Faywyn.

Malina lingered outside the earl's chamber, her heart heavy with dread for what awaited within. Her hand rose to rap upon the door, but she hesitated, withdrawing it in reluctance. The inevitable loomed before her, a daunting spectre she could not evade, though she knew it nought, lacking the resolve to confront it.

"No escaping this," she muttered wearily to herself, exhaling a resigned sigh. "Best to face it swiftly. Mother said vermin of his nature rarely tarry long." With a heavy heart, she rapped upon the stout oak barrier guarding the earl's sanctum.

"Enter," came the beckoning voice from within, its tone a deceptive veneer of welcome. Malina knew better, but steeled herself nonetheless, pushing open the door and crossing the threshold.

"You summoned me... My Lord," she uttered tersely, halting at a wary distance behind the lordly figure. The earl offered a noncommittal hum in response, his attention ensnared by the tome spread before him. Then, silence fell like a shroud.

For a time, Malina stood in uneasy quietude, frustration chafing at her composure. "My Lord?" she ventured, breaking the silence with a tentative call.

"What?" the earl replied languidly, still engrossed in his reading, without deigning to face her. Another bout of silence ensued, punctuated only by Malina's mounting impatience. She had braced herself for the forthcoming ordeal, yet she had not anticipated this protracted waiting. It was meant to be a brief affair, she reminded herself, puzzled by the earl's deliberate prolongation of their encounter.

Growing irritated and disinclined to entertain the earl's eccentric whims, Malina stepped forward, stopping just behind him as she began to divest herself of her garments. "Ahem. My Lord?" she interjected, clearing her throat to reclaim his attention.

"Yes, Malina?" the earl sighed, seemingly exasperated, as he placed a bookmark betwixt the pages before him, finally turning to regard her. His brow knitted in perplexity at the sight of her disrobing, prompting a confused flutter in Malina's breast.

The two exchanged a wordless stare, the earl's gaze probing before he shook his head and returned to his tome. "This is the second time you've unveiled yourself unbidden, Malina," he remarked dryly, without looking up. "Forgive me if I misconstrue, but you seem rather eager to join me in my bed. Even if you find my visage irresistible, I had thought maidens of your virtue to be more... circumspect. But what do I know?"

The chamber lapsed into silence once more, leaving Malina mortified and discomfited, scrambling to reattire herself. The earl, unperturbed, continued his perusal of the tome, as if the episode were but a trifling interruption. She dared not act out again; she had suffered more than enough humiliation already doing that. Minutes stretched into a tense standoff, with Malina's bewilderment and chagrin mounting.

Eventually, the earl concluded his reading, rising from his seat and approaching her with an intent gaze that quickened her pulse. This is it, she thought, crestfallen. To think I would ever succumb to whoring myself out like a common wench just so my family might survive.

The earl rose to his feet, approaching her. His right hand rose, reaching for her and she squeezed shut her eyes, expecting to feel his hideous paws on her person. But the dreaded fondling never came. She peeked past a shut eyelid to see the earl staring at her with a strange expression, his left brow raised in that annoying manner he was so inclined to. His outstretched hand hovered above her left shoulder, reaching behind her. Having to look up to meet his gaze Malina was reminded how much taller the lithe earl was than her. Levi's outstretched hand came away clutching a bundle of parchment he picked from the bookshelf behind her.

Malina watched in befuddlement as he walked away with the bundle.

"Sit," the earl instructed, gesturing towards the vacant chair. Perplexed, Malina complied, observing as he laid out parchment, ink, and quill before her.

"Last we spoke," the earl began, "your father mentioned you were well-learned. I will be putting that claim to the test today.'

"...What?"

"You have an hour to answer the queries upon these pages," the earl declared, producing an hourglass to mark the time's passage. "Commence. Should you fail this test you would be sent to join the scullery maids in the kitchens below. I would accept no dullards in my employ."

Bewildered yet fearful of the consequences that awaited failure, Malina turned her attention to the script before her. With a mixture of confusion and trepidation, she began to tackle the questions, striving to appease the enigmatic lord's expectations. She skimmed through the sheets, finding the questions they contained varying in difficulty from insultingly simple to downright incomprehensible. She looked back at the earl to gauge his intentions behind this new scheme of his and found him looking over her shoulders expectantly.

"Well? Get on with it," he said, gesturing towards the script. "We don't have all day.

Confused and uncertain, Malina complied, somehow managing to quickly fall into a rhythm as she answered what questions she could. The ones she couldn't she skipped to return to later. Time passed and soon the earl tapped on her right shoulder.

"Time's up," he said, collecting the script.

"But, I wasn't done…" Malina replied, trailing away as her gaze met the earl's bland one. With a sigh, she relinquished the seat to the earl and returned to her post behind him.

Once more, the chamber fell into hushed quiet, disturbed only by the soft shuffle of parchment as the earl evaluated her labour. Malina lingered in the background, her heart a tumult of disparate sentiments: relief, apprehension, bewilderment, and vexation. "The earl is a perplexing and vexatious being," she concluded to herself.

A rap at the door broke Malina's irritated reverie. "Enter," the earl bid, his gaze still fixed upon the documents before him. A servant girl entered, bearing news. "Miss Sarah directed me to convey that certain men seek your audience, My Lord," she announced, casting a curious glance at Malina with her rumpled clothing and dishevelled hair. The former noble flushed with embarrassment at the memory of her recent ordeal.

"Oh? Who?" the earl inquired, finally turning his attention to the servant.

"Bounty hunters, My Lord," came the reply.

Levi paused, his countenance taking on a pensive air. "...Inform her that I shall join them downstairs in five minutes," he instructed before addressing Malina directly. "Malina, you may take your leave. I shall summon you when I have need of you."

