Gregar went under the knife, for several hours. Much to his surprise the local liegelord hadn't come yet to greet them, or capture or murder him for that matter. They were in the Forklands, but none of the other dukes had declared a support for either side of the newfound conflict between the Whitelands and Ironhills. But it seems that the local lord hadn't taken much of an interest him. None the less, the procedure the local physician underwent on him was.. painful, to say the least. Trying his best to maintain a composure, he gritted his teeth before a nearby assistant to the physician handed him a wood piece to bite into. Never the less, when the physician started pulling out the remaining parts of the bolt, Gregar couldn't help but let out a scream as he experienced heavy pains. The entire procedure lasted well over two hours, and Corbin was sent away to organize their stuff and put their new horses in the stable. He might be noble of blood, but he was still a subject to Gregar, despite their common blood.

He was handed a crutch, crudely made of a large branch with a split end, another branch attached between them to lean on. Gregar was told to rest and to retire to his chambers but he had other plans. Hobbling through the maze of hallways, he ended up in the courtyard again where he walked around for a short while, enjoying the sight of working people walking around and doing their bussiness. It seemed people here did not recognise him, as the tales of ser Gregar the Oakenheart often portrayed him in a much different manner. After some time of wandering, observing the working people and the occasional talk with a craftsman, he decided to head into the main halls where he bumped into Corbin. [i]“I'm going to the duke to appeal for safe passage in his lands and some fresh horses. Care to join me?”[/i] Corbin didn't seem to mind, so followed Gregar after all. As far as anyone knew, they were just a few of the people who had come to the Forklands in search of employment as a knight. They fit in perfectly, after all, with their armor and swords. 

As they hobbled around, they stumbled upon the library per accident, taking in some time to look around before Gregar would approach the center desk where the duke, lord Rufus would be seated. As he approached slowly, leaning on his crutch, he'd cough softly. [i]“Lord Rufus.”[/i] His voice would be somewhat loud, clear and definetely impose some form of respect, however that all depended on how the duke would respond to him. [i]“I was attacked by lord Perrighfields' men in a setup, while returning to my lands to defend what is rightfully mine. The men were slain, but not before I was shot with a bolt. You have my gratitude for giving me the treatment I needed, and your hospitality is certainly a trait that you should cherish.”[/i] Gregar would look at the man more directly now, rather than looking at the man's surroundings, such as what the man was reading. He couldn't make out what book he had, but continued none the less. [i]“However, since I find myself in your keep, I'd have to request you grant me and my companion and cousin Corbin a safe passage through your lands. I'd also want to request to trade my two horses for two of yours, fresh and ready to ride.”[/i]

There was something else on Gregar's mind too, but he didn't dare ask for an alliance right now after asking the man for an escort and two fresh horses.


---

[b]At the tavern near the Wintershouse[/b]

All the men were drinking heavily, and more heavily as the night progressed. Some had passed out drunk, laying on the table asleep, faces burried in whatever food was in front of them. The others were drinking, dancing, and appeasing several harlots and whores, who all seemed to be enjoying their company. 

However there were definetely two camps in the tavern, the left side being primarily men of the most powerful count amongst the counts, count Norlan, the other side having mostly soldiers from the two counts, both from the same family, count Ulfrik and Sicbert. These two families had been feuding for years before Rikard intervened, and while the bloodshed stopped, the tensions hadn't. It was for that reason that at one point, a soldier from Ulfrik's armies stood up and started a fight with a soldier from count Norlan, whom he referred to as 'traitor.' The rest being drunk as they were, simply stared, laughed and cheered for their side. However, the innkeeper looked at Briala as if he was asking her to intervene before they ruined the tavern.