The iron bell atop the south armory of Blackwood Keep tolled with a frantic, irregular rhythm that signaled civil unrest. Down in the lower bailey, three hundred pack civilians—blacksmiths, weavers, farmers, and the wives of the second garrison—had gathered before the iron gates of the grain depot, brandishing pitchforks, iron hammers, and torches. "Where is our grain?!" a burly armorer shouted, slamming his hammer against the iron-banded timber gates. "Our…
Keep reading in the app
This chapter is in the Booknovel app. Unlock it with coins, a short ad, the free timer or VIP.
Scan with your phone camera
Opens chapter 11 directly. New readers get free coins.