In the center of the muddy market square, Inspector Finn was entirely frozen.
He was on his hands and knees in the slush. Standing in front of him was Captain Torstein, his broadsword drawn.
Behind them, shivering near a broken carriage, was the old vassal King Cerball of Osraige.
They were completely cornered...
Marching slowly out of the gray winter fog was a phalanx of elite Norse warriors.
...And riding at the very front, strapped tightly to his black warhorse, was Ivar the Boneless.
"You will not touch him, you crippled bastard!" Torstein roared, gripping his sword with both hands. He knew he was going to die today, but he was fully prepared to take as many of these Northern invaders with him as possible.
Ivar raised a hand, pointing a finger at the old King Cerball.
"Take the old King alive. He is a valuable," Ivar commanded his elite guards, "Kill the noisy captain and the fat tax collector."
