The songs of our victory played throughout the valley, along with our clan name. The green and blue banners of the clan fluttered in the wind. Our voyage has been more than just successful. We have gathered so much of the dry-men gold, our boats were almost sinking. Almost. Our drakkar do not sink unless utterly destroyed.

Our gifts to the gods were many, but most were for the patron of this year and incidentally even our clan. The mighty god Forthi, the god of water, sea and the deep. It was surely his help that made us lose naught but a single boat on the angry sea. He was rumored to be a tricky god, but such talk was met with anger in our clan, for he has been nothing but faithful to us, as we have been to him. Unparalleled, that’s what our clan was. None have managed to reach our heels that harvest and none may do so. As long as Forthi stays on our side, we have nothing to fear.

At least that was what all of us thought, as we happily and proudly dropped the gold-filled chest on the floor in the longhouse of the king. It wasn’t nearly half of what we gathered, but we supposed the king should get a smaller cut.

The room filled with shouting, the commending sort. Mugs of mead were brought to us and the Ravenbeak clan table was cleared for us. They left glaring, pushing a no-name clan out of their position. We were on the right of the king now. We were the chosen clan. For a mere evening.

The halls were long and made out of dark wood, ridden with columns to hold the high ceiling. Four man could stand on their shoulders and just barely touch it. A statue of Fothi made of straw and leather was prepared next to the fireplace, it was our ritual to honor the raid and the god that looked over it, by letting a little blood fall onto its head, hands and chest.

We drank and even for our folk we drank heavily. Everyone celebrated our achievement, everyone except the yellow Ravenbeaks, who held their stiff gaze on our designated seats. Our clans never were friendly, but neither were we hostile. But friendship, loyalty and tolerance can change incredibly quickly, as the flow of power changes and riches emerge. But there was no time for such thoughts, because tonight was a night of celebration, whether they wanted it to be or not.

After most fell asleep, either by choice or by necessity. I was left drinking my mead alone. Though I wasn't unaffected, my head was ringing I was on the floor and most importantly I had to piss. After fighting with the floor I managed to grab a hold onto the planks and push myself up. My stomach upset as it may be gave no leeway to the food I ate and drink I gulped, it was pure iron, never once did it fail me. I wobbled around the room, leaning from column to column, holding myself upright enough to see my goal. The door outside, to the lands promised, where I will leave a part of myself forever. Gods I had to piss.

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I managed to get outside and finally let out the stream of pure happiness.

I was lost in the feeling, when I started hearing grunts from the inside. They were fairly quiet, only grasping for air a little. The drunkards forgetting to breathe in their stupor. My face quirked into a little smile. I was better at drinking and I liked being better. I felt cold, so after finishing my business I headed back. I was left stunned in the door frame. The halls were bloodied. My brothers had slitted throats, their eyes bulging. The king received the same treatment, lying among my fallen men. Before I could do anything. Shout in frustration, laugh the mad situation away, run, fight. I felt cold steel enter my back. I felt the warmness of my life rushing out of me. I felt my legs getting weak.

"Congratulations, brother." The a voice behind me said. As someone took their dagger out of me and stabbed me again and again,

My world faded, as I looked onto the statue of the clans patron, of the god that was supposed to protect me, us, the clan. Of the god that was laughing at me with an evil grin.

Funny, how a man that feels like he is on his peak, can fall so abruptly.

I was sure I was dead, failing at what I set out todo. I was just waiting for my soul to arrive at its destination, its rightful place.

But it didn't go anywhere, no. Instead I felt my breath come back and my heart beat again.

Before I could even open my eyes, I felt something heavy weight down on me, and I felt pain in my lower back, just where I was stabbed. I had to wiggle my way out of the pile of corpses I was in. The blood of my brothers dried in my hair, got under my fingernails. The bodies did not yet decay, though the smell of intestines and insides was unbearable. My iron stomach didn’t betray its strength.

They left us to rot, didn’t bother to even clean up their mess. They didn’t even leave our bodies to die in the fire, the one that was consuming the kings longhouse, along with every other house in the settlement.

They didn’t let us have a proper death, so we could rest in the afterlife. They stole our gold and our ships and Fothi let them take it. From the little I know, he might have even helped them achieve this.

I looked on to the great fire, the flames were jumping from roof to roof, engulfing all it touched. In the time I was watching, the fire must have touched my heart, because there was a flame wilding in me. Slashing at my other emotions, at what made me, me. The Ravenbeaks must have done this, the cowards. They may have granted my brothers a swift end, but that is something I will not grant them. No no. What I will do, will be more deprived, deep and wild. Like a sea. If our god won't protect us, I will become a god, one that keeps count on its debts. And I have many debts to pay now.