Bread and ale(1)

Before the imperial subjugation, the north was a land of scattered duchies, each ruling its own domain. However, in times of dire peril, such as threats from imperial armies or tribes gathering behind the Bane, these duchies would unite. This unity was symbolized by the calling of a "hut," a traditional assembly where all the dukes set aside their differences , put down their axes, shared ale and bread , and convened under one roof to address the common threat.

Historically, huts were most often called at North's Bane, the heart of the northern lands. These gatherings were prompted by various dangers, whether it was to confront marauding chieftains of savage tribes or to face the sometimes even congregation of giants,when those could still be sighted behind Bane.

And just like before , this hut was to be organised onto the stronghold of the north.Maesinius was sitting at the right of the owner of the house , Harold Helklund.He was also the man who has hosted the prince for the last three years,and in this time Maesinius both gained the respect of Harold, and of the north.

In the flickering firelight of the great hall, Harold Helklund was an imposing figure, his frame sturdy and robust despite the passage of years. At the age of late fifties, he bore the weight of his age with a quiet dignity, he knew war and war knew him.

His beard, a wild cascade of white, flowed like a snowy river down his chest, covering a face marked by the ravages of battle His hair, too, shared the same luscious hue, reminiscent of the majestic mane of a lion, cascading in waves around his broad shoulders.

A jagged line traced across the bridge of his nose, he always used to laugh when people asked about it and he always responded that it was his lady wife that gave it to him when she first bedded her.She always used to say that she would come home to a lioness

Despite his age, Harold kept his muscle . His shoulders, broad and powerful, bore the weight of countless responsibilities, while his hands, calloused and weathered, spoke of a lifetime passed in war

Harold and Maesinius were not the only one in there, as also all the other lords as per tradition conveneed under the same roof.Maesinius turned his head around gazing at the structure , it was one of the biggest he had ever seen.

The ceiling was like the wall, made of oak  wood, that reached upwards like the branches of an ancient tree, disappearing into the darkness above.

The floor was covered in a soft, dark carpet, well-worn and familiar to the feet of the lords who had walked it for generations.There was no decorations , no banner put on the wall,as this was not owned by Harold' families but by the whole north, and since its creations no banner was ever put inside that wall.

Verinius 'The Misguided' had commanded 90 years ago, for the banner of the empire to be put in there, he sent a man delivering the flag, but unfortunately before reaching the hall he was met by 'bandits' , was quartered and his banner threw down a cliff. When the emperor heard that, he threatened to raise an army and in response, the north invited him to try and put the banner there himself. Luckily before that happened Verinius was overthrown by his younger brother Earon 'The kind'.

Maesinius turned around, studying the various nobles present there, while simultaneously feeling their scrutinizing gazes upon him, much like hawks observing their prey. Their icy stares pierced through him, assessing his every move. Yet, he returned their gaze without a hint of fear, a display that seemed to garner their approval.

Suddenly, Harold rose from his seat, his white beard swaying as his head scanned the entire congregation. His eyes swept over every face, leaving no corner untouched. The nobles mirrored his actions, their silence enveloping the room like the chill of winter.

Then, the silence shattered. "You like what you see, Harold?I got more if you would like" boomed a giant among men as he stood,hand on his crotch , the scrape of wood against the floor echoing through the chamber. All eyes turned to the towering figure, Maesinius marveling at his immense size. He recognized the emblem of the white fox of House Falstaff, lords of Snowmirth, emblazoned on the man's chainmail and gray surcoat. Draped over his back was the skin of a bear, its gaping maw used as hood. Despite being unarmed like the other nobles, Maesinius sensed the raw power emanating from the giant. His forearm alone seemed as large as two clenched fists, capable of delivering a crushing blow and smashing through armor . In that moment, Maesinius realized that if the giant chose to, he could easily walk up toward anyone and kill him by bashing his head on the wall ,  with the rest of the lords would be powerless to intervene, like lambs before a lion. He wondered how strong he would be with an axe .

''Sit the fuck down Uther!'' Harold shouted

"I would if the chair didn't bloody well break!" Uther Carlsson retorted, holding up the shattered remains of his seat for all to see. The sound that had echoed through the room was not of a chair shifting, but of one collapsing under Uther's weight.

"These chairs are as sturdy as your arse, Harold. Fetch me a proper one before I sit on you!" Uther joked, drawing laughter from the other lords and a smirk from Harold. It became evident to Maesinius that the two were old friends, and the tension in the room dissipated.

With a wave of his hand, Harold summoned a servant who promptly arrived with a larger, sturdier chair. "Try not to break this one with your fat arse," Harold jested, eliciting more laughter from the crowd, including Uther himself.''If there is no other shit-head, I will continue''

As the joviality settled, Harold cleared his throat and raised his rugged hand in the hair before clapping . Two rows of servants emerged from behind him, carrying trays laden with ales and bread for the guests.

"As is tradition, we now share bread and ale under the watchful gaze of the gods," Harold proclaimed solemnly. "May they bear witness to our unity and guard against treachery within these walls." With that, he tore off a piece of bread, chewed thoughtfully, and washed it down with a hearty gulp of ale, ensuring his cup was emptied to the last drop.

All the other lord followed suit , they took the bread ,ate it and then drank the ale.

''From now on you are my guest, no harm shall come to you till you reside under my roof'' As he said so he sat down, his gaze moving to Maesinius, who gave a deep breath before rising from his seat, ready to present his case to the rest of the northern lord. As he walked though the words Rosk told him kept playing in his head ''It will happen, whetever you wish or not.'' He knew he was right, this however did not mean that he had to allow that to happen. The lords wanted war?Very well they would have one.