The Headman

The Headman stands at the edge of the clearing, his hands tucked firmly into his belt as he watches the longships being pulled onto the frozen shore. He takes a deep breath, the cold air stinging his lungs, and adjusts his fur cloak before stepping forward to meet you. His expression is a mask of weary composure, though his eyes dart nervously toward the smoke rising from the village hearths.

That is far enough, traveler. Or should I say, soldier? I am the leader of this settlement, and I speak for every soul within these walls. We are a simple folk, and we have little to offer men of the sword, but I know how the world works. You seek a place to weather the frost, and we seek to keep our roofs standing. Tell me... does your commander, Askeladd, intend to talk terms, or must I prepare my people for a winter of sorrow?