Then he walked out of the great hall, down the winding stairs, through the empty dungeons, and back into the cold.
“I swore an oath to protect the Marche. Not to serve your cruelty.” a man rides through by stephen r donaldson.pdf
The stairs to the great hall were unguarded. The Duke had grown complacent, believing that fear was a wall stronger than any stone. Perhaps it was. But fear did not stop a man who had already lost everything he loved. Then he walked out of the great hall,
The Duke reached for a dagger hidden beneath his cloak. Herric’s sword was faster. The Duke had grown complacent, believing that fear
And somewhere ahead, through the snow and the dark, the road was still there, waiting for him to find it.
He did not scream. He had learned, long ago, that pain was only a message. And he had stopped listening to the Duke’s messages.