Torcan Swinehelm arrived before their breakfast. The goblin bowed low to Padric as he entered the chamber.

“Your Grace,” he said solemnly. “I trust you slept well.”

Padric merely nodded. Torcan’s eyes scanned the room, ignoring Svala completely before fixing on the Thegn.

“I see your lord father is somewhat recovered,” he said courteously.

“And in no mood for company, goblin,” Kederic spat.

Torcan smiled thinly. “Then I must offer pardons, for I am afraid His Grace has a visitor.”

Padric could not keep the frown from his face. “Visitor? Who?”

“One who wishes to pledge his allegiance,” Torcan replied and opened the door.

Kederic cursed and Padric’s mouth went sour as Acwellen stepped into the room, travel stained and smiling. When he reached the center of the chamber, he knelt, bowing his great shaggy head.

“Hail Padric Goblin King,” his deep voice filled the room. “I offer my service to you and bring two hundred armed riders to your cause. Please accept this gift as a token of my loyalty.”

Acwellen held out his hand. Padric looked down at the seax for a moment, its scabbard more worn than last he looked upon it.

“A worthy gift,” Padric said, reaching down and taking the weapon from Acwellen before looking to Torcan. “My lord Swinehelm, see that Acwellen’s men are well looked after. I would speak with my huscarl alone.”

“Your Grace,” Torcan bowed and left.

Acwellen waited for the door to close before rising swiftly, fixing Padric with a mocking grin. The big man turned slowly, looking appraisingly at the chamber, his smile widening when he saw Svala.

“Kingship has its privileges,” he said laughing.

“What do you want here?” Padric asked through clenched teeth.

“Why to pay tribute, of course,” Acwellen replied pointing to the knife in Padric’s hand.

Padric scoffed at him. “You would give me what was already mine?”

“Tis no mean gift,” Acwellen said with mock exasperation. “Drefan was loath to give it up. Forgive me, Winetongue,” he continued cheerfully, turning to where Kederic sat by the fire. “I would have brought a gift for you, but I did not expect to find you alive.”

Kederic rose, his hatred giving him strength and took a step towards his former huscarl.

“You bring me what is mine as well, dog,” he said. “Those two hundred riders. I will have them back.”

Acwellen grinned down at him. “But will they have you?”

“I am their Thegn,” Kederic growled.

Acwellen snorted. “You are a beardless, bald babe. A wasted old man. They will see no lord in you.”

“My men will never fight for a goblin,” Kederic said, quivering.