Forsaken

Harik had a deep frown on his face as he stared at the town that was Jarl Jorsson's seat of power. The hill they were currently camped on had a great view of the town and its walls. It was so clear that they could see the decayed heads mounted on spikes. 'I don't like it... It's just too quiet...' Harik glared at the sky above it where smoke from the daily fires should be. But there was nothing there.

"Don't you think it was too easy?" Ania hummed from beside him with her spear firmly in her grasp. 

"Yes... Ever since Bjorn returned with his crazy story, we encountered less resistance on the way here. They were disorganised and it should have gotten worse for us." Harik replied with a deep tone. "Something isn't right."

"Bjorn's story is definitely crazy... but I have a feeling that it's true. The followers of Exile all seem to have taken it to heart as well." Ania murmured. "Perhaps it was a miracle sent by Exile... Maybe, this is his doing as well."