Story time reflections

Once upon a time, there were six young children lost in the woods. They had grown up together in a small town at the edge of the woods, but that town was a place of filth and refuse that never truly came clean. Agreeing that they had to strike out on their own to start a new life away from that town, they packed their bags and meager belongings with a few sandwiches. Slipping away with the smallest of goodbyes, they hit the road out of town and walked deep into the woods to cross and find a better life.

As they traveled, the children shared their hopes and dreams for the future and what life they wanted now free of their old town.

"I want to find a place that will let me become a warrior of renown, someone that people will sing my tales for years to come." Thus spoke the first child, and the leaves shook and heard his call.

"I want to live life as one party, traveling from one camp to the next and meeting all the new friends I can." Thus spoke the second child, and the squirrels chit tweed and heard his call.

"I want to be an artist, to bring to life the images I see in my mind, and work for what I want without being beholden to others." Thus spoke the third child, and the bubbling spring flowed fast and heard her call.

"I want to fight the good fight, to work hard for my gain and end the day with a new meal every night. I want purpose." Thus spoke the fourth child, and the wind picked up and heard his call.

"I want a place to call home, to make my way free and have a family." Thus spoke the fifth child, and the birds took to the air and heard her call.

"I want to create something lasting, to help support a great work or some building to have that satisfaction." Thus spoke the sixth child, and the flowers slowly opened in the sunlight and heard his call.

After a time, the children crossed the wood and entered a new kingdom. There they met wonderful people, new friends who took them into their homes and let them sleep a spell in exchange for a few chores around town. There they met the new King and Queen, freshly crowned and ready to make new friends as well. The children decided that this was a place they could call home, and began to settle. They met new friends, new faces, and the influence these good folk had on them helped shaped their growth. As they started their lives, those dreams they shared in the wood began to come true in ways they never could have imagined.

The first child picked up the blade, and though skilled as he was it was his way with the pen that quickly won him renown. His tongue and quill became sharper than any blade he could wield, and there were stories told of his prowess in battle true...but these tales of valor and honor came from his wordsmith skill and the lightness of soul it takes to master speechcraft. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found his dream had come true. 

The second child did indeed spend his time traveling from camp to camp, traveling to meet new friends and celebrate life. As he traveled, he learned new tales and shared them as he went. He found a love for the bardic arts, studying multiple musical arts and sharing his joy of life to every tent and cabin he found himself. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found his dream had come true. 

The third child quickly became an artist of renown, earning the respect of the various guilds and rank within. She found joy in creating art for the sake of art, but her heart truly soared when she did art for the sake of another. She dedicated herself to art for the sake of others, raising others up. In the joy of others she found life, and bent to task. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found her dream had come true. 

The fourth child did find his fight, and his skills with the blade became well known. But his skill became known not for combat, but the kitchen. He worked hard, he ate well and he learned to value his work for others. Dedicating himself to art and work for others, he found purpose. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found his dream had come true. 

The fifth child found the family she sought, a good man to wed and a doting child to have at her knee. Her family would not simply be them, she would soon discover a whole family who flirting about as the butterfly to take her under their wings. She found a home working the sewing rooms and scribal halls, and was happy. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found her dream had come true. 

The sixth child found great success with his ability to see what needed to be built, and to create works that others needed. He rebuilt and redesigned a whole tavern and town postal service, he inovated a new method to share festivals held throughout the land and found happiness. All this was good, but still his soul did not know satisfaction. It wasn't until he had wed and held the son he helped bring into the world that he truly knew joy, and the greatest thing he would leave behind as a legacy. Thus, when that first King and Queen came back round to rule the land again the child found his dream had come true. 

In the end, all the children found that their dreams had come true in one fashion or another, and all rested well and in happiness. They toasted the King and Queen, the first ever they remembered having, vowed to continue to support the magical kingdom they had found which made dreams come true.

And they lived happily ever after.

Homestead Journal of Christopher Köch Part 2

Staying at home alone, in our large estate, is quite boring.

Today not as much was accomplished as I would have liked. My nights were plagued with waking dreams, I could not settle myself to rest and relax. Perhaps it's that fog of war that hovers over our land, latest news is the army has fully arrived and entrenched themselves in for the fight to come. Perhaps it is my wife's new pets whom do not understand the common decency of a quiet movement at night. Alas.

