Oleg was already on his second tankard of mead and the lord still hadn't come to greet his guests. He was patient in his hunting but not towards others. He wanted this errand to be over with so he could go back to his home and check on some of the animals before wrapping himself in his furs. He ran a hand through his golden mane. His shield-brothers up north were probably fighting and having their fill of their wives and drink. He missed his homeland and its frozen tundra, but Erastil had called him here. For what reason he had yet to discover, perhaps it was to start a family or to  destroy a cult to Rovagug. He was unsure, and the darkness of the night outside made him feel unsettled.<br/><br/>He turned his thoughts to his mead and the guests who had already arrived. He looked at the woman in yellow in his peripheral, she seemed confident yet unsure of herself. He also noticed an older woman that seemed to be watching the younger, perhaps a handler or a relative by the way they resembled one another, he mused. He stopped a nearby meekling and asked her to kindly bring him another tankard of mead. He hadn't even begun to feel hazy from the first two tankards. He set his empty tankard aside and stroked his long golden beard and contemplated on the reason he was called her in the first place.