Old Wounds

Oliver retched over the side of the Fancy for what seemed like the third time that day. This had been his longest time at sea, and he had not found his sea legs. That the crossing to Løvenskiold was notoriously rough had not helped. He envied Fineas, naturally talented as a sailor, who seemed at home in the ship's rigging.

He turned at the familiar clack of Old Ken's wooden peg against the ship's deck. Ken had been a comforting presence over this last week and had taken Oliver under his wing. A Naval man of some twenty years. He fought in the last two major skirmishes between Ithica and Mercied. The second of which cost him his leg. It was not long after this he had met William and the two of them had quickly become friends. Ken had decided on a quieter life at sea and enlisted with the Fancy.

"Still green, lad?" Old Ken asked him.

"Sadly, I think I spend more time vomiting over the side than anything else," Oliver replied.

Ken stood next to him and patted him on the shoulder comfortingly.

"The Myrkshaf is an unforgiving stretch of water. Rough, difficult to tame." He laughed."Much like its people."

"What are they like? I never heard much about them when I was in school." Oliver mused.

"The Ragnars are a tough lot. Ithicia and Mercied are two nations vying for control of the world through their colonies, and Sylfia picks up whatever scraps are left on the table. They aren't much interested in expansion and seldom play along with the politics of other nations." Ken advised him.

"Have you been before?" Oliver asked.

"Once, many years ago. Most merchant routes avoid them. The Ragnars aren't always welcoming of outsiders. But you couldn't want for a better person at your back in a fight, though." Ken advised.

Their conversation was interrupted by shouts of land coming from the stern. He saw Fineas standing on the prow and waving. Oliver went over to join him, curious to see Løvenskiold for the first time. William had appeared, and Oliver noted he looked fairly grim, which had been his general countenance for the past few days. The captain said nothing, simply staring ahead. His silence was broken by Ken calling to him.

"We have an escort," Ken said to him. Pointing to a longboat that was approaching from their portside."

The longship was unlike any ship that Oliver had seen before. It sat low in the water, with a single sail and oars on either side. The ship came alongside them with ease. Oliver suspected the longship could outpace them, although he wondered if the Fancy's cannons would make short work of them. He saw a single Ragnar man standing on the prow, looking over them sternly. He was bare-chested and covered in intricate tattoos.

"My hopes of making landfall at Løvenskiold without making some grand entrance are for naught then." William moaned.

The capital came further into view within the hour. Oliver was surprised when it came into view; it appeared to be a collection of shanty towns that had been merged. There seemed to be little sense of order or planning. The houses, from what he could see, mostly appeared to have thatched roofs and stone walls, several appeared to be the upturned remains of seafaring vessels. On a hill overlooking many of the buildings was a larger hall. What drew his eye the most was what appeared to be a giant column of bone, juitting out from somepoint behind the large hall.

"What is that?" Oliver called out in shock.

"The spine of a dead god. As the Ragnars tell it they slew their gods centuries ago." William told him matter-of-factly.

William saw Oliver make the sign of the Archon Haniel. He wasn't sure if it was done as a sign of protection or just in response to what he was seeing. William thought it best not to ask.

The harbour loomed in front of them. They sailed into port uneasily. Aware they were drawing stares from fishermen and sailors. The man stood on the prow of the longship and directed them to a small dock. Oliver watched Jack and Tim jump onto the dock to secure the Fancy. William had the crew moor and secure the vessel. He watched as two men from the Ragnar longship approached them. Up close, he could see both were large men, dressed in furs and covered in tattoos, with axes hanging from their belts. Both men walked up the Fancy's gangplank not stopping to ask permission before boarding.

The man who had been standing on the prow of the longship began to speak. His accent was thick, and his pronuciations in Ithican placed stresses and empahsis in the wrong places. William thought it was wise not to say anthing.

"What business does a vessel bearing the seals of the Ithican Crown have in Løvenskiold?

"I am William Kent, captain of the Catherine's fancy. We sail here on a personal mission and not under the auspices of the House of Wesseford. I seek an audience with Jarl Haugen." William explained.

They both laughed at his explanation. "Haugen's been dead some fifteen years. Ormskirk serves as Jarl."

Neither heard William curse silently under his breath.

"You have me at a disadvantage," William told them.

"Aud. Captain of the Visundur." Aud introduced himself

"Nevertheless, I would request an audience with Ormskirk." William reiterated his earlier request.

"Ormskirk has little patience for foreign visitors, and the Vargr have been more troubling of late," Aud told him harshly.

"I never wished to intrude in the affairs of the Ragnar, but this is a pressing matter. " William told them.

