“My lord?”
Ingram looked up from his afternoon meal towards the page. “Mm?” he grunted, still chewing on his lunch.
The boy hesitated. “It’s Hearthglen, sir. A bird’s just arrived. There’s been a sighting.”
Ingram blinked slowly, putting one hand on the greathelm at his side, and swallowed. “A sighting?”
“Yes, sir, uh,” the boy said, seeming nervous, “the missive says there was a, uh, scalar ship. Dragonborn crew.”
Ingram narrowed his eyes.
“There was…it…it was attacked.”
“Attacked?”
“Yes, sir. By a…dragon, sir.”
Ingram pursed his lips, not saying anything for a moment.
“There’s no mention of damage to Hearthglen, sir, but…”
Ingram raised an eyebrow.
“It mentions a few people that match the description of Rell’s Heroes. One commanding storms, another wielding what appeared to be tridents.”
The knight stood to his feet, the bench scraping along the castle floor and echoing throughout the chamber. He fastened his arming cap before pulling the greathelm on.
“Make good the men, and have that information sent to the Baron,” the lord of Blackmore said, casting his eye out the nearby window to the courtyard below. He began moving towards the door.
“Prepare my steed.”
