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Wilheard
It was a while until Wulfric came back, and he didn't look too happy. And he didn't have any beer.
"Where's our beer?" Wilheard asked. He surely hadn't been sitting on the cold ground for nothing for ages when Wulfric took his time harassing kitchen maids.
"I didn't get any! There was just one grumpy old hag present and she told me that the barrells are all brought to the hall and I can go and get some drink there."
Wilheard couldn't help laughing. The image of slightly drunk Wulf wandering to the kitchen looking for beer and pleasant company and finding just an ugly old cow refusing to give him any beer.
Wilheard found himself laying on the ground, his ear was ringing. "Fool!" Wulfric spit. "Don't you dare make fun of me."
"You hit me," Wilheard said.
"Good point, ninny. You deserved it. For earlier, too," Wulfric replied darkly. "I'm going. Speeches or no, I want beer. Besides there's fire there, so it's not so freaking cold." He started walking back towards the fires.
Wilheard clenched his fists. It would be right to hit him back, but he knew his big brother would start a fight and wouldn't stop before he was one punch ahead. And given that he was bigger and stronger, Wilheard would get more hurt in the process. No, he would take his revenge in some other way. He followed his brother quickly and caught up with him.
They walked a few steps before they froze in their tracks. Two people were talking nearby.
"You are young, master Thornden," said a stranger's voice, clearly an older man. "And you have a great level of prominence in the old Scarburg, which has now been transported to the new Scarburg. Athanar respects you, even if it is little. Don't give him any reason to betray that trust. When Eodwine returns..."
"When what?" Wilheard hissed but Wulfric stepped on his toes. He looked suddenly very alert, and not so drunk at all.
"...very difficult, we will need people who are respected on both sides. And (the Vala forbid it!) if Eodwine does not return you must lead Scarburg to renew the seat to its rightful heir: Saeryn, and later her son!"
"Treason," Wulfric whispered darkly. Wilheard nodded. Scarburg was Lord Athanar's place now, and the rightful heir was Wulf, not any unborn baby of the peasant babe.
The rant went on: "Do not abandon your principles (which a man like you would never do), but co-operate with Athanar and his men."
Wulfric and Wilheard exchanged glances. They waited in eager silence what the commander would reply.
The answer came at length: "Perhaps you have read my position wrong, Lithor."
"Coward," Wilheard mumbled. Wulfric shook his head but didn't say anything.
They listened as the talk continued. There was talk of treachery this man, Lithor, had committed. Wilheard was baffled, and angry. Surely the locals wouldn't start acting treacherous on the first evening? Both the brothers clenched their fists when they heard this old fool offend their father.
"We should tell Father that this idiot is planning treason," Wulfric muttered under his breath when the two Scarburgians were exchanging parting words.
"No," Wilheard protested in whisper.
Wulfric raised an eyebrow and gave him a menacing look.
"I simply think that he has enough in his hands at the moment," Wilheard replied with the hint of a grin. "Surely he can trust his precious sons with some of his worries?"
Wulfric suppressed a laugh and swore affectionately at his little brother. "Let's follow the greybeard. I want to know what he's done to upset Father so."
Quiet as two shadows, the two brothers slipped after Lithor as he walked away.
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