Keth sighed in exasperation and pulled the heavy helmet from his sweat soaked hair and immediately regretted it as the frigid air sent a shudder through his body. He hated showing any kind of weakness in front of the barbarian. His cold blue eyes always seemed to be judging Keth in every little thing. He strolled up to where Korik had stopped, yet again, to stare at the obvious marks in the snow. “Headed for Winterbourne….probably made sometime late yesterday afternoon.” Korik mumbled more to himself than to Keth. “Winterbourne? You mean those old stone ruins? What could possible be there for them?” Keth knew he wasn’t expected to answer the scout’s rumblings, but he felt it reinforced his role as a leader to at least respond. “Those ‘ruins’ were once the main stronghold in the North,” Korik said without looking up at the young knight, “and still offer the best chance at shelter for fifty miles.” Keth stiffened at the tone of the words. “You will address me as ‘Sir Keth’, barbarian, and I don’t need you to point out such an obvious trail.” Keth snarled, “Why my father felt he had to order you to lead me to the outlaws is beyond me. A blind fool could track them in this deep snow.” “Lord Heldrin didn’t ‘order’ me to do anything; I offered to track down these men in payment of a favor your father did me a long time ago.” Korik kept his eyes on the trial and fought to control the rage that suddenly flared in his chest. “And I’ll call you what I damn well please.” Korik slowly stood and turned to face Keth, his knuckles going white with the strain of his grip on the ax haft, “The next time you speak to me like that, boy, I’m going to forget your father is a friend and use this ax to teach you respect.” Keth Heldrin stared back into Koriks eyes. He’d stand down for now, but there would be a time and place to test the barbarians steel.