At the same time, on the other side of Snow Eagle City, deep in a street that had long been breached, Count Fos was already kneeling in the rubble and blood.
The silk robe on his body had long been burned through by sparks, and the magic crystal rings on his hands had fallen off during his escape.
All around were the corpses of knights who had died fighting to escort him out of Snow Eagle City.
"I, I am a count of the Forrester Clan!" Fos wailed incoherently, his cheek pressed against the cold stone slab, like a dead dog.
He tried to crawl forward on the ground, but a Snow Swearer warrior's boot stomped hard on his back, pressing him down with a sharp cry of pain.
"Spare me, my lord... I have money, I have mines, I have castles... I can give them all to you, just please, don't kill me..." he pleaded for mercy.
The warrior stepping on him laughed and said, "If we kill you, won't all of that be ours anyway?"
