Silas had been travelling for months, the weather was abysmal and they had been sleeping rough for weeks.

They were months from the Castle and decided they would treat themselves and find a nice village to stay in for a few days.

They could shower, eat properly have someone wash their clothes.

They were wet and cold, hungry and tired – and their moods matched the dismal skies.

They rode into the Village of Bry at dusk. The horses were tired from months of battle and the men equally so. They had been hunting their food for the last few weeks and sleeping under the stars and they longed for a warm bed, a nice drink and full bellies.

The footman went ahead to inform the village of the King’s arrival.

Everyone busied themselves, making sure there was somewhere nice for the King to stay, that everything was neat and in order.

En masse they looked a very threatening bunch.

They rode into town and within minutes, men were coming out of no where, tying up the horses, offering food and showing them the way to their sleeping quarters.

Silas looked foreboding – he had been away for too long and his mood was low.

He was most unpleasant to be around when he was in these states – his temper was frayed and he was prone to outbursts of anger if he didn’t get his way.

They bathed, ate and slept.

The following night they decided to make their way to the local tavern.

They felt that some good food, good wine and some music, was just what they needed to lift their spirits.

The local taverns were always lively places, full of laughter and merriment, dancing and frivolity.

When Silas and his entourage walked in though it was a sight to behold.

There was a certain energy they brought with them. With chests out and a sense of purpose in their stride, they told everyone who was boss.

Silas was throwing his weight around and becoming increasingly demanding.

The Barman had no time for him at all.