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It was a few hours after battle, Ulfrikson had helped out a few of the guards carrying their mates, dead and alive, to clear the area of the massacre. The stench of death was heavy, mixed with piss and shit. It was always an intense smell which had even Bjørn’s nose wrinkled. But besides the scent being heavy, the mood was too. There was fear amongst them, which was understandable. They didn’t understand how this could’ve happened. How a group of beastmen had traveled so close to town, even managing to climb over the walls and ambush them. This small of a group had already done so much damage to them. 

Bjørn washed the dried blood off of his hands before leaning against the wooden barrel, looking over the remaining mess of battle. By now most of the bodies had been carried away. Bjōrn knew that soon enough here’d be a pillar of greasy, grey smoke from when they’d start burning the dead. Seeing how this raiding party had taken so many of them already, it wouldn’t be the last pillar of smoke they’d see.  

There were more. 

There were always more. 

Inspecting his hands to see if most of the blood had washed off, Bjørn decided it was time for him to hit the stables, where he slept during his stay in town. He paused in his work to look up at the lavender wash of the dawn sky. He didn’t mind sleeping during the day, he just hadn’t expected this much time to have passed already. Mist was slowly forming in the streets, clinging to the air as it gave this eerie feeling to the town, only fed by the scent of death carried with it. 

With a soft sigh, Ulfrikson started heading down the street, returning ‘home’. His axe and knife were put back in their holsters, and the remains of his shield put on his back. 

As he walked he passed a man, absolutely pissed, and wondered how many people would be left in the dark about what had happened that night. This man certainly didn’t know. And even if he had seen it in this state, he would’ve forgotten all about it by the end of it. Would they be truthful about the beastmen, or would they choose to bend the truth about what happened? What was the right thing to do?

Normally he’d find himself in the same state as this man. Drunk. Pissed. Three sheets to the wind. But not tonight, though he wished he had gotten at least a little more tipsy so he wouldn't notice how sore his back felt from being hit by one of those monstrosities. 

He wasn’t scared of them, though. - No. Honestly, he was looking forward to meeting them again. They were strong opponents. A challenge. But he did feel concerned about them coming back to Galloway. 

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As he came upon the stables, a guard was already waiting for him with something in his hand. Bjørn felt himself growing a little cautious, his fists tensing as he slowly approached, wondering what this man wanted of him. 

[colour=gray]“Are you Bjørn Ulfrikson?” [/colour]

[colour=silver]“Aye, I am.”[/colour]

The guard, also a little careful around the barbarian, slowly approached with a letter extended to him. Bjørn took it from his hand and took another moment to observe the guard before him, eying him cautiously. He didn’t trust him. He didn’t trust people who knew where to find him and were waiting for him. Especially guards. 

He then opened the letter and started to scan the paper in his hands. Literal minutes passed of Ulfrikson ‘reading’ the letter. The guard was starting to get impatient with him, lightly tapping his feet and occasionally sighing as to try and get Bjørn to hurry. It didn’t help though, for the brute took all the time he needed to observe the scribbles in ink. 

He then looked up and handed the letter back. [colour=silver]“I can’t read.” [/colour] And it was a fact. He had just tried to see if he could figure out what was being said, but he had absolutely no idea what the letter was about. He pushed himself passed the guard to get to the stables, the guard being rather quiet at that time. He was obviously baffled by the fact that this man, Bjørn, had been staring at the paper while he had been waiting there, unable to read, but taking between 5 to 10 minutes to just look at paper. 

With a sigh, the guard decided to just read the letter out loud so Ulfrikson knew what had been written. 

[colour=silver]”And what does that mean?”[/colour] Bjørn asked, looking over his shoulder to eye the - now slightly annoyed - guard. [colour=gray]”You’re being summoned to the south gate.”[/colour] the guard replied. 

There was a moment of silence. 

[colour=silver]”Why?[/colour]

[color=gray]”For fuck s- .. Please just go, I’m just doing what I’m being told. And I was told to deliver this letter to you so you can go to the bloody gate and everyone is pleased, alright? So, please, just go to the south gate. I’m sure they’ll pay you.”[/color] the guard snapped at him, his knuckles turning white with how hard his fists were tightened. 

Bjørn just stared at him for a moment longer before he let out a deep, almost rumbling, sigh. It was curiosity which got the best of him. He wanted to know why exactly he was being summoned. So he gathered his things, the guard was obviously relieved, and strapped them to himself. It wasn’t much, mostly food and a flask of ale. 

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Soon the barbarian arrived at the gate, his pace slowing a bit to see who was ahead and whether or not to trust them. He recognised the few who had fought the beasts yesterday. A man he had seen at the inn from time to time. A ranger of some sorts. Another ranger? And the woman from the inn who possessed magic. He trusted them enough to approach. He showed them, but mostly Leon,  the crumpled letter. 

[colour=silver]“I can’t read.”[/colour]

He stuffed the letter back in one of the leather pouches around his waist and then continued to look around. He really wasn’t sure what was going on and he didn’t like it. He didn’t trust being summoned. Maybe they knew too much and had to be killed as to keep the peace. He’d kill them all would they decided to turn on him, or them.