Skálpr and his strategists finalized plans for an invasion of Kuro, and he made sure the Sólstaðuric people were rallied and willing to fight. Most of the people who were allowed to fight were excited—or at the very least, they wanted to see how it played out.
They started simple; Skálpr wasn’t sure how ‘justified’ Kuro’s wars needed to be, so they gave them a reason to fight. Namely, Skálpr gave out a notice ‘advising’ the Sólstaðuric merchant ships to avoid the black kingdom; many of them agreed. For further encouragement, those ships were sent to Gin instead. The silver kingdom likely couldn’t afford extravagant things, but Sólstaður could pretend otherwise.
A month passed since the initial meeting, and they were beginning to prepare the ships for a trip out to sea. There was news of similar incidents like the one Makt had described earlier—Kuro raiding and burning Sólstaðuric ships. In a way, preventing merchants from selling to Kuro solved two problems; Skálpr was pleased with the unintended results.
Skálpr—along with Makt, who ended up bringing the Roken men as well—visited one of the coastal villages that was gathering ships to use for the coming war. While Makt and Hermaðin shared excited guesses and hopes for what the battles would bring, Skálpr looked out towards the sea and simply observed it.
Sólstaðuric ships were coming in and out as merchants came and went, some immediately trying to trade the Kuro coins for something useable in this nation. Distinct among the ships themselves was the craftsmanship and colors; they were painted in order to be distinguished from the weaker ships they sold to other nations, and in times of war it warned the victim nation of any coming battle.
He noticed some other ships coming towards the shore, but they weren’t colored. Skálpr smiled, not entirely friendly; perhaps this was Kuro’s response.
He turned to Makt, who fell silent immediately. “Go out and see who those ships belong to,” Skálpr said. “Give them a warm welcome if they’re not merchants.”
“Yes, sir,” Makt replied.
Hermaðin followed him, and they collected a few other men to join them. Skálpr watched as they went into a ship, made quick preparations to leave, then shoved off—a few other Sólstaðuric ships had gone to investigate as well, while others stayed at the port or carried on a bit quicker. A majority of the villagers were watching as Makt’s ship grew closer, and the boy himself entertained conversation with the other captain.
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No one could hear the words, of course, but they still watched for any kind of sign that it was an enemy ship. Then came a spark of red, and the foreign ship was sent ablaze—the watching people cheered at the familiar sight, the replacement for many words. What better way to mark the beginning of a battle than with fire? Seeing the flames was a reassuring and oddly comforting sight no matter the context.
Skálpr turned to the watching crowd. “Everyone! Prepare to look for stragglers—we fight once again!”
There were shouts of approval, and even Skálpr himself looked around for weapons. He stayed on land while others took to the ships and made quick work of the remaining enemies—four ships had come in total, and three were sent ablaze while the other was left to return and relay the message after half of its crew were killed in some way or another. It was simply Sólstaðuric tradition; you can’t fight if no one’s alive to tell others.
As the fourth ship left, there was an exciting air about the place. There hadn’t been ships set ablaze in Sólstaðuric waters for as long as anyone could remember—wars had never been fought in their home before, having always been overseas. It was invigorating to witness the fires dying as they reached the water when that water was so close to home. It gave a certain sense of urgency, like there was something at risk if they failed.
That feeling was exciting, now that Sólstaður was invaded instead of being the invader.
When the Sólstaðuric ships returned, they were met with cheers and shouts. Makt wandered back over to Skálpr smiling, something rare for the boy to ever express around his guardian.
“That was amazing,” Makt said. “Can I do it again, when they return?”
“We can stay here to oversee the battles,” Skálpr replied. “Were they black kingdom soldiers?”
“They were,” Makt confirmed. He rambled as he smiled, going on for a few minutes. “They were so short! And they did speak a different language; said something about a market, but that’s all I could understand. I didn’t think I could enjoy the smell of fire so much.”
Skálpr almost managed a very small smile. At least one thing involving the boy went right. “Go get yourself something to drink,” he said. “You can take the Roken boy, too, just don’t overdo it.”
Makt looked even more excited, barely muttering his gratitude before announcing it to Hermaðin and going to whatever tavern looked the most welcoming. Skálpr trailed along after a moment to keep an eye on them afterwards, giving some instructions to a few waiting men to keep an eye out if any more Kuro ships came.