More organization was done today, another few crates opened and distributed around the estate. The cleaning staff was directed to clean up several small chamber pots and remove trash from the interior, and as always my linens needed cleaning and directions for storage. I think tomorrow I will speak with my grounds keeper, my carriage could use a polish to remove the pollen and several topiary features will need to be shaped and cared for. Lunch was a simple meal, in silence again for a third day since my lady wife left me for war.

I think I will rest for a bit before meeting with the nobility again. Yesterday was a challenge, but today should be much improved.

I wish my blade was running through a villain right now.

Homestead Journal of Christopher Köch Part 1

It is a strange feeling, not marching on campaign with my Kingdom. Last year was the first year that I fought alongside my cousins in Trimaris, and this year I sit at the homestead while my darling wife travels forward with the merchants to sell her wares and expand her knowledge. I am proud of her courage to travel so far from home with so little of the household, but I will admit my heart longs to be alongside her.

Alas, with this call to war I am stuck on the homestead. Changes in the nobility have changed my roles and duties to them, and with such great upheaval I must remain and see that my holdings are protected. I have many rivals in court, and I will not see any harm come to my income. I have also acquired several new animals to help grow my holdings, they require breaking in and adjusting to their new environments. And with the latest expansions to our home and the repairs that need to be overseen...perhaps it was a blessing from God that I did not march to war.

I have heard that the army is assembling over the next day and soon Trimaris will be prepared to engage any who come out way. This good news brings joy to my heart, I can only hope the messages from so distant a travel continue. 

Today has been the start of my work on the homestead. I oversaw the cleaning staff do a deep clean of the kitchen and bathing chambers, and the new animals were deftly put through an exercise routine before being fed and watered. I ensured that all fabrics would be laundered, and gave direction to the house staff in instructions for storing them. After that I had a business lunch with a few other merchants in the Barony, we organized export trade goods between our two groups and I gave insight on a tavern menu they were still struggling with. 

Now I hitch my horses and go to court to continue my work and negotiations with the new nobles I find myself having to work with. They are good and skilled, but we are both unsure of each other. I pray to St. Christopher for safe travels, and to St. Paul for the patience I know I'll required today.

Tomorrow will be another day, and a better one at that.

Trimarian Scribes

The smell of coffee and fresh cooked eggs woke Morie Gray before the quick peck on her cheek. She shifted in hopes to catch a glimpse of the delivery man, but she knew her dearest was already off and running to his next task. How Christoff could care to wake so early on a holiday weekend was beyond her, but the perk of delivered breakfast was enough to cause her reason to rise from beneath the blankets and off the rugs. She quickly dressed, the Scottish attire was perfect for the Trimarian climate due to its breathing room and ease of dressing, and she stumbled towards the center of camp before her fellows could.

Portioning out the breakfast to her companions, Morie let her mind unfog as she tried to plan her day. She knew that there was some scribal work to be done, but it would be nice and leisurely transcribing work. Giving a smile and a plate to those who stumbled out of tents, she was wide awake by the time the others had begun to eat. "Good morning James, good morning Milesenda. Sleep well?" She asked.

James gave a grunt and a nod, going first for the black gold in a cup before even considering the eggs. Milesenda gave him a knowing look and happily takes a bite of the breakfast. "We did, but James got significantly less than the rest of us. Per usual." She teases her husband, who's gruff look is melted by the soft kiss to his brow. 

"Bard work lasts until the last fire circle drops, which wasn't till nearly 3am." James responds sleepily, though life was fast coming to his eyes as he began his second cup of coffee. 

Morie shook her head and laughed at her friends morning ritual, it was the same every long gathering. This weekend was known as the Trimaris Memorial Tournament, a several day affair celebrating the founding of the kingdom. Christoff had already dashed off to feed the masses, no doubt the Archers were in service to the gate boundaries or to the Wyvernwoode Excellencies, and who knows what Adriano had gotten himself into this time. Later this day heirs to the throne would be selected, proving the line of succession was strong. A grand feast and court would need to be held, thankfully Milesenda had already prepared all of the scrolls needed.

At least, this was the assumption. That was quickly proven false as Adriano came sprinting from the direction of the royal encampment, red faced and out of breath as he arrived into camp. James sighs and grabs a piece of toast, shoving it into his mouth and speaking around it as he buckles his sword belt  "Alright brother, what trouble are you in now?" He teased, then took a bite of the bread.

