"Ragnar..." Erik breathed out, crossing his arms over his white polar bear furs.
"What happened to you down there in City Titan?"
Ragnar slowly turned his head.
He looked at the giant King of Iceland for a long moment.
The three foreign marshals standing behind Ragnar shifted slightly in their armor, their hands resting on the hilts of their weapons.
They were ready to defend their King from any perceived insult, even from a loyal vassal.
"Nothing happened to me." Ragnar finally answered. "I am just tired of fighting the exact same stupid battles against the exact same stupid kings."
"You brought fifteen thousand men and three foreign marshals to my port," Erik pointed out, his brow furrowed. "You don't do that just because you are a little tired. You are planning something massive, aren't you? Something that requires a completely insane amount of blood."
However, Ragnar didn't offer a comforting smile or a boasting laugh.
