The arrival of the bloody Baron in the village had brought to the surface a rage in Godric's veins that he had calmed since his arrival here. He had just returned from Uppsala with his son to learn of the news, and it had caused him both great anger, and great pain. There was not a soul in the world who would take the place of Godric's son, but Helena too was dear to him, and she was as good as his own flesh and blood in his mind. And he had been in a particularly rotten mood the past few days because of the affect that the young man had on the Ravenclaw family, and on himself, though he hated to think that any at all had that kind of power over him. Maybe Helga was right, that the hatred did not help him, but it gave him strength, and he wanted vengeance.
Vogg's offer of brotherly companionship pulled Godric from his thoughts; he had scarcely heard his friend-brother approach, so distracted was he. Godric looked up from where he had long since stared his stew cold. "Always," he returned, gesturing that Vogg was welcomed to enter his clearing. "though apparently my stew has lost all of its heat, so I have none to offer you."