Scarburg Meadhall

[Groin Redbeard]

Erbrand thought for sure that his words would provoke an unfriendly response from Athanar, but to his surprise Athanar stayed civil. It seems that not everyone was as short tempered as Erbrand. Athanar is indeed a lord. However, the response from Athanar was unyieldingly committed to the idea of change. What that change was Erbrand could not guess, but from what Athanar was saying about Tancred and these nobles, it did not sound all positive. Erbrand felt like snapping back: you are not on the battlefield! This is my home! He was not angry, but he was getting a little frustrated.

The conversation had gone on long enough. Erbrand knew that he should be silent and let his lord have the last word. However, something inside of Erbrand was screaming at him to press the matter further, not to let Athanar think that he could simply come in and change things without resistance.

“What of our lady?” Erbrand called after him. It was extremely rude Erbrand knew that and his impotence could be punishable if he continued much more. “You will, of course, respect her position over us as our lady?”

“I will respect her, yes, but you forget Erbrand, Scarburg has a new lord.”

Athanar was solemn. Erbrand was at least thankful that he did not show any signs of glee in what he had just said, but still. Erbrand felt downcast. Poor Saeryn, does this mean that Athanar has ousted her from the hall? No, he cannot be that cruel. If he is, however, Scarburg should stand up against him, but he cannot be that cruel! He will make a good lord.

“My thanks to the king that Scarburg has an honest lord,” Erbrand replied with a bow. “I wish you good faith in your rule.” Athanar smiled and returned the bow before turning and heading back to the hall.

He is honest and humble in his dealings whether cruel or no, I will give him that. Erbrand watched his new lord until he disappeared inside the Meadhall. He will do.

[Thinlómien]

Modtryth

Before Crabannan could answer the stranger's question, Modtryth cut in: "There was one such soldier here just a while ago, but he left. He seemed to be a bit bruised." There was a hint of question to the tone of her voice.

"What's going on?" asked Ginna, suddenly appearing behind Modtryth's shoulder and leaving just the two cooks to prepare the food. She wiped her fingers on her apron and eyed the two men questioningly.

"This man here is looking for his friend, and Crabannan - well I understand he just came to beg for food," Modtryth told Ginna, and threw a quick smile at Crabannan.

"I know, I heard that," Ginna said. "But what's up with bruised and disappeared people?"

~*~

Wilheard

Oh, Wulf would never catch him. He was a better rider, he had a better horse and he had got a head start. Wilheard shook his head. It was almost sad, some more excitement would be in order. There hadn't been any excitement for days, just dull riding across the fields and plains. Willheard didn't mind spending time or horseback or in open air - in fact he enjoyed it a lot - but it was incredibly frustrating with dozens of people and wagons that moved slower than snails.

His steed was breathing heavily, so he let the animal take a slower pace and looked around. The Scar was quite a beautiful place with the rough rocks and cold autumn sunlight reflecting on them. There was marshland on the other side, and forest formed dark green patches here and there. Wilheard could feel the wind in his hair, and he couldn't help urging his horse to gallop again. It felt good to be here.

He grinned. If Wulf had heard him say that! It was true this was uncultivated countryside and away from the inns and barracks of Edoras, but there was something else here, a wild and savage spirit, the feel of earlier times and heroic deeds. Something he could not quite hunt down and catch, but something he could feel even after such a short while on the scar and something he could let take him over.

He started looking for a way down the scar with the horse. There was swamp, true, but not all of the ground was so wet and it definitely merited a look. Maybe, after all, this would be an adventure instead of an all too long sentence in a boring faraway prison.

[Groin Redbeard]

Balvir’s response was uncommitted to praising or condemning Matrim’s action. The discussion went on for another fifteen minutes before the soldiers decided on the “forgive and forget” approach to the matter. After which Lithor promptly left, followed by his usual companions Balvir and Matrim, to change into his good uniform.

“I have not worn this since lord Eodwine’s wedding,” Lithor stated as he strapped his leather tunic on.

“It hasn’t been long enough,” responded Matrim, hopping up and down while trying to pull a boot on.

“I rather like it.” Lithor fastened his prairie green cloak on his shoulders and sarcastically stroked his hair producing a grin from Matrim and Balvir.

“I wish I was rich enough to afford a looking glass.”

“You should have seen the one that I unloaded from the wagon train, Lithor. It must have been three feet high!” Balvir whistled and Lithor raised his brows in surprise. “This Athanar is sure rich. Perhaps you could ask his wife if you could borrow that mirror of hers.”

