The Protectors

The stranger was ordering more beer and Mcmanus noticed he sat alone, the majority of the patrons staying away from the massive heavily armed stranger. He paid in gold though and Mcmanus liked that as the barmaid brought the coin to his till and returned with large mugs of beer and bread setting them at the man’s side.

Wondering for a few minutes how much food the massive warrior was going to consume the whinny of a horse drew his attention to the door. After several moments a second stranger stepped through the door, ducking to clear the doorway, as his height interfered with him doing so upright.

The newcomer removed a wet cloak revealing a large broad shouldered frame that tapered to a narrow waist where a long wickedly curved sword rested.

Mcmanus immediately recognized the famed scimitar of the Western tribes. He was amazed to see this second man, as dark featured as the first, but more sun-tanned and wind beaten. Just like the riders of the plains he remembered from the past.

The rider removed a wet coat of horsehair and shook the water from it as he scanned the room. Seeing the only empty chair at the northerner’s table he walked to it.

" Is this seat taken?" The plainsman asked the northerner.

The big man from the cold north motioned as he smiled broadly and invited.

" Sit stranger the stew is hot and the beer cold we will talk you and I both out of place in this inn."

The plainsman smiled at the gesture and sat thankfully.

" I trust your judgment good friend."

He placed gold pieces on the table as he yelled to the nearest serving wench. " Food woman more of that bread and bring a pitcher of beer for me and my friend here."

The regulars stared at the two strangers who went on as if they had known each other for years, eating and toasting the beer.

When he had polished off a bowel of the stew the plainsman extended his hand.

" I am Samir, son of Toulin, high judge of the Western plains."

The northerner took it in his mighty grip. " Good to meet you Samir, I am Torsvold, son of Bearsgrip the Richer, high judge of the Northern tribes. It would seem we have something in common then."

Smiling the plainsman nodded. " Yes, we are both sons of politicians." At this they shared a mighty laugh between them.

" So Torsvold, what brings you here so far from your frozen lands?" Samir asked as the big man finally stopped eating and pushed the bowl away.

" I am here at the request of my father and lord to offer my services to the young prince, as a protector for his coming of age quest."

Suddenly he snatched up the great broadsword at his side. " I will not let the people of the north down." He vowed fire in his eyes.

A smile broke across Samir’s face as he nodded. " I am here also for that reason, sent by my father to represent the Western tribes. I think my friend we should join forces so together we can offer protection to the young prince."

This idea prompted Torsvold to grab up a mug and yell out to the room of strangers.

" Come all of you and join us in a toast to the young prince, and with our help, future king of all Alturia!"

A cheer broke out in the room as every arm was raised together for the health of the young future king.

" Aah yes that is good, wench, more beer!" Samir yelled as he waved down a barmaid, tossing her a couple of gold coins adding. " Everyone drinks on the riders of the plains tonight!"

Torsvold nodded in agreement. " It is good to meet you Samir at least I will have someone worthy as my partner in this quest."

Samir held up his glass to the big northerner. " I will strive to live up to that belief." He promised as he drank deeply from his mug.

They packed up the next morning early and were on the road soon after sun-up riding south to the city of Anavar. Samir poised on top of a beautiful black gelding raised from the best stock the west had to offer. An animal bred for speed and endurance trained to become one with it’s rider in battle.

Torsvold in contrast sat upon a strong, muscular, stocky gray that was built for power and stamina over speed and grace. It was the kind of horse that could support the heaviest of riders as it also carried weapons and its own armor. Many times this splendid gray had trampled enemies under its hooves and it loved the smell of battle.

Both animals were prime examples of the kind of men that had bred them and the different kind of uses they utilized them for.