A trembling man stepped out of the carriage and looked around at the towering walls.
Iron-Scale walked down the steps to meet him. "You test our walls with fire, and then you ride here to talk. Explain."
The man kept his hands raised in surrender. "That attack was not mine. I govern this border region, and we are the ones suffering the immediate fallout of this conflict. My people are bleeding resources, and those scouts belonged to a neighboring faction trying to provoke you."
"Where is Voranthar?" Iron-Scale asked, drawing a dagger.
"He is not with us," he stammered, his eyes locked on the blade. "He bypassed the outer towns entirely. Voranthar and his mages are secured deep within the Tarnstead capital. The inner rulers are using my lands as a buffer to absorb your retaliation. They expect us to die first."
Rubedo listened to the conversation from his sanctuary. The fractured coalition was deliberately sacrificing its outer edges to buy time for the capital.
