Stealing a skull.

You and Khaliq head out of the castle, pausing only to make yourselves decent and, in Khaliq's case, dressing in more masculine attire. The sell-sword prince leads you a short distance into the town. With the Beathan occupants the unfortunate victim of Siggi the Whelp's brutality, there's plenty of room for mercenaries to quarter in buildings and shopfronts. Fully a portion of the town has been given over to Seki and Khaliq's men, including one of the town's stables.

"Hail, prince!" One of the cloaked watchmen, solid and sturdy, his skin the shade of mahogany calls out, as he sees Khaliq approach.

“Hail.” Khaliq says, adopted as commanding a tone as he is able. To be honest, you're a little impressed by the transformation. The young lion might not be the most imposing of specimens, but he's already a far cry from the dainty and delicate thing you received in your rooms earlier that night.

“King Edward needs to see the plunder we took from these backwards raiders.” Khaliq informs the guardsmen. The two men nod to you respectfully, before returning their attention to their prospective leader. “I trust you'll be discreet.”

“Of course, prince.” the more talkative of the two intones. Glancing back, Khaliq flashes a smile at you as you limp into the stable behind him.

The windy wooden structure is short on horses, but heavy on plunder. You cast an eye across the various spoils the Oro Elide had claimed from Hjordis' camp. They seemed roughly divided into three general heaps.

First, and closest to the door were those items of clearly Beathan origin. Objects of devotion to the Spirits, weaponry, like the finely honed war-axes both Kara and Donald carried into battle, armour of plain appearance but exceptional make.

No doubt Seki would part with these over the coming days, trading them away as and when needed to improve her relationship with Donald's kingdom. Your forces were doing the same, trading potentially lucrative spoils for a shoring up of the brotherly bond between Itheria and her northern neighbour.

Of course, the Beathan plunder your family had taken, from the Beathans themselves, even, would remain entirely the property of the Cult.

Khaliq grabs a torch, and beckons you further in.

In the middle of the stable are those treasures of neither Beathan or Deanian origin. Deanian raiding ships sailed far and wide, reaching every corner of the continent in some form or another. You pause, admiring some stones, intricate patterns, unique but of a piece with one another, engraved on each piece of black basalt.

“I showed one of those to Benjamin Swain.” Khaliq informs you, noticing your interest. “He told me the druids in a land called Gaelica carved these.”

“That would make sense.” you slur. “Einar's forces raided there extensively before the war.”

You pass a few other interesting objects, golden Nahresian idols, and jewellery of Itherian design, before moving into the back of the stable.

Here is where the Oro Elide are keeping the Deanian treasures. You see weapons and amulets inlaid with sturdily-carved runes, brass instruments which though completely foreign to you, Khaliq assures you are used to ascertain one's position at sea. You see armour and a sword, so much larger than what even a man in the prime of his life could comfortably wield, that you know they must've been stripped from the defeated Hjordis. But there, in the centre of the room, taking on a particularly eerie countenance in the flickering light of Khaliq's torch is the skull.

“Gods...” you can't help but utter, taking it in. It has to be at least four times the size of your own head, bigger than your ribcage, let alone your skull.

Hjordis' father's skull is beset with gems, diamonds, other precious stones. A helmet, plated with gold rests atop his crown, the horns of some unknown beast protruding from either side of the gleaming golden headpiece. The horns are ribboned with intricate carvings, boats, war-axes, celebrating giants and serpents, trailing the length of each horn.

“Makes you wonder, eh?” Khaliq muses wryly, a hand on his hip. “How any woman could bed down with that and live.”

“Carefully, I assume.” you say quietly, eliciting a giggle from the sell-sword.

Khaliq goes out to convince his men to turn a blind eye to your imminent act of theft, leaving you in the darkness, with only the giant for company. You trudge about, your eyes adjusting a little quicker to the gloom than a pureblood human's was. Checking to see Khaliq is not returning, you pocket a few small artefacts, of the kind you hope Seki will scarcely pay mind to, when the jewel of her horde has been so insidiously plundered.

Returning your attention to the skull, you notice Rana was not fully jesting when she said the remains would require a pallbearer. The skull lay on a velvet cushion, built into a sort of seat, which held the skull in place. Handles, polished poles of wood, extended on each side, allowing the precious relic to be transported with the utmost care. You could only imagine the punishments Jarl Hjordis would subject one to, for improper handling of such a dear item...

“I don't think I'm going to be much help here.” you tell Khaliq, nodding down to your prize.

Thinking on his feet, Khaliq darts off, returning with two of your men, understandably confused, but agreeably tight-lipped. With their assistance, and you doing your best to play lookout, Khaliq transports the skull, away from his mother's clutches, and into the nearest Itherian controlled building.