(Y6, September 10th)

“So, where are we going?”

“Shhh. That’s a surprise,” said Birkathane.

Randgridda laughed.

“It’s only a day’s trek. But I can tell you,”

She slowed down a bit to be near the two men and whispered theatrically.

“The Valkyries have a stronghold.”

“You have what?” exclaimed Quandocor.

“An Odin-blessed stronghold. A large enough keep, that we’ve claimed for our own. Room for all of us… and guests.”

“And that’s where we’re going?”

“Yup. Since Mt. Talbor is not safe enough, that’s necessary. They say they’re neutral, but it’s obvious they’ll be throwing in with the Cartographers because they’re too afraid of saying no.”

She spat on the ground.

“Bunch of limp dic… Ooops.”

“No, I can… agree with the assessment,” said Vantegaard.

Quandocor smiled.

“The keep is a defensive position, in the worst case,” added Randgridda.

“Speaking of which… Hey, Falunjul.”

“Yep?” came the reply.

One of the Valkyries on the front slid back. She wore the same full leather outfit, obviously coming from the same crafting shop. Thick leather, studs and small chains of bronze and, unlike most of the Valkyries, shoulder-length brown hair untamed by a cap.

“Time to put your Marathon to use. You’re the only one who can get to the Keep to warn everyone to expect us. We’ll be behind late evening.”

“I’ll tell them to get ready for the party.”

The girl started to divest herself from some of the items on her backpack, handing them to various Valkyries.

Seeing Quandocor’s interrogative stare, Randgridda explained.

“She can run some distance without using Stamina.”

Marathon

Tier 3 Resilience

Active

When the need comes, you can outpace anything that doesn’t fly.

Running does not consume Stamina if your load is below the limit. The Marathon ends if you stop running for more than 10 seconds.

Cooldown: 24h

Duration: 3h 28min

Maximum carry: 28% of Strength

Skill level 33 (base 16)

Advancement: 57%

The girl breathed deeply and started. Within a minute, she was well away from the group.

“That’s handy.”

“Came from a Skill Stone. Rather than selling for something useful, she said she wanted to run the Jönköping Marathon. She’s been grinding the skill since.”

“Isn’t that cheating?” asked Quandocor.

“That Skill Stone is not that useful for combat. You can sometimes even get one for less than 4 silvers if you’re willing to wait.”

“Yes, but can all the runners get one?”

“Their problem, not hers,” concluded Randgridda.

Once Vantegaard saw the Keep, he understood why the Valkyries had been able to secure the location and thought it would be a good idea to take refuge there.

Rather than being an imposing figure on a position dominating its surroundings, the keep itself stood in the middle of the forest, obscured on all sides by relatively dense woods. The building wasn’t that large, but it the Valkyries were numbering around thirty, they would have no problem living there all at the same time.

Two slightly taller watchtowers marked the rear of the keep, and the front had a small building delimitating the entrance. There was no moat to speak off, just a small pond to the side.

It even had a large banner unfurled atop the entrance, sporting bright colors and a black swan.

“It’s impressive,” commented Quandocor.

“Tarenasala thinks it’s more of a fortified Inn rather than a purely military building. There was nothing suggesting barracks or things like that, but there are plenty of rooms and two fairly large common rooms next to a mega-kitchen area.”

Randgridda concluded, “No matter what, it’s ours, and it’s perfect. Although we didn’t expect to sustain an attack here.”

“They may not follow us here,” said Birkathane.

“Sister, they will. That kind of hunting dog never let go once they’ve tasted a bite.”

As they entered the keep, Vantegaard asked, “How did you find it?”

“By chance,” replied Randgridda.

“That was late Y5. We had gotten maybe 4… no 5? Five Silvergates. By Odin’s will, we pretty much all spawned within 50km of Mt. Talbor. Which wasn’t the overcrowded dump you’ve seen. It was quite lively. So we set out to explore. There were quite a few points of interest already known around, but there were a lot of virgin territories.”

Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.

“And you found the keep,” commented Quandocor.

“Pretty much. We were not the first, by the way. We found an earth-made backpack, a couple of crafted weapons… but nothing else, not even his Gate. So, somebody probably found it a year or two ago and almost certainly died. We don’t know what killed him, her or them. The keep had no creatures in it, except a murder of Corvus Fulgur in the west tower.”

