As more and more people entered the hall and took their seats, Seothrunn felt more at ease. No one had accused him of any wrongdoing yet, and that was always good considering his people's reputation. Although that eased his mind somewhat, he still worried about how the king would take to his presence, especially considering that it was highly likely that his sister was still raiding the coast even as he sat in the dining hall. Seothrunn had politely asked, then reluctantly begged her to cease her activities before he left for the capitol, but she had just brushed him off by reasoning that the raids were no longer just out of tradition, but out of necessity. The closure of the northern seas also meant the closure of their main fishing grounds.

His stomach rumbled at the thought of fish, and for a split-second he considered taking some salted fish from his knapsack, but then quickly decided against it. He was a complete stranger to the customs of the southern court, but he knew enough of courtesy to know that eating your own food when the host has provided their own was considered to be very rude. Looking over at the vast selection offered on the table, he searched for something which he had not seen before on his home islands. He did not sail halfway across the known world to simply eat fish - he could have done that easily enough at home - but perhaps because of the way they were cooked or the elaborate preparation, everything looked alien to him.

[i]Southerners are odd.[/i] He thought to himself. Even the nobles on the north-western isles had their foods prepared simply. No efforts were wasted on decoration or making them look neat. No one cared about how the food was presented, only that it was safe to eat. Shrugging mentally, Seothrunn reached out and picked up a some kind of bun. It looked plain enough, and was at least something he was pretty sure he could eat without making a fool of himself. He took a bite...

...And promptly burned his tongue when the sweet, but scalding hot filling burst into his mouth. He choked and let out a garbled sound of surprise, but forced himself to swallow anyway. He placed the bun on the table, then looked at the other guests, or those who had noticed his little incident. "[i]Hvarsk.[/i]" He said as an explanation, but then quickly translated, "I mean, hot. It was hot."

Never once had he been so thankful for the hood which prevented others from seeing the sheepish look on his face. It made him feel even more ashamed that he was actually fearful of what others thought of him. He was a warrior, the veteran of a hundred raids and a scourge on the north-western sea. Why did he fear what was on these southerners minds? He took a deep breath and calmed himself. It was normal to want to make a good first impression, especially if that impression had already been marred by a family member of his. [i]You are being a fool, just be as you would, and all will be fine.[/i] He told himself.

A serving boy asked if anyone wanted wine, and Seothrunn lifted his cup to catch his attention. "Here, please." He said in a hesitant voice. Saying those two words already required plenty of mental power; he had only just learned the southern language during his journey south, and he found it to be incredibly complicated when compared to his native tongue. His eyes glanced to his sides to see if anyone had taken note of his accent, and for a moment wished that he had turned around when he had the chance, to be out on the open seas and listening to his oars churning the water and sail catching the salty, sea breeze.

Just then, the candles wavered as a gentle breeze wafted in from the windows high above.