Bryggan, with his imperial entourage, entered Halmar. He was there to congratulate the garrison for holding fast, and bestow honours on the defenders for their valour in repulsing the vicious attacks.
Yet he appeared miserable. While the bards and minstrels sang of the glorious defense he just pushed his meat about his trencher, staring down. Most of the people there pretended not to see, but finally Sitvek asked, "Father, you seem a little distraught."
"DAMN RIGHT I'M DISTRAUGHT!", Bryggan roared, shocking everyone into silence. "Travelling here meant I had to travel through Hound lands. Why is that? Why must I travel through enemy lands?
"Bryggan", King James said in his most calming, reassuring voice, "the Hounds are not our enemies. They split from the Wardens a while back."
"Oh, 'not our enemies'," Bryggan mocked. James gritted his teeth. Bryggan continued. "And who's enemies are they? You know the Hounds will not sit long. They hunger for battle- it is in their blood. And who will they attack? The Legionaires? The Wardens? The Berserks? No, there is only one target for them: Us. I say we stop pussying about and strike first!"
The empress gave Bryggan one of her glaringest stares. "Don't we have enough enemies, bae," she snarled, "Stark is trying to protect our holdings in the north. And here you want to commit troops in the south against a faction who has done nothing against us. Have you forgotten about the Legionaires and the Wardens?"
"I am not worried about Dutchy," Bryggan answered, "when he strikes, he strikes big and he strikes hard. Our trader armies can reinforce whatever he attacks. Plus, we all agreed that attacking him sucks due to Aussie night time settings. We'll let the Yoshis deal with that. I believe the empire has no interest in the steppes, as it is populated by mad men, and all who go there turn mad."
King James spoke up. "Bryggan, perhaps we should put this to the vote," he said, "While I disapprove of making more enemies at this point in time, I also agree that they will attack us eventually and perhaps a preemptive strike is called for. Still, this is a serious matter, and I will take the liberty of abstaining from this vote."
"Very good," Bryggan said, "and you, my empress, I assume you vote against this?" For an answer, NSIV threw a goblet at Bryggan, striking him in the forehead. Ignoring the wine drenching him, Bryggan said, "I will take that as a 'nay'. my dearest. Tristan? What does my good 'Sword of the South' say?"
Tristan, who seemed to be ignoring the conversation til now, seeming more focused on the large mutton bone he was gnawing on, mumbled, "Cool. More war is good". Then he continued tearing into his meat.
"And that leaves Blue and Axeman," Bryggan continued, "gentlemen, your opinions?"
Both seemed shocked, and took a few seconds to answer. "Why would we make more enemies?" "What is the advantage of this?" "We simply don't have the resources!" "I heard military information was leaked; they are expecting this now!" "This is far too risky!" "This course of action absolutely crazy!"
Bryggan raised his arms. "Okay, okay," he said, "your point is made. I will put down your two votes as 'yes'. This is a crazy, risky venture, but in my personal experience, crazy risky ventures pay off. So, who will be the first to attack?"
The hall fell silent. Then a young man stood up. Bryggan kinda sorta recognized him. A landless gent, but with a ferocity in his eyes that promised great things in the future. What was his name again? Mathew? No, that wasn't it, but something similar.
"My Emperor," the young man said, "My name is Mathew. I have an army ready to besiege a castle. Let me be the first to attack!"
Bryggan reconsidered. "You do have a mighty army, my good man Mathew," he said, "but permit me to attack first. Let me test their defenses, then we will see if it is worth risking your mighty army in this venture. I will sally forth, but leave the main battle for you, and if you are victorious, the castle will be yours."
Mathew nodded his head. "As my emporer wishes," he said.
That night Bryggan slept on the couch. He would need some victories before he would be allowed in his own bed again.