LONELY's Story

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.

The following weeks were uneventful for the Empyrean Norse Kingdom as the good King Halfdan the Great made arrangements for Prince Logan Haakonsson and his Alfarian mercenaries to join their ranks. The Norsemen were now 1500+1 strong at the Empyrean Sea Beach settlement, with an additional 500 elvish knights to support them. These Elves were unlike anything the Empyrean Norsemen had ever seen before, with their new pirate-like galleon fitted with 300 cannons designed for naval warfare and seiges from coastal waters. Unlike the Norsemen who were mostly just farmers, fishermen, hunters, gardeners, beekeepers, traders, merchants, craftsmen and blacksmiths with civilian occupations, the Sea Elves, or Dryads, were professional warriors. Swift, strong, and clever, these Sjóálfar were not only good at fighting in the Empyrean High Seas, but were just as skillful on land, in the hills and forests surrounding the Norse countryside, as infantry or mounted warriors.

Each and every one of them had two curved swords, one long and one short, an even smaller curved dagger, a spear, and a quiver with silver bows and magical elfshot arrows. They were equally skilled in fencing, archery, and mounted warfare, and their bright shining magical silver armour was light-weight but extremely durable, resistant to rust, heat or frost, while their coordination and formation tactics were beyond description, for despite their numbers, these Sjóálfar could move in sync with perfect timing like a single unit. This was true for their oarsmen, their archers, their infantry, and even their armored horses who pranced proudly before King Halfdan, each step in complete unison as they trodded and paraded before their Norse companions, showing off with brightly colored peacock feathers and horned visors resembling silver unicorn skulls.

Their cannons too were also magical, relying not on ordinary wicks and gunpowder, but rather on the whims of faery dust, and arcane fire which ignited like blueish white ghost flames, capable of harming both physical beings and spiritual beings alike. Although the Norsemen could see the tiny winged creatures who accompanied the Elves, the good King Halfdan Svensson was not aware yet of their strength in numbers, for the faeries or faefolk, akin to the Dryads and Elves they served, would prove to be an important asset to the Norseman's kingdom. These tiny little faes, just like their elvish cousins, were skilled in a variety of things from tinkering, pollinating, lockpicking, swarming and subtle assassination, to mounted warfare on the backs of dragonflies and rhinoceros beetles. But they too, like the Empyrean Norsemen, were much more concerned with farming and cultivating the surrounding environment, something which the Empyrean Norsemen were extremely fond of, and they would often treat these little ones as no different from their own kinfolk.

All was well in the Empyrean Norse Kingdom, until one fateful day when a lonesome faery came buzzing through the countryside at great haste, whispering something into the ear of one of the elves, who relayed the message to the great prince in his native elvish tongue. Prince Logan Haakonsson, in turn, informed King Halfdan the Great that an army was forming across the high seas, one which threatened the broken establishment at Iskjerne Bay, and which could potentially pose a threat to his own kingdom. King Halfdan Svensson nodded quietly, but made little effort to respond. Both of his jarls, Engrel Korrisson and Fudørn Auricsson volunteered to take their own leidangs across the sea to meet them. Instead, he summoned two of his best Norsemen to go investigate the situation. The first was Rufus the Red, the king's champion. The second was a karl named Thorvald "Bloodyfist" Asvaldsson, a Norwegian outlaw and murderer known throughout the land for killing people with his bare hands.

"But your Grace, this man is a criminal, and an exile. He can not be trusted," the jarl Engrel Korrisson explained. But the konung simply waved the matter aside with a flick of the wrist.

"He has done no wrong in my kingdom, and therefore he is not a criminal. Besides, I have not heard any word back from Jarl Goffre, and I will not sacrifice another one of my most trusted councilmen. I need you both here my friends, you understand." Jarl Engrel and Jarl Fudørn both nodded at King Halfdan's plight.

"As for you, Prince Logan, the king thanks you for your council. You are no doubt a loyal advisor to your majesty. I wish you were my own son, to be honest, and without children of my own, I hereby declare you the king's heir. Should something happen to me, or my jarls here, then you must ensure that our lineage continues. Do you understand me boy?" King Halfdan explained before asking.

"Yes, your Greatness, I understand" Prince Logan nodded. "Good," King Halfdan said before ordaining Prince Logan before the court. Prince Logan would take a knee before the king's throne and kiss his ring finger. The king's ring itself had been passed down for several generations, from King Halfdan's father's father's fathers, a ring that had once belonged to King Sigurd the Ringtaker himself, who had gifted it to the forefather of the Empyrean Norse Kingdom over 200 years ago. That same exact ring had once belonged to King Trygvir, a loyal vassal of Sigurd Hring's uncle Harald Wartooth during the Battle of the Brávellir many many years ago, from which King Halfdan and Prince Logan were both directly descended. The irony of this occasion seemed almost fated from the beginning, as King Halfdan removed the twin-headed serpent armband from Logan's upper arm, and placed on him the twin-raven armband of the Empyrean Norse Kingdom signifying that he was now one of them.

One fateful day while combing the beach for Murex rock snails, a predatory sea snail which produces a purple inky substance known as imperial dye or royal purple, Snorri Jonasson the skald stumbled upon something interesting buried beneath the sands. As he hit the object with his walking stick, he heard a tinkering sound. There was something hard and metal hidden in the sand. He bent down and dug up what appeared to be a metal helmet. It was a warrior's helmet of some kind, of an almost Roman-like design, embroidered with thin linings of silver and gold. The front of the helmet featured the symbol of a bull in full body with horns and a tail. Despite a small dent on the side of the helmet, it appeared to be in remarkably pristine condition.

But there was more...

