One fateful day, a massive galleon arrived from the Empyrean High Seas, hoisting three large black sails with a white cross down the center, and waving a small blue and red banner. But the banner was neither a white horse, nor a black raven, or even that of a boar. It was a navy blue flag with a red serpent devouring its own tail. The galleon itself was three times the size of the Nuörmbátur, and roughly the same size as the Stjornkona and Stjorndrekr which rested next to it on the shore. Engrel Korrisson was the first to notice the large oddly shaped, slow moving galleon as he sat on a hilltop, mounted on the back of his brown shire horse, staring at the ship through the eye of his leather bound looking glass. Engrel would quickly turn his horse around and ride towards the entrance of the ring fortress, crossing the moat drawbridge and passing the outer stone wall into the open bailey just in time to see King Halfdan Svensson and a small band of accompanying bodyguards descend down the scarp ramp from the great hall. Apparently, the king's men had already informed Halfdan of the situation.
"My Lord," Engrel said sternly while stopping his shire horse and nodding respectfully to his king.
"Jarl Korrisson, what does your looking glass see? Are they friendly?" the king asked.
"Hard to say your greatness. They are many deep, with cannons," Engrel answered.
"Cannons?" the king inquired.
"Aye my Lord, old ones. Could be Greek fire, or worse. They are flying a banner. A blue flag with a red serpent," the jarl said loudly, informing King Halfdan and his closest men.
"A serpent? Whose clan is that?" King Halfdan motioned for his servants to fetch his horse and gear.
Meanwhile, the large galleon continued to drift inland slowly. By now, the workers on the docks had noticed the approaching pirate-like war ship and had started to withdraw from the shipyards back up the embankment towards the settlement. King Halfdan would mount a black shire horse and grab his sword from his young servant before riding off beside jarl Engrel Korrisson towards the beach, accompanied by the king's men. But the galleon would never approach the shore. It's rudders were too long and the ship too big to coast as far up shore as the smaller Empyrean Norse fishing ships. Instead a huge iron anchor and chain was cast over the side of the giant vessel as it got close to the shallower waters. King Halfdan and his men watched closely, Engrel Korrisson again raising his leather bound looking glass to spot four armoured men and a young blonde boy being lowered off the side of the ship into a canoe or dingy. The young boy was dressed in fine clothing and wearing a green cape, while the men in armor appeared to be knights or bodyguards of some sort.
"It's a silk swathed messenger boy," the jarl informed them. Halfdan's men would relax and laugh, lowering their weapons. "He's got guards with him. Could be a prince," Engrel suggested.
"A young prince, with a ship like that? Ha! He might as well be a king," Halfdan said deeply, a hint of astonishment in his voice.
Engrel smirked quietly for a second before looking through his eye glass again. Only this time, he noticed that the boy in the canoe was looking back at him through his own makeshift telescope. After seeing Engrel through his eye glass, the boy lowered his telescope and started using hand signals, waving to the Empyrean Norsemen on the shoreline that he was unarmed and meant no harm. Engrel observed the hand signals through his looking glass and relayed what he saw back to King Halfdan, who ordered his own guards to be watchful and cautious as the tiny boat neared the beach, being paddled along by two long wooden oars. Once the canoe was close enough to land, the boy cupped his hands near his lips and shouted to the king on the shore, in a dialect that the king and his men had not heard in quite some time.
"Ikke drep oss, vi er som deg! Ikke drep oss, vi kommer i fred! the blonde boy shouted over the calm waves at them. He had simple bowl-cut hair and bright blue eyes which reflected the sky.
"What's he saying?" Jarl Engrel asked quietly.
"Hm, that's odd. He's speaking an older dialect. They're Norwegians, but I can't make out his accent. Sounds native, almost as if he's from our country." King Halfdan remarked. "Rufus, you speak fluent Norwegian, what is he saying?"
"He says he is one of us. He wishes for us not to harm them," Rufus, one of the king's taller guards answered. Rufus was a bald and beardless man with a large facial scar which looked like it had come from a rather bloody fight at the local tavern, no doubt from a knife blade. Rufus was a brawny, strong man and was known to be one of the king's toughest champions.
