As soon as they got home, all four of them went to the baths in an annex built of stone blocks, where thick steam mingled with the scent of soapy water was already hanging in the air. Unfortunately, they couldn’t enjoy a long, leisurely bath and had to get themselves cleaned up quickly. When they had finished, clean clothes were waiting for them in the vestibule. Tahon muttered something under his breath, and the fur covering his entire body suddenly burst into steam.
‘Belonging to the Order of the Fire God brings unexpected benefits,’ he chuckled, seeing the wide-eyed expressions of the three Ansons. Ceet carefully smoothed out his ruffled fur and only then got dressed. ‘What are you waiting for?’ he asked, seeing that Kari, Leif and Einar were still staring at him.
‘Is that…?’ Kari made an indefinite gesture with his hands.
‘Yes, magic.’ The beastman pretended to look around carefully. ‘Just don’t tell anyone, because Octavian doesn’t like it when I do that.’
The brothers, with their damp hair, and the perfectly dry Tahon, now in reasonably good spirits, set off for a rather early supper. They even joked a little on the way, but when they entered the dining room, the atmosphere there was so thick you could cut it with a knife.
All the household members and guests were already seated at the table, but there was someone else in the room. Against the wall opposite the jarl’s seat stood two legionnaires, bandaged and bound with thick rope, flanked by four sailors and two Ytren warriors. Father stared intently at the accused, his expression suggesting that he would have gladly beheaded them himself on the spot. Mother echoed his sentiment, though her gaze softened slightly once all her sons had taken their seats at the table.
Only now did Einar realise that there was another man sitting next to Tahon. He was dressed much like the legionaries, except that his tunic had a deep hood, and around his neck hung a metal amulet bearing the symbol of a flame and a sword, with a very
