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[4/4]
A red-nosed Norsikaan wearing nothing but a loincloth stumbles past you, drunker than any person you’ve ever seen still standing. Their burp and vague inspection to verify that you are indeed not another flagon of mead is the closest you get to any of the hundreds of northmen present acknowledging your entrance. You look back at the sword sisters present, the nearest one being the fair Dame Kalina. She offers an unhelpful shrug, mirth clear and apparent in her eyes.
Ordinarily, you would have a herald or at the very least a squire to announce your entry and recount your achievements so that the challengers might recognise your worth. Or at the very least your presence. Instead… you look askance at your palace servant guide who is no doubt meant to double as a translator.
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> “Translate this. I am Sir Emile Andrei, of the House Andrei, and by the Almighty I have come to answer the challenge set forward by one of your number!” The northmen will respond to their own language being barked at them with your name and achievements, you should hope. [Divine]
> Clearly the standard Cantonian rotocol surrounding duels will not avail you here. When in Cathagi… you step forward almost to the foot of the Aeltin longtable and take a deep breath. “URSEN!!!” [Hearty]
> “...” You wait a while, hoping to peer through the crowd of hundreds of Norsikaans until you are able to track down a familiar face and approach them. You mean to fight one northmen, not the entire cohort. [Idealist]
