Orn stood, and brushed himself down, as he gazed out to sea. He wore whimsical smile on his face as he realised a whole new world had just opened itself to him. Orn heaved a sigh as his thoughts returned to the mundane, and he headed back to where he left Bullhead grazing.

As Orn walked toward Bullhead, the horse suddenly lifted his head, and snorted in the direction of the road. Following the direction the horse was looking, Orn saw four large men dressed in dusty, faded tunics and trouse crouching as they clicked their tongues at the horse, moving to surround him.

Moving toward his horse, Orn said in a loud, clear voice, “Whatever you’re thinking, I wouldn’t.”

A black haired man with a beard that seemed to cover his face said, “What say we bargain; you give us your horse and everything that you have on you, and we leave you alive, maybe.”

The other men chuckled wickedly.

Orn said in the voice, “Bullhead, come around behind me.”

Bullhead snickered happily and said, “They want to play!” Then he suddenly bolted toward the man on the far right, and with his head down, bowled him over, and trampled him. Bullhead wheeled around, reached down with his head and grabbed a bunch of the hapless man’s hair in his teeth. He then began trotting happily around the field, dragging the man by his hair as he screamed and struggled to get loose.

The black haired man shouted, “KILL HIM!” and the other three brandished their weapons, as they started surrounding Orn.

With a deliberate slowness Orn stretched out his right arm, and summoned forth Skofnung, as he said, “I shall offer you no quarter, for I am certain you offer none to your victims.”

A red-haired bandit eyed the sword that appeared in Orn’s hand, and muttered to the others, “That’s the gods touched prince! Let’s get out of here!” as he turned and fled.

The other bandit fled soon after, leaving the black haired one shouting after them, “BLOODY COWARDS!” He turned back to Orn, a furious glint in his eyes.

Orn gazed back at him unperturbed as he used slow, deliberate movements, drawing blue fire along the length of his blade.

As the remaining bandit watched the blade turn into a tongue of blue flame, his eyes widened as he gulped nervously. He twitched as though to move with an indecisiveness, before he spat a curse and ran after his fellows.

Turning to Bullhead, Orn said to him, “Come on, boy. Let him go.”

The horse snickered smugly as it dropped the man’s hair and pranced back to Orn. After he checked Bullhead over for any injuries, Orn went to the saddlebag. Within he found a coil of rope, and restrained the bandit with it. He then lifted the man up onto Bullhead’s rump, and secured him there. After mounting, Orn made his way back to the city.

As he drew up near the gates, Orn waved one of the guards over. The guard, a tall, thin man with ropey muscles, tilted his round helm back, and looked at Orn with a slight amount of suspicion as he approached.

Orn dismounted and said, “This fellow, and his companions tried to rob me out on the road a ways back. He might feel like telling you who they are, if you tell him that my horse would like to take him for another walk.”

The guard’s suspicious glare turned to a quizzical one, and so Orn elaborated by telling him what happened. This made the guard burst out laughing before he called back into the guard house for his comrades.

“Hey, lads! Get out here and listen to this.”

Several armed men in blue and yellow surcoats came out of the guard house with surly expressions.

“What is it, Heder?” asked a burly guard with a large belly.

“Here, boy. Tell ‘em what you told me,” said Heder, still chuckling.

So Orn, once again, relayed what happened as he was returning from his ride. Now all the guards were laughing, and slapping each other on the back.

Heder, who had regained his composure somewhat, asked Orn, “What’s your name, boy? For the report.”

“It’s Orn. Orn Avdlak.”

“Avdlak. Avdlak… Now where have I heard…” he muttered to himself. He refocused on Orn and continued, “Oh, you said you had a sword. Did you lose it? I don’t see one with you.”

Orn took a step back and summoned Skofnung into his hand.

The guards gasped and suddenly Heder dropped to a knee and said with a shaky voice, “Forgive me, Your Highness.”

The colour drained from the faces of the other guards as they were starting to kneel, when Orn put Skofnung away, and said with breathless haste, “Please! Please, don’t do that, it’s all right. Get up, please. I just wanted to hand you this criminal, let’s not make a thing of it.”

