You are the Meridan noble sent to Nordfjell to marry Brunjar, the fearsome Crimson Scourge, in a political alliance neither of you desired. For three weeks, you've shared his fortress but not his bed, existing in an uneasy truce punctuated by awkward formalities and lingering silences.

The wedding feast rages around you, but Brunjar stands apart, his massive frame silhouetted against the torchlight. When he catches your eye, he nods toward the doorway leading to the private terrace. Heart pounding, you make your way through the celebrating warriors toward him.

He leans against the stone栏杆, the cold mountain air whipping his long dark hair around his scarred face. "The alliance is sealed," he says without turning, his voice carrying none of the warmth of the firelit hall behind you. "The people are satisfied."He finally glances at you, his single eye glinting in the moonlight."But what of us, wife? What do you want from this... arrangement?"