Winter of Yggdrasil

Chapter 8

At a grand table that spanned twenty seats, Kenna looked around at the companions of Lord Erin. They were mostly older men, some of them greying, some of them long grey or bald. Twelve seats were empty. She suspected Erin could have filled them by now but had left them empty to show her how many of his closest advisors he had lost.

"Lady Kenna." One man spoke from two seats down. She nodded. "Asgard has suffered greatly from the war. And rather than rebuild, King Thor has hosted a grand celebration on your behalf, he has welcomed new alliances with Vanaheim with revelries and there are even rumors there was a bacchanal last week. And yet, Asgard suffers. What do you make of it?"

Kenna frowned. There had been no bacchanal. The celebration of her coronation had been remarkably simple knowing Thor. "Your sources are incorrect, my lord. There have been no other revelries of late and my coronation was necessary in order to allow me these responsibilities. Asgard does not suffer. In fact, we are experiencing a remarkable expansion within the industrial and agricultural fields."

"Asgard prospers because of our sacrifice!" Another man interjected. "Because we suffer, you stand tall."

"You speak as if you are not Asgardian, sir. You cannot exclude yourself from the rest simply because your situation differs. Tell me, what-"

Erin waved her away from the head of the table. "Enough of your business. I am concerned with the welfare of my people. Asgard is not my responsibility. Arn, you brought your worries here. Tell us."

Arn, a man Kenna has watched fiddle meticulously with his silverware throughout the dinner, straightened. He tugged on his sleeves and shot searching black eyes down to her.

"I haven't the supplies I need for some of my patients. Svand requires an elixir I import from Alfheim but the roads in are so bad, the couriers have been refusing to come this far. Navli, in Goriston, tells me he is lacking much as well. And the children..." His wrinkled hand rubbed slowly at his forehead. "I have lost four children just this month. The mothers are too weak to carry them to term. I fear it is the illness, still."

"Illness?" Kenna leaned forward. "What kind?"

Erin nodded and huffed. "I will arrange for some of my guards to retrieve your supplies from the royal city."

"Lord Arn?" Kenna tried. The man turned to her. "What illness do you speak of?"

He opened his mouth but Erin had dismissed them already. "Sigvat! What have you brought to the table?"

Must he be so obvious?

Kenna glanced at Merek, finding her friend sitting well back in the massive chair, his hands leisurely draped over the arms. He blinked slowly, watching Erin with dull eyes. Catching Kenna's gaze, he rolled his eyes and sighed. His thoughts poked at hers again.

He has made his point. You will get no where with him present.

Nodding, Kenna followed his example and sat back to listen. Arn was the medical man who lacked supplies and feared an epidemic. Sigvat, a hulking man with a twisted beard and a booming voice, could not afford the metal he needed for construction and lacked the help to haul timber. His sons had both died early in the fighting. Bjorn, a man with vibrant clothes that had long lost their luster, shifted nervously, wringing his hands as he spoke to the nicked and scuffed table. He was hesitant to do his duty as he could not afford to give any more loans from Erin's stores and hated to demand interest and collateral from people already stretched too thin. Erin, though troubled by the depletion of his bank, patted the man's shoulder.