“We’ll take care of it right away, Your Highness, leave him with us,” said Heder as he waved at his men.

The guards moved to the back of Orn’s horse and lifted the man off and dumped him on the ground. They put their own restraints on his wrists before removing Orn’s rope and placing it back in his saddlebag.

“I don’t have any coin with me. Could I have your names, so I can tell my uncle?” asked Orn.

As one, the guards said all too quickly, “No, no! It’s fine.”

“It’s our duty to serve, young prince. Now, you’d best get along to the palace. I’m sure they are wondering where you are,” added Heder, with a nervous chuckle.

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Orn, with a slight frown, inclined his head to the men, mounted and rode on into the city.

Heder released an explosive sigh of relief.

The burly guard asked him, “How’d you know he was a prince?”

“When he said his name, I could have sworn I heard it before. But when that sword came out of thin air, I knew it was him. He’s the one what burnt those berserks when they tried to kill the Grand Duke. He’s the Grand Duke’s nephew,” he answered.

“Son of the Black Bear and the shield maiden?” asked the burly guard with ample incredulity.

“The very same,” answered Heder.

The burly guard let out a low whistle.

Orn made his way along the busy main street, heading to the palace. The going was quite a bit slower at this time of day, as the cities residents moved about. It took him nearly an hour to arrive at the palace. As he approached the palace gates, the guards there snapped to attention and waved him through.

As he made his way inside the palace he was met by a servant who guided him to the Grand Duke’s dining area, where his family were just sitting down to lunch. In addition, Mswali and Uhter were there as well as Marius Vinnicus and his wife Nadia.

As Orn approached his parents, Viggin said, “Ah, Orn. Good of you to join us. Did you enjoy the ride?”

“I did, Uncle. It was… adventurous,” Orn responded.

Venna’s right eyebrow shot up, to which Orn shrugged attempting to look nonchalant, but not quite getting there. His mother eyed him for a few more uncomfortable moments, before returning to her conversation.

Viggin smiled and continued his discussion with Marius, regarding reparations. Both men were clearly enjoying the haggle.

Erik cleared his throat, and said, “Excuse me Uncle, Honourable Censor. I was thinking, well it’s more Orn’s idea than mine-”

“No, Erik,” Orn cut him off. “You came up with it, I just added to it. It’s your idea.”

“Well, anyway. What if, instead of financial compensation, the Empire lent us some architects, craftsmen and a Legium of legionaries.”

Marius and Viggin’s face had sceptical frowns as Viggin asked, “To what end, Erik?”

“You would understand if you saw a Nevan city, Uncle. Just to learn their techniques for road construction would be worth more than money, let alone how they design and build structures.”

Marius’s face turned from sceptical to amazed, as he interjected, “This is your heir, Viggin? You sure chose well. He is going to be very fine, indeed.”

Erik, blushed and looked down at his food.

“No, no, young prince, that simply won’t do,” said Marius. “We men of authority, in addition to owning our mistakes, must also own our triumphs. Not with arrogance, nor pride, but with quiet confidence. Never look down, never be embarrassed.”

Erik looked at one of the most powerful men of the southern continent and nodded. “Thank you, Honourable Censor.”

“Please, Marius will do in this setting. Well, in any setting, really. We are almost on level footing, you and I.”

Viggin turned toward Orn as he was filling his plate next to Venna. “Orn, I hear you are joining Erik in some Ohlsbachi training.”

“Yes, I was hoping to learn something of mounted fighting.”

Venna gave a sweet smile as she chimed in with, “And perhaps how to stay on his horse.”

Viggin snorted, then said, “I shall send you to our armourer, and have you measured and fitted for a full suit.”

“It’s all right, Uncle,” said Orn. “I can just use chain mail with a breast plate. No need to go to so much trouble.”

“I beg to differ. Word of your charge in Bruderman is spreading throughout the lands like a wildfire, and the Avdlak name gains ever more prestige as it grows,” replied Viggin.

Sir Uhter’s ears perked up at that. “Oh, what’s this?” Asked the knight.

