Vashen was the first to step into the chieftain's newly conquered hutt, his frame tall and proud as the blood of victory still pulsed hot in his veins.
Behind him came Valen, slower, more measured—his eyes scanning the interior not with awe or reverence, but the cool detachment of a man whom of the fall of a tribe only cared about how many slave he would get out of it.
The so-called hall was a disappointment, though Valen had prepared himself for little.
Still, it struck him how ordinary it all looked—the uneven wooden beams, the faint smell of ash and old animal hide, the fire pit choked with last night's embers, as this one actually had a fire pit at least.
He had seen this place before, or one just like it, back in the old , and probably now soon to be deserted Chorsi settlement .