"Trouble? No, there was a simple misunderstanding last night involving a Gypsy and an Italian woman. See she, the Gypsy, thought I was flirting with her and proposing a marriage contract. Not that I wasn't flirting, but that's not the point I - I am totally off topic." Scowling at his sword brother and trying not to smirk at the friendly laugh, he grabs a swig of water to refresh himself. "I bring a message from Her Majesty, the Queen of Trimaris, to Milesenda. They need a Grant of Arms scroll for high court this evening."

Milesenda's eyes grew wide and from her mouth issued forth a set of rather unladylike words thankfully in French Morie had been meaning to learn the language, but she didn't need to know French to understand that her friend was rather upset. "A Grant of ARms, in this kind of notice!? I don't have enough ingredients for ink, I'l need to construct a new brush or three, I'll need to barter for the parchment..." Standing up in a panic, she dashes for the tent to start gathering her pouches and harvesting materials.

Adriano blushed apologetically at delivering the news, but soon sits down to share breakfast with James as they discuss the adventures they both had undergone last evening. Morie sighs, they just didn't understand what was needed for this task but she wasn't sure they ever would. Their boasting stories between the two brothers were bad enough, that Norsemen story they both insist on retelling couldn't possibly be true, she had given up on trying to get them to understand or have them believe the work went into a scroll. Alas, she knew Milesenda couldn't go this alone and went to get her gathering pouch as well as well as her trimming shears. It was going to be a long day.

* * * * * * * * *

The sun had just begun its climb across the morning sky, and Morie and Milesenda were already running full sprint. Chimera are difficult as it is to approach, temperamental creatures that are best avoided whenever possible, but in the early morning at least they can be caught sleepy and off their guard. A quick snip from Morie's scissors got the needed tuft of fur for 5 brushes, but had awoken the creature with a start. Ducking behind a large rock, they both pant and catch their breath as the beast hunts for them. 

"Why do we need this particular hair again?" Morie pants, looking over to Milesenda and speaking in a hushed tone.

"Nothing paints as fine, nor smooths gold as clean. It the properties of the hair, almost like silk. We need it to spread the green ink anyway." Milesenda responds promptly, trying to retain her ladylike demeanor while sweating and out of breath.

A roar as the creature bounds towards them causes both the women to dash off and running, heading back towards the trail. Tired of running, Morie pauses and stops next to a large stone easily the size of a small child. Bending down and grunting, she hefts the large rock high into the air and as the chimera dashes forward she drops it on the beasts lion head. The animal crashes down, stunned, and Milesenda jogs back to her friend. Giving a low whistle she looks to the young Scotswoman. "Where did you learn that?"

Morie shrugs, wiping the earth dust off on her lower dress. "Highland games, you get really good at lifting awkward and heavy objects. Also, sometimes Scottish men need reminding that no means no." 

Sharing a laugh, they both bend down to the unconscious animal. No point in wasting a good prize, and the mane will grow back fast enough.

* * * * * * * * *

Morie tiptoed towards the great beast, swallowing hard. Standing up to an overgrown cat was one thing, walking close to a sleeping sea dragon  was something entirely different. She looked back at Milesenda, who was busy keeping the beast enthralled and asleep with her voice, and hoped the dust wasn't as bad as yesterday.

Milensenda knew there was a nest of sea dragons nearby, but she imagined there would have to be swimming involved to catch ones attention. This one was busy basking in the sun along the beach, unaware of the two ladies as they approached the three-headed creature. The sea dragon was soothed and comforted by the sound of a female voice, its why the mermaids were able to tame so many, but it took a lot of singing and the french woman was getting parched. "Please get the scale we need, I can't sing like this all week!" She shrilled melodically.

"Dragon scales are naturally resistant, I need to pull one right this instant. Sing something soothing so, the pain does not wake him oh" Morie sang back, trying to emulate Milesenda's voice but jarring in a minor chord. The beast stirred and threatened to wake, and Morie froze. Looking in panic, she waffled on dashing back to safety and looked towards the other for comfort or assistance.

Milesenda could sense and see the beast stirring, and shifted her voice to sing a soft song about the Sea King to bring the beast back to slumber. A heavy eye on one of the three heads began to open, but the power behind her words had the noble creature slowly drift back to its restless slumber. Singing with a sound of relief, she watched as Morie carefully yanked a single green scale from the beasts side and quickly scramble back. Milesenda kept singing till they crested the hill, then dashed back to safety away from the water.

"Where did you learn to sing like that?" Morie asks, shaking her head in disbelief.

"Besides having a bard for a husband? Battle scribing requires a wide variety of skills, to harvest the rare pigment ingredients." Pausing as she checks the list, she sighs in frustration. "I do not want to barter with dwarves for more gold..."

