The Mercenaries

Remnants of food, accompanied by mugs of empty ale were littered across the long table. In the end of it, on the farthest side of the room from the entrance, stood a simple wooden chair, called the throne.

They were inside the keep, where the proceedings were taking place. Sitting at the nearest part of the long table to the throne. Hubert alone, and Dareon side by side with his father.

"Great! Let us start by introducing ourselves, then, shall we?" Dareon's father clapped his hand, signaling the beginning of their discussion. Continuing, "As the master of this hall, it is common courtesy for me to start first. Nice making acquaintance with you, young man, I'm the leader of the strong men company, known as Lareon,"

Hubert almost gasped for air, surprised, his eyes widening of the name. Creative.

"I-I'm Hubert, though some call me Hub," Hubert answered, glancing at Dareon that was scratching his face with his index finger.