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Scyld
“Just so,” said Scyld. It would be beneficial, Scyld had decided, to seem agreeable to Hilderinc. Although Hilderinc held no formal position among Athanar's soldiers (not that Scyld was aware of, anyway), he seemed to carry with him a kind of unofficial authority nonetheless. He gave orders, and others listened, as the interaction between him and Aforglaed showed. And whether because of particular loyalty to Athanar or just a natural tendency to abide by rules or ideals, Hilderinc seemed committed to the unification of Scarburg, which was what everyone who actually had any authority also wanted.
That being said, Scyld doubted that Hilderinc would hold much with fugitives, so he had best be wary. Not that he wasn't anyway, but it was never bad to remind himself.
“I can't say what Eodwine plans to do with himself now,” continued Scyld affably, picking up from Hilderinc's earlier question, “but he was always just as willing as the next man to put in a hard day's work.” He paused for another chop of the axe. “Though, as you say, he doesn't seem fit for any sort of labor right now, much less hard labor. My guess is that he'll stay long enough to recover, and for Saeryn to have her baby, and then who knows?” He swung the axe again. “Still. That's a whole winter of everyone being all penned up together. Hopefully folk get their differences sorted out quick, or it'll be a long couple of months, with more than just Scyrr and the stablelad spoiling for a fight.”
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