Théodred Heavenshield
Norbæn Véurr
As he listened to his uncles’ words, the situation grew more complicated than it first appeared. A long-time feud between the border clans developed into what you could consider, a tradition. This was not unique to Midvinter however, the centuries that passed had set in stone that same thing all over the planet, but little by little that would fall away with new leadership, and with new leadership came new thinking. But this takes time, and Valkyri are a stubborn breed.
“I shall Uncle”, Théo answered fully intending to send his final report once this was over. One way or the other. They had to get to the bottom of this, to stop what could grow into something bigger, and a war between the East and the North, which would not be tolerated by Théo or the Crown. While Bors stood practically gushing over Thyrian, Théo’s mind was on the next course of action.
The smithy was easy to find, in any village, just follow the constant ding of the hammer to anvil. The walk there was interesting, most of the people give them right of way but it was not this that had Théo concerned, there was a sense of fear within them, as if they expected something to happen and rather than continue with chores, the streets were unusually empty.
“Keep a keen eye out Bors, something it’s right”. He pushed open the thick wooden door to the forge, immediately heat rush out and hit their faces hard. A young apprentice approached, but a look from the Smith told him to back away and get on with his work. The big burly man did not stop, thick arms pounding the hammer to the metal and sparks flew from the red-hot length, a sword.
Théo’s eyes scanned the room, on the walls all manner of weapons hung completed or close to it, behind the man was a large box filled with weapons ready for shipment but to where and for whom? “The Gods bless you Smith”, he greeted the Northerner, who’s only response was a nod.
Words are never a strong point with Smiths.
Strolling around as if looking to trade, Théo neared the large box and pick up one of the swords, it was good, well made and strong, ready for battle. “Nice work”, he said putting it back, “Bloodstone expecting war?”, the Smith grunted, but it was telling. “Don’t get involved with the politics of the Lords. I’m just doing my job”.
“Good business for you though and Bloodstone pays well?”, The Smith stopped his hammer, whipped his hands on a dirty cloth, “Not for him, Blackheart commissioned ‘em”. Blackheart, one of Bloodstone’s main man, and had argued for war against the East. Théo’s shot Bors a look, “Well thank your for your time”, and he made for the door.
“Bors find out all you can about this Blackheart. I am going to find our friends from the beach”, And Théo had a strong suspicion they are connected to this Lord Blackheart.
“I shall Uncle”, Théo answered fully intending to send his final report once this was over. One way or the other. They had to get to the bottom of this, to stop what could grow into something bigger, and a war between the East and the North, which would not be tolerated by Théo or the Crown. While Bors stood practically gushing over Thyrian, Théo’s mind was on the next course of action.
The smithy was easy to find, in any village, just follow the constant ding of the hammer to anvil. The walk there was interesting, most of the people give them right of way but it was not this that had Théo concerned, there was a sense of fear within them, as if they expected something to happen and rather than continue with chores, the streets were unusually empty.
“Keep a keen eye out Bors, something it’s right”. He pushed open the thick wooden door to the forge, immediately heat rush out and hit their faces hard. A young apprentice approached, but a look from the Smith told him to back away and get on with his work. The big burly man did not stop, thick arms pounding the hammer to the metal and sparks flew from the red-hot length, a sword.
Théo’s eyes scanned the room, on the walls all manner of weapons hung completed or close to it, behind the man was a large box filled with weapons ready for shipment but to where and for whom? “The Gods bless you Smith”, he greeted the Northerner, who’s only response was a nod.
Words are never a strong point with Smiths.
Strolling around as if looking to trade, Théo neared the large box and pick up one of the swords, it was good, well made and strong, ready for battle. “Nice work”, he said putting it back, “Bloodstone expecting war?”, the Smith grunted, but it was telling. “Don’t get involved with the politics of the Lords. I’m just doing my job”.
“Good business for you though and Bloodstone pays well?”, The Smith stopped his hammer, whipped his hands on a dirty cloth, “Not for him, Blackheart commissioned ‘em”. Blackheart, one of Bloodstone’s main man, and had argued for war against the East. Théo’s shot Bors a look, “Well thank your for your time”, and he made for the door.
“Bors find out all you can about this Blackheart. I am going to find our friends from the beach”, And Théo had a strong suspicion they are connected to this Lord Blackheart.
[member="Bors Greythorne"]