“A murder… oh, a pack you mean,” said Quandocor.

“Yea. That’s what I said, didn’t I? Anyway, we apologized to Odin’s birds, moved in, and here we are.”

Randgridda waved around the central courtyard. There were several wooden porches and verandas attached to the surrounding thick wall. A large garden with various plants covered half the inner space. Half a dozen apple trees completed the panorama.

Vantegaard looked around. From the look of it, the main living areas were the front and rear of the keep, with the side walls being mainly passageways.

“Ok, so we probably need to plan for Recess. We’ve got people to contact through Earth…”

“What? No, no, no. We’ve just saved you from a fate worse than death, and you want to leave?”

Randgridda turned toward Birkathane.

“What do we do when things went well?”

“We Party!” shouted Birkathane.

“That’s right!”

She turned back toward the two men.

“Why do you think I dispatched Falunjul? So that they could prep for tonight.”

One of the Valkyrie came out of the keep’s main building.

“Now, Tare here will show you guys a room to drop your stuff in. Birka, we’ve got your room ready, by the way.”

“Oh?”

“It’s been ready for a month since you said you were finally almost in Gamma. Let me show you your quarters.”

Vantegaard paused at the entrance to the main room. There was a low fire going in the fireplace, with a gigantic boar-like carcass slowly rotating from a spit attached to a gear with a chain making it turn it slowly. He couldn’t see what was making the chain go from the entrance. Flat pans full of potatoes and onions were surrounding the boar and loaves of crusty bread were aligned on a small table next to the fireplace.

There were tankards everywhere, and a large number of small barrels to the side.

“You realize we’ve been invited to a party where there are two of us, and twenty warrior amazons?” said Quandocor from behind him.

Vantegaard stared.

“Gulp, indeed. Let’s hope we survive this one,” said Quandocor.

He added, “And don’t count on Birka to heal you either.”

“Hey, what’s this about me having to heal you guys?” came the voice.

Birkathane slapped both men on the shoulders.

“So, what do you think of the Valhalla Keep?”

“Valhalla? Don’t tell me we’re dead?”

She punched lightly Vantegaard.

“Come on. It’s time to open this party.”

There were two large tables capable of seating over a dozen people each. Vantegaard ended up being dragged to one end by the firm, but unyielding grasp of Birkathane. She vaulted over the bench and sat, then high-fived with the three women that were already there.

Vantegaard turned and spotted Quandocor being dragged as well to the other table. His eye-roll could have been comical if the mood of the party wasn’t already established.

One tankard was slammed in front of him, followed a second later by one in front of Birkathane.

“So, you’re the ones who found that pyramid?” asked one woman.

“It’s more like we stumbled upon it,” said Vantegaard. He looked toward Birkathane, who made him a sign to continue.

“So, we were in the middle of this 30ish zone…”

Quandocor sipped the tankard. It was a curious brew. Something between a light wine and a light fruit juice. But the slight kick that came with it belied the flavor.

This one is a trap, thought Quandocor with the experience of many a party from his college days. Just because he had an iron stomach didn’t mean he was immune to alcohol. And, well, in Northworld, it worked pretty much like everywhere.

Randgridda dropped herself next to him. The five women already seated rumbled their tankards – just enough to avoid spilling the content – in honor of their de-facto leader.

“Hope you enjoy the local brew. The benefits of having a large enough guild: there’s always someone with the right skill to make good stuff.”

She pointed toward the roasting boar in the fireplace.

“We’ve got our Sæhrímnir here, courtesy of Margarthea. Cooking is a skill that’s funnily rare and also high tier. And the difference between my cooking and hers… it’s not even the difference between microwave food and Northworld good fare.”

“Never ate Swedish. I assume Ikea doesn’t count.”

She laughed.

“It’s more Swedish Northworld. We don’t get spiked boars back on Earth. And Brännvin doesn’t compare with the local products.”

“Birka had good stuff back when we were in Fanduk.”

“Don’t you regret not staying back there?” asked another Valkyrie.

“Not really. I know I could have stayed safe. Everyone could stay safe on Earth. But it doesn’t work that way.”

“When adventure calls, you answer?”

“No. When duty calls, you answer. You just have to see where duty lies.”

