lørdag den 21. januar 2012

The King

The emissaries' footsteps echoed not at all as they were led through the halls of Windhelm keep. Jasper - tall by Imperial standards - still felt daunted by the sheer immensity of the Nords. The keep felt like a thing cut from the very mountains. Eternal, immovable. Walking beside him, his younger sister took his hand in hers. He didn't look at her, instead keeping his gaze fixed on the tall Nord guard leading them, but patted her hand gently.
    'It'll be fine, Katie,' he whispered. 'The king will listen to us.' He squeezed her hand once, then gently pried her fingers away. The guard stopped outside a pair of massive iron doors.
    'Take care that you do not insult the king,' he said and pushed open the doors before they had a chance to answer.
    Upon a stone throne sat the biggest man Jasper had ever seen. Huge even for a Nord, the king of Windhelm had thick, gray hair that fell past his shoulders. He was clad in simple woolen britches and a white shirt, opened halfway down his chest. On his shoulders - broad as a bull's - he wore the pelt of a massive wolf.
    Jasper approached the king with long, certain steps and bowed deeply.

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