Aren had expected something more impressive. Perhaps a fortress surrounded by towering walls, an army of undead guarding its gates, or at least a territory where the presence of death could be felt from miles away. This was the home of Ludwig Hart, the apostle who had killed four Usurpers and defeated several members of the Council of Betrayers.
Instead, Aren stood beside a fenced pasture, watching cows graze. A farmer was repairing the wooden fence while another man led a cart loaded with hay toward a nearby barn. Beyond them stretched cultivated fields, newly constructed houses, and workshops that looked no different from those in any ordinary village.
There were even children playing near a well. Aren stared at them for several seconds before turning toward his retainers.
"Are you certain we're in the right place?"
Marek glanced toward the road marker they had passed, though he hardly needed to check it again.
"Quite certain, Master. This is the Bastos March."
