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Berilac
Telien signaled the archers on the walls to stand down. Bows were lowered, but the vigilant men stood ready at a command from their Captain to fire if needed. The wind picked up and blew through the brown grass. Its rustlings among the sere blades were the only sound heard in the space where the two groups stood.
Harald and his group approached no further toward the three, but motioned them nearer, saying they would be now be safe. Berilac urged Kirima to cross to where Lotar and his son stood and bring them closer. Soran trailed after them, his eyes watching for any movement among the archers.
Berilac stepped forward a little as Lotar neared and nodded at the man. ‘We understand we might come to some agreement over what it would take to get you to move on.’ He looked at Kirima, who stood by Kandel, then turned his gaze back to Lotar. ‘She has told us of the conditions in the camp, and spoken of how you were displaced from your homes and your livelihood. And we have seen with our own eyes the effects this has had on your children’s spirits and their health.’ He gestured toward Telien and the Mayor. 'Bree is too small a place to lend you any army to regain your lands. Truth be told Bree has no army; they are only a band of farmers and gardeners and merchants who hold their own land dear.’ He stepped closer to Lotar. ‘But they are a people whom good fortune has shined on. And my own folk have found them to be large hearted and generous to those in need.’ Berilac looked at Guthwine. ‘I think even he might tell you they have taken good care of his son, though he threatened them with word and blade.’
‘Bree is prepared, within reason, to help your people, Lotar. What would you ask of them?’
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