"Yes, My Lord," Malina responded, hastily exiting the earl's chamber. Still bewildered by the recent events, she hoped her mother might offer insight into the eccentric behavior of their lord, for she herself remained perplexed and clueless.

Olga's fascination with the towns of the lowlanders was long-standing. Their settlements differed greatly from his clan's sturdy stronghold. The layout of their humble werfs, the breadth of their roads, the curious absence of cobblestones on many of them, and, above all, the massive forts beloved by the lowlanders intrigued him. Olga's own home, with its unique features, particularly lacked such fortifications. They deemed them unnecessary as they didn't need them. The Aiga in all her splendid glory was the all protection Olga's people would ever need.
The hunter-warrior cleared his throat, spitting aside a glob of thick phlegm, then turned to meet the approaching town guards, accompanied by his fellow clansmen. Peasants watched them with wary eyes, their fear and animosity so palpable it seemed to roil over Olga's skin. It was a pleasant thing.

"Halt!" bellowed one guard, brandishing his spear alongside his comrades as Olga led his group through the town gates. His comrades chuckled at the sight. With disdain, the hunter-warrior surveyed the men and their expensive-looking equipment. Soft. Coddled. he thought to himself, a smirk playing on his lips as he rested his hand on the pommel of his sabre, relishing the way the guards flinched fearfully at his movements.

"We, of the Ironhides, have come to collect the bounty your lord promised my people," Olga declared, withdrawing his hand from his blade. He tossed two severed heads tied with twine at the feet of the lead guard. "That'll be two hundred silver," he continued, gesturing to the two crippled captives carried on poles behind him. "And I've heard these two are worth about two gold. Pay up!"

The guards fell silent, realization dawning in their eyes. "...Go fetch Ser Mannon!" the lead guard commanded one of the younger sentries. Olga grinned, revealing his teeth, as the boy scurried away.

The lord of Faywyn was a strange man. Much unlike his father before him, the boy lacked the bearings of a true warrior. But Olga could see something in his calm, eerie gaze. This boy is not normal, he decided, resting his hand on his sabre's pommel. He subconsciously caressed the handle, gleaning some measure of comfort in the weapon's presence. The boy's gaze flickered towards Olga's wandering hand, a small smile forming on his lips.

Odd.

"I am impressed," the earl said, finally breaking the stalemate as he turned his gaze towards the bandits bound on the floor in the centre of the hall. "I honestly expected to have to wait a bit longer, but you and your clansmen are apparently much more competent than you are rumoured to be."

"We are Ironhide warriors," Olga said frowning, "To expect anything less would be an affront to our honour. Surely your father, before he passed the mantle to you, imparted such wisdom."

The earl laughed, his gaze mirthful, clearly not taking offence as Olga expected him to.

"Alas," the earl said, stifling his rampant laughter, "My father has been absent for near a moon's turn, and I never had much inclination to learn his ways. So, no, I received no such education. Perhaps, in time, you could enlighten me further over barrels of wine. I'd have enjoyed your company longer, but the gifts you've brought have my spirits soaring. Robert!"

"Aye, My Lord," one withering geezer replied from his place by the lord's left hand.

"See to it that these men receive their due," the earl commanded. "Include an extra gold royal in their payment, that they may revel before returning home. Such valour merits reward."

Olga received the payment from the geezer, surprised. He opened the coin pouch and indeed there was an additional gold coin aside from the two already there. The warrior's gaze whipped back to the earl but the boy's attention was already far gone, now fully fixated on his prize.

"The criers shall make it known," the earl announced, crouched before one of the captured marauders. Casually, he lifted his hand to caress the fellow's cheek with the backs of his fingers. "A trial by ordeal shall be held in the town's square in an hour. Let all who have eyes come and see what great misfortunes shall befall those who destroy what this lord has claimed as his."

"...Aye, My Lord," the geezer said, bowing before turning to leave. The earl remained crouched, his knights standing watch over him.

"Good folk," Olga heard the lord proclaim from his elevated platform hastily arranged before the assembled throng. "With sorrow heavy upon my heart, I stand afore thee this day. Twice hath our realm been beset, laid waste by those who seek our harm, craving to seize what's rightly ours and lay waste to our hearths. Traitors, brigands, and vile fiends hath assailed us, sowing chaos and ruin upon our soil. But no more! They will know the full extent of our wrath, and pay the price for their sins. We will not rest until we have purged this land of all who seek to do us harm; until we have stamped out every last vestige of darkness that would try to extinguish our light. We will hunt them down, no matter where they hide, and we will show them no mercy…

For those who dare to threaten the safety and security of my people, there will be no place to hide, no refuge to seek!"

Impassioned cheering broke out throughout the crowd at the lord's declaration. The earl paused, signalling the crowd to fall silent as he gestured towards the bound bandits in a manner that could only be described as grandiose. "Behold," he declared, much to Olga's amusement, "the first of many. These wretches stand accused of the burning of Longboat, Mells, and South Rock Village. If innocence be found in them by the grace of our forefathers, they shall go free. But if not, let death claim them! Bring forth the beams!"

Amidst the cacophony of even more cheering two large wooden beams were brought out and laid down beside the bound bandits. The unfortunate fellows squirmed on the ground where they lay as cripples. The townsfolk pelted them with all manners of items pausing only to allow the lord's knights and guards to reach the men. The bandits were summarily tied and nailed through the wrist onto the beams; they squealed miserably throughout the process, the rabid shouting of the faceless masses rising in intensity around them. The beams were raised with their wretched occupants still stuck firmly on and made to stand in the centre of the town.

What a sight it was, a pair of pigs squealing on a baulk. Perhaps the young lord did have a bit more of his father's blood than Olga first thought.

Impressive.