Iron-Scale's scaled fingers dug into the nape of Voranthar's neck. The former king stumbled over the slick granite steps, his knees scraping violently against the uneven rock. Blood pooled under Voranthar's torn fingernails as he desperately clawed at the stone to stall the descent.
Iron-Scale hauled him forward by his ruined collar and dragged him deeper into the spiraling stairwell.
Gulag marched directly behind them, driving her boot squarely between Alden's shoulder blades. The impact sent the nobleman sprawling face-first onto the polished floorboards of the subterranean corridor.
A dozen Vanguard soldiers corralled the surviving generals and aristocrats from Aethelgard into a tight, shivering circle.
"Remove the plating," Hawl ordered, tapping the flat of his blade against a general's shin. "Drop the silks."
The captives fumbled with their gilded buckles. Gold-plated breastplates and velvet robes clattered onto the wet stone.