Nearby, he also found some curious looking metal pellets or small round lead balls which had also been scattered along the beach. But these were not fishing sinkers, for they had no holes or grooves in them for which to hook a line. Snorri Jonasson picked up a small handful of them, placing them into his hanging satchel along with the helmet he had found. But he was not prepared for what he would find next, for there in the sand, sticking out on the shore like an ancient lost relic, was a polymer advanced alloy pistol, the likes of which Snorri the Skald had never seen before. He would reach down and pull it out of the ground, brushing the sand off of it to examine it more closely. There was an inscription on the side of it which said M5, and Snorri knew right away that he had discovered a treasure that was simply not of the beach, or of Gaia, but had to have come from out of this world, from a people who had visited from the stars.

Snorri Jonasson suddenly forgot all about his snail combing expedition. He placed the gun in his pocket and quickly left the beach, going back to the ring fortress to inform King Halfdan of his discoveries. As he opened his satchel and placed the items on the table in the king's hall in front of him, King Halfdan and Prince Logan admired the shining helmet with fascination. It had not rusted over the last 250 years or so, but was still glimmering as if the gods themselves had crafted it. At first, King Halfdan even mistook it for one of the Sea Elf's own helmets, but after consulting the Sjóálfar, the young Prince Logan assured his adopted godfather King Halfdan that this was not one of their makings. It must have belonged to someone else who lived a long time ago.

"And you say you just found these items laying on the beach? All this time, in plain sight?" Fudørn Auricsson asked doubtedly.

"Ay my Lord, they were in the sand. Buried," the skald answered his jarl, who was sitting at the left hand of the king next to Rufus and Thorvald, opposite the prince.

"And what of these little balls here? What do you make of them? If they are not sinkers, then what are they?" inquired Rufus, the king's champion, as he fumbled with one of the tiny metal pellets before dropping it back on the table.

"I'm not sure..." the king answered. Everyone else fell silent for a moment, looking around the table at one another. Snorri then nodded quietly.

"There is something else," Snorri Jonasson said as he pulled the M5 pistol out of his pocket and slid it across the table. King Halfdan would glance at Snorri for a moment before picking up the small handgun and examining it.

"It has a trigger, like our crossbows, and a barrel... I think, whatever that is, it fired these" Snorri suggested, causing the others to nod quietly in deep contemplation. King Halfdan passed the M5 pistol around before picking up the helmet and examining it again. He studied the bull insignia more carefully, making a mental note of it in his mind. "Remarkable..." Halfdan whispered.

King Halfdan ordered the items to be set on display, high up on one of the shelves within the king's hall so that he could always gaze at them and wonder. He was about to send Thorvald Asvaldsson and Rufus the Bald on their quest to Iskjerne Bay, when just then, the doors swung open and two of the king's guards entered, holding a young man with a knapsack over his head by his arms who was fighting and struggling to get free. They were accompanied by the tavern keeper.

"Your Grace, sorry to disturb you, but we have a problem," one of the guards informed him. The king nodded to the guards, who nodded to the tavern keeper as he stepped forward.

"Your Grace, this young man here just killed one of my best customers during a game of hnefltafl and refused to pay for his drinks," the tavern keeper pleaded.

"He lies! I was cheated!" the young man yelled from under the bag over his head. "Silence you thief," one of the guards said while hitting the young man hard in the stomach with the butt end of his club. The masked criminal slumped over silently in pain, having the wind temporarily knocked out of him. King Halfdan rolled his eyes and looked over at the tavern keeper.

"How much does he owe you for the drinks?" King Halfdan asked calmly. "Sixty fennings your Grace," the tavern keeper answered humbly, removing his hat. The king nodded and with a snap of his fingers, Fudørn Auricsson would bring him a money chest. "I will double it for your troubles. One hundred and twenty fennings, and not a penda more," the king said as he counted out 120 pennies and placed them in a bag, tossing it to the tavern keeper, who caught it in his hat.

"Thank you so much your Grace, you truly are a great King," the tavern keeper said, bowing his head before turning and leaving. Everyone else's focus was now on the masked murderer before them as King Halfdan handed the treasure chest back to his jarl, scratching his chin.

"As for you boy, murder is a crime in my kingdom. Punishable by death. I could have you beheaded, and your lifeless body hanged on my display," King Halfdan said, ordering his guards to bring the criminal forward so that he could have a better look at the accused, and decide what to do with him.

"Do you understand the accusations against you?" King Halfdan piped up rhetorically with a bit of sternness and anger in his voice. "Do you deny that you killed one of your fellowmen?" he immediately followed through.

"... I do... And I don't..." the young man answered.

"Good, you will save me a trial then," the king said as he poured himself a glass of mead. "Guards, if you would do me the honor of please removing his mask so I can see his face... What is your name young man?" King Halfdan asked calmly.

The guards would remove the knapsack from over the young man's head, revealing a Norseman with long bright red hair and hazel green eyes. Everyone else in the king's hall would pause to gaze at the murderer before them. Thorvald Asvaldsson's eyes lit up with terror at what he was now witnessing, as Rufus the Bald turned to look at him, then back at the young man before him with a gaping jaw. The young man would shake the hair out of his face before gazing up at the king with remorseless hatred in his expression as he made eye contact.

"I am Erik, son of Thorvald Asvaldsson," he answered.

King Halfdan blinked, glancing beside himself to Thorvald before looking forward again at the admitted murderer directly before him. Thorvald Asvaldsson had widened eyes and a look of horror on his face. King Halfdan the Great was nearly speechless himself as he stared into Erik's eyes, before chuckling at the irony of it all while taking a swig from his glass of mead.