> SELECTED “I take it this is some sort of challenge? Very well, but I am too busy at this very moment. Once I am done, a convenient time and place in the near future can be agreed upon. My squire will get the details.” You are not obligated to accept a challenge from a northern barbarian, but a part of you wants to try your strength against such a man. But this can wait until your pilgrim has finished, you dismiss any notion of being held up any longer here. [Haughty]https://www.youtube.com/watch?v=HKkL7DfoE3U&ab_channel=Danheim - Norsikaan theme, should have been in the last post<span class="mu-i">“I take it this is some sort of challenge? Very well, but I am too busy at this very moment.”</span> Bravos stabbing each other in the street in Langland, huscarls hewing mercenaries in this plaza. Everywhere you go, it seems one foreigner or another is set on killing another over some trifle. At least in Cantôn charters are issued and challenges properly arranged before knights start swing at each in the street. <span class="mu-i">“Once I am done, a convenient time and place in the near future can be agreed upon. My squire will get the details.”</span>
<span class="mu-i">“I will?”</span> Mikail is not the only one that appears confused, the Norsikaans are speaking amongst themselves.
The distant dark-haired one seems completely disinterested in the exchange, and the blonde one with the distinct purple sash that might denote a rank seems set on herding his comrades away, captive slavemaster in tow. Most of the talking is between the one-eyed huscarl and his loudmouthed red-haired fellow.
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Ég held að hann geti ekki barist núna. Sjáðu hina sem hann er með, hann er herforinginn þeirra eða eitthvað.”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Stríðsstjóri? Þeir eru ekki stríðsmenn, sjáðu þá. Þeir eru frá álfunni, hann er pílagrímur.”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Pílagrímur?”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i">“Yes pilagrima, that is the word!”</span> Finally a word you recognise, even through that barking accent of theirs. You point to yourself and the others. <span class="mu-i">“Pilgrims! From Cantôn?”</span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Já, sérðu? ”</span></span> The warrior with the eyepatch nods knowingly. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Hann þekkir orðið. Pílagrímurinn ferðast hingað til þessa suðurlands til að ganga mikið. ”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Hvað? Ganga? Fyrir æfingu? ”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Það er hvernig þeir biðja. Gangandi. Og krjúpandi. ”</span></span> Eyepatch scratches his chin. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Stundum syngur líka. ”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Það er geðveikt. ”</span></span> The red-haired one shakes his head in disbelief, although disbelief at what you have no idea. <span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Ég held að þú sért að búa þetta til.”</span></span>
<span class="mu-i"><span class="mu-b">“Ó ef þér finnst þetta brjálað, muntu elska þetta. Allt það að ganga og biðja er fyrir einn guð.”</span></span>
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