“Never mind that, just so long as everyone else can see me I am fine.” They laughed and Balvir opened the door leading to the main hall.

The long tables were all joined together to form an unfinished three sided square. The kitchen maids had begun to decorate the tables with the berries and plants that best represented the wintery time of year. The scent from the kitchen suddenly made Lithor realize how hungry he was.

“Frodides!” Lithor called after the old cook. “Are there any samples for a few hungry soldiers?” Frodides simply shook her head knowingly and the three soldiers laughed.

“My my, someone sure looks good!” Erbrand said coming through the hall door, closing it behind him. The light was beginning to fade in the evening sky and the freezing night winds were beginning to pick up. Erbrand was dressed for the occasion in a sheep skin cloak, covering his shoulders, and mostly butternut colored clothing. His clothes were the best that he had, but they were worn by the weather and months of hard work. However, his face was merry and his hands were busy tuning the cords on a fiddle

“Hey there Erbrand.” Matrim said “My! What happened to you? You look worse than I do.”

For a minute Erbrand was confused and hurt. He examined his clothing and brushed at it. Erbrand thought that he had dressed quite well for the occasion. However, when he looked up Matrim was pointing at Erbrand’s forehead, not Erbrand’s clothing.

“That is the longest, nastiest, looking bruise I have ever seen. Where did you get it?”

“Oh that! Never you mind, it does not matter where I got it.”

“Say, Erbrand,” interjected Lithor with a big smile on his face. “I did not know that you could play.” He pointed at the fiddle in Erbrand’s hands.

“Something my grandpa taught me from his experience in Aldburg’s taverns. There has not been the proper occasion to bring it out and I thought now would be a good time. Perhaps Crabannan and I could combine our talents to make some proper music for our guests.”

“Indeed, and speaking of our guests, I am most anxious to hear what Athanar will have to say.”

“He has a good character. I do not think that he will be a bad lord in the least.” Lithor looked at him surprised. Erbrand was the last person in Scarburg, with the exception of Scyld and Crabannan, who Lithor expected to hear this talk from.

“You sound awfully sure of yourself, Erbrand. Is there something you would like to share with the rest of us?” Lithor’s lips curled in a large grin, but Erbrand simply winked and returned the grin.

The hall was beginning to fill up with people. The great fire was lit and filled the great meadhall with a warm, glowing, light. After wishing one another a merry night, Lithor, Balvir and Matrim left to find what their duties would be for the night, leaving Erbrand alone. Erbrand, however, soon left the hall for the moment to the kitchen to see if he could find Kara. But he would have to hurry, the feast was about to begin!

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

"There was one such soldier here just a while ago, but he left. He seemed to be a bit bruised."

Hilderinc looked at the cook, forgetting the question he had just asked the man. So Áforglæd was here, after all. Hilderinc felt kind of satisfaction inside once again - so his guess has been correct. Apparently the missing soldier did not stay for long, but there were not many places where he could go - and at least it was clear now that he was not "lost". Well, surely, Hilderinc thought, there won't be many places for Áforglæd to get lost. He might already be in the barracks by now as well.

"What's going on?"

Another woman, considerably younger than the one who spoke to Hilderinc in the first place, came to them. She was very pretty, Hilderinc realised on first sight, with long, very light hair and clear blue eyes. A beauty worthy of a king's daughter, Hilderinc thought, and somehow reminded himself that he should not make his opinions on Scarburg too fast. This girl certainly did not fit the image of the place he formed for himself during the last few hours. Automatically, his eyes flicked to the remaining two women in the kitchen, as to confirm his thoughts. Well, he thought, there is still a lot to learn about this place.

"This man here is looking for his friend, and Crabannan - well I understand he just came to beg for food."

The dark cook's voice made him return back from his thoughts. All right, so this non-Eorling man's name was Crabannan. Another useful thing to remember.

"I know, I heard that." The young woman not only was very beautiful, she had also a pleasant voice. "But what's up with bruised and disappeared people?"

Hilderinc looked at her, shaking his head slightly.

"There is nothing 'up', I think," he said. "It looks like Áforglæd did not really disappear after all, he was just looking for some food - and we could not find him. I was thinking he might be here. He was bruised because - well, men. Sometimes they fight," he added in a kind tone.

"Anyway, thank you for your help," he nodded towards the dark-haired woman. "I won't hinder you from your work anymore, I will go outside and most likely meet our missing man there. And we are probably going to see yet tonight," Hilderinc looked also at Crabannan this time. Then, he walked across the room, past the two other cooks, towards the outer door.

