Bromfell saw the village in the distance. It was a welcome sight. He had ridden for many hours and both he and his beloved horse, Alcris, were tired.
He patted the stallion’s neck.
“Not far now old friend,” he said, “soon we shall find respite.”
The smell of freshly harvested hops served as an extra impetus, for he yearned to quench his thirst, and the local ale had a fine reputation.
He tugged the reigns and Alcris picked up the pace. Before long they were entering the outskirts of the village.
A young man was walking by the road. Bromfell hailed him.
“Hello lad,” he said warmly, “is there an inn nearby, where I and my companion may quench our thirst?”
The youth gave Bromfell a startled look.
“Listen mate I don’t want any trouble, ” he said. Continue reading All Hail King Bromfell