Soon the canoe came coasting up to the shoreline and the two armoured knights ahead of the boy stepped out, dragging the small boat the rest of the way to the beach. The young boy would step out on to dry land, flinging his green cape behind him as the two other guards behind him followed him on to the dry beach, all of them forming around the boy with their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. But these were not viking swords, they were much longer and sharper, and their armor seemed more akin to Romanized Western European armor than to traditional Viking armor. The young boy bowed respectfully on one knee to King Halfdan, exposing the silver arm-ring close to his shoulder. King Halfdan nodded quietly, squinting his eyes as the boy stood up and approached him.
"Jeg er prins Logan av Quaking Oaks, sønn av prins Haakon, sønn av Reidar, sønn av Duran, sønn av Lodin, sønn av Erling Skjalsson og Astrid Trygvirsdottir." the young boy said, looking up at the king with both boldness and desperation in his bright blue eyes.
King Halfdan, Jarl Engrel and Rufus all glanced at each other for a brief moment before staring back at the boy with bewilderment, not because they didn't understand him, but rather because they understand him perfectly well. Prince Logan of Quaking Oats was apparently the great great great grandson of Erling Snake, the former mortal enemy of Sigurd Hring, and Snake's wife Astrid, the daughter of King Trygvir, whose house all the Empyrean Norsemen had once served under many centuries ago. King Halfdan was quite familiar with the Snake Clan from the House of Norway, for although he had never met any of them before and had actually presumed them all to be extinct, Halfdan's skalds had preserved Erling Snake's lineage and exploits in their sagas many years ago. Standing before one of those Norwegian princes now was like standing before a ghost, or lost tribe which had long been forgotten.
King Halfdan and his guards would escort the young prince and his four armoured companions up to the ring fortress and accompany them to the mead hall. There they would get their formal introductions out of the way and discuss business. Prince Logan recalled to King Halfdan how Erling Snake had been defeated by Sigurd Hring but had survived with a dozen others who took refuge in the forest. There, some of them died and most of the rest of them faded into obscurity. But Erling and a few of his die-hard knights survived, being catered to by the Elves and Dryads who healed their wounds and kept them alive in secret, hidden deep within the Quaking Oaks, where the young prince was born. Unfortunately, as he recalled to King Halfdan, he was the last remaining Nord from that land and the sole survivor of Erling's bloodline, for all the rest had either died from the plague, old age, sickness or bad health. Prince Logan was all that was left, for even his personal guards were neither Christian Vikings or Norsemen, or even humans, but were hired Elvish mercenaries in knightly armor who were indebted to Logan's father and had sworn to protect him. Prince Logan had arrived at the Empyrean Norse Kingdom to ask King Halfdan for help, and in exchange, to swear allegiance to him by switching arm-rings.
"My Lord," Engrel said sternly while stopping his shire horse and nodding respectfully to his king.
"Jarl Korrisson, what does your looking glass see? Are they friendly?" the king asked.
"Hard to say your greatness. They are many deep, with cannons," Engrel answered.
"Cannons?" the king inquired.
"Aye my Lord, old ones. Could be Greek fire, or worse. They are flying a banner. A blue flag with a red serpent," the jarl said loudly, informing King Halfdan and his closest men.
"A serpent? Whose clan is that?" King Halfdan motioned for his servants to fetch his horse and gear.
Meanwhile, the large galleon continued to drift inland slowly. By now, the workers on the docks had noticed the approaching pirate-like war ship and had started to withdraw from the shipyards back up the embankment towards the settlement. King Halfdan would mount a black shire horse and grab his sword from his young servant before riding off beside jarl Engrel Korrisson towards the beach, accompanied by the king's men. But the galleon would never approach the shore. It's rudders were too long and the ship too big to coast as far up shore as the smaller Empyrean Norse fishing ships. Instead a huge iron anchor and chain was cast over the side of the giant vessel as it got close to the shallower waters. King Halfdan and his men watched closely, Engrel Korrisson again raising his leather bound looking glass to spot four armoured men and a young blonde boy being lowered off the side of the ship into a canoe or dingy. The young boy was dressed in fine clothing and wearing a green cape, while the men in armor appeared to be knights or bodyguards of some sort.
"It's a silk swathed messenger boy," the jarl informed them. Halfdan's men would relax and laugh, lowering their weapons. "He's got guards with him. Could be a prince," Engrel suggested.
"A young prince, with a ship like that? Ha! He might as well be a king," Halfdan said deeply, a hint of astonishment in his voice.
