The day had begun to pass as Sigurd filled it with tending to pay, guard watching schedules, and reading. It was a pretty day to spend most of it in his office besides an hour here or there. The temperature was cool, but not too cold. The sun shone brightly across Onka and the surrounding forest. There was hardly a cloud in sight, besides small little whisps that moved quickly across it.
At the end of the day, Sigurd sat in the feast hall, enjoying the evening meal with his employers. The five guards, Emily, and Bjorn. The other two servants were still deeply ill, unable to attend for fear of infecting others with their illness.
For the evening meal, only some chicken and more roasted potatoes sat on their plates, and plain water in their cups. Sigurd did not have enough money to buy alcohol for every evening meal.
“-And then I sailed here, and became a knight,” an older man, Halfdan, stated, a smile on his face. All of the guards and servants sat along one table, while Sigurd sat only on the royal one, away from them. There was a clear divide between them - Sigurd, their Prince, and the peasants.
“Why didn’t you stay a knight?” Sven asked, curiously.
“It was too much work. I prefer the boring life. Here, it is not so bad. I may do the same thing every day, but I am not bleeding out on the battlefield, or pulling an arrow out of the leg of a companion. I am bored, but I am alive. And that is enough for me.”
“You should have been captain,” Gunnar stated, nudging Sven in the shoulder teasingly.
Halfdan thought about it, staring down at the table as the fire crackled in the background. He suddenly shook his head slowly. “I don’t want that kind of responsibility.”
“Why not?”
“Because if one day this boring life turns back into ‘excitement’, then I will be forced to bare the pain of sins we all will commit. I am busy enough keeping up with my own sins.”
Gunnar sighed. “You speak in circles. If I didn’t know you were a knight before this, I would have guessed a poet.”
Halfdan let out a chuckle. “At the very least, I speak more than our Prince!” He shouted, laughing as he spoke.
Sigurd stared at him, a slight smile on his face. “If you are quiet more, then when you speak your words will truly be heard.”
Halfdan nodded, letting his gaze fall. “I do suppose you’re right, Prince. You truly become scary when you do speak.”
He stood up, a grin on his face as he slowly walked to the royal table. “Thou is a half-wit, a misfit, a foolish old mouse, but I have the strength of a bear.”
Laughter echoed throughout the feast hall, as Halfdan came face to face with the Prince, who grinned back. “You used that last week,” he stated, standing up slowly.
Though Halfdan towered over him, Sigurd held his shoulders high. “You lost last week,” Halfdan whispered.
Sigurd stared at the man’s bald head as an idea popped into his head. With determination, he shouted: “You are possessed of a baldness that’s scared of your own hair!”
Halfdan’s mouth fell open, before he closed it as quickly again. He raised his eyebrows before speaking again. “You have the face of an impair, that even a monster would spare!”
Sigurd shook his head. “That didn’t sound like an insult to me.”
Halfdan cleared his throat before silently walking back to his seat, his clothing rattling as he walked, sitting back down, then glanced at the Prince. “I suppose I’ll allow you to win this one!” He shouted, a smile on his face.
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