[Groin Redbeard]

*ding* Erbrand plucked at his fiddle string in his hand as he walked towards the kitchen. He plucked at the string again and the then sawed his bow along the chords. It had been awhile since he had played it but it should be like swinging an axe--you never forget. Erbrand would never forget the way that he had learned to play. Listening to his grandpa saw the same fiddle he was holding was as good as it got. The great fire that had been lit in the hall contrasted the quaint fireplace that his parents had in Aldburg. Erbrand's mind swiftly brought him back to that room and he could picture his parents and grandparents sitting together around the fire, while he and his brothers lay on the floor listening... just listening.

Erbrand's thoughts, however, were cut short when he walked right into a soldier coming from the kitchen. Thankfully, his fiddle avoided injury but the impact knocked Erbrand back.

"Whoops, sorry!" Erbrand exclaimed once he saw that it was not someone he knew.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

It was for the second time in a few minutes when somebody ran directly into him. Hilderinc looked at the man as he apologized. He was dressed like a peasant, but he was holding a fiddle. Some local bard, perhaps? But then Hilderinc looked into the man's face and noticed an unmistakeable feature.

Ah, so this one was the brawler, he thought. Áforglæd probably showed him quite a lot, though. The bruise on this man's forehead looked really bad. Somehow, Hilderinc started to think about the fight that took place among the men from a different perspective. Áforglæd in the end escaped with very little consequences. No punishment from the authorities and also the marks of the battle afflicted upon him were not as bad as what he himself had caused to this man. He was luckier than he deserved. And especially taking into account that this man was probably bigger than him, and he looked strong enough too.

"No harm done," Hilderinc forced his gaze away from the man's forehead. For a moment, he looked into his eyes. Then he moved past him. There was still probably some time before the meal, but there were all sorts of minor things to do before it started, surely lord Athanar has prepared something big for tonight and Hilderinc did not want to miss anything.

[Nogrod]

SAVE

For any posts that deal with things happening before the banquet begins. See the discussion thread for details.

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Wynflaed, Aedre and Lilige


Ædre spent the sort walk to her mother’s room ignoring Lilige’s ramblings and trying to figure out what she was going to say to her mother. She knew that she couldn’t get away with as much with her mother as she could with her father. She needed to tread lightly.

"Ædre, what happened?" Wynflaed said. Then, more calmly, "Lilige, a basin of water and some soft rags, please. I shall, when you are finished, wish to know how you learned of this."

"Yes, my Lady, of course!" Lilige said, and backed out the door. "Right away, I won't be long," she added as she turned and hurried away.

As she left, she heard Ædre and Wynflaed start to speak:

“This local boy… he… he hit me…” Ædre began.

"That was a very dishonourable thing for him to do," said Wynflaed. "Did he give any reason for doing so? Did you give him any cause?"

“No!” Ædre yelled as she really didn’t think that she gave him any cause. “I asked this other boy to help me because I don’t really know my way around here. After he helped me this other boy came along and told me that I had no business being here and that Papa isn’t the real Eorl.

“Papa is the real Eorl isn’t he? I thought that is why we came to this terrible place because they need a strong leader. Like Papa.” Ædre said bringing the conversation from herself to her father.

"Ædre," said Wynflaed, "this place is not terrible. It may not be Edoras, but it is not terrible, and I suggest that you talk to your father or any of the soldiers who weathered the War if you want to know the true meaning of 'terrible.' You should be grateful that this is all you or any of us have to worry about.

Ædre bowed her head and nodded somberly, glad that she was only getting a mild scolding.

"Not," Wynflaed continued, "that there are no problems. The people in Scarburg may have trouble accepting Papa as the new eorl, but if they are to take that out on those who clearly had no choice in the matter..."

She sighed. "Thank you for letting me know of this matter, Ædre. You--all of us--will have to be patient and kind with these people until they accept us. I will speak with those who are more familiar with the hall to determine what is to be done with the lad who struck you--a good leader always listens to all sides of the story before passing judgment. Did you catch the name of the lad who struck you? Do you know who his mother and father are?"

Ædre realized her mother was done talking about boring matters and that she was asked a question and was expected to respond.

