Bloodlines of the Ancient Pantheons

Chapter 217: CCXVII. Sander

"Yes, perhaps you're right! She's probably out on a mission, I'll be waiting for her later" he replied, shaking his head, trying not to keep getting distracted.

The four friends walked towards the dark grey concrete building, which had no decoration or statue to enrich its structure, that made a cold and even rather gloomy atmosphere.

The base of the palace was wider than the upper floors, perhaps to ensure greater stability: a large open metal door led inside, curiously unguarded by guards, of which all Skjegg was flooded.

Dag took a deep breath, then entered, followed by his companions. 

They found themselves in a large room, with very low ceilings and dimly lit by a faint light that came from two small windows on the other side. 

The ceiling was the floor of a kind of loft, connected to the entrance by two staircases, one to the right and one to the left.

"It just seems like there's no one down here, let's try upstairs" Dag said, looking at his teammates, who were waiting for directions.

They climbed the right-hand staircase, which, like the one on the left, led to the same upper floor. 

"Hello! Who are you?" asked a friendly voice, before the adventurers could look around.

"Hello!" replied Dag, who, after climbing the last step, walked to that voice. 

He was a grown man, with grizzled hair and a clumsy look, cataloging books arranged on the large wooden table in the center of the room.

"Wow! This must be the library!" exclaimed Karl, thinking aloud. 

"Hehe, yes! This is exactly the library! Sorry, maybe you've already answered my question, but my ears don't work as well as they used to... who are you?" the man asked again, looking at Dag and Gridd, who preceded the other two.

"We are Masters of two allied Clans. We traveled from the north to meet the Crows Of Odin Masters, to make them a proposal" Dag replied, showing the man the symbol engraved on his armor.

"Ah, well, well! Uhm... just wait a minute, wait for me here!" continued the man, who looked like a librarian, his shoulders curved and his pace slow. 

Very slowly, he began to climb the stairs leading to the third floor.

"Where is he going?" asked Gridd, looking around.

"I think he went to inform the Masters of our arrival. Or at least, I hope so!" replied Dag, who kept wondering where Freydis might be. 

Around them, the walls of the loft were entirely used as bookcases, containing thousands of books and scrolls. 

"They left their greatest wealth unattended... I don't think they're used to receiving guests" said Reidar, who, after studying his surroundings, had already made his first sharp remarks.

Karl approached one of the bookshelves, turning his head and trying to read the titles of those ancient books without touching them.

After a couple of minutes, the librarian returned to them, descending the stairs one step at a time, stopping between steps and holding hands to the wall next to them.

"Master Sander is the only one here in Skjegg... he wasn't waiting for visitors, but he's coming here to meet you" he exclaimed smiling and fatigued with his physical exertion.

"Thank you, we're grateful for your help!" replied Gridd, smiling, while Dag had his head in the clouds.

A few seconds passed when they heard a sound of footsteps coming from upstairs: judging by the thud that emitted each foot touching the ground, the person who was heading towards them must have been very heavy.

Karl walked away from the shelves and he and Reidar positioned themselves next to Dag and Gridd, forming an orderly line.

A muscular man with a long, smooth black beard descended the stairs, looking at Dag and his companions out of the corner of his eye.

"Well well... what do we have here? Ah, young warriors from other Clans... what brings you here to Skjegg, youngsters?" asked the man, walking towards them and stopping with his arms crossed, ready to wait for what they had to say.

Dag couldn't help but notice the hundreds of scars covering the neck and face of the man, who was wearing a headband on his head, from which medium-length black hair sprang up, resting on his thick and sturdy neck.

He took a step forward, preceding Gridd and answering their interlocutor's question: "Hi there, Master Sander. I'm Master Dag and she's Master Gridd. We came here to bring good news".

"Dag? Master Dag? Are you the kid who managed to kill Hjalmar and drive the Renegades out of Jordstl?!" asked Sander, in a surprised tone.

Gridd looked at Dag, who had not told her so many details of that past affair.

"Uhm, yes. It's me" he replied, who did not expect such a question.

"Hahahahah! Welcome! It's an honor to have you as a guest here in the Rocky Crown! Take a seat, let me offer you some mead, you'll be thirsty!" said Sander, chuckling and pointing to the chairs around the library's large wooden table.

Dag looked at his companions, who smiled, content to be treated with respect and hospitality, and all four sat around the table with the Crows Of Odin Master, who screamed upstairs, ordering someone to immediately bring mead to the library. 

"I'm sorry that the other Masters are not present, we would have liked to speak to everyone and..." 

"Tell me, boy... is it true that when things started to get bad for him, Hjalmar turned into a kind of purple demon and began to say meaningless words?" interrupted Sander, who thought incessantly of the Renegades' history. 

"Y... yes. That's what happened, more or less. How do you know all these things?" replied Dag, as both Gridd and his companions listened curiously to the conversation. 

"In Mork Castle, there was an infiltrator of mine... an undercover Crows Of Odin warrior whose role was to gather information about the Renegades and find out where their base of operations was, whose position remained unknown until that day. You know, those heretical bastards were Okstorm's scourge, and they were said to soon expand to Runar... but you managed to stop them! Hahaha! You have all our gratitude!" answered Sander happily, in a very high tone of voice, as a skinny man walked down the stairs with a tray in his hand, leaving a bottle of mead and clay glasses on the table.