Tonight, there would be blood and fire and the old, clean joy of battle.
A scout burst through the doors, armor dented, breath ragged. Tonight, there would be blood and fire and
His bare feet—calloused from a thousand battlefields—rested on the mosaic of a serpent he’d crushed with his own hands. Outside, the city of Aquilonia whispered his name like a prayer and a curse. King. Barbarian. Savior. Tyrant. Tonight, there would be blood and fire and