Halbjorn arrived not long thereafter, still dirty, his hands bloodied from a successful hunt and the field dressing thereafter, and, as usual, wearing just his breeches and bearskin cloak. It wasn't that he lacked respect for his grandfather, just the opposite, but he just rarely stood... or even understood social niceties.
Still, on seeing his half-sister, he grins wide and waves cheerily. "Well met, Svalin. The day finds thee well? Knowst what this summons wast about? The vizier didst call me in from afield."
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