The Skabelse

The Bannered Lion

Warning: Language that some might not care for (PG-13 at most)

Bjorn trudged the semi-long trek to the tavern, occasionally mumbling to himself. He knew he probably looked inane but for the moment he didnt care. His father had made him angry and he wished to calm down in the presence of his trusted friends.

In the distance, under the wooden sign that read The Bannered Lion he noticed a few men standing underneath it and stiffened. They were hardly clothed, had long braided hair and painted blue arms, immediately giving away who they were. What are the Bluegardes doing here? It was then that he realized that they probably came to join the cause and slightly relaxed. Though they were men, Bjorn hardly accounted them to be for anyone who behaved like them were written off as heathenish animals in his book.

As he got closer, he tried his best to keep his eyes down, not wanting to start any trouble with them. He was already fuming and one wrong word from one of them would set him off again.

Taking a deep breath, he reached for the tavern door and pulled it open, stepping inside.

The smell of ale, musk, and bread filled his nose as he scanned the populated tavern. Most of the occupants were the Bluegardes, but in the far right corner he spotted Garreth, Hvitserk, Leif, Jaspir, and Igor.

Bjorn quickly made his way to his Brothers, weaving in and out of the large painted bodies. Hvitserk noticed him and raised a toned arm, smiling at Bjorn.

He took the empty seat, causing his back face the unruly men.

Upbeat music filled his ears as a small group played their instruments. It reminded him of his own small tavern back in Rorik. "Its almost like home," Bjorn said out loud, pointing behind him with his thumb.

"Aye, aside from the painted brutes," he heard Jaspir spit. His blond hair was pulled back into a bun and his blue eyes were narrowed in distaste. The Roriks laughed, nodding their heads in agreement.

"How is your father?" Leif asked, taking a long gulp of his mead. A few drops fell into his thick black beard and Bjorn unconsciously wondered how often he cleaned it.

The prince shrugged and sighed, "I suppose he's alright. Same ole same ole," he finished, giving Leif a look that said otherwise.

Only a few people truly knew of their kings temper and how he treated his son. Leif was one of them as well as Falkstan and Horan. He loved them as uncles and brothers and had confided in them when he was still a young lad. "Your father has always been a temperate man. He loves you even if he does not show it," Falkstan had said, resting a gentle hand on young Bjorns shoulder. Every once in a while he would appear around the castle with a black eye or busted lip and blame it on training. It wasnt until Bjorn was older that his father first struck him in the presence of his peers. Almost immediately after doing so, King Olfriq had ordered the few witnesses to never speak of it unless they wanted their heads removed from their bodies.

"Have a drink and try to relax," Garreth offered, sliding his heavy tankard across the table to Bjorn, who gave a lopsided grin and slid it back. "You know I do not drink."

Garreth smiled and picked up his tankard, throwing the remains of his drink into his mouth. "Worth a try though."

Just then, a barmaid with bright red hair scampered over and refilled the men's tankards, letting her eyes linger on the handsome prince. When he did not return her sultry glances, she sighed and dropped off a loaf of warm bread on their table and went back to work, wishing that he would do things to her that no lady would be proud to admit.

Both Jaspir and Leif noticed the way she had looked at their prince and found it strange that a woman would want to bed him considering they were not at a Skabelse. Jaspir shrugged at Leif with a devious smile, pleased that there were women willing to do such things here.