Settling into the Great Hall of Scagnar was not an instant process for Brunnen. It often took days to grow accustomed to a new place—the sounds, the environment, and the subtle rhythms of life within its walls. On this particular night, sleep eluded him, so he found himself at one of the many tables, quietly working on a small wood carving of one of the gods. The fire burned low, casting a dim glow that was just enough for his steady hand to guide the carving knife, shaping the figurine with care.

Brunnen was used to solitude. Even if someone had crossed his path, he wouldn’t have known what to say—his life as a wanderer was filled with experiences that could excite the imagination, but he rarely shared them unless asked. These quiet hours, when the hall was empty and the world outside was still, were his time to reflect and create.

He planned to clean his clothes the next day, perhaps with the help of a bondmaid, though he usually managed such chores himself. Slaves were rare in these parts, and Brunnen had never owned one; he was particular about the company he kept and the women he chose to be with. It had been nearly a year since he’d last shared a night with a woman, and he found most slaves lacked the uniqueness he valued. Even the memory of a bondmaid’s gentle offer to serve felt distant. He mused that the next woman who approached him would find herself in a world of pleasure or pain, depending on whom you asked.

Brunnen’s thoughts drifted to the past—a single companion, decades gone, and a life without children by choice. His imposing appearance often kept others at a distance, and he didn’t mind. He was a mercenary, a marauder, but not one to take on contracts for men who couldn’t solve their own problems. As he whittled the figurine, he prepared to leave it behind as a blessing, a token of the old gods’ wisdom and presence. For Brunnen, honor came before all things—living a good life, being honest, and knowing right from wrong, even as the world around him chased after gold and steel.

Tomorrow, after his chores, Brunnen planned to explore Scagnar further, curious about unfamiliar structures and eager to see where the gods would lead him next. He intended to stay through the winter, relishing the cold and snow that others might fear. His ideals and preferences set him apart, but in this hall, surrounded by tradition and the quiet presence of the gods, Brunnen found a place to rest and gather strength for whatever lay ahead.