Above the ruined cottages and stalls surrounding the town square, the sky burned red.
One would think this was an omen, a sign of something malevolent about to fall. However, it was the opposite. Tonight was a night of celebration.
After all, the infamous Incubus King was about to be executed.
Torches threw wild shadows across stones of muddy walls as a chorus of rage filled the air. Hundreds had gathered, not merely common folk but even kings, barons, warriors and the holy priests of the land.
They weren't here just to get rid of the demonic sovereign who had brought chaos onto their land. They all had their personal reasons.
As unfortunate events would have it, each one of these men had suffered humiliation at the hands of the Incubus King. He didn't hurt them—not physically at least. He didn't steal their land or kill their men, he never even waged a war.
No. He had done something far worse.
He had slept with their wives.
