“Celebrity or no, we need to mind our P’s and Q’s,” said Asgrim. “He’s called Thorkel Bully for a reason. And, Skarphedin, I don’t know if you’ve noticed, but this case is serious business.”
“And?” asked Skarphedhin.
“Meaning, keep your fucking mouth shut.”
Skarphedin grinned and adjusted the garish silk band around his head. “Every single chieftain we’ve visited has independently decided to insult my appearance. It’s frankly suspicious, and you can’t expect me to be quiet when it’s happening.”
“You didn’t have to wear the novelty blinking doom headdress,” snapped Asgrim.
Skarphedin, who was otherwise dressed to the nines in black and blue with a silver belt and a giant matching axe, smirked. “Everyone knows who I am.”
“As evidenced by the last four people we talked to,” said Asgrim. “I repeat – keep your mouth shut.”
Thorkel Bully, who was surrounded by a gaggle of henchmen, greeted Asgrim politely enough.
“We were hoping you’d help us with this little court case,” said Asgrim.
“I just saw you coming out of Gudmund the Powerful’s booth,” said Thorkel wolfishly. “So why did you even bother to ask? I’m not joining any team with him on it.”
“He’s not on our team,” said Asgrim, faltering, and Thorkel laughed heartily.
“So he turned you down! I’d never have believed it, Gudmund made the right call for once. Since you’re clearly guilty.”
“It’s more complicated-”
“It’s not,” said Thorkel. “The Njalssons killed their foster-brother in cold blood. What’s complicated about that?” Dropping any pretense of politeness, he glared at Asgrim. “Did you think I’m less ethical than Gudmund, just because of my nickname?”
Asgrim didn’t answer, and there was an awkward pause. With a snort, Thorkel turned to the sheepish conga line.
“Who’s that hideous doomed idiot?”
“That was uncalled for,” said Skarphedin. “Unlike you, I have zero daddy issues. You should wash your face, because I can tell you’ve been eating mare ass again. Who even does that?”
Thorkel leaped to his feet, drawing his shortsword. “I killed a man to get this, and as soon as I get in range, you’re dead!” An astute observer might have said, though, that he made no attempt to actually come within striking distance.
Skarphedin pulled out his axe and crossed the booth in three strides. “Sheath your sword, Thorkel, or your head will be in halves like Thrain’s was – so help me, the Thing will not protect you.”
With a gulp, Thorkel sat down and put his sword away for the first time in his life.
“Where to now?” asked Skarphedin eagerly.
“Home.”
“Begging door-to-door was getting boring,” shrugged Skarphedin with a grin.
Asgrim sighed. “Skarphedin, I did tell you to shut the fuck up, but… that last one was actually pretty good.”
“This is all exactly as I foretold,” nodded Njal. “Nice hat, son.”
Meanwhile, Gudmund the Powerful slapped his newly liberated backside. “He said what to Thorkel Bully? Ha! Someone needed to call that arsehole out. Brother! Go tell the Njalssons I’ll help them out in court.”
Saxo Dramaticus 