“No… he never said his name… I… I think he mentioned that his father isn’t around though. He seemed about my age with darker hair than mine. Maybe Lilige knows…”

"I do wish she would get back here soon..." She sighed, and found a linen cloth--much finer than should be used for the tending of scrapes, but it was better that than letting the wound fester unwashed any longer--and the ewer of water provided for general refreshment. Dipping the cloth in the water, she began to dab at Ædre's cut.

"I dislike the idea of your going to the banquet with your face marred so. And depending on how the rest of the Hall perceived this fray, it may not go well to have you there. It is not your fault, mind, but I should still feel better..." She sighed. "Never mind. If you do not feel up to attending the banquet, you shall not. But if you do, I shall expect you to be on your best behaviour. We must set a good example for everyone else. Your father and I shall see to it that no one else lays a hand on you, but I would feel better if you only spoke at the banquet when spoken to. If you hear anyone speak out against your papa's rule, you will to tell us, before things get beyond control and you get hurt."

“Yes, Mother” Ædre replied wincing both from her words and her touch.

She was now trying to decide if she should go to the banquet or skip out and maybe get a chance to see her horse. If she went to the banquet she would be able to see her father’s reaction to his baby girl being assaulted on their first day here but she would also be under the watchful eye of her mother and under strict instructions not to have any fun. If she went to the stable she wouldn’t have to deal with her mother any longer but she also wouldn’t get an immediate reaction out of her father. She decided that she has had enough meeting new people for today and would rather just go calm down with Leta. She could see her father later.

“I… I think I’m not feeling well enough to go to the banquet. Give Papa my love.”

Lilige hurried back into the room, nearly tripping over the doorsil in her haste. "My Lady, here you are," she said, breathless. "How is she?" She set the basin and damp rags on the floor beside her Lady. "I brought a new gown for Aedre to change into for the banquet. Oh, what will they say? What will Lord Athanar say?" Lilige put her hand to her mouth to stop herself from rambling.

Wynflaed squeezed the bloodied linen into the basin, then rinsed it out a few times.

"Lord Athanar and I will determine what is to be done with the lad who struck our Aedre. But Aedre herself has said that she does not feel up to attending the banquet--and I honestly cannot blame her. Would you mind watching over her and making sure she does not come to any more harm in this new place?" She smiled. "I would do so myself, but unfortunately the Hall requires me to be elsewhere."

She rose from where she was kneeling. "The banquet is soon, and I must find Athanar and speak to him of what has happened before it begins." She bent down and kissed her daughter's brow. "Be a good girl for me, Aedre."

“Yes, mother.” Ædre responded.

Now I just have to get rid of Lilige and figure out how to make it back to the stable without trouble. Everyone should be at the banquet so I shouldn’t run into anyone. Mother would be really mad if she found out I disobeyed her.

"Of course, My Lady," Lilige said. "I would not dream of letting anything more happen to your daughter." Lilige closed her mouth again as she realized that Wynflaed could not hear her, as she had already left.

[Nogrod]

The Hall was filled to the last seat. The first jugs of wine were served to the tables and Erbrand and Crabannan performed a few songs with a fiddle and a harp.

After the two settled down to their table lord Athanar rose up.

”Ladies, gentlemen, soldiers, workers, household… well, all you people of the Scarburg Hall!” Lord Athanar’s words echoed loud in the Hall like the words of a man who was used to address large crowds. The discussions in the tables died down and everyone turned their attention towards him.

“Any man in Rohan should mourn the fate of a man of lord Eodwine’s calibre. Sadly we can only bring you ill tidings. The king’s messengers came to Edoras from Minas Tirith the day before we left… They told us that the physicians in Minas Tirith’s Houses of Healing seem to think his condition is what they call “the dead man’s life”… it means a condition where the body barely keeps the light of life alive but the spirit has ceased to exist. It was even rumoured that after king Eomer’s request king Elessar himself had visited him… but to no avail. He has been unconscious for over a month.”

Lord Athanar fell silent and laid his head down to honour lord Eodwine and the feelings of those who loved him. There was a total silence in the Hall.

Saeryn, too, turned her head away from Athanar. She clenched her jaw tight, trying to keep from crying, and her eyelids pressed hard together. Then she felt Degas' hand reaching for hers. She opened her clenched fist and grasped his hand. She gained control of her emotions and then drew a deep sigh and turned back again to Athanar.

Finally lord Athanar raised his head and eyed the people around the Hall. And he continued.

“Let me assure you, the king himself took his illness heavily. But he had also heard of your plight with the local lords here – them being the first reason he decided to set up a Mead Hall into Mid Emnet…” He glanced at the people, especially those on the tables of workers and household staff as he was not sure they understood all the politics involved.

