[i]"On the hooves of a blizzard, far from the north he had flown,
 Little Bear Kingbreaker stormed down from his home.
 A trail of blood and bone did he leave; salted lands and burning trees.
 Banners fly in ire of peace, subjugation broken; our bonds are released.
 With a swing of an axe, Warrhon's small lord did fall..."[/i]

Her voice trailed away, her fingers dropping from the melody of her lute. Pyrra Salt lifted her head, tucking long strands of black hair behind her ears as the crushing rhythm of the Hinterland Horde slowly halted before her. Most seemed to be grizzled men, uncomfortable to be so close to the heart of a despised empire. Yet, too, among them she spied the fair; her hazel eyes falling upon the younger brother of Brogan Arten.

 She had been sent to receive this large host, though the song 'Kingbreaker's Ride' was purely her choice. There was something about the rough and reverent songs of the distant lands that filled her with a secret joy. 

Above her, as she fastened her lute to her hip, the archers stared down with their bows drawn and their eyes narrowed; a fact that was quickly protested by Brogan...the bear of a man who rode at the van. Once the lute was secure, she straightened her tight leather bodice and offered a sweeping bow. With her nape of her neck exposed, she spoke her first words to the man; the eyes of the northerners and the King's own soldiers on her as she began.

"Hail, Brogan Arten, son of Arten Kingbreaker. And to all those who ride with you. I am Pyrra Salt."

 She tossed her hand up, unceremoniously, letting it linger there as she stole quick glances at each of the men in the front. The archers tensed, the sound of the strings stretching obvious even from where she was standing. With an abrupt turn, she shouted up the city's walls.

"OPEN THE GATE, YOU LOUTS! OR DID YOU NOT SEE THE FUCKING PROCESSION COMING?"

After the groaning cacophony of chains began, she turned back to Brogan.

"If you would follow me, Lord Brogan. I am to take you to meet with King Piervue and your bethroted, Seralle Loroughe."