Merovic quickly checked over his gear, he was wearing a woven linen chest plate topped made from hemp and strips of leather, and he had a pteruges wrapped around his waist, made from the same materials as his chest plate. He sheathed his sword to belt, and grabbed a loaded fire-lance, he removed the hemp fuse from the touchhole and changed it for a quick light black-powder fuse. He then put out the camp embers, buried what he could, and hid the rest in the branches of the trees. Merovic calmed his breathing, donned a hood hat, and proceeded to sneak closer to the sounds of people.

His path led him deeper into the forest, his footsteps were light, and he moved unseen to the eyes of any hidden sentinels. Merovic quickly scanned the surrounding copse for a good hiding place near the singing man. His efforts were rewarded in the form of a holt at the top of a small hill. He furtively slithered across the grass and did his best to hide his body in the bushes.

Merovic's vantage point gave him a clear view into a camp of 30 people. Many of them are sitting around drinking around a large fire-pit. The man whose singing attracted the attention of the teenager to this encampment, was speaking entirely in Danr. Merovic did not speak the northern tongue, could only chastise himself for not making the attempt to learn it earlier. He watched as the man went from singing to shouting at his companions.

"Emk hraðkvæðr hilmi at mæra, en glapmáll of gløggvinga, opinspjallr of jǫfurs dǫ́ðum, en þagmælskr of þjóðlygi."

When he finished screaming, another man walked to him and shouted back:

"Skaupi gnœgðr skrǫkberǫndum, emk vilkvæðr of vini mína; sótt hefk mǫrg mildinga sjǫt með grunlaust grepps of œði."

A third man ran up to the camp crying out: "Ég er međ skilabođ til ūín, Gauntalnir vilja semja við okkur!"

The three loud men stopped what they were doing and walked to a nearby tent to converse. Merovic continued to look around the camp, trying to guess the purpose for this group's arrival. He wasn't sure what he was looking for, but he did see that they had quite a few supplies from the city, none of which looked stolen. He also noticed that they didn't bring a lot of pack animals, the weapons they carried appeared to be well maintained, and there was two people who looked to be Tutonian in the camp.

Merovic lay in his hiding place for a few hours, just watching as men entered and left the encampment. The air began to cool and the sky began to darken with an amber glow. He spotted a familiar man on horseback from the city, it was one of his uncles thanes known as Feloric. The teenager wasn't familiar with all of his uncle's men but this one left an impression on the youth. Feloric was a scarred dour man with an irascible personality, the scars on his face gave his few smiles a hideous countenance. His ruddish hair was weaved into bone ornaments, from his many confirmed kills and victories in raids against the nearby tribes. His reputation was poor on account of his strong tendencies to pugilistic solutions for minor problems, in short, the man was a violent brute.

Merovic watched with interest: "He came by himself, why? Does he know this band? The guy only likes to fight and fornicate, so would anyone send him as a messenger?"

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Feloric jumped off his horse and bear-hugged one of the men at the campfire. The camp men loudly jeered and greeted the scarred warrior, they passed him an alehorn and he downed the draft in a single swig, the crowd answered with cheers. For half an hour, they spent time in each other's company, passing along greetings and current events. Eventually, a well decorated Danr man approached Feloric. The duo with some fanfare made for the largest tent to talk. Merovic decided at that moment he needed to get closer and listen in on what he could of the conversation.

The teenager stalked around the outskirts of the camp, moving from shadow to shadow, he made his way toward the large tent. There he lay on his belly, making himself as small as possible against the weaving of the shelter, in hopes that he would remain unseen. He listened as the men made small talk for a short while; talking about their favorite kills, best loot stories, and the weather. Eventually, he heard something interesting develop in the conversation:

"...I then told him, don't you know? Milk doesn't come from bulls... haha"

"Speaking of bulls, did Theodoric agree to the plan?"

"He said we should wait till the next year or later. The Bargii are preparing to raid some of the rich lands of the empire, so we figure that we might as well raid them while they raid others."

"You are a great warrior Feloric, I just don't understand your southern customs, raiding an empty house has no honor or glory. If you take their women, you should at least honor them, by at least killing their menfolk in open combat. The greybeards tell us that it's not theft to take from a man's house, if the man is present, and has an opportunity to fight for his claim."

"The sun rises and sets on the honorable and the least honorable alike. If we do it this way, the men of their tribe are given the choice and allowed to prepare if they want to fight for a return of their women. Its more honorable to steal the women whole and relatively intact; the womenfolk are also less inclined to fight to the death when they resist, if the men aren't home, it makes an easy transition. Besides their men might not care to lose a few if they capture some of those rare Rumelian beauties. I hear that those girls really know how to treat a man well, they can manage a family, and are more docile and tender to their kin. Between a hellcat and a house cat, most would want something that doesn't bite and scratch when you pet them."

"Strong women have strong children, and strong women should fight back, besides nothing better for a folk than to have a good woman who will fight at your back."

"There we disagree, there is nothing more harmful to the future of a tribe, than to pit women against men. I don't know any man who would kindly treat a woman, who killed their brother after combat. Additionally beating a woman in combat makes them ugly, and the children they produce suffers that curse. It's bad enough that the men get disfigured shouldn't at least one of child's parents look beautiful?"

"If they were so weak to die, then the tribe is better off without them. I can't believe your people are so shallow as to worry about a woman's face, we believe that it's the beauty "inside" a woman that matters... haha"

"ha... On that we agree, but if you did it our way you would save on drinking mead before the plowing of the field starts."

"Mead is made to be drank, more or less won't harm anything, in fact poetry cannot be sang without the vital drink, so we must drink more and honor the God's gift to fertility and song."

The sounds of alehorns clanking together could be heard. The two men continued to banter back and forth and finally they set a proposed date for a meeting to discuss "the plan" in the next year. Merovic concluded that he wouldn't hear anything more of interest and departed the drunken encampment. On the way back to retrieving his pack and the return to the city; Merovic considered what he heard and what he was going to tell his father.

"Father has not informed me of any future raids, so this might just be an excursion planed by Theodoric's faction. The talk of "the plan" has me worried, they didn't specify what it is. The fact that Theodoric is making plans or deals with the Danr has me a little worried, especially since the men in the camp didn't look like a bunch of merchants. Hopefully, its nothing too major and my concerns are misplaced, but I won't know anything for certain until the next year."

Merovic resolved himself and decided to redouble his efforts in training and arms production. He couldn't see the future, but he figured whatever comes his way he can at least shoot at it.