smoke billowed across the road, obscuring the view for a few moments.

‘Wine,’ Lykos called, and Kolai passed him a skin. He drank deep and smacked his lips.

When the smoke cleared, Lykos spread his arms.

‘There is nothing damaged that cannot be repaired. I needed to make a point.’

‘And how will I repair my slain warriors? My murdered people?’ Lykos could hear the hatred in Krelis’ voice, barely contained.

Good. Anger is always the best enemy. It blinds, cloaks, distorts.

‘You are harbouring an enemy of the realm. Peritus. He is guilty of treason. Murder. Inciting rebellion.’ Lykos shook his head, tutting. ‘To protect such as he, well, there are consequences.’

‘You are not the law-giver in Tenebral. You are a pirate, usurping power. And Peritus is battlechief of Tenebral, a better man than you could ever hope to be.’

‘He is an outlaw, stripped of his titles and sentenced to death by Fidele, Regent of Tenebral in Nathair’s absence. And incidentally my wife, by the way.’

‘She is not your wife.’