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Floating on the uneasy waves of unconsciousness, oblivious to what happened next to him, a whole army could have marched past him, and Jonal would not have heard anything.
Light intruded upon his dreams, quivering before his eyes. His eyelids flew open, and he noticed that the light was from a lantern being hold close to his face.
"This one here is still alive sir." - he heard a gruff male voice say. As his sight slowly cleared he noticed rough leather boots, chainmail armour, with a crest on it. A young face, but already battle scarred.
An older man came closer, and pushed the lantern away. He knelt down close to Jonal, and with the lantern no longer shining in his face Jonal could get a good look at the man. He looked to be in his early fifties. He had a handsome face, but it was his eyes that told most of the tale. They were the eyes of someone, who had seen more than he would have liked during his years.
He wore the same attire as the younger soldier, now behind him, but his chain mail was much more exquisitely decorated. He had a short beard, and grey strands were already starting to appear in his hair.
He put a hand next to Jonal's neck, and felt the pulse. It seemed healthy to him, but the man was clearly in very bad shape.
"I am Richard Strongmare, I own some land close to here. I was travelling along the road, when one of my men spotted the carnage that had happened here. Can you speak?" - he asked Jonal. "What happened here?"
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