The ride back to Stag's Rest had been uneventful, with Joachim making further observations about the implications their battle had in the grand scheme of things. From what he had gathered back at the village it seemed like one of the Queen's new neighbors had got it into his head to raid her lands, possibly to test her strength or resolve. Such a thing was not uncommon back in Ustynia where Tribes were known to wage blood wars against one another for decades at a time for nearly any perceived infractions, More often than not though Tribes fought to claim good hunting grounds so that their people could survive the day to day life of that frozen kingdom. To Sikarthis it seemed as if these Southern 'lords' were more interested in lining their own pockets than claiming land for their people, greed motivating their every action. When they finally arrived at Stag's Rest Sikarthis was more than ready to dismount and hand his horse to one of the stable hands. In an odd stroke of luck, the horse he had ridden into battle had been found wandering not far from the village, the bundles of javelins he had left attached to the saddle still swinging from their harness. The beast still smelled terribly but Sikarthis supposed it was due a small bit of respect for not bolting into the wilderness with his forgotten luggage in tow. He was mildly surprised when Joachim motioned for him to follow. Despite serving with the Company for two Winters the Northman was not considered by most in the company to be trustworthy, both his foreign heritage and noncompliance to engage in most conversations earning him the general disdain of a large number of his sellsword companions. Still, it would be cooler indoors and Sikarthis could already feel the heat assaulting his senses. He followed without comment. --- [center][b]The Queen's Chambers[/b][/center] --- Gnarl had reacted about as well as Sikarthis had expected to the news of the attack. Apparently not even he had expected to be raided so quickly after settling in at their new home. From there it had been a quick walk to the Queen's chambers to inform the queen and, at Gnarls command, offer their own opinions on a course of action. Whereas Gnarl has addressed the Queen as if she was any member of the Company, Joachim had gone for a more tame, respectful approach, supporting Gnarl's decision as Sikarthis had expected he would. There were several parts of that plan that the Northman didn't quite like, as both the Queen and his companions were about to find out. Before he could speak his part however Rand suddenly burst into the chambers, tossing in a prisoner from the battle. When the ex-knight suggested attempt to hold their current position AND treat their prisoner like some honored guest the icy foreigner did nothing to hide the bark of contemptuous laughter that spilled from his mouth. "[b]You interrupt us unbidden with a plan that amounts to hiding behind our walls and hoping these enemies of ours believe the lies of a single soldier?[/b]" The Northman's accent was easily noticeable, each word spoken with sarcasm and disdain clinging to it. "[b]Were we in Ustynian court, you would find yourself stripped of more than your old title 'ser'. Your skin, for starters.[/b]" Sikarthis turned to the Queen, who he had largely ignored since coming to her chambers. In truth it was his first time seeing her this close, having always chosen to tend to his Snowcats instead when given the option to watch her ride by as most of the Company was prone to do. She was attractive he supposed, though she lacked the wide hips, muscled body and combat prowess that appealed to him as a Ustynian. From what he had heard she had never fought in any battles either, further lowering her in his eyes. In his country she might have lasted half a Winter at most, and even then she would scarcely have been worthy of cleaning the floors of a Tribal Icelord's hall. [b][i]But this[/b][/i], he reminded himself inwardly, [b][i]is not Ustynia[/b][/i], "[b] 'Ser' Rand would lead you to ruin. Trusting in the goodwill of a man who was your enemy but an hour ago is the height of madness, even more so to expect this 'Lord Eowen' to believe any lies should the man do as he says he will. What is to stop him from taking your feast and your whores and telling his master that we are fools who cannot see the [i]mamestrun[/i] right in front of our face? Nothing.[/b]" It did not occur to Sikarthis that those in his company would not know what a [i]mamestrun[/i], those immense wooly beasts that stalked the ice plains in herds, was. He likely wouldn't have cared if he had, caught up in his speech. All this talk of tactics was bringing him back to another time not so long ago, in a place far colder, when he was fighting for a different crown. He gestured to the pair of companions who hadn't barged in like savage Tribesmen. "[b]Joachim and Gnarl are only partially correct I believe. I know little of your kingdom nor it's people and, truth be told, I care little of either to begin with. What I do know however is that we are too few to wage a siege, even a short one. How many men does your enemy have at this very moment? Where is he weakest? Who are his enemies? Where does his hall reside? All of these things you must know. If you do not know them, you must find out.[/b]" Never taking his eyes off the Queen, Sikarthis laid his full helm atop a small desk that stood between them. He had had no time to remove his armour before coming to her chambers and had until now kept his helm tucked beneath one arm. He made a small show of playing with the crown atop the ancient piece of headgear, his gauntlet encased fingers running over the Ustynian runes and symbols that ran around it's surface. "[b]I believe there is a saying you Southerners have. '[i]A man atop a wall is worth six men below it.[/i]' Well in Ustynia we have a different saying, '[i]Winter's winds break even stone.[/i]' If you want this lord you must go through whatever walls he undoubtedly has around him. Sabotage his walls and our task will be all the easier, though I dare say our numbers are still against us.[/b]" Snatching up his helm again Sikarthis made to leave, stopping once in the doorway to offer one last piece of advice. "[b]There is another saying in Ustynia: '[i]A king wins no crowns from his chamberpot.[/i]' It's time you got off the chamberpot, Southerner Queen.[/b]" With that, the Northman took his leave. --- [center][b]The Pens[/b][/center] --- Several minutes later Sikarthis managed to find his way out of the mazelike hallways of the keep and over to where he kept his Snowcats in their pens. He had intended to strip off his armour and clothes once he tended to the beasts, the smell of sweat and blood clinging about him so strong it nearly stung his nose. When he arrived however he was surprised to find that his 'cats had a visitor, one he had often seen eying them from a distance. He stopped to observe her, seating himself on one of a dozen crates littering the area around the Pens. For a time curiosity kept him from interrupting, amusement rearing its ugly head as well. It wasn't until she began to reach her hand towards one of the 'cats that he spoke up. "[b]You will be missing your fingers if you continue to do that I fear.[/b]" There was no anger in his voice when he spoke. "[b]What are you doing here, Wren?[/b]"