The day was bright and clear; the sun had come up and sent glorious golden shafts of light through the trees. It was still fairly early in the morning, and it was still beyond cold, but being able to walk without the aid of a guide rope, under a clear blue sky, the first time in weeks, was enough to lighten their steps and brighten anyone's mood.

They were brought to the center of the village, there amidst the buildings and homes of the Berserker people, stood the main hall. It was impressive, made of stone, brick, wood, and mortar. A single opening could be seen in the roof and Keva was wondering if these people lived completely without electricity. Looking around her, she wondered if they hadn't somehow gone back in time, or if this was some sort of farce where these people were being paid to live their lives like ancient Vikings did, museum Vikings, if you will. She smiled to herself at her own dumb joke.

The large double doors to the main hall opened and they were allowed to enter. None of them had seen anything like this before, and probably wouldn't see anything like this ever again, unless they chose to visit sometime later, much later.

The hall was all wood, and hand-crafted stone inside. There was no sign of any sort of machine refined metal or steel. The tables were long, wooden, thick, and very heavy looking pieces of furniture. The hole in the roof she had seen from the outside of the hall was directly over a massive circular fire pit, lined with rough stones, that had been worn black with soot and heat for god only knows how many years. Soter, with his werewolf sense of smell detected the hint of cooked meat from the fire pit. The smell of smoke was a stain that surrounded and had permeated the wood of the tables around them.

The hall's light came mostly from the hole in the ceiling, directly over the fire pit. The corners of the great hall were shrouded in deep shadows. The tables of the hall were pushed back towards the walls, speaking of times when feasts were held here. The laughter and camaraderie of this place could be almost felt, like the brush of a friendly hand upon a shoulder.

They walked directly down the center of the hall. Soter and Hysminai stayed in their werewolf forms and they flanked the pack to either side. They approached the far side of the hall where a large throne like chair sat, where an old, but still powerful, Northman sat regarding his guests evenly as they approached. His chair was flanked also by two warriors on each side, among those, one was a woman, all were armed. Keva and her pack were only allowed so close to the throne before they were halted by their escort.

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"Who are you?" Keva asked evenly.

"This wench invades our land, barges into my house, and demands to know who I am?" The old man on the throne barked out. His guards and those few who remained in the great hall laughed heartily at the joke.

Keva didn't see the humor. "I'm Keva Murray, pack Alpha from the City Under the Mountain. I came here looking for you, not to be held against my will for defending ourselves."

"Looking for us?" The old man asked suddenly overly interested, "Well, that's another matter entirely. Are you from America's great newspaper The New York Times? Here to get an interview with me, eh?"

Keva couldn't stop her eyes from rolling, "You have a very high opinion of yourself, don't you?"

The old man's face turned to stone instantly. His hard, sharp eyes focused like lasers on the redheaded woman who stood before him, and there wasn't the slightest hint of mirth in his tone, "If I wanted to, I could have you killed in an instant where you stood, girl. Don't take my light attitude for weakness, for you shall find none in me, or pity for you in the rest of my people. Do I make myself clear?"

Keva didn't have a Trackers sense of smell, but she could tell that however many people she thought there was in the great hall when she had first walked in, that number had grown since then. She only had a moment to wonder how they had come into the great hall before the old man drew her attention back to him with his commanding voice.

"My name is Latham Berg. The man that Yrsa killed in the forest the day you were brought here, was my son. And even though I sit here," He slapped the throne with his palms, "it is not mine to keep, only to hold till the council finds a new chief for the clan."

Keva was careful to keep her gaze steady and her expression neutral. Huan Li had mentioned something about the 'rite of combat.' The people who had led them here hadn't been too forthcoming with what may or may not happen. Yrsa had killed at least two people, maybe two or three more, she hadn't really kept count, she was bleeding to death at the time.

"So, the rite of combat will not be honored, then?" Huan Li asked coldly.

Latham shifted his gaze to the slender older man. "Oh ho, and here is one, a China man is going to tell us how to govern ourselves?" This earned a hearty laugh form all the clan's members in the great hall. "Tell me, China man, what book did you read this in? What worldly scholar did you consult before coming here and presuming to tell us how we should do things for ourselves?"

Huan Li was rigid and quietly answered, "Murder and kidnapping is still murder and kidnapping. Justice has no limit to her reach."

Latham's face grew red and he jumped off his seat and strode down the steps of the great hall toward Huan Li. Before he stopped moving, his arm flew out in a wide backhand swing. Huan Li's body bent like a reed in the wind, letting Latham's strike sail just inches in front of his face, hitting nothing but air before Huan Li stood up straight again.

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