"Right? They just don't appreciate us, I think its the lack of beard." Morie adds sagely.

* * * * * * * *

The two ladies drug themselves back into the scribal hall erected on the site, the other scribes could see the work they had gone through that day and sympathized. After a brief lunch the real work began, the drawing and the word etching to craft the masterpiece Her Majesty had requested. Pausing mid-afternoon for a break, the other scribes all brought out their barter items to trade. Morie's haul of chimera hair was a big hit, easily traded for Elvish quicksilver and giant hair the others had brought with them. Trading supplies was always a happy experience, especially when the rarer inks are brought out.

Come the court that evening, the scroll was awarded with great fanfare and welcomed tears from the recipient. Morie and Milesenda relaxed back in their chairs, hands tired and sore from the frantic writing and drawing that had been done all day. Leaning over to kiss her and take her hand, Christoff smiles at his sweetheart. "That's an amazing piece of work love, do you think you could whip something up like that for me tomorrow? See it is a friends Peerage anniversary and..."

His words trail off and he falls silent at the glares threatening bodily harm from both Morie and Milesenda.

"Or..you know, I could not ask that of you.." he grinned sheepishly.

Storytime: Gate Duty

This story is dedicated to all of those hard working SCA members who spend countless hours manning our gates at events. Yours is an incredibly hard and often boring job, but necessary and I felt the best way to honor that work would be in this little bit of fiction.


* * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

David Archer woke before the cocks call, sitting awake and alert as he did every morning. He slowly slipped from his bed, giving his lady a gentle kiss on the forehead to calm her as she stirred, before striding to his chest. He withdrew his simple clothes, making a mental note to have his lady repair a few threadbare patches, and dressed himself silently.

The glow of the Sun had just begun to creep over the treetops as David left the encampment. The only other person awake at this hour was Christoff, his shuffling stride towards the Feast Hall to continue the work of cooking the only visible track in the dew-soaked grass of the early morning. Allowing himself a yawn and a stretch, he likewise shuffled his way to the war wagon, withdrawing his arms and armor with ease. Dressing himself for battle, he slung his shield and sword over his back and marched the rest of the way to the massive gate that provided entrance to the greater Kingdom encampment as a whole.

Giving a grunt and a nod to the other gate guards, David relieved them of their posts and kept a wary eye as they shuffled off to sleep. Today was the day of a grand tournament, the King had lost his heir in the great War many years ago and many pretenders to the role clamored to be named heir to Trimaris. The King, wise and honorable, knew only his true heir could be victorious in the eyes of God and King so he established a tournament of arms to find his long lost heir. From all around Trimaris the populous would flow in, this was a grand spectacle that rarely occurred many times in a lifetime.

James and Adriano had both scoffed at David's insistence on taking so many shifts of gate duty, but allowed their brother to have his fun while they had theirs. As he settled in for a long morning, he heard the familiar sounds of Christoff's wagon being pulled along the dirt road and the wafting smell of fresh cooked meat. Smiling, he relaxed and laid his arms against the great gate. "Good morning Christoff, one day I think I shall wake before you do."

Christoff gave a chuckle, shaking his head at the Englishman. "I think not friend, this many of our countrymen here requires little sleep and much vork. I have brought ye breakfast though."

David grinned and eyes closed at the smell of the baked pork and strips of egg. He sat down along the road and began to eagerly dive in, happy that Christoff had brought him that Middle Eastern bean drink his Laurel had taught him of. Having his fill, he saluted the cook off and watched as Christoff wheeled his way to the next set of deliveries.

Before he could adjust to the full stomach and the hot beans could awaken him fully, David was startled as he felt a large brutish hand grasp the base of his neck and throw him into a tower. It seems a Troll had taken to moving into this valley, and the beast began to rage as it walked near as the smell of so many Christians sent it into a hunger frenzy. Unable to grasp his blade of helm, David scrambled to his feet as he pulled up his tower shield and promptly slammed it into the nose of the troll. The beast fell back and snarled, moving to grasp and squeeze the life out of David but he was too nimble and once again slid out of the way to slam the heavy shield into the shins of the beast. This game of cat and mouse carried on for several minutes before the first rays of sunlight poked through the trees. The sun had the affect David desired, instantly turning the beast to stone as it was in mid stride and ending its rampage.