“I’ll make this short, but I do think you need to understand this, everyone, so that we can start building a working relationship between all of us… to fulfill the king’s will and not need to witness the kind of incidents I’ve heard have already taken place earlier today.” He laid his eye to the table where Javan sat and then to the soldier’s tables.

“The king wishes to establish his rule and the rule of common law to all corners of his kingdom. And there still are areas around Rohan where this is not the case… and Mid Emnet is one of them. Establishing the rule of the king means that the local lords will have their law-given deal of the taxes from the peasants, but not more. They will then pay the rest to the eorl as the king’s representative in the region who deals the law… and the eorl will pay to the king his share in turn. And establishing the rule of law puts to an end any high-handed methods of local lords dealing their own justice by giving the right of fulfilling the law to the king’s representative, the eorl, who is then responsible for his decisions to the king himself. This way the same laws are used all around the country and people are given a right to live under the prosperity of their king instead of the arbitrary rule of whoever lord they happen to live under.” He let the words hammer in.

“And this, all this, king Eomer has seen as an urgent task enough to nominate a new eorl to the Mead Hall at Scarburg when hearing of lord Eodwine’s condition.”

Suddenly he produced a parchment from his sleeve and rolled it out, showing it to everyone.

“This is the decree signed by king Eomer appointing me to take over the Scarburg Mead Hall as the new eorl. It is a similar decree like the one handed to lord Eodwine back in spring.” He paused to check if the people had gotten what he had just said.

Saeryn felt the blood leave her face and she jerked unintentionally from the shock. She felt Degas move in his chair, too. She laid her hand quickly on his knee and held him back, despite her own violently beating heart.

“Now that you all understand the situation… I will not tolerate a single incident questioning this decree and my authority following from it in this place. Any such disobedience will be handled as a high treason against the king himself. Do I make myself clear?” Lord Athanar had decided already beforehand to make that point as firm and clear he could. The acceptance of that point by the original Scarburg-dwellers was the founding of everything. But now he was a bit embarrassed of the fire in his words - while realising seeing his bruised daughter with his mind’s eye like she was, sobbing, just an hour ago. But he realised he had to calm down… and he did.

“I will be both straight and fair with you. Those of you who have lived under my rule I think know that already.” There were several nods and “ayes!” from the tables of Athanar’s soldiers and his household.

“And that means… I will reward those who do their duties and work for the common good… and will have no toleration for those doing the opposite. Be honourable and I will honour you, be dishonourable and I will punish you with a strong hand. That is the base of all good government. I have been brought to believe in it, I have followed it all my life and I have seen it work all my life... all the way from the Pelennor Fields to my recruitment into this Mead Hall. So I’m not going to change my ways.”

Lord Athanar paused, grabbed the goblet in front of him and took a sip of the wine. It was clear he was trying to remember what other things he had to state his position on as he had gotten a bit carried away once again. The air in the Hall was heavy with expectancy as so many things dear to the original Scarburgers were still not spoken of, and the newcomers were not too clear about their status in comparison to this other staff.

“You should all meet Coenred, he’s the commander of my guards – and will be the commander of all the soldiers at Scarburg Mead Hall as the highest ranking officer… Coenred, please rise up!

Coen rose up and nodded to the crowd.

“I have complete trust in him and wish to see you all follow my example there as soon as possible… He’s a fine soldier, an experienced commander and of true Rohanian blood… And let it be announced right away: all the soldiers will have a light training session tomorrow after breakfast… just to get to know each other... you know.”

There was a reaction to the announcement of rehearsals in the soldiers’ tables but after the explanation - and the accompanying smile from lord Athanar - it died off fast.

“What comes to master Thornden…” Lord Athanar waved his hand showing that he should stand up as well. The air in the hall turned tense. Stigend, Garstan and Harreld leaned closer to hear the next words closely – with so many others.

“Thornden will be second in command with the soldiers after Coenred… but also my special advisor, my seneschal… if he accepts the offer. I do appreciate his openness and straight-talking ways... and his guts. And he knows many of you and this Mead Hall better than I do. I would appreciate his counsel.”

There was cheering with the people of the Mead Hall even if the feelings were clearly mixed – and Athanar’s praise also caused cheers among his own soldiers; they knew Athanar would not praise anyone that much without a reason.

Athanar waited for the applauses to die down before going on.

“You should also meet my family… Will you please?” he nodded to his family to rise up.