"So be it. Your crew will stay here. Bring a second if you wish." Aud instructed.

William turned to face Oliver. "Join me, lad. I may need your counsel."

The four of them left the ship. Aud and his companion walked quickly. Oliver found himself struggling to keep up. They were led through various winding streets. He was fascinated at the houses, mead halls, and markets they were led through. He was dismayed to see many people working who had collars around their necks or shackles on their hands or feet. William caught him staring and gave him a concerned look.

"Slaves taken during raids," William explained.

They moved on, getting closer to the hall of the Jarl. The spine loomed above them, and it made Oliver feel uncomfortable, there was some sense of foreboding he could not place.

"What is that?" Oliver asked, pointing towards the sky.

Aud turned to face him, looking irritated at being forced to stop. "The remains of Rauthen. The dead god of warfare. Our ancestors slew our gods as untrustworthy and deceitful, and we refused to remain their pawns."

He spat on the ground in disgust and continued walking. The four of them arrived at Ormskirk's hall. A large stone building where the roof had been the remains of a longboat. Two guards stood by the entranceway and warily waved the four of them inside.

They stepped into the hall and found it already filled with people. Two long tables were filled with Ragnar men and women busy eating and drinking. A Skald was busy playing music to the crowd on a lyre. Oliver appreciated the melody even if he did not understand the words. Behind the tables was a dais on which sat the Jarl's throne. Ormskirk was an ageing man, with long white hair, a well-groomed moustache, and a beard. He wore the furs of a bear, a black tunic and a simple metal crown. In his left hand he clutched an ornate wooden staff.

William and Oliver were led over to Ormskirk's seat. The Jarl was busy devouring the cooked leg of some animal and refused to acknowledge either of them until he had finished eating. He had one of his men fill a horn with mead. He sat there drinking this, looking past the pair of them. Oliver considered it to be somewhat rude but felt it was an intentional attempt to intmidate them.

"A raven came recently bearing a message for a dead Jarl from some Ithican governor on a paltry island. Telling us a vessel is coming bearing a William Kent who requests passage to the Midden. " Ormskirk eventually addressed them..

"I apologise if any slight was given. It has been too long since I visited this fair city and my knowledge of its current rulers is shameful." William stated apologetically.

"We do require passage to the Midden," Oliver spoke up.

"Bold. Straight to the point. I like this one." Ormskirk replied, smiling.

"This is my aide. Oliver Kelham." William said, introducing him.

Ormskirk's smile faded. "I remember you, Kent. You were here some twenty years ago making the same request to bury some fallen comrade. We allowed it, as to fall in battle is one of the greatest honors of our people. Who was it you came to bury?"

William spoke, but Oliver felt there was some reluctance to utter the name. "Thorvenhold."

Ormskirk throw his horn to the ground in a display of anger.

"An old name. A very hated name." Ormskirk snarled.

"I know there was no love lost for him among many of your people," William replied.

"Danesgorn was to marry a cousin of mine. But that union never came to pass as Thorvenhold killed him in some drunken tavern brawl. I believe he had designs on cousin itself. We have traditions and means of dealing with disputes. I would have held a shield for that man, but your dishonorable stain of a friend denied me that right." Ormskirk spat in disgust.

Oliver could not help looking around uneasily at all of the armed men in this hall. He feared if things went badly, the pair of them might not make it back to the ship intact. William gave him what he thought looked like a look of reasurance.

"Aye. The man I served with told me that he killed someone in a foolish brawl and forever lived with regret. Haugen was lenient when he gave me passage to bury him." William replied.

"Why is it you require passage to the Midden?" Ormskirk asked.

"I wish to visit the homestead in which I buried him. His people had moved on, so I doubt much of it even remains. To pay my respects." William answered.

"Twenty years pass, and you come to pay your respects. Do you take me for a fool, William?" Ormskirk said sceptically.

"There is wisdom that can be taken from the dead. I am oathbound, and he was my brother once." William told him.

"Then make your request," Ormskirk told him.

"Jarl Ormskirk. I wish to request passage to the Midden. To pay my respects to my comrade, a man I once called brother. To stand there and pour mead onto his resting spot, so he may know libation regardless of where he is." William answered truthfully.

"Denied." Ormskirk sneered.

"I feared this might be the response I would get," William replied.

"Leave now, William, and I will let you and your crew leave in peace. On my word, none of you will be harmed," Ormskirk told him

Oliver only heard William say one word in reply Holmgang. He saw there was a contented look on Ormskirk's face who simply nodded in reply to William.