The screams and crackling of flames filled the air as the seaside village was torn apart by raging warriors. Their longships resting at the shore, waiting to be filled with slaves and loot. The bodies of the people defending their village hit the ground, like their houses crumble under the destruction brought by the flames.

A man trusts his spear through a woman who had picked an axe to defend her home. On the man’s face was a look of horror as he went over in his head what he had just done. Blood and ash dirty him as he stands motionless over the dying woman. Just hours before his hands were clean, this being his first kill and it was not what he depicted it would be.

The look of horror stayed as he watched the woman’s lifeless body fall to the ground. The horror of the kill, as quickly as it had come, had faded away. He now needed to accept what he had done and move forwards, as if he kept standing he would be the next one to fall.

It only took a short moment to change the man, now different from the young man who had left his village for adventure and glory. There was no coming back from this. The man raised his head and joined the rest in looting.

***

Five days earlier.

The wind swept over three young men standing on a hill. Their gazes were fixated firmly towards the sea. There a fleet of five longships, all as long as a house and as wide as two men standing on top of each other, their sails decorated with trees, fish and birds dyed with gold, black and blue. The fleet was moving towards the shore, towards the men’s village.

The three men rushed down the hill, trying to get to their village as fast as they possibly could. As they ran, they bypassed freshly harvested fields and herds of pigs wandering the outskirts of the village. When they got to the docks, a crowd had already gathered there as the first of the ships anchored there. Now up close the men could see the bows of the ships that were expertly decorated with the heads of hawks.

As they were admiring the ships, a man jumped from one of them to the shore. The man was wearing mail hauberk fastened to his hip with a belt. On his head he had a conical helmet with decorated nasal and eye covers and an aventail covering his face that comes to his shoulders. He lifts his helmet to reveal his brown hair, moustache and a scar running across his forehead.

The man speaks in a foreign language and as he realises that he is not understood he starts again with the local language.

“My name is Ottharr, son of Wisrad.” The man greets. “We are here to trade and to recruit brave warriors for a great raid. Anyone who’s willing to join will be rewarded with a share of the loot and the glory in the eyes of the twelve brothers.”

The crowd murmurs, some excited, others worried for the loved ones who might join the raiders. The chatter gets interrupted as three elders walk through the crowd to meet with the warrior, whose comrades have now also disembarked with some trade goods. One of the elders, a man with long white hair and a beard, offers his arm to the warrior for a greeting.

“My name is Toivo, son of Toivo, the head of the council of this village.” He greets as Ottharr takes his hand in greeting. “Your crew is welcome to trade with us and to stay for a few days while our young ones decide if they are willing to join you on your journey.”

“We are honoured with your hospitality. We won’t take more than one day and night to recruit your people as the journey is long and opportunity for the raid is short.”

The warriors start presenting their trade goods. Sickle blades, axes and horse shoes expertly crafted. Furs, leathers and wool of good quality. Then there were of course slaves, humans and few Beastfolk, as these kinds of traders would always bring with them. Food was one of the most given payment for these goods, mostly dried meat but some traded hot meals something that the warriors hadn't had for a while they were on the seas.

The three men had a look at the equipment that these warriors had on. Mail, helmets and armour made of metal strips. Their weapons consisted mainly of axes and spears, but few swords could be seen on some warriors' hips.

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After a while the men parted their ways to return to their homes.

“Father, did you see those men that came with those ships?” One of the three, a man with blonde braided hair and stubble, asked.

“Yes I did, what of them?” His father answered while in the midst of carving a spoon from wood.

“Are you planning to join them Otso?” His mother asked who'd been stirring a pot of soup in the middle of the house.

Otso’s father quieted down and stopped carving the spoon to listen carefully.

“Not just me, Kalev and Armas are also thinking of joining.”

“You do realise that raiding involves killing people?” His father asked sternly.

“Of course, and I have …” Otso gets interrupted by his father.

“It’s nothing like slaughtering a pig or hunting a deer.”

“Yes, of course father.”

“But if you are still willing to go tomorrow.” His father pauses for a second to look at his mother “I won’t stop you.”

Otso raises his gaze from the ground to meet his fathers. His mother keeps stirring the soup, now with her eyes closed. The father rises from his seat and walks towards a chest that’s resting at a corner near his bed.

“You can have my old gear to protect you. We just need to make sure that the helmet fits you”

“Thank you father.”

Otso puts on the helmet that may not fit perfectly but it sits on his head well enough to protect him. He puts a mail shirt on and picks up a shield.

“The shield needs new paint and you should fasten the mail with a belt when you wear it but otherwise this looks good on you. Also we should sharpen the spearhead while we are at it.”

Otso gives a nod before taking the gear off.

“But remember, think your decision over the night and if you still are willing to go, may the twelve protect you in battle.”

After Otso had undressed the armour, the food was ready and they took seats around a table. For dinner was soup made out of turnip, carrots, onions and a few chunks of pork served with bread and ale.

“Why are they recruiting here, father?”

“You didn’t ask?”

“Well… no”

“It has to do with a legend that a certain wind selling witch spread years ago. When he saw that his village had an abundance of men but no wealth, so he told the sea raiders that bought wind from him that willing men from his village would bring luck at sea.”

“Do we really bring luck or did the witch make that up?”

“Who knows, but now from time to time these kinds of people come from afar to recruit around this area for more warriors.”

“Eat your food before it gets cold, both of you.” The mother said, clearly getting annoyed with the talk.

***

The three men, Otso, Kalev and Armas, meet again at the hill. The three friends who had for long waited for a chance to gain glory in the eyes of the twelve, now have been given a chance to achieve it. Kalev, whose tallest of the three, sweeps his brown hair from his eyes before speaking.

“So.” He pauses for a second. “You two ready to take this challenge that the gods have provided for us?”

Armas nods and strokes his beard. ”Of course.”

“Same.” Otso answers.

“What about your parents? Are they okay with it?”

“My mothers not that keen on it, but I have my fathers support.” Says Otso.

“Yeah, same. I can even take my fathers battle axe with me.” Armas says with a slight smile.

“Aah, I wish my pops had something like that for me. I just have an old axe.” Kalev replies with jealousy. “How about you Otso?”

“I got my fathers old gear too, a nice spear and a shield, but they need some repairs first.”

“I have a shield also.” Kalev says excitedly. “We should paint some kind of symbol so we stand out from the group.”

“That’s a nice idea, but what should we paint?”

As the two think, Armas raises his hand slightly to get their attention.

“I know I don’t have a shield but how about you two paint a looped square?”

“Hey, that’s a great idea!” Otso exclaims, while Kalev nods in agreement.

Kalev hits his right fist on his left palm. “So, tomorrow morning we go and enlist with the raiders.”

The other two nod in agreement. The three now in an accord walk back to the village and to their homes to ready themselves for the next day.