Hallbjorn was confronted immediately upon opening the bathroom door with Kara putting his cell phone in front of his face. The young woman was almost bouncing on her feet with excitement about a renaissance fair. He glanced at the screen of his phone and thought about why he ought to say no. The renaissance fair was a prime location for creatures from the Lore with extra features to walk openly and perhaps even use their abilities - mortals would think it simply a costume and anything magical merely clever slight of hand. But the way she looked at him, with her eyes full of hope, precluded his refusal.<br/><br/>"Very well. We may go." The blond man said. They checked out of the bed and breakfast, stowing their things in the cab of the truck. It was a very large cab, so the town's gas station would probably be bereft of snacks before the rear of the cab ran out of room. The truck was part of Ford's Super Duty line and very spacious.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn gave Kara money for water and munchies while he gassed the vehicle up. Despite how small the town was, the pumps were up to date - they were the kind that only worked if you had a debit or credit card in them first. The Berserker had a black credit card with no practical limit and instructions for global use. When he was finished he entered the gas station to help Kara carry everything out while the perplexed clerk looked at the largess of their purchase with incredulity. When the snacks were safely stored and they were on their way Hallbjorn drove easily with one hand, and used the other to eat Skittles from a bag he had propped open in the cupholder.<br/><br/>The ride was filled again with a companionable silence, although Hallbjorn did offer to let Kara pick a radio station. He had satellite radio, so there was a lot to choose from.<br/><br/>They arrived in good time at the fair. It seemed well attended and a fairly large affair. There were many vehicles in a dirt lot for packing, and bright banners and streamers filled the sky over the fair ground. Smells of cooking fair foods greeted them as soon as they opened the truck doors and the sound of vigorous if not heartfelt playing on medieval instruments greeted them.<br/><br/>They had to wait a little bit in line, but it was not overly long. They were greeted by a man in garb that Hallbjorn recognized as anachronistic - no single piece was contemporaneous with another. But it did not bother him.<br/><br/>Hallbjorn bought them tickets inside after a brief wait in line. Other people in line were dressed up, but there were also people in casual clothing just out for a good time. As they entered a fire-breather went past, spurting flames in the air to the delight of onlookers, who clapped as the man spit flames the went a dozen feet into the air. The firebreather wore bright red garb and had little belled tassels all over him so people had ample warning he was nearby.<br/><br/>"Would you like to get a funnel cake?" Hallbjorn asked Kara.<br/><br/>As he asked her, a trio of men walked by with beers in their hands. They had horned helmets on and were jostling each other - the beers in their hands were not their first. They were clad in fake furs and the sort of woven imitation chain mail that special effects companies produced because the fabric weave was said to look more authentic on film than metal. They had no weapons with them. Probably a good thing, given their boisterousness. Hallbjorn spared them a glance and schooled his features into neutrality extra hard.<br/><br/>"I think they look like buffoons." Hallbjorn told Kara before she could even ask. "I never wore a helmet like that. Nobody I would admit to knowing did. There was a time, when Wagner's operas were performed for the first time, when the Valkyries wore such things . . . but they did it as a joke." They had even worn the breastplates and had, for their own amusement, had comical large conical breasts on them.