[Legate of Amon Lanc]

Hilderinc's mood on the way back to Scarburg was quite merry. He was pleased with the way Athanar had dealt with the remaining landholders and for now, Hilderinc was feeling as if things were the way they should be – a rather rare mood for him, in fact. As for himself, he felt comfortably fatigued and for the last few miles he had been looking forward to seeing the warm fireplace, a full plate and maybe a mug of good ale. And he even felt like cheering spontaneously at lord Athanar's speech – which, knowing Athanar, he was expecting to come at some point, maybe around the dinner-time. But that mood was not supposed to last, unfortunately.

Since as the soldiers came back home, put their horses back to the stables and after taking care of all the necessities, they entered from the chilly autumn late afternoon into the warmth indoors, what greeted them was a few of the local people moving around, already preparing stuff for the incoming lord – and apart from them, Hilderinc had noticed a small, chubby man-like figure sitting by the fireplace and sending rings of smoke up towards the ceiling. It was the holbytla they have met during the day, Hilderinc realised immediately... and his mood dropped. He didn't even know why, but somehow all the bad stuff during the day, despite its good outcome, suddenly came back to him: his failure to notice the man Wiglaf when it was needed, the mild disturbance in the soldiers' ranks on the road, when he got himself distracted exactly because of that holbytla, and even the matter of disparity among the men of Scarburg, when he remembered what he and Coen possibly discovered in the morning, the fact that Thornden might have known about Lithor's disappearance – and this thing still wasn't solved, as far as he knew. And who knows how it might just go...

"What are you doing here, frowning like a pukel-man?" somebody poked him from the back. It was Fearghall, one of the "older" (in matter of experience) soldiers. He seemed happy, just like Hilderinc had been a moment ago. "There comes food to be eaten, but I would like to take off my riding shoes first, at least... but you are in people's way," he said and half-dragged Hilderinc to the side. Seeing that his face did not lose its gloomy look, he shook his head. "What is wrong with you? You look as if you saw an ill-omen."

Hilderinc shook his head too, trying to clear it. There was no need to start worrying about the relations between Scarburgians just after the day had ended with the successful completion of a task they did together... but the holbytla's presence definitely disturbed him, somehow, now he had seen it.

"It's nothing," he said aloud, shrugging, but Fearghall followed his gaze, noticing the small man sitting by the fireplace.

"Well, a holbytla!" he observed. "Truly amazing. Is he going to stay here? Some of the men told me that he had known the late lord..."

"I wonder if the others have spotted him already – they are going to beat each other in order to determine who is going to sit next to him," Hilderinc said almost absent-mindedly, not letting his eyes down from Falco.

"In order to... what?" Fearghall said. "Oh, true. Well, I have seen one of the holbytlan, once... but to be able to talk to such a curious little person myself... I might just as well attempt that as well."

"I thought you were not like the enthusiastic youngsters..." Hilderinc said, but Fearghall just laughed at his jest and rushed away to change his shoes.