Panting, David dropped the shield and caught his breath. Looking up at the fierce some creature now nothing but a stone statue, an idea sprung to mind. He sent a message via courier down to the children's hall to ask them to come paint the new statue as a gift for Their Majesties and then with a incredible show of strength drug the statue off the road and away from traffic.

Requiring his arms and helm, David Archer finally began his long day of action. As the sun rose high above the trees, peaking with rays of warmth that melted the fog, the first travelers began to pour in for the grand tournament. Much of the morning was spent simply waving and greeting, with the occasional check of a wagon or wildlife changed up the monotony of it all. The day seemed to be going smoothly, with reports that the Kings caravan was within a 2 hours walk David was hopeful that the trouble had already passed and the rest would be an easy day. If only.

Just before lunch and his relief was to arrive, a cry of fear arose from the caravan traveling in. A runner approached, eyes wide and said a wide wyvern had barreled out of the sky and was eating the oxen of some of the travelers. With the King just beyond the hill, David knew he did not have time to waste to protect not just the tournament but his King and Queen as well. David shelled off his armor and weapons, knowing the smell of iron angered the beasts, and ran as fast as his long legs could carry him.

The wyvern was beautiful, scales gleaming and wings wide and strong as it feasted happily on the oxen beneath its deadly claws. David kept a careful eye on the creature as he approached, knowing he would only have one chance. Running had caused him to sweat, and the smell of iron was rinsed from his body thus so sneaking up was thankfully an option. As he got close the wyvern suddenly snaked its head around to gaze at David, and without hesitating he knew he had to make his move. He leaps, the animals eyes blinking in surprise at the man who would dare to attack it. Before the beast could react David had his tree branch arms around its throat, grasping and squeezing tightly to try and knock the beast out. The wyvern struggled, throwing its neck back and forth and even slamming poor David onto the ground, but it dare not use its own claws for fear of killing itself. Minutes felt like hours, but finally the great beast ran out of air and with one last struggle collapsed unconscious on the ground.

Standing shakingly, David dusted himself off and winced at the bruise on his back. He turned to the owner of the now dead oxen and bowed. "My apologies on the loss of your oxen Milord, I will send a runner with a fresh team to pull you inside. If you wish, strap this beast down and take it with you inside. It will sleep for hours, and the Baron of Wyvernwood pays well for these captured and brought to him, enough to get a new team."

The man bowed and David limped back to the gate, grunting as he collapsed on his bench with his armor piled at his feet. Within minutes the sound of the Kings trumpets blared and he quickly redressed himself so he could salute and greet the King to assure him all was well with the tournament and the populous. The King smiled and thanked David, pulling a ring from his hand and personally placing it in the thankful mans hand.

As the King and his caravan road in, from behind him the soft footprints of his lady greeted him. He turned and gave her a chaste kiss, taking the plate of lunch from her and setting it on the nearby wooden table. David then allowed his relief guards come, taking over the gate duty so he could sit and enjoy a meal.

"I don't know how you can do this all the time, gate duty is so boring. Anything exciting happen yet, husband?" Adelyn asked as she nibbled on a section of cheese.

David gave a shrug and took a large bite of the beef. "Nothing unusual, just the same job as always."

Story time

Occasionally, I get the itch in my fingers to write creatively. I want to be expressive and tell a story (long or short) about a topic I find interesting. Often times these pieces of fiction have involved my gaming sessions, various characters and scenes that I use to tell stories with my friends.I've never really had much of a variety of outlets, until the SCA came along. I found a place ripe for the picking wit material,and cold not be happier.

This piece here is a fictional tale, loosely based on the real events involving my friend Karou at his very first event. If you ever find Adriano at an event, make sure to stop and ask him about the truth of the Viking Story!

How did it happen again?

A short tale by Christoff Koch

A hole in the road jostled the two men awake, as the wagon shook and dropped several large pelts onto the previously sleeping men. Grumbling and slowly rising to alertness, James looked around at where they had found themselves this time. The hazy events of the night before slowly came into the forefront, the mead that flowed like a river into both of his and Adriano's cups had made rational choices not on the agenda. A long night of singing and performing at the tavern had led to his companion chasing the skirt of another wench, and upon looking for his lost friend amongst the silk sheets of the laundry closet there was a sharp pain then sudden darkness.

Wincing as he touched the bump on the back of his skull, James looked over to Adriano with a bemused and exasperated look. "What did you get us into this time?" He speaks sharply.

