Raid

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The roasted chicken leg was a welcome change in Aksels diet. In reality, he would welcome anything that wasnt salted or 5 days old and smelled like leather. Braum sat in front of him at the opposite side of the table drinking from a wooden mug of ale. A clean wooden plate lay in front of him on the table. A dim, warm candlelight filled the tavern with hardly enough light to read. There were a few windows but the clouds overcast the sun that day and little sunlight found its way into the establishment. The raider sat there on the bench, Hrafnfiða hung from his back, secured by a leather strap; the source of many of the conversations inside the tavern. Braum had tried to convince him that keeping the axe would undoubtedly bring unwanted attention, for Aksel, it was no choice.

Braum asked facetiously, Will you finish that?, gesturing to the rest of the food on his companions plate. Aksel could hardly hear him over the bantering and conversation filling the tavern, Someday Aye, he replied. He took another bite of his chicken leg before he gestured at Braum with it, drawing his partners attention, Kyklingr he said factually and took another bite. Braums brow raised and he repeated, Kick-linger? That means chicken?, Aksel nodded an affirmation with a full mouth.

His eyes wandered past Braum, a wench brought a tray of 3 ale mugs to a table of three men in the corner of the tavern. From his estimate, they were each around their mid 20s in age. Unconsciously, he looked at the waists of the two men he could see fully. Four blades. Two swords and a seax So many swords with these people. he thought to himself as his chewing slowed. The woman set the drinks down on the men's table, Oi, love the man sitting on the left side of the table said loudly, What I gotta pay fer yer arse next round insted?. His companions laughed at his remark. The woman scoffed and recoiled in disgust and spat, Im no strumpet. she then turned to walk away with the wooden tray. As she did, the man took the hand he wasnt resting on his mug and slapped the woman on the ass. Aksel raised one brow at the SMACK sound that resonated through their area of the tavern. She gasped and jolted slightly, not wanting to give the man the satisfaction, she hurried back to the bar in front of the cookery and Aksel relaxed slightly.

Axe, Braum began and Aksels eyes returned to his friend for a moment before falling to his plate once more, We havent spoken of your return to the North. His gaze wandered away from the table, looking at the other patrons in the tavern. The Scandinavian replied without breaking his gaze from his plate, Must ve?, Braum answered, Id prefer it, looking at Aksel now. Aksel paused, looking at the chicken he held with two hands, elbows propped up on the table, planning his next words. He looked up at the Anglo-Saxon, Vhat is to be discussed?. Braum answered as Aksel took another bite out of his chicken leg, I, for one, would like to know how you intend on returning to the North.. Vho says that is my intention?, Aksel prodded after swallowing the succulent mouthful of kyklingr, Is it not your intention? Braum asked forcefully. Aksel wasnt certain what his answer was, he would love to be back with his family but he didnt think that he would be able to be happy with his family, knowing that he had taken this young boy from his, regardless of if the boy was Kristían or not; he was a person. If it was, would you stay here in North Umbria? Vith your people? Aksel returned, his companion processed this for a moment before answering in a solemn tone, I know not Not yet Braums gaze became glossy and unintimate.

It was then that the tavern wench nervously made her way back to the men's table with more ale. She moved to replace their mugs when the man on the left announced, Oi Im done with the fuckin ale. I asked for yer arse bitch!. This attracted Braums attention along with many of the other patrons; he looked over his shoulder, annoyed, The hell-...? he said softly. The man's tablemates encouraged him on through exaggerated reactions and facial expressions; a monkey doing his monkey dance to convince his friends hes a good monkey. He then gripped the wench firmly by the arm and pulled her down closer to him, she gasped in a mixture of shock and dread. In the commotion, some of the remaining ale the woman was carrying on the tray spilt onto the table as she attempted to steady the tray again.