FORLAW / Outside the Reeve's Hall / DUSK
The winter air bit deep in the cliff-side burgh, but stout walls and warm hearths did something to keep the west's harsh winds at bay. Folk busied themselves with everyday labour, logs were split, cattle driven and linen washed even in times of strife. The leader of the war-band sat, gazing at his armoured feet that swayed slightly from the edge of the stone fence.
'Gydgar, where are the rest?' soon he demanded.
Gydgar looked over towards Régnwald, "How much longer, Æthelwigend?" He moved around the fence, to stand on the opposite side with his elbows leaning back on the wood.
Régnwald grimaced faintly at that, and head cocked to the side, split by a faint, rueful grin then, he firmed his jaw ''Guess some of them are already inside.'' he spoke under his golden beard, standing tall with a quickly drawn breath. He advanced a step, defiant eyes holding the gaze of his comrade that stood before him, ''Shall we then?'' he casted his eyes to his battle-gear for a few moments, letting his head hang for a moment with the gravity of a point already known.
Gydgar nodded his head stoutly, pushing himself off the fence to stand besides his captain, "Best not keep them waiting for too long, eh?" He grinned slightly, looking down at his warm clothing he had gained whilst staying in Forlaw. Things were much warmer where he was from than these snowy plains.
Régnwald merely bowed his head soundlessly, gazing down at his armoured feet and a hand rested beside the familiar hilt. He gestured at Gydgar and began striding onward to the Reeve's hall, a weather-beaten cloak heralding the young earl's approach.
Gydgar pulled at his sheathed knife, looking towards one of the guards and lifting it up to show it to them. He looked towards Régnwald before he looked towards Wychtleth.
Regnwald took the barest of moments to glance down at the woman under hood ''You'll be following.'' he saw a need to inform her, and then without mouth words, he kept walking onward, his byrnie, war-net making sounds of clinking iron.
Wychtleth stood, watching with interest and amusement. A cheeky grin, "Of course."
Gydgar passed over his knife as he walked past a guard, before he looked over his shoulder past the men towards the woman who followed before looking back, being careful not to slip on the icy steps.
The tall herald of Reeve rose a quick hand, halting the approaching group, wandering his eyes around the faces, thus he spoke ''Ye may wend your way in war-attire, and under helmets, but let here the battle-shields bide your parley, and wooden war-shafts wait its end."
Wychtleth let down her hood, only giving the guards a shrug. She was bearing no weapons but the tales of her reputation.
Régnwald bowed his head silently but with an obedient air, ''As you wish.'' 'twas spoken thus. He unbuckled his sword belt, both Nægling and Harding's gift dagger upon it, and wrapping it, offered it forward.
Gydgar raised his shoulders in a shrug, holding out his arms to both of his sides and lifting up his cloak, "You'll find no weapon on me, other than my fists and my head." He grinned faintly, arms lowering again.
The herald bowed his head to the young Earl and advanced a step towards Gydgar, studying him with keen eyes. ''You may enter.'' he spoke and took a few steps back, taking his usual stance.
Gydgar met the man's eyes before wandering in.