Engrel smirked quietly for a second before looking through his eye glass again. Only this time, he noticed that the boy in the canoe was looking back at him through his own makeshift telescope. After seeing Engrel through his eye glass, the boy lowered his telescope and started using hand signals, waving to the Empyrean Norsemen on the shoreline that he was unarmed and meant no harm. Engrel observed the hand signals through his looking glass and relayed what he saw back to King Halfdan, who ordered his own guards to be watchful and cautious as the tiny boat neared the beach, being paddled along by two long wooden oars. Once the canoe was close enough to land, the boy cupped his hands near his lips and shouted to the king on the shore, in a dialect that the king and his men had not heard in quite some time.
"Ikke drep oss, vi er som deg! Ikke drep oss, vi kommer i fred! the blonde boy shouted over the calm waves at them. He had simple bowl-cut hair and bright blue eyes which reflected the sky.
"What's he saying?" Jarl Engrel asked quietly.
"Hm, that's odd. He's speaking an older dialect. They're Norwegians, but I can't make out his accent. Sounds native, almost as if he's from our country." King Halfdan remarked. "Rufus, you speak fluent Norwegian, what is he saying?"
"He says he is one of us. He wishes for us not to harm them," Rufus, one of the king's taller guards answered. Rufus was a bald and beardless man with a large facial scar which looked like it had come from a rather bloody fight at the local tavern, no doubt from a knife blade. Rufus was a brawny, strong man and was known to be one of the king's toughest champions.
Soon the canoe came coasting up to the shoreline and the two armoured knights ahead of the boy stepped out, dragging the small boat the rest of the way to the beach. The young boy would step out on to dry land, flinging his green cape behind him as the two other guards behind him followed him on to the dry beach, all of them forming around the boy with their hands resting on the hilts of their swords. But these were not viking swords, they were much longer and sharper, and their armor seemed more akin to Romanized Western European armor than to traditional Viking armor. The young boy bowed respectfully on one knee to King Halfdan, exposing the silver arm-ring close to his shoulder. King Halfdan nodded quietly, squinting his eyes as the boy stood up and approached him.
"Jeg er prins Logan av Quaking Oaks, sønn av prins Haakon, sønn av Reidar, sønn av Duran, sønn av Lodin, sønn av Erling Skjalsson og Astrid Trygvirsdottir." the young boy said, looking up at the king with both boldness and desperation in his bright blue eyes.
King Halfdan, Jarl Engrel and Rufus all glanced at each other for a brief moment before staring back at the boy with bewilderment, not because they didn't understand him, but rather because they understand him perfectly well. Prince Logan of Quaking Oats was apparently the great great great grandson of Erling Snake, the former mortal enemy of Sigurd Hring, and Snake's wife Astrid, the daughter of King Trygvir, whose house all the Empyrean Norsemen had once served under many centuries ago. King Halfdan was quite familiar with the Snake Clan from the House of Norway, for although he had never met any of them before and had actually presumed them all to be extinct, Halfdan's skalds had preserved Erling Snake's lineage and exploits in their sagas many years ago. Standing before one of those Norwegian princes now was like standing before a ghost, or lost tribe which had long been forgotten.
King Halfdan and his guards would escort the young prince and his four armoured companions up to the ring fortress and accompany them to the mead hall. There they would get their formal introductions out of the way and discuss business. Prince Logan recalled to King Halfdan how Erling Snake had been defeated by Sigurd Hring but had survived with a dozen others who took refuge in the forest. There, some of them died and most of the rest of them faded into obscurity. But Erling and a few of his die-hard knights survived, being catered to by the Elves and Dryads who healed their wounds and kept them alive in secret, hidden deep within the Quaking Oaks, where the young prince was born. Unfortunately, as he recalled to King Halfdan, he was the last remaining Nord from that land and the sole survivor of Erling's bloodline, for all the rest had either died from the plague, old age, sickness or bad health. Prince Logan was all that was left, for even his personal guards were neither Christian Vikings or Norsemen, or even humans, but were hired Elvish mercenaries in knightly armor who were indebted to Logan's father and had sworn to protect him. Prince Logan had arrived at the Empyrean Norse Kingdom to ask King Halfdan for help, and in exchange, to swear allegiance to him by switching arm-rings.