Limping out of the castle doors, Somerled was met by ten, maybe eleven of Kitchner soldiers aiming their swords at him.

Raising his hand, he showed the head of the Jarl Kitchner to the soldiers whose faces dropped in shock.

“Kitchner is dead. You have no reason to fight for his evil any longer. You will have a new Jarl to fight for.”

The soldiers one by one looked at each other. Somerled hoping that their loyalty to whoever rules them is stronger than their desire to fight Somerled.

One soldier removed his helmet and shouted to the rest.

“Kitchner was a bastard. We no longer fight for him.”

Then another removed their helmet and shouted.

“We must go back to Willaow and find out who the new Jarl will be.”

Somerled sighed in relief as the soldiers eventually turned and walked away, assuming that they were heading to the city of Willaow.

Dropping Kitchner’s bloody head to the ground, Somerled began to head back to town. As he walked, he saw the battle ground that took place not long ago. Dozens of dead, more peasants than soldiers lay on the ground.

Petir?

Somerled looked down and saw Petir’s lifeless body on the ground, a gash across his throat and blood covering his body.

A few hundred yards later, Somerled sat down on a large boulder and whistled as loud as possible. A few minutes later, his horse, Fleor appeared and forced her head onto Somerled’s.

A case of literary theft: this tale is not rightfully on Amazon; if you see it, report the violation.

“Good girl.” He said patting her neck and stroking her head.

A hour or so later, Somerled was arriving back into the town, tired and in need of a rest. Entering the inn that he first stayed in, he saw a handful of the peasant soldiers and some of Asha’s mercenaries inside drinking ale.

“Here he is!” One of the peasant’s shouted! “The knight who killed Kitchner and slayed his beast!”

People started to form around Somerled, one handing him a wooden pint of ale. Keeping his helmet on, the knight placed the ale down and found Asha, sat smiling at him.

“So, you survived?” She said with a laugh.

“Just about.” Somerled replied.

A tapping on his shoulder forced Somerled to turn around, he saw the woman that he saved from the other town, cleaned up and smiling at him. She jumped, swinging her arms around the knight as she cried out.

“Thank you.”

Not replying, Somerled waited for her to release him and gave her a nod of approval.

Laying on the bed at the inn, Somerled had his armour removed as Asha tended to his wounds. There were only a couple of actual cuts through his skin and she attached a bandage around his ribs.

“I was sure you were dead when you hit the ground with the Roc.” She said, placing her hand onto his chest.

“So did I.” He replied, laughing and coughing in pain.

“Relax,” Asha whispered and left Somerled in the room alone to go and join the party at the inn.

The Next Morning.

Somerled had dressed back into his armour and left the inn, there were many of the towns people on the streets cheering at him, some handing him bags of food and thanking him for his help.

“If you’re ever around these parts again.” The barmaid who owned the inn said to him, “You can stay here for free.”

Somerled made his way to the stable and got back onto Fleor, once again heading south in hope to get out of the wintery blizzard.

As he rode out of town, the snow was as harsh as ever and blocking the sun light. Fleor neighed as they started down the road.

“It’s okay girl, we will get somewhere warm soon. Hopefully.” Somerled said patting her head.