He enters (innocent Larissa route)

There was no point in sneaking around any longer, it was time to get this over with. The door creaked as Arn opened it and he stepped inside. He quickly surveyed the small room. It was just as dismal as it seemed from the outside. Low ceiling, crude furniture everywhere, no room to swing a sword. This had to be done by knifework.

There was another miscalculation too; A dusky-skinned woman stood behind a counter at the other end of the room and glared angrily at him. She was buxom and beautiful, with dark, fiery eyes, long black hair tied up in a bun, and a low-cut dress that offered a generous view of her ample chest. She wasn't alone though. A hulking man with a scarred face sat at one of the tables and was in the midst of counting a small pile of coin in the flickering light of a candle. He was fatter and greyer than Arn remembered him, but there he was alright. Igren.

”Piss off, we're closed”, Igren grumbled without looking up.

Arn pulled his hood back and stepped into the light, ”And what kind of way is that to greet an old friend?” he asked.

Igren looked up, startled, staring at Arn like he'd seen a ghost, ”Well I'll be damned”, he gasped, ”Arn of Frostgard! Back from the dead. And here for some red work, I assume.”

”Rightly so”, Arn hissed and drew his knife, ”Stand up and get your steel.”

The voluptuous woman behind the bar suddenly sprang to life. She produced a small crossbow from behind the bar and aimed it at Arn. But Igren just calmly remained seated. He raised his hand and yelled, ”Vorasha, put that bloody thing down!”

The woman grumbled something and lowered the weapon. Igren turned back to his old comrade with a grin, ”What's the hurry, old friend? Are you really going to deny a dying man his last drink?” Igren pulled up another chair, ”I know it's more than I deserve, but I reckon you could use one too.”

Arn couldn't deny that, and he had some questions too, ”Fine”, he spat and sat down, slowly placing his knife on the table, ”Drink all you want, but it won't change the outcome.”

”Wouldn't dream of it.” Igren turned to the bar and barked, ”Vorasha! Bring us brandy!”

The beauty behind the counter responded with a sharp glance and picked up a clay jar. ”Blasted woman, no not the piss we the customers drink. Get one, no, two bottles of the good stuff!”

The woman disappeared out back and muttered something in a foreign tongue, presumably insults. ”That delicate flower is Vorasha, my loving wife”, Igren said in a sarcastic tone of voice, ”She used to be a servant of a merchant we raided at the end of the war. I took her home when the war ended and made an honest woman out of her. Well, that last part is a work in progress. She constantly nags in that foreign gibberish and she only understands common tongue when it suits her. And I don't like how friendly she is with the local rabble when she thinks I'm not looking.”

Vorasha returned with a pair of bottles and two wooden cups and served the men at the table. As she poured Arn's cup, he froze as she teasingly leant in and brushed her large taught breasts against him. Arn felt his loins stir and his gaze lingered on her shapely arse as she proudly sashayed back to the bar. She turned and gave him a mischievous smile. Arn met her eyes suspiciously. She had aimed a crossbow at him just a moment ago, was this some kind of diversion?

Igren didn't notice though, or he didn't care. He raised his cup to his old comrade and grinned, ”To the heroes of Andros, first through the breach at both Carcado and Brenna, reunited at last!”

Arn wasn't having any of that, ”Get fucked, Igren. Why did you betray me?”

Igren slumped back in his chair and sighed, ”Aye, straight to the point as always.” He took a deep drink and grimaced from the strong spirits, ”I was a coward, as simple as that. The war was on its last legs, and I was tired and scared and drunk off my arse. I just wanted to live through it and was too weak stand up to Fiore. Well, he wanted me to kill you at first, but I convinced him into selling you off as a **** instead. Do you think that snake would've let me live if I'd refused him outright? It was you or me.”

Arn just scoffed and pressed on, ”And Larissa, what happened to her?”

”Hrmm aye... the wench”, Igren took another deep chug, ”Well, right after you disappeared, we laid siege to this high-walled bastard of a castle. But Fiore was ordered off to lead supply raids on some towns quite the distance away. That cheap whoreson just left Larissa to her own devices in the camp. The lass was completely lost, so I tried to help her. Figured that was the least I could do, after what I did.”

”How very noble of you”, Arn hissed, ”Then what?”

”But the lass was a sobbing mess, and I could neither comfort her or support her with my meagre rations, so I handed her over to the camp vestals instead, figured the womenfolk knew best what to do. As the siege dragged on, the sisters took good care of the lass and she helped them with their healing duties in the infirmary. After a while, her mood got better and she even joined me and the others around the camp fires at night, drinking and dancing with the camp wenches.”

Arn's knuckles turned white as he clenched his fists, ready to reach for his knife. He knew all too well what was expected from the wenches that kept the men company around those fires. ”Say it you bastard, did you bed her?”

Igren shook his head in earnest, ”By Ymir's hammer! I swear, nothing happened. Alright, I’ll admit I tried to get under her skirt. What man in his right mind wouldn’t with a beauty like that? She even followed me to my cot one night, all cuddly and tipsy on cheep wine, but she didn’t put up for a ploughing. I couldn’t even get a handjob from the bitch, uhm lass. So I left it at that, blue balls and all.

Arn knew Igren well enough. He might be a drunk and a good-for-nothing backstabber, but not a ****.

”And don’t worry,” he added. ”The others left her unmolested too, as far as I know.”

Arn grimaced from another sip of brandy, ”What others?”

”Wild Wulf, Bodrick the baker, old Cahern, young Cahern and ugly Rudd. They all gave it their best. It even turned into a downright contest to see who could fuck her first. We even put down a good sum of coin for the winner. But Larissa wasn’t a whore. Neither wine, sweet words or even gold could coax her to spread her legs. Even Vigar the Virgin gave it a try and we all had a good laugh at that.

”Nine hells”, Arn let out a sigh of relief.

Igren shrugged and filled up his cup to the brim again, ”Anyway, Fiore returned to camp eventually and took her back for himself. Long story short, the bastard returned to the city, and he is a landed lord nowadays, and a member of the council to boot. He's holed up in a grand manor up in Hightown, and I reckon the lass must be there too. But he's walled-in and well-guarded, so marching through the front door with that toothpick again may not be your best strategy.”

”I see,” Arn grunted.

Finally some useful information.

”So where are Wulf and Bodrick and all of the others these days?” he asked.

He hadn't given his old brothers in arms much thought since he parted ways with them, but the unpleasant revelation that half a dozen of those filthy bastards had tried to bed the woman he loved brought them all back to vivid memory, to say the least.

Igren sighed and shook his head, ”All gone. The Empress' legions took care of that. Out company were in the vanguard at the battle at Summer River. Those who didn't drown were pierced by arrows or hacked to pieces on the shores. The water ran red that day, and believe it or not, but you were one of the few lucky ones.”

”Nine hells”, Arn muttered.

It might have been the booze, but he suddenly felt mournful rather than angry. Were they actually gone, all of them? That meant that the treacherous Igren was the only friend he had left in this world. Was he going to **** the man - in his own miserable alehouse, and in front of his wife? It seemed absurd all of a sudden.

This time it was Arn who raised his cup, ”To Wulf, Bodrick and all the others”, he muttered.

The two old comrades drank in silence for a while before Arn spoke again, ”So even Vigar huh?”

”Aye”, Igren said solemnly, ”And he died a virgin too. A shame really.”

”Aye, poor bastard”, Arn sighed.

”To Larissa”, Igren said and raised his cup, ”The finest cock-tease to ever grace our camp.”