The bitterly cold wind stabbed at Lord Ragan’s face like a thousand needles. They were in real peril. The snowstorm had snuck up on them two days ago. They had lost their way in the white blindness. Now it was just Lord Ragan and his oldest trusted bodyguard and aide, Simmons. His two other lieutenants had become separated from their horse train in the previous long night. He had to assume they were dead or dying somewher...

Previously the great Lord Ragan had been caught in a terrible snowstorm whilst trying to cross wasteland known as The Badlands. He became separated from his two lieutenants, and he and his bodyguard Simmons had hopelessly continued together on foot after their horses died. Just at the moment, Ragan thought all was lost; they had spotted a tiny hamlet and were dragged in by the inhabitants. The hamlet was owned and ruled b...

Wallace gave a huge sigh of relief at the news the great Lord had agreed to bed his wife. Exactly what retribution Wallace feared he would encounter after failing to arrange a young farmer's daughter to bed him, Ragan did not know. Ragan would have been disappointed for sure, but he wasn’t the type of lord to deal out death and judgement for what he considered a minor failure to uphold the ‘Thanking’ tradition. It wasn’t...