'Oi, boy watchya doing here?' asked an old Norse.

'I don't have a quarrel with you old man,' says the young traveler; as he looked at the haggard, old man.

'You don't, but you haven't answered my question boy,' stated the man.

He looked around the tavern; there are more than half a dozen-able bodied men that could attack him at any moment. He tightened the grip on his sword.

'I am looking for The Seeker.'

The room goes silent; a few large men raise and look at him.

'You are looking for The Seeker boy?' He laughed, 'you are a funny one lad. The tales of The Seeker are false, there is no Seeker, there hasn't been for a century.'

His grip gets ever tighter on his sword; the three large men are still eyeing him.

'I hope you three kind, gentlemen aren't planning an harming this kind traveler,' comes a voice from the back, a small, cloaked man with a long pipe stands, the hood over his head, and his face barely visible in the dark tavern.

'Aye, and what are ye going to abou' it small one?' states one of the large men eyeing the young traveler.

'I am not going to do a thing to either of you, but be warned, if ye touch the youngen ye won't like what happens.'

'Sir, much obliged, but I don't need your help,' said the young traveler.

'Ye do youngen,' said the hooded man.

'And who might you be?' said the old man.

'I am the man this traveler is looking for,'

'You'?' said the old man his voice filled with shock.

'My name is Baldur, Son of Deral, I am The Seeker.'