Gregory Gingerich_Medieval Accents_Dialogue_Fantasy

Captain Farrin and his men have been on a difficult journey in the winter. Despite initially dismissing a prophecy, they are now in dire circumstances and running out of time. They encounter a man who appears to be the lord of a manor and ask for shelter due to an approaching storm. The man jokingly comments on the obviousness of the bad weather. It had been a long, difficult journey in the bitterest part of winter. The prophecy was such a vague prognostication that Captain Farrin would have tossed it off his nonsense under normal circumstances. But these were far from normal circumstances. Time was running out for the king's men and their skeptical captain. Farrin glanced at Merrick. They're here, Merrick said in a low voice that rasped with weariness, watching. Hail them. There's not much time before the storm hits, and we need to be undercover. Aye, Farrin said, then stood in his stirrups and shouted, Hold the house! He let his mount take a stride or two forward. Merrick followed. Farrin said, You should stay back, my lord. Why, Merrick said dryly, I'm only a mage. Farrin gave him a quick glance to see his drawn, pale face calm. If none of the bitterness Farrin himself would have felt in the same situation. For now, he agreed, but that doesn't change what you are in truth. What is truth, Captain? Merrick said with a chuckle. He drew his wool cloak closer around his shoulders and waited patiently. Not for long. A smaller door opened in one of the large wood doors, and a man came out. Gentlemen, he said. There were laugh lines at the corners of the dark eyes. A handsome man, tall and lean. The lord of this manor? A chief man-at-arms? The assurance in his step made Farrin think it was probably more the former. My lord, Farrin said, I beg shelter. We are king's men out of Nabrinth on a mission for His Majesty, and our mage warns us of bad weather approaching. The man glanced at the heavy clouds overhead and said dryly, One need not be a mage to warn you of that.