Wynwyn

Wynwyn swallowed as she stepped inside, her wide eyes bent on the guard who seemed awfully unfriendly by nature. She shuffled on the steps, gradually ascending them. She squinted about the dark jail, appearing more than afraid of her surroundings, ironically appearing like a captured small animal, even if she was the one who stood free.

The Reeve nodded, keeping his eyes on the war-band, and giving not a speck of glance to the Witan at his flank. "You fought in the siege in Stangard ...or so is supposed. You haven't shown the courage to stand and protect till death as in ways of our kin...''

Régnwald let his eyes wander about the faces for a moment, he eyed first Zaiweyn, then the pair he met, and soon around his comrades until Niehstu spoke with fatigue of recent days, "I do not accept that, my Lord, Still my war-band holds no such judgment by our king or marshall." He threw the titles as weapons, eyes narrowing a fraction to show the crows’ feet that clung to their edges. ''I only offer for myself that I have done no wrongs in your land save ride across them and seek to protect your folk, and thus lay myself at your mercy.''

Within the large Mead-hall, all the members of the Witan have gathered: Mægisterwigend Gyric, serving as a Captain of Wildermore's éored, Seaxwyrd son of Radwine, a son to a renown warrior, standing at Thrymm's place, Ethelmund, the Quartermaster of Forlaw, Thane of Scylfig, Cynegar, a friend and cousin to the Reeven, Frambald, Thane of Dunfast, Aldwin, uncle of the Former Thane of Byre Tor and last Leofholm, master healer of Forlaw.