The village was hot, dry and dusty. Bryggan mopped the sweat off his forehead as he entered the local tavern. He had left Albus in the bazaar where he was arguing with some merchant over the price of the goods they were going to buy. Dirk had left to stable all the pack horses and donkeys, and Sitvek had already purchased rooms for them for the night, and had now gone off to arrange the tent city for their caravan guards. With nothing to do, he felt he should buy himself a beer. As he walked in, wearing simple merchant garb rather than his usual heraldic transitional plate, the locals just glanced up briefly before going back to their drinks and conversations.
"I would like beer," he told the tavern keeper, flipping him a silver piece, "in a beer mug. If you put it in a fancy goblet, I'll slit your throat."
He sat down alone at a table, but could not help but overhearing the heated discussion at the next table.
"I tell you," yelled one red faced overweight man , "that Bryggan is a coward. He ran as soon as he thought he was going to lose. Gave up on all his people!"
"Bullshit!" yelled another, "he left out of honour! He felt he failed at trying to bring people together, and stepped down honourably. If he was a coward just running away, he would have taken the riches of Curaw with him. And I heard there was a pile of diamonds found there. If he were a scoundrel, he would have taken them with them."
"It don't matter now," growled a grizzled old timer, "the Wardens are gonna take it all now. Curaw and the diamonds and the rest of the north. No one there gots the will to fight after the betrayals."
"I heard the Wardens paid Dutchy and sJimmy to rebel. They supplied them with all the armour and men they needed. Gave em an offer they couldn't refuse."
"Probably for the better," the red faced man said, "I heard he used to always get drunk and ride his horse over all his men's tents while they were sleeping. Betcha the soldiers are glad he's gone."
"THAT ONLY HAPPENED ONCE!" Bryggan yelled, unable to stand anymore, "and Dutchy made all his own money. I saw the income he was making trading, and also he has European friends that supplied him. The reason he betrayed us is because he couldn't stand being in the same yoke as his old enemy James of Acre!"
The room went silent, stunned looks on everyone's face. Finally one man piped up. "How do you know all this," he asked.
Bryggan blushed. "Um," he stammered, "I was a member of Bryggan's personal body guard."
After a brief silence, everyone started talking at once. "By chadz! Did you meet Dirk? I hear he would have made a better High King" "Is Jack1 very scary in real life?" "Is it true Bryggan showed up to every peace talk with the wardens drunk as a skunk, so nothing could be decided upon?"
"Well, no, um listen here. I, um..." Bryggan did not know how to extricate himself from these unwanted questions.
Some young girls overheard the conversation and ran over. "Oh my chadz, what is Sitvek like?" they asked, "he is soooo dreamy!"
"Sitvek?" Bryggan exclaimed, "that weasel? I thought you girls would go gaga over Albus. Now there's a fine young man."
"Albus!", the girls giggled, "I hear he spends more time looking in the mirror than he does looking at girls. But Sitvek... sigh.. they say he has the soul of a warrior but the heart of a poet. And they say looking into his eyes is like looking into the very dawn of time."
"By Armagon, girls," Bryggan said, astounded, "have you ever seen the runt?"
"No," one girl confessed, "but I imagine he's just as handsome as that caravan guard that came in earlier to rent those rooms. He was sooo good looking!"
"Ok", growled Bryggan, "I gotta get out of here." With that, he downed his beer and started walking towards the exit.
"Wait!" cried one young man, "do you think the High King will rise again?"
"Oh, I doubt that," grumbled Bryggan, and left the tavern.