In a valley somewhere outside the village.
"What took you so long?" Eric said, watching Hook Eye jog over from the other side of the valley.
"It's because you let my horse go. You'll have to get me a new one when we get back to England." Hook Eye wiped the sweat from his forehead with his hand and tugged at his collar to let the heat escape.
"Why is a Danish man like you so keen on horses? You don't know the first thing about a lance charge."
Although Denmark was now influenced by the Franks and had begun training Knights, for Hook Eye, who had been a slave trader, it was still a foreign fighting technique.
"But that doesn't mean I don't like them, my lord. I like to use them for transport, for travel, and besides, it was my property," Hook Eye protested.
"Alright, alright. I'll get you a replacement later. What's the situation?" Eric said, waving his hand dismissively.
