Sigluvik - Barbarian Village

Aun led Gunther die Kraftig toward the thick pine walls that surrounded the Barbarian village. The air of the village seemed stricken with equal parts sorrow and anger. Sobbing could be heard from the women, while the furious tirades of the men joined in the usual melody of the after-effects of war.

Every so often, Aun would shove at Gunther's shoulders to get him moving if the Son of Efyria felt that he was going too slowly. The blonde-haired boy's shoulders were set and grim, his mouth in a grim line as well. People looked upon Gunther with open hate... but also curiosity... as he was pushed in the same direction that a few burly men and women were walking, to the largest building within the village.

The doors were opened by men standing guard, not a single person in uniformed armor but a mix of what worked for all of them, until they came into the warmth of a loud and cacophonous great hall. A fire burned in the great hearth at the center, and warrior men and even a few women sat upon the benches around. Tables were shoved up against the walls, where ornate and ethnic art and armor and items of respect where hung.

And upon a throne made of ornately carved wood and bone, draped with furs, was Efyria herself, an iron crown around her head, and a scar over her eye rendering her imperfect. She was steel itself, and the noisiness of the room quieted as all of those hateful, ferocious stares descended upon Gunther.

Aun shoved the boy to his knees in front of Efyria, whose own legs were bare from upper calf to lower thigh, old scars visible here and there upon her skin. Her son moved to take his place on her right-hand side, and Gunther would be able to see Efyria's daughter, fiercely beautiful and ornamented with a wolf skin, standing to Efyria's left.

"What is your name?" Efyria asked in a tongue Gunther could understand, and her voice was as sharp as a blade, as cold as the winter frost. As soon as the question was asked, her daughter spoke in the Barbarian tongue, tone indicating that she was translating for those that were present.

Gunther followed the lead of Aun, no longer showing fear now that he was certain that there would be no ravishing for now. He looked at all the men giving him nasty looks and gasped at the sight of someone with pointy ears. The only time he had seen that before was when the Emperor killed that Witch and when his father fought one, brute-forcing his way through all the lighting she threw at him from her fingers. When asked the question he first took a moment to look at the assembled company before replying. "Gunther. Gunther die Kraftig." he said, with a stare to Efyria's feet as a sort of compromise between eye-contact and staring down at his own feet.   

Ebeus shook his head back and forth to himself as Gunther mentioned his last name, a scowl appearing on his face. It was unfortunate, very unfortunate. There was a deep hatred towards this boy's father, more so than nearly any other person in Vessia. The sins of the father weren’t this boy's causing, but that mattered not to those gathered here. They had been wanting to take revenge on that man for years and they would see this as a perfect opportunity… There was one thing on his mind at the moment. Was there anything he could do to get them to spare this boy?

As Gunther spoke, Efyria's daughter translated for the rest to hear and understand, prompting snorts and scoffs and remarks made from the side of mouths. Efyria, however, continued to gaze at Gunther. He could be a bargaining chip. His life held value. As for his story, she was torn. Was he weak in his mercy? Was he kind? She noticed that little turn of a smile because she watched him like a wolf watches the fox. He felt pride in his father. Did he feel pride in his father's ways? He must, on some level. Andrei die Kraftig was not known for his shows of mercy. The man was cruel. But efficient.

"Am I to believe that the son of Andrei die Kraftig wielded no sword in battle?" Efyria asked from her tribal throne.

Gunther did not keep eye contact when Efyria stared at him preferring to instead inspect his feet once again. When asked the question of whether or not he used a weapon he remained quiet for a few moments but then unashamed slowly brought up his head to go into eye contact, brushing aside his over-grown hair. "I did. Like I said, I had no qualms with killing a warrior. I was helping them on their path, I let them do what they dreamt of and gave them the death they desired. I have no shame or remorse there." He said, puffing out his chest. If they wanted to kill him for that, so be it. It would only serve to prove the wrote beliefs about the barbarians, ones which were more or less proven in their recent attack upon the fringe outpost; which Gunther just remembered. "Blood for blood, or something along those lines." He said, raising his head to make his neck more visible should they want his head now. 

The boy stared as they spoke, trying to at least hear a few familiar words but he could not. He then stared once more at the man called Ebeus, instincts making him take a few steps back. "You'd have to get awfully close for me to show you." he said, and it was true with the many patrols about the Baron's land; he knew the barbarians did not have means to manufacture telescopes so the idea of something allowing one to see far ahead would probably sound alien to them. He could tell them what he knew too, it would not be much more than they already knew so if he got reclaimed at least he would not get beheaded as a traitor. Now what he had to focus on was keeping well, and being ready for whatever they were preparing for him. He didn't bother struggling when Aun took him although he also gave him a good stare. People like that needed a chat about picking on people smaller and younger than oneself. 

The boy stared left and right, and then followed the lead of the strange man, never looking into his eyes. Who knew what kind of foul fae thing he got those ears from, what sort of degeneracy had to occur for such a product be alive? He was even more frightened when he was told he would go to his quarters. If he was spared from the wants of the horrible man with the axe, he did not know if he would be spared from this one.... 

"Err... I do not think so." he said, once again being careful with his words in case it was best he was injured. 

The boy shrugged at Ebeus's assessment that he was not one for fighting with the teenage "you don't know me" expression that annoyed many a parent. The rest of the time he just nodded, not wanting to earn the ire of this strange man. He was scared, not for his life no. He was scared of whatever unique and ingenious cruelty one of the fae folk could think of. He had read many treatises on the various knife ears that had been about and nine of them let Gunther be particularly calm in this person's presence. He made sure to always glance back every so often to check if the man was not doing anything out of the ordinary. 

When they arrived, the young man got some water in his hands and splashed it across his face. He dipped his toes in the water before huffing a little. Of course, one of these people would like to see a lad so young exposed before him. It was the exact kind of thing they did. "Could you at least turn around?" He half-asked and half-demanded.

"Oh yes, I'm going to run right into the middle of nowhere, yes clever." He said sarcastically. Gunther did not bother to keep talking, feeling his point was made. He carefully went into the water, shivering a little and then submerging almost completely soap in hand and cleaning himself. He still looked back every so often to make sure that the old man wasn't looking at him. 

He paused when Ebeus asked his question, completely motionless in the water. "For starters they said you don't have any decency until you're told to." He said in a rather snide manner. In truth his father and family told him very little. Instead he himself went into the old library and read books. Books that he wished he had rather not read when he woke up sweating. He finishing his back Gunther proceeded to go through his hair, praying to the Angels and Saints that he would not ask further questions.