General Summary
May 25th
"You're a good lad, Gunnar Thórson. You got a big heart, and you're not as dumb as you think. You need to come home, safe, you hear me? You're the best friend I got. Me da' told me you don't get many good friends. So I can't lose you. Promise me. Promise me you're not gonna die like some damn fool."
"This night may be the last we drink together," says Asger playfully as he climbs down steps before his throne to clasp Gunnar on the shoulder. He leads him to the mead cauldron and fills Gunnar's cup with mead using the cauldron's ornate, golden ladle and as he fills his own cup, Asger says, "You have returned from Fargrim's Hold, but... was not your aim in going there to get a sword?"
"Yes, but... when I went to present it to High Priest Thurmond, he... took it. I know not why, but he bid me to face him tomorrow after the fleet's departure."
Asger gives Gunnar a reassuring smile before saying, "Thurmond is a wise man. I would not be so sure he bears you ill will. But in going to the Hold of the Mountain Dvergr and seeing Lord Fargrim, you have met with every great leader in this fjord within the last fortnite, something that, to my knowledge, has never been done before. Most impressive... You are quite a man, Gunnar Thórson, and a man such as you has many, many uses. I must confess... I would be at a great loss if you were not to return."
"Thank you, my lord, and fear not," says the young alle, "I shall return, and we shall drink together again." Mustering his courage, he raises his cup, smiles, and continues, "Skól."
"Skól," says Asger as he clinks his goblet against his servant's, and both men drink deeply. As he lowers his cup from his mouth, the jarl seems unable to keep a thought from his mind and says, "Still... Inga thinks that last autumn was a portent of things to come. She thinks it irresponsible of me to go south with so much left uncertain. She thinks I should not go without naming a successor."
"Mayhaps it is your heirs themselves you should be speaking to on the matter, my lord," says Gunnar, in a flash of impertinence that almost seems to catch the jarl off guard.
"My heirs..." says Asger, almost with a chuckle as he stares thoughtfully into his cup, "my first child. Astrid... The day she was born... I was disappointed. I wanted a son. It was the only time Inga has ever been so angry with me that I was fearful. She said to me, 'You give her a name.' And so I did. 'Astrid.' My mother's name. It was the first thing that came to my mind. I suppose I gave her that name out of love. It's said that a man should love his sons more. But a man can be jealous of his sons... while his daughters can always be the light in his life. But there are days when I would rather face a dragon than my own daughter of five and ten. Tell me, Gunnar... do you think she would make a good Jarl?"
His lord and patron looks him right in the eye, and Gunnar does not hesitate to answer, "I do, my lord."
Asger takes a deep breath and places a hand firmly on Gunnar's shoulder. He gives him a wry, tired smile, before heading off into the hall, seemingly in search of someone.
Gunnar looks back to Inga, who returns his gaze and smiles. She stands from her throne and descends the steps, still holding her infant daughter in her arms. She approaches Gunnar, never breaking eye contact, and places a hand softly on the same shoulder as her husband. She gives him the warmest smile he's ever seen her give, and says, "Welcome back," before continuing into the hall, men nearly tripping over themselves to get out of her way. Gunnar is left standing alone by the mead cauldron, cup in hand.
"We have come to decorate the fleet," says Asmund, attempting to sound as confident as possible, "at the behest of Lady Inga."
The young warrior eyes them susspiciously. "I was told of no such plans."
But just as his grip on his spear begins to tighten, a familiar voice speaks up, "It is alright Torstein," the four look to see Inga slowly approaching, a bodyguard following her with a torch, her infant daughter in her arms, "they speak true. See to it no one disturbes their work, yes?
"Y-yes my lady," loudly agrees the young man with a bow of respect before stepping aside to let Asmund, Isa and Haleth pass.
May 26th
As the crisp, gray twilight unfolds over the township, Gunnar is roused from his slumber on the great hall's floor by the twins, Erlandr and Erlingr, who inform him, "It's time." He stands, despite a dry headache, and allows his fellow alle to guide him out of the hall.
Isa is intercepted by Helga as she, Asmund and Haleth make their way into the town's square from the docks. The former priestess likewise informs the young seiðr that the time has come.
In the early morning, each of the four most popular cults of Buskagar perform their sacrifices before their temples. The cult of Ægir sacrifices a great stag captured from the forest, led by Asger. The Cult of Óðinn sacrifices a warhorse, the killing of the creature being done by Fjölnir and its blood is collected in a bowl by Colborn. The Cult of Thór sacrifices a pair of goats and as Gunnar makes his way to the temple, he sees Thurmond wearing his vestments and wielding the cult's sacrificial blade.
