Rain had fallen through the night, turning the earth to sludge. The morning light was pale, thin, filtering through the canopy of old oaks that lined the way.

Ahead, Thornbridge rose against the grey sky. Massive stone walls, weathered by centuries, stretched as far as the eye could see. Towers crowned with iron pennants swayed in the wind. The river glinted beyond them, wide and slow.

A guard approached, his cloak heavy with damp. He was stocky, bearded, with the kind of face that had seen too many winters.