“For us, it’s always been about adventure,” said Randgridda. “Solidarity and adventure. It made our lives so much more meaningful than doing office work.”

“We all have our reasons to come to Northworld, but we all have our reasons to stay there,” said Quandocor.

Vantegaard had noted that whenever Birkathane started to speak, all the Valkyries at the table stopped. With over a dozen people around, you usually had two-three conversations going, but she simply grabbed everyone’s attention.

That felt a bit strange. Of course, she had a high Presence, from the interplay of her skills. The dominating effect went beyond that. Almost all of the Valkyries were veterans, and some of them probably had higher stats. But she was the one to grab attention.

“And you saved everyone’s life with just one skill?”

“The right skill at the right time.”

“And you couldn’t have done better,” said Birkathane, putting her hand on his shoulder.

He squeezed her.

“But I couldn’t do it alone. You and Quan helped a lot.”

“That’s what makes us a team.”

At this, all the Valkyries raised their tankards. Birkathane laughed and raised hers, looking at Vantegaard. He hastily raised his own, which had apparently refilled on its own at one point.

“SKÅL!” she yelled and drank. The other table turned their heads, and the Valkyrie leader raised her tankard then turned back to her own discussions.

At that point, he realized what made everyone listen to Birkathane. Hero worship. Heroine, in that case. He got some of that, but she had gotten status beyond her simple membership of the Valkyries.

“I need some more boar, I think,” said Vantegaard, contemplating his tankard.

“So you really are a cop, then?” asked one of the Valkyries.

“Guilty.”

“And they want you to hunt Silvergaters?”

“It’s political. Don’t know about Sweden, but we had problems…”

The woman – Tarenasala, the one who’d showed them around earlier – laughed at his frown.

“You always have legal problems. I’ve never understood why you do so many lawyers and cop shows and find them interesting. It’s like you’re obsessed with the law.”

Quandocor laughed back.

“We have our cowboy ways and you have your Viking ways.”

“Bah. We Vikings almost colonized your country long before your ancestors decided to see if they could find a shortcut to India.”

She raised her tankard. Seeing that, Quandocor raised his own and slammed it. They both swallowed half of their drink.

“No, seriously? Hunting Gaters?”

“I’m a grunt. My boss aims me in a direction and I shoot. But yea. It’s mainly political. Washington is so used to do whatever they want, and getting the entire world asking to come, and they see suddenly this place… which is like a different country next door, but zero borders. And it’s slipping away from their grasp. They don’t like that, I think.”

“Well, we don’t have Gater Prohibition. You should have learned from Eliot Ness time that it never works.”

“Silvergating is legal in Sweden?”

“There’s been noises to make it illegal for minors. I tend to agree with that. Anyone who would let a kid spawn in a random place potentially next to critters needs to be put in irons.”

“My boss said that most countries were looking into ways to prevent Gating. So Birka isn’t in trouble when she’s Gating?”

“We have laws to make sure Gaters behave. But nothing like your Gater Act. You should do the same.”

He almost sobered. There was still a light buzz, which meant he should take another plate of the boar cuts. At one point.

“I wish. You’ve heard of the Monster of Atlanta? That’s where I’m from.”

The wince in her face was enough.

“That’s the one that got most of the Gater Act passed. Every politician had to show they were doing something so that this never happened again.”

“That guy would have been lynched back on Northworld too.”

“As a professional, this part bothers me. Just like having something like a mega-corporation on the scale of Northworld dispatching mercenaries to hunt people.”

“An advantage of not having any moral authority is that you get people pushing back.”

“Well, thanks. Thanks, Birka though. Without her, we wouldn’t be there, in many ways.”

Quandocor stumbled upstairs and stopped at his room’s door. Then he nodded. Most Gaters could be surprised, but having a veteran-level person already in his room… and based on the location within…

He knocked at the door. Then, hearing nothing, raised his voice, “I can feel your presence from here, you know.”

“So what are you waiting?”

He entered the darkened room.

“Do I have to ask?”

“We rolled dice. A hero like you…”

He sat on the bed and started to remove his shirt when a pair of hands started helping.

“I’m not even asking if Birka did…”

He heard laughter.

“No one tried to roll against her.”

The hands twisted him and pulled him down.