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He wasn't a captain. Yet. But Snorri had decided recently that he would try for a captaincy. He didn't know the warlord all that well, but he was of old blood, which ought to help his case, and he had not been an idiot any of the times he was out viking. The captains he had worked with in the past would attest to that. But simply wanting to be a captain wasn't enough. He would also have to have a crew of reavers to follow him, and to get that he would have to prove himself. He would have to show himself to be not only a good warrior (which he was), but also a cunning leader with an achievable goal that would enrich his followers. Snorri was confident he could do all those things, in time, but he wasn't really a lion with a lot of patience. For the reaver in a hurry to become a captain, in name if nothing else, he could always lead a viking of young, inexperienced freeborn hoping to become reavers. It wasn't ideal, but it was expedient, and Snorri liked expediency.

Like Snorri, Bren had an agenda. He wanted to go on a viking so that the could claim the title of reaver and all the perquisites that came with the rank. Not to mention the booty. Bren was all about the booty, even if he was a very awkward young lion when it came to talking to girls. When he was younger he'd had a female friend, Kivi, but the two of them had grown apart when she grew up before him and he reached the age where it wasn't cool to have female friends. He'd said a few untrue things, exaggerating their relationship and she'd taken offense. He had barely gotten away from her brothers with his life. There were a lot more of them and he couldn't turn to his own brothers for aid because he knew he was in the wrong. The only thing that saved him was that he wasn't a reaver and they were, so they couldn't challenge him. He would lose that protection when he became a reaver, but he hoped he could make amends in loot rather tan blood. All he had to do was find a captain.

The silver streak in his mane had always made Snorri look older and more distinguished than he really was and he didn't mind using that to his advantage. It made people underestimate him as a fighter because they thought he'd be a scholar, like his parents had wanted. It also made people more likely to do what he said because he looked older and knew how to sound authoritative. So he was fairly confident he knew how it would go when he approached the young lion with the dark red coat and the mark of fire over his eye. He would say that he was looking for some reavers to follow him on a viking, then he would say that he wanted Brenning to be one of them. He knew the younger lion had something to prove, something about some girl he diddled or didn't diddle or some nonsense. It didn't much matter to Snorri. He just wanted another body to do as he said on his viking.

"Brenning Hinokoson," he said, catching the younger lion's eye as he crossed the rocky ground. "Let's talk."

Bren was startled to be approached by the older lion, but not as startled as he had been when he realized that the lion had addressed him by name. That made him puff up a bit. He'd been noticed and they lion had even found out his name. Which made Bren panic a little when he realized he didn't know the name of the reaver who was speaking to him, only that he was a reaver. Gods. He was cursed to be eternally awkward.

"That's me," he agreed, trying to sound cool. "Is there something I can do for you?" He didn't actually wince, but he wanted to. That was some horribly subservient language he had just used. He should've demanded to know what the reaver wanted. And his name. It would've been a more aggressive, appropriate behavior. But it was too late for that now. He settled for trying to level a disinterested look at the other lion.

Snorri wasn't fooled, but he allowed the younger lion to keep his dignity. He was hoping that Brenning wasn't some kind of klutzy doofus that would only serve as comic relief for the rest of the band. Snorri had no need for comic relief reavers. He was a talented storyteller and did not much like to share the limelight, even if his competition only came from someone else's incompetence.

"I have an idea for a viking, but I need reavers for my band. I thought you'd be interested in making a name for yourself. You're kind of old to be a freeborn still, I think, unless you have flowers in your blood."

He chose his words more carefully than it seemed. Yes, he was going to make the young freeborn angry and offended, but he was also offering him something he wanted. Snorri wanted to make it clear on a base level that he was in charge and he could give and take away at will. He would be the one in control of doling out rewards and punishments. Best Brenning get used to it now.

Brenning growled low at the implication that he had flowers in his blood. It wasn't a new taunt. He'd heard it before as he grew older and older without being taken a-viking by any captain choosing him for his band. His father hadn't even taken him on an unofficial viking. Not that it would have meant the same, but it would have made him a reaver, even so. He could not afford to do more than growl at the insult. Besides, it was beginning not to sting as much anymore, which was how he knew he had to do something about it. He would truly lose his honor if it was no longer pricked by insult.

"What is your idea?" he asked. It was the right of a reaver to refuse a captain before leaving the pride. Obedience was only required while actually on the viking. "What sort of prize are we after?"

Thralls were always welcome. Loot was nice, too. Preybeasts for the herds wasn't glorious, but it was needful. Any sort of viking would suit Bren, but he couldn't allow himself to seem overeager.

At least the youth knew the right questions to ask, Snorri reflected. He probably ought to stop thinking of the freeborn as a youth. He was an adult, chronologically speaking. He was just an unproven one. That didn't make him young. Just inexperienced. Snorri had once been inexperienced, too, although he had taken care of that at a much earlier age.

With a grim smile Snorri explained, "I intend to go raiding for thralls. I've noticed that there aren't a great many in the pride at the moment, and if we freeborn don't wish to be forced to do our own menial work, someone is going to have to fix that."

It was not, he knew, the most glamorous of things a viking band could go after, but it was needful and considerably more glamorous than finding preybeasts for the herds. Someone had to do that, too, but Snorri didn't intend to do that on the first viking he led. He wanted to have at least some glory to brag about when he later told the tale of the first viking he captained.

Bren nodded. "That sounds good. What direction do you intend to go?"

He had been outside of the Stronghold, of course, and he knew a little bit about the lands beyond the pride's holdings, so this question was mostly a matter of form. It made no difference to him which way they went. He didn't know anything about any of them. Even so, he knew he was supposed to ask. It made him feel like he had more of a say, too, even though he sincerely doubted Snorri would take his opinion into account if he expressed one.

In the back of his mind Bren was wondering what sort of thrall he would have to capture and return with in order to appease Kivi and her family. At this point in his life he knew it was too late to be her friend again, but he didn't wish to have her hate him anymore. Not to mention her family was huge, far larger than his. He didn't want to have any sort of feud spring up between them if he didn't have to.

Ignorant of the freeborn's motives beyond an obvious desire to become a reaver rather than a freeborn, Snorri answered the fire-eyed lion's question. It, too, was a reasonable query after all, although he wondered how much the freeborn knew about the lands beyond. His family may have all been outlanders, but Brenning had been born in the pride, Snorri knew.

"We'll head away from the coast and north, toward the desert lands, although I have no intention of traveling that far. The viking should not last more than three or four weeks." It was a pretty simple course, as these things went. Tried and true. Most directions tended to be pretty reliable when it came to capturing thralls. There were weak lions to be found everywhere.

"We set off in four days," he said as if he already knew Bren would agree to come. After all, he did. "I'll see you then."

Bren nodded as if he knew what Snorri was talking about. His father had come from a pride that valued fire and his mother had come from a pride that had demons. So had his father's thrall. None of them were desert prides, although he knew of a few lions who had come from desert prides within the Stormborn. They always seemed a little bit cold and miserable. Weak things. He wasn't sure desertborn thralls would fetch the price he was hoping for, but it would be a start.

"In four days," he agreed, nodding as the tan reaver set off and very glad that no one could see the delighted grin spreading across his face. He would be a reaver!

At some point in the next four days, Bren realized uncomfortably, he would really have to learn the name of the lion he'd be following on a viking. In fact, he'd probably want to learn it before he went home to tell his family the exciting news, since they would surely wish to know whose band he would be joining. But that could come later. First, he wanted to celebrate!