Thorn watched the innkeeper approach. He was at a table now, and the noise of the bar had begun again, though quieter than before. Many faces now scrutinized his rugged appearance, and many comments were whispered about his scar. "He's gone off and joined some band of outlaws! Just look at those clothes!" muttered Kale, the smith. The miller, Brand, nodded his shaggy head in agreement "He always seemed like such a nice lad... But that scar makes him look like some filthy sea-robber from the coast!" The innkeeper cleared his throat and thrust his hands into his pockets awkwardly. "Thorn Kaissen. It's been years. What can I get ya?" The tension could be cut with a knife. Thorn looked into his eyes and saw suspicion, and maybe even fear. What had his name been? Thorn recalled that it may have been Albric. He was older and fatter now, and he had quit shaving; the hair on his face was grey. The same brown felt hat he had always worn was still in service, it was now dark and stained with many years of use. "Well?" asked the old innkeeper, removing his hat and wiping the sweat from his brow. He was balding now too, and what little hair still clung to his head was gathered into a ponytail. Thorn was roused from his daydream. "Just... Just an ale, please. And... A room for the night." Albric nodded curtly, took the two Crowns Thorn had placed on the table and retreated behind the bar. A few minutes later Albric came by and set down his tankard. Thorn sighed and looked around the room. It was dark, dingy and a little grimy. It smelled like a stable, and the floor was covered in straw. It was just as he had rememberd it. He raised his beverage to his lips and made a silent toast to his homecoming. "What's this?" asked a sly voice from behind him. He closed his eyes and gritted his teeth. Not here, not now. Not today of all days. His mind strayed to his sword but he stayed his hand. "Hello Bane." he grunted. A wide faced, clean shaven man with dark brown eyes and a thin nose appeared  to the right of Thorn's table. His hair was cropped very short, in the manner of the guards of his land, and it was blonde, as many of the people were. He was clad also in a coat of mail, with a blue surcoat embossed with the symbol of the land. At his belt was a broadsword and he leaned on a spear. "Where've you gotten back from? Got lost on your way to the farmer's market?" The taller but obviously less assertive man beside him laughed. He was likewise dressed, and seemed to watch Bane's every move. "Go away Bane. I don't have to answer to you or anybody." His rival laughed "You never were much of a talker. Better suited to mucking out barns." Bane laughed at his own joke along with his cronie. Thorn flexed his hands in rage and turned to the second man. "Well Gunnar, I see you're still too weak to speak for yourself. How long have you been hiding behind Bane?" The big man lowered his eyebrows, but Bane stepped foreward to defend him "Hold your tongue, bastard. You are not welcome here, fatherless! Where is your past? Where is your future? Go and lay with the dogs!" he spat. Thorn stood up and shouted with rage, hitting Bane square in the jaw and upsetting his table. "I will not answer for my abscence or for my birth! You know nothing! You are nothing!" The entire inn went still. Thorn scanned the room and drained his tankard, stepping over the unconcious body of his old rival and passed his shocked companion. He kicked over an empty chair on his way to the door, slamming it behind him.