“Actually,” Bob interrupted, “You're in what used to be part of Valhalla land.” One of the elders, bald and looking like he was decaying alive nodded and continued where Bob had left off. “It is true. Yurplebreach and Barkbane haven't been officially part of Valhalla since the last short Mayor War. You see,” he took in a deep breath, struggling to fill up his lungs. “The creature you killed in Barkbane was the last of an ancient lineage of ruling lords. He was of noble birth and the last of its species.” Olav's eyes widened, following with a risen eyebrow. “He...She...It was mad! How can you place a person of such brittle sense in a position of power?!”
Bob gestured to Olav to keep his voice down and replied. “Noble blood gets you far in Southern Valhalla.” The elder rose from his seat and forced his staff into the ground, cracking the marble in the process and releasing a loud fart from his own crack. “Silence!” Both Olav and Bob went mute, either from embarrassment or fear. “The Mayor War some thirty-something cycles ago thinned out the noble ranks.” The elder continued. “A massive combination of Yurplebreach and Barkbane forces took to the field to oppose the king who had forced upon Southern Valhalla a somewhat higher than expected tax increase. Barkbane's army was led by the former Mayor and his son, the minotaur you have slain.” He looked down at Olav and paused briefly before going on. “By means of superior strategy and equipment the king won, losing only a tenth of his troops in the process. Barkbane's forces were annihilated and Yurplebreach's men retreated to prevent further loss of life. The former mayor lost his life on the field in a rather embarrassing manner and the king declared Yurplebreach and Barkbane land forfeit, leaving the mayor's son to rule a land with no more income or status. As you may have noticed from walking through town there's not much left of Yurplebreach. We elders now look over a broken people. In the end Southern Valhalla received an independence no one actually asked for, leaving a devastated wasteland in the process. The king is still in power and the north still enjoys the spoils of war so many years later. I guess when you count in the mayor's recent death, things didn't get much worse than they already were.” The elder took his seat again and sighed. “Welcome to the glorious province of Mudweed, Olav Destroyer.
“Thank you,”Olav replied dryly. “And thank you for the long, dragging story. I really needed to hear that. No really, many thanks.” The finely dressed elder in the middle rose from his seat with difficulty and pointed his staff at Olav. “Tell me Destroyer. Did you give your own people a nice time like this as well? Or did they tie you to a pole and set you on fire?”