“Meet my lady Wynflaed, my sons Wulfric and Wilheard! My sons I do hope will earn their places in the ranks of the military, which I think them perfectly capable of doing in here as they have done in my earlier households… Then there is also my youngest daughter, Aedre, who unfortunately does not attend this banquet..." Everyone saw the storm cloud gathering over Athanar’s forehead but he held it at bay, with some noticeable suffering.

“Aedre is young and she is your eorl’s daughter… I expect you to behave accordingly…” His words were poignant and it was clear lord Athanar forced himself to stay calm of the events that had happened earlier which most of the people had already heard of.

“My wife, lady Winflaed, will naturally be the lady of the Scarburg Mead Hall…” A murmur rippled through the old Scarburgians. Angry glances were exchanged and quite a few looked towards Saeryn to see what she thought of this. Lord Athanar quickly waved his hand to indicate he was continuing.

“I can see your feelings… But whatever you think, it is downright impossible that the honourable wife of the eorl would not be the lady of the Hall. Could you name a lord who would accept that? Lord Eodwine would not have accepted that! The king would not accept that!” Athanar paused to let the people think.

“You know people are sometimes thrown into situations they have not picked themselves… You didn’t choose lord Eodwine’s illness, we didn’t choose to replace him in a Hall where everyone mourns him, making this hard for us as well…” He waited for a moment.

“Lady Saeryn will have an honoured and special role in the Mead Hall – like master Thornden… I don’t know if there is a traditional role we could give her… but if there isn’t, we’ll have to come up with one as this is an unordinary situation. It’s just that things are happening too fast and I have not had time to come up with a good title for her. But rest assured, her voice will be heard and honoured – and you can channel your grievances to me by her – like by master Thornden. And I’ll take care the arrangement is approved by the king as well in the end…”

There was a marked unrest in the Hall as people were puzzled as to how to cope with the news…

“I will form a council of the Mead Hall which includes my lady Winflaed, Coenred, lady Saeryn and Thornden. I will make no major decision concerning this Hall without listening to this council. But the last decisions will be mine. As the eorl I carry the consequences of the decisions, in front of the king and Rohan… therefore I make the final decisions…”

Lord Athanar bent forwards to take one more sip of the wine and to concentrate to his last effort.

“Now some of you may wonder why I have such a host of soldiers with me… am I going to cease power with force, am I going to suppress you under my rule? Well, first of all I hope the king’s decree is enough – and that I am enough.” He paused once again just to see the faces of the audience… especially of those who belonged to the “original Mead Hall”.

“But fear not. Scarburg Mead Hall will not be a military camp but hopefully a leisurely Hall with an easy-going life… King Eomer suggested I’d have a dozen of his Rohirrim from Edoras to cover us on the way with our precious belongings – and to use them as possible negotiating tools against the local lords. And that is why they are here. We will settle this thing with the local lords soon enough… the next week if it’s up to me. And after the most urgent things have been settled, they will go back to serve at king Eomer’s court.” It was clear that the way lord Athanar produced the last words was meant effectively to convey the message that he had men from the king’s personal guard under his command and therefore the original residents should be even more careful with how they act.

What he said was actually true, but it was pretty shrewd of him to stress it that way. But then again, looking at the situation, he thought it a necessary move. He couldn’t afford an uprising. He had promised king Eomer to settle the situation with the local lords and with a rebellious Hall he would never manage it. Looking at the tensions that had burst out into minor rows already during the first hours he needed to take the authority and put all those hard feelings at bay with authority. Knowing people only a few hours one doesn’t make them co-operative with just being the prince charming, especially if the people think you’re stepping on their toes…The mission first…

Lord Athanar coughed to mark the end of his speech.

“People of the Scarburg Hall! I look towards a bright future for us all and I have all the confidence that we will get those landlords behaving as the king’s vassals they need to behave. They may be able to gather a host of spears but with the force we have… and the authority we have… they should see their own good sooner than later. And we will get into business with them immediately. The next week I hope.”

There were cheers from around the Hall, although some were markedly less enthusiastic than others.

“Now I suggest the meal should be brought forwards. And when you feel right, when you have thought of it in peace, please lady Saeryn, master Thornden, share your thoughts with us.” He looked at the two sitting against each other on a table right to him. He looked at them both confident and easy but a bit reserved at the same time. But nevertheless, he had called them forwards to speak their minds to everyone. So it was fair and square to him.

“Let us raise a toast to the happy future of the Scarburg Mead Hall!” he said and raised his goblet.