Scarburg Meadhall

[Firefoot]

As Léof was preparing Æthel for riding, a voice spoke up behind him. “You don’t expect to find the fugitives here, do you.”

“What?” Léof spun around to find Nydfara standing there. Léof knew that Nydfara had no horse, and so likely had no business in the stable. He also did not think that the question the other man had asked was any of his business. “I mean, what makes you think that?”

“It was plain enough to see that you looked puzzled after Thornden called after you to inspect the stables. And since coming in here, you have not looked for them.”

Léof scowled at him. “So you’re both eavesdropping and spying on me.”

“Say rather that I keep my eyes and ears open. Nor have you yet answered my question,” said Nydfara.

“And why should I?” asked Léof stubbornly. He had previously known Nydfara to be a hard-working if fairly aloof sort of man, even at times pleasant, but this was absurd.

Sensing Léof’s mood, Nydfara put up his hands placatingly. “I mean no offense, yet I find your response to Thornden’s orders odd. One might think that you were trying to aid the fugitives, rather than find them. And that would be more than odd. It would be treasonous.”

“What! You’re mad!” cried Léof, loudly enough that Æthel snorted and stomped her foot. He lowered his voice. “I did not even know what had happened until ten minutes ago, and am now going out to search. What are you doing to help, other than searching for conspiracies where there are none?”

“I would not be so sure of that. I ask you again: why did you not think to find the fugitives in the stables?”

“If you must know, their horses are not in their stalls,” said Léof, frustrated and wanting nothing more to do with Nydfara. “Erbrand and Lithor left with them some time ago.”

“And you did not try to stop them?” asked Nydfara. “Or tell anyone?”

“I did not know they had done anything wrong! I already told you that. Nor is it my practice to interrogate everyone who comes into the stable and leaves with his own horse. There is nothing here for you to report about me, if that’s what you’re after. I’ve already told Thornden what I know. Now, I would kindly ask you to leave, for I have nothing left to say to you.”

“Not so kindly, I think,” said Nydfara. “But as you wish.” He bowed slightly and left the stable.

“I wonder what that was about,” he muttered irritably as he turned back to the care of his horse. Perhaps it had been a jest (albeit an odd one). Or maybe there was some darker purpose – maybe Nydfara had actually been the one helping the fugitives, and he was trying to blame someone else. No, that made little sense. Lithor and Erbrand hadn’t needed any help; when they left, no one knew there was a problem. Right?

~*~*~*~

Nydfara, or Scyld, as he had once been known, smiled slightly to himself as he left the stable. That had been too easy, and more fun than he had expected. It had been so long since he had needed to manipulate information out of anyone that he feared he was growing rusty. Léof had been almost laughably easy to needle and, for as reluctant as he had initially been to speak, he had confirmed all that Nydfara wanted to know from him.

What he would do with the information was the question. He did not yet have proof of anything, but he, like Léof, was skeptical of the plans for the search parties. Searching the grounds and the marshes seemed a waste of resources, when the fugitives had taken off on horseback. He knew from experience that the scar was no terrain for riders, and the marshes were at least as bad. So why not instead send out more groups such as Coenred’s?

Thornden was an intelligent man. Nydfara could not speak for Athanor or Coenred, and them he could suppose were acting on misinformation. But since Léof had shared his knowledge with Thornden, if they did indeed continue on their current plan, Nydfara would indeed be suspicious. Perhaps Thornden had not directly aided them, but he also did not seem eager to catch them. Nydfara had observed his friendship with them, and he had no doubt that Athanor would want to know that his new officer had placed friendship over law.

Nor was Nydfara above wanting to curry favor with the new lord. It seemed that Athanor had few enough allies among the old crowd here. He did not know why, exactly; Eodwine did not seem likely to return. Anyway, one lord was much the same as another to him, and none were to be trusted.

And yet – if he shared these suspicions he had, he would be far more likely to make enemies of Thornden, Léof, and others than to make friends with Athanor. In fact, if his suspicions were wrong, he may just be labeled as a troublemaker (and an eavesdropper and a spy, as Léof had pointed out). He would have to think about it, and make his move, if he made one at all, sometime after Thornden left with his search party.

[Folwren]

"You two get down from that tree before we shake you down!" the captain of the guard shouted. Javan blinked in surprised. Coenred seemed very upset about something and quite honestly, Javan did not feel like going down if the captain was in a bad mood.

"But there are three of us," he observed without moving.

"Then all of you, get down!"

Javan looked at his two companions, pressed his lips together resolvedly, and bent down to grasp the treebranch. He swung his legs down and dropped to the ground just before Captain Coenred. Cnebba and Garmund landed behind him.

"Well?" Javan asked. "We're not the ones you're looking for. Hadn't you better keep searching? We were only coming out to watch."

[Durelin]

When the boys jumped down from the tree, Coen recognized the apparently lead boy as the one who had gotten into a fight -- a physical fight -- with Aedre. This boy needed some paddling, dearly. Fighting with a girl, and with a real smart mouth on him...

"Do you have respect for anyone, boy?" he asked, almost growling. He preferred disciplining a soldier with his head in the wrong place any day to dealing with a brat...much less three of them. They wanted to watch? Watch smugly while two criminals escaped judgment, responsibility?

Coen knew how these more backwater places could be all too prideful about their communities, but there was something just...off about Scarburg folks, he swore it. All he had seen so far were brash words, mad men, and liars. He had that young man Thornden had a good head on his shoulders, but now he had apparently seen his true colors. He respected the Lady Saeryn but would respect her more if she didn't have so many hounds guarding her apparent interests.

"Fearghall," he called to one of his men. "Take these boys back to the Hall. String 'em up and drag them along behind you if you have to," he remarked. He knew Fearghall had enough sense not to take Coen seriously on his suggestion, even if the Captain was tempted. "This is no spectacle," he grumbled.

