The Seeress

Chapter One

         "You ask me, what they gave us was an insult"

It was hard to hear anything in the mead hall, with several others having their own conversations at once in a tight room. The mead hall must be able to house so many in such cramped quarters, with the small, yet glowing presence of the fire could only do much to drown out the cold. This is why the hall itself felt a tad quieter than before. John was very quick on picking up what he said. "Precisely old friend," John replied to him. "Rodrik and his band should have been worth far more than what they've given us,"

"I mean, 300 coins? For those who have burned three outposts by themselves?" Alfred yelled, probably too loud for his own good. Even in the small colony at Nordlund, the Crown of Westhaven could hear them, even if it were to be ahead of an old, dying man. It did not help that 300 coins had to be shared with not just him and his children, but also the several men that Alfred has.

Thankfully for them, the constant shouting was so prevalent, that Alfred's statement could be taken as banter. No guard would be in the presence of the alehouse if not merely to have a drink or two.

With the general decline of morale around the colony, the alehouse was a haven for them. No bandits, wolves or winter could harm them here. Hence the crowded nature of the place, where dozens gather to escape their sober, sterile world.

"Cheap bastards, they couldn't even put up a good fight against those bandits," John said as he sipped his ale. The only thing that could soothe his soul. He had stayed for ten seasons in Nordlund, more than the average Westerner who came to visit. And yet, he always felt he was rock bottom. No luck has ever come to them since they entered.

"The only ones who can celebrate for us is ale," Alfred said as he pours it away for his friend. The smell was nearly strong enough to suggest they had enough.

"You alright, old friend?" John asked.

"Shut up, let me contemplate," Alfred murmured. His voice croaking with sadness. John sighed deeply, clearly upset to see his friend in a pathetic state. If for any other man, John would gain a laugh. But all he could gather from Alfred was groans and disappointment. 

"What should I say to Harold. And Edwin about this," John thought as he put down his cup. Unlike his friend Alfred, he tried his best not to get himself drunk, knowing that one ale usually leads to many. Ten seasons, and yet fortune has not favoured them. Perhaps Nordlund is just as cruel to them as their home. Such is fate, for them to be constantly in debt like this. He couldn't bring himself to say that to his son, let alone his nephew.

His nephew, of course. Harold was a great fighter, even at his young age. He could only hope that his dear son would match his strength. If Harold was as meek as Edwin, he would have loved him more. John snapped back to reality as Alfred started to slam the table in front of him.

"Can you shut up damn it!"

"You shut up, what is wrong with you?" John hissed, seeing his friend had nothing but incoherent words to spit out. Some leader he is, John thought. Of course, what use is to wail over their disappointment. Perhaps ale is the only one there for him. 

'No harm to drink up now,' John thought as he took his cup. Just then, a bright colour lured his eyes. Among the rowdy crowd, there was one striking member among them who have been eying them for a long time.

 John went back to his senses as he slowly put down his ale. His eyes, looking at the far right corner with the bronze antlers, confirmed his suspicions. He saw a blue-cloaked woman with her face hidden. The mask she wears resembles a husk, with its black, bleak eye holes being somewhat hiding the occupant. What kind of woman is she? John could only suspect as she sat down all of a sudden.