Adriano winced, perhaps from the antler poking his thigh but more likely from the hang-over and slight beating he received the night before. "Always my fault, maybe perhaps it wasn't this time? How was I supposed to know that she was the mistress of an Ansteorian captain? Maybe I am the innocent one here?" He scoffed and turned up his nose in a way that only Italians can, looking both superior and wounded by your claim.

James snorted and shook his head. "I'll believe that your the innocent one when England looses and archery challenge to France." Looking at the rope bindings on them both, then peering out from the wagon at their captors, he looks over to Adriano and speaks in a hushed tone. "We're not too far from the Shire of Castlemere, they can send a runner to Oldenfeld and Darkwater about out situation. I have a plan...think you can slip away with a decent enough distraction?"

Adriano chuckled. "Can I slip away? Of course I can, they don't call me donnola ingrassate on the battlefield for nothing!"

* * *

The guards of the wagon carrying the prisoners looked over at the sound of rattling metal against the wood. James was running a mug across the bars, obviously in a bid to gain their attention. "Excuse me good sirs, but may I inquire as to the fate of myself and my companion?"

One of the greyhaired ones spit and eyed them both. "Yer to be executed in our Kingdom, once we cross the boundary."

Gulping, and giving a baleful look to Adriano, James waves a hand. "Let's not be so hasty! It will be moonlight soon, and you hard men have been marching all day. And is it not the way of the Fierce Star to show compassion and honor to their captured foes?"

The guards grumbled a bit then looked to their Captain, a younger man with a terrible scar running across his jaw. "It is good friend, and in such a measure we will show that to you. Instead of an execution, we shall allow you the honor of fighting for your life. Name your field of battle, and you will face me."

James smiles and holds out his arms, palms up. "I am not armed by steel, you would willingly fight me with weapons of my choosing?"

The Captain grunts and nods, his hand resting on the hilt of his own blade. "Aye. Name your challenge, should you win you and your companion are free to go."

"Then I challenge you to a duel of words." James says confidently.  "We will trade lyrics and poems until the moonrise above the trees. If I can perform something that you have never seen or heard, I and my companion are free. If I fail by that time, you may do as you wish."

The Captain nodded, respecting the choice and motioning for his men to free James and bring him forth. Mead was poured, meat set on a spit and the men sat back for their evenings entertainment and confidant that after the free show would come an execution. James was more than happy to entertain his hosts, changing into his far fancier doublet for a better stage appearance and even offering to pour his own personal mead into their cups.

So distracted, they did not notice Adriano wriggle from his bonds. So enthralled they did not see him slip over the top of the wagon. And as James sung so loudly, they did not hear as Adriano dashed away into the wood. The men of Ansteora felt a twinge of sadness that they would execute such a gracious entertainer, and several of them asked him to perform some of their favorites again so that they may remember his poetry better.

The sun sank, the meat disappeared along with the mead and the whole crew (minus James) were well fed and watered as the moon rose above the treetops. The Captain rose slowly, swaying as the mead dulled his senses, and chuckled. "Well young bard, your efforts were valiant and your words beautiful. But surprised we were not, and we ask you to hold to the terms of your word and oath."

James hedged a bit, silently cursing Adriano in his head. Where was that Italian fool?! "Since I have been such an entertaining prisoner, and you have enjoyed my words so well, would you allow me one last chance? One last poem before the axe?" He smiles, glad the night hid his sweat.

"One last one, for the road good bard. Make it count!" One of the guards roared, slapping his thigh in demand for more entertainment. The Captain rolled his eyes, but allowed his men's demands to be met. "One last song bard." He sat back down, crossing his arms and watching James expectantly.

James took a moment to prepare himself, getting ready to recite the Odyssey for sheer length value, when a sudden crash of the trees from behind the Ansteorian men echoed out. They shuffled and stumbled to turn around, expecting a wild boar at any moment, when a rather drunk Adriano sauntered back into camp. A half empty bottle of mead hung from his hand, and a shit-eating grin as spread across his face.

"What the..." The Captain muttered, hand fumbling with his sword.

"Adriano! What are you doing? What took you so long!?" James cried out, backing up to the wagon in case a fight broke out. He wondered if now was the time to mention how surprised they seemed, but wondered what Adriano had brought with him to surprise them even further.

From around the bend, along the river they camped, a wooden ship slid onto shore. the carved dragons head roared silently as the men arriving leapt off the ship with cries to Odin and axes glinting in the moonlight. The men of Ansteora were certainly surprised.

"I found Vikings!" Adriano crowed triumphantly, then took another long swig of the mead.

James placed his head in his hand, and sighed.