As Gunnar and the twins approach, Thurmond takes up the sacrificial bowl and draws a thumb through the blood. He looks upon Gunnar, marks his forehead with the goats' blood, and offers the bowl to him. For the first time in his life, Gunnar is tasked with marking the foreheads of the over 50 warriors knelt before the temple of Thor.
At the temple of Freyja, Helga offers Isa a steaming cup of tea, one which she accepts and recognizes the taste of willow bark when she drinks it. Helga then produces a small knife and asks Isa for her hand. Isa frets a moment before complying and offering the older woman her hand. Helga makes the smallest knick in Isa's thumb, prompting a small but steady stream of blood. She then turns to the nearly 20 men and women down on both knees before the temple of Freyja awaiting the blessing of her sacred blood.
As each warrior awaits their blessing, they kneel on both knees, their eyes closed, but upon feeling the bloody thumb smear down the middle of their forehead, they open their eyes and look up into the eyes of the priest or priestess who offers it.
Gunnar blesses Erlandr, Erlingr and Halstein for the first time and each looks up at him with gratitude.
Once each of the roughly 200 warriors has received their blessing, Asger and his family lead a procession from the town square to the waterfront; nearly the entire town follows in their wake. Murdaeg joins in, enjoying the spectacle of seeing an Astari township going to war for the first time. Asmund and Haleth also follow near the back of the procession, the latter curious how their work will be received.
As the warships come into view, murmurs begin to sound. The ships, which had been unadorned at sunset, now sit moored festooned in garlands of orange, pink, white, and purple wildflowers. Flower streamers dangle from the antlers of the giant stag's skull that serves as Asger's flagship's figurehead. Asger is clearly surprised, and he looks to his wife, who offers him a knowing look before stepping onto the docks to face the town, her daughter cooing softly in her arms.
"This tribute is the work of Sven Greenthumbs," she speaks proudly, her head held high. "Let his work serve to inspire you. May those of you who do not return dine in Valhöll, and those of you that do, do so victorious, laden with treasure."
Inga then steps down from the dock, and takes her place amongst her family. Asger then steps into the space where she had stood and surveys the crowd. "If Sven Greenthumbs is here, let him show himself," declares the Jarl to the silent crowd.
Asmund hesitates, not knowing what to do, but after getting a nudge from Haleth, he begins walking towards the docks, making sure his hood is secured. As he makes his way forward, the crowd begins to part to let him pass. As he comes to stand before the docks and bows before the Jarl, he's unable to look Asger in the eye. With a gesture, Asger bids Asmund join him. With no small amount of trepidation, Asmund does so.
Standing beside Asger, the jarl gives the gardener a firm pat on the back and says, "Well done! I see why your skills are so lauded. Let it be known that Sven Greenthumbs is friend to me and to the people of Buskagar. Thank you."
"My pleasure, my lord," says Asmund, lowering his head graciously. Asger pats him once more on the shoulder as he rejoins the crowd.
Asger stands, his greataxe by his side, his fleet behind him and his people before him. He lifts his head high and says in a more solemn tone, "I have an announcement to make. If I should fall... be it this year, or any other..." Asger looks to his family, and in that moment, all hold their breath, "It is my daughter... Astrid... the eldest and wisest of my children... it is in her that you should all look to, to lead you into the future. She has all the best of me. She is as wise as her mother, and I know her brothers will see her kept safe."
Asger gestures to Astrid to come join him. The fifteen-year-old young woman stands more than two-feet shorter than her father; his axe, as big as she is. He places his free hand on her shoulder and she looks up at him with tears in her eyes.
"Do you accept this responsibility, my daughter?" he asks, looking down on her, making sure to keep his lower lip stiff.
Taking a deep, sharp breath, Astrid answers, "I do, father."
Pulling her close, Asger and Astrid look back to the people of Buskagar -their people- and he says in a voice both loud and wracked with emotion, "This town... it is my great love. I wish to see it endure." Asger quietly bids Astrid return to her mother and siblings before adopting a more aggressive tone. Stepping onto his vessel's railing, he declares, "We depart for Gnopa! Tonight, we feast in the halls of Jarl Baldr, and tomorrow, in Ålesund, in the halls of our king!"
"Hail, Jarl Asger!" the town answers as he takes the first step aboard the deck of his ship. The departing warriors bid their families and loved ones one last farewell, and then join their jarl aboard the fleet of ships. Two-hundred men and women embark on the eight vessels. They then produce oars eighteen feet long. They first use them to push the ships away from the docks, and then the dragons take flight. The entire town watches as they make their way down the fjord, out of sight, the rumbling clouds gathering overhead. Kraki, Colborn's raven familiar, takes off after them.
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