[Legate of Amon Lanc]

After Thornden gave them the orders to secure the area around Scarburg, Hilderinc could see that many men among those who were given this task - especially those of Athanar's household - obviously seemed to consider their mission the dullest possible of all. One or two gazed enviously at Coen's party riding away. Hilderinc only shook his head slightly. Yesterday evening, many of those now craving for excitement were apalled at the idea of going to the drills in the morning. How easily did the mood of soldiers change. Of course, there were mixed feelings for many: among Athanar's men, there were also those for whom Scyrr was a friend, even though there were not too many. Most, however, were just keen to bring to justice the man who attacked one of "them" - once again the division between "old" and "new" Scarburgians seemed to manifest itself, this time in the personified form of Erbrand and Lithor. Lithor - the fool who had managed to insult the newcomers yesterday by calling them "guests". In some way, the fact that just these two have disappeared at the same time did not come to Hilderinc as a surprise when he heard Coen's words. And despite what Thornden tried to tell him, the image of local troublemakers seemed to get clearer in his mind.

It was curious that Thornden had defended Erbrand so ferociously - but in a way, Hilderinc could understand. Perhaps there was a kind of defense of the "old" Scarburgians, perhaps Thornden had tried to prevent Hilderinc from thinking badly about all of lord Eodwine's men, now that the issue threatened to awaken again. But Hilderinc was not the one to throw all hay into the same bag. Quite the opposite - the two fugitives seemed to be the prime example of those trying to ride against the wind while it was the least favourable. Inside, Hilderinc felt some calming pleasure in that his assumptions regarding Lithor as an incorrigible troublemaker and Erbrand as an impetuous brawler proved to be correct. These two obviously represented the most extreme of the old squad - their deed only has proved it.

There was still a hint of doubt inside Hilderinc, however. Something kept telling him that Thornden was really very plain in trying to prove that Erbrand was not a "witless brawler", as he had put it. And Thornden did not seem like a person who would act irrationally or too emotionally - no good leader would, in Hilderinc's book.

As he was passing through the courtyard, however, he bumped into somebody who did not seem unemotional at all: Áforglaed. Young Quin was with him, but looked rather noteless next to Áforglaed. Perhaps during all his time under lord Athanar's command Hilderinc had not seen the soldier so obviously irritated. No wonder, if there was somebody who could be considered Scyrr's friend, it would be Áforglaed. Hilderinc was quite sure that if Erbrand now appeared out of nowhere in front of them, Áforglaed would waste no time to attack him personally - and, he reminded himself, these two have also fought each other the day before. But Hilderinc certainly did not think that being in such a mood was good for Áforglaed.

"Any news?" he asked when the soldiers approached him. Áforglaed shook his head.

"I think they have fled," he said with anger apparent in his voice. "What is that Thornden doing, keeping us here? It is obvious that them traitors are not coming back-"

"We have to be sure," Hilderinc said calmly, looking also at Quin and bearing in mind that he should not let the young soldier be disturbed by Áforglaed's emotions. "Especially as there is two of them. Lithor might be just around here..."

"He is of no concern to me," said Áforglaed. Hilderinc could not help himself and raised eyebrows in surprise. This was really a bit different Áforglaed.

"Lord Athanar will see to that Erbrand is brought to justice," Hilderinc said after a while. "Don't worry about it. Has anyone been to the kitchens yet? No? Somebody should also report to Thornden how our search is going, even though there is nothing to report." He pointed towards the stables.

[Folwren]

There really was nothing to report. Individuals from all the small parties that Thornden had split up came trickling back thim. He nodded and sent out word that everyone should rejoin at the stables and mount up. In a matter of minutes, they were all mounted in the saddle. Leof rode some way behind Thornden, next to Quin and another soldier. Hilderinc rode at Thornden's right hand, and a soldier named Áforglaed rode on his left.

Áforglaed's horse pranced and jogged nervously in place. Thornden glanced towards horse and rider. "What are you so anxious for, sir?" Thornden asked sharply. He knew at once when a rider was excited and therefore made a horse so. The horse's reins were taught, but Áforglaed's body was a rigid as a board and his heels were pressed firmly against his horse's side, and the horse fairly frothed at the bit to be given free rein. "Cool your head. There will be no killing, is that clear?"

Javan

Javan frowned. He did have respect, where respect was due, and he had not been fully disrespectful, even to this man, although he had been disrespectful to the boys, first. It wrankled under Javan's skin to be spoken to thus by this new captain, and to be referred to so roughly. He would not be bound, and though Coenred really didn't mean it, he would not be made sport of.

"I don't want to go back," Javan stated, looking Coenred straight in the eye. "This may not be a spectacle, but we haven't made it one, and you have not the right to send me back if I don't want to go. I will stay here. We're doing you no harm. Besides, if you use a man to drag us back, you'll be down one soldier, and how will that help you?"

[Firefoot]

As the company mounted and set off, Léof found himself riding next to a soldier whom he guessed was only a couple years older than him. He did not remember having seen him before, though that was unsurprising – there were a lot of new faces at Scarburg now. In fact, he realized that he was unsure of the names of most of the soldiers in their company. He frowned, trying to remember. The soldiers with Thornden were Hild… Hild something, and the other one’s name started with an E. Or an A. The point was, these soldiers seemed to keep to themselves, and even if any of them had needed something from him in the stables, they hadn’t much bothered with names.

Well, that was no good. He turned to the soldier next to him and offered: “My name is Léof.” The soldier replied that his name was Quin, and Léof realized that he wasn’t quite sure where to go from there. “So, ah, what were you doing before you came here?” He asked. “Have you served with Athanar for very long?”