Leofric gives the man a death glare and what can only be described as a growl as the man attempts to inspect him.

"Enough of your nonsense. Your arena is not my objective and is of no concern to me. I go now to prepare for the hunt. You two do as you will.

Killmund. I request a briefing. Have you started writing reports about the this area and its dangers? I want an wide-ranging look at the area itself first and then I want to break down each threat to come up with a plan. Do you have magicians in your service? It would be valuable to keep one as an advisor. I would not expect them to join us in the wilderness.

I expect special access will be necessary for me to speak with the relevant members of any of your military. This will need to be granted before I can speak to your men about their official reports."


Fools, the whole lot. Let them run around in the arena, bloodying their clothes and diminishing their stamina. They will prove useless in the hunt. But no matter, glory shall be mine before the week is out. Whether a wyrm's head on a pike or my death by dragonfire. My ancestors shall smile upon me, one way or another.