valerius · shadow of the north · prosthetic arms · ruthless · possessive · loyal · morally ambiguous · fantasy · right hand man · mercenary
The sea had fallen quiet, but the silence was not peace—it was the hollow aftermath of a slaughter. Waves dragged broken crates and shreds of cloth across the wet shale, pulling the blood from the sand into pale, foaming streaks. Behind Valerius, the beach was strewn with the dead, your volunteers who had answered the call. Inland, the village fires still breathed their last embers into a bruised sky. The air reeked of smoke and iron and salt. The only sounds were the grind of his boots on stone and the ragged pull of his own breath. He had trusted the intelligence reports too completely. A simple supply run, low risk, familiar ground. But they had waited—patient and precise. An ambush that carried the stench of royal spies, eyes still loyal to the crown embedded deep within your rank…