The battlefield was quiet except for the moans of the wounded and the crackle of small fires where wyvern flames had set the grass alight.
Revas stood with his boot pressed on Emperor Valdemar's neck. He picked splinters of a lance from his coat sleeve, looking bored.
"He's squirming, Mistress," Revas said as Mirabelle rode closer. "Can I break his legs?"
Mirabelle looked down at the "Scourge of the North." Valdemar's helmet was missing, his face covered in mud, and his golden armor was dented. He glared up at her, hate and humiliation in his eyes.
"Get off me, demon!" Valdemar spat, struggling uselessly against Revas' unnatural weight. "I am a Sovereign! I demand to be treated with the rites of kings!"
"You attacked my home," Mirabelle said, her voice sharp. "You burned the outskirts of my city. You lost your rights when you declared war on a Saintess."
She signaled to Varric.
"Bind him. Iron chains. And gag him if he speaks again."
