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Summary
"Did you know? The interference of those pests cost me my prize at God Valley."
He turned, and Dragon finally saw what was in his hand. Not a poker, but a-
A brand. A slave brand.
He lurched back, then stopped. There was nowhere to run. No point, he knew, squashing the panic that fled up his throat. Yet the fires of hatred burned in chest hotter than any brand.
So he seized his courage and raised his chin, refusing to cower.
Garling tsked. "You're not much of a consolation, but..."
He sighed, looking over the cadet like a new, disobedient pet. One in urgent need of breaking.
"I suppose you'll do."
*
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Dragon manages to save Shanks at God Valley, but at what cost?