Then it had been simple. Then it had been right. The invader had come, he had come with his dark armies, with his hate and fire and blood and the people had fallen like corn before him, their flesh stripped and their bodies mutilated and broken. The King had stood up and seen the suffering and seen the end that would come and had sent his men, loyal men, simple men like Tiguri and they had fought him. They had fought him with hearts bursting with righteous anger and a burning, scolding need for the vengeance for a hundred thousand innocents trampled into the mud.