Viggin climbed up onto the table, adopted a poet’s pose as though he were a skald telling a saga. He brushed his long, white hair back from his face, stroked his long white beard, and said, “Well, my dear knight, according to the legend-”

He was cut off, as the Avdlaks flung crusts of bread at him, which had everyone laughing. Everyone except sir Uhter. He wore a slightly sulky expression.

In an almost pleading tone, Sir Uhter asked, “Well, Your Grace? Are you going to tell it?”

Viggin looked to Venna, who rolled her eyes, even as she smiled. At this cue, Viggin cleared his throat, “Now, where was I… Ah yes, according to legend, the army of Utstadland marched on the icy city of Bruderman, where the berserks rage, and battle for dominance, while giant white bears roam the streets-”

Orn groaned, “Come on Uncle, it wasn’t like that at all.”

“Well, do you want to tell the story or- ah thank you, dear.” Viggin received a cup of mead from a servant. “May I continue? Any other objections? No? No random, flying food?”

Viggin’s last question elicited some chuckles around the room Then he went on, “Now, as he hatched his plan, with his trusty captain, did Orn devise a strategy. The army descended upon the sleepy city, and captured both gates before the defenders knew they was there, then he captured the streets with his small army.” Viggin stopped to take a sip of his mead, smiled, and tilted his head, then took a gulp. He was thoroughly enjoying himself.

He continued telling the story. “Lastly, he led his cavalry through the winding thoroughfares, making his way to the city’s beating heart. It was there that he saw them, the Kula, the berserks of the far north. Now ladies and gentlemen, boys and girls, these are no ordinary berserks, nay, they are not! For these men, when rage does o’erwhelm them, they turn into giant ferocious BEARS!” he roared, as he held a clawed hand before his mouth to mimic fangs.

At this, Thayn’s girls squealed, and Heidris cried, “No mama, I don’t want Orn to get hurt!”

Ilsa was translating to Nadia, when she stopped at the sudden noise. “It’s alright bubba, he’s right there, see? He’s fine,” said Ilsa to console her.

Heidris squirmed out of Ilsa’s grasp, ran over to Orn, and climbed onto his lap. She hugged him tight and buried her face in his chest.

Viggin continued the story, detailing Orn’s peril, and how he overcome the beast, almost sacrificing himself. He finished the story by chanting Orn’s name as the townsfolk of Bruderman had.

Most of the men about the table began chanting along while banging their cups on the giant wooden table in applause. It began subsiding as Viggin bowed, then raised his hand for calm, draining the remainder of his cup, as those gathered laughed and raised their cups in turn.

“Is this true, Orn? Is that what happened?” asked sir Uhter.

Orn was blushing, as he replied while stroking Heidris’ hair to sooth her, “Loosely. Uncle Viggin exaggerated it quite a lot.”

“Don’t blame me, Orn. That is how the skalds are telling it,” said Viggin defensively.

“What made you decide to use polearms as lances?” asked sir Uhter.

“I saw, for the briefest of moments, the point of impact of your charge into the senate guard, and before that, I saw how knights carry their lances. From that, I sort of worked out the ideal moment to bring the point to bear.”

“I must say, I am impressed. From what I heard, you trained those horsemen in the basics, and then executed a textbook charge into a line of enemy. With some proper training, I think you will be formidable on horseback,” said Uhter.

Orn could see Erik, and felt a little self-conscious under all this scrutiny. “You know, I heard there are sagas about Erik too. Do you know any of those, Uncle?” asked Orn, as he cast a sidelong glance at Erik.

Erik, meanwhile, eyes wide, face flaming was urgently shaking his head at Orn as he mouthed the word ‘No’ repeatedly. When Viggin’s eyes lit up, Erik sank in his chair and pinched the bridge of his nose, as a sardonic smile spread across his lips.

“Do I know the Erik saga? What sort of a question is that? I know all the sagas, not least of all those of my own blood. Now which part should I tell, hm. I think the battle of Leila would be a good one to go with, because Erik distinguishing himself in that event gave birth to his saga.”

The dining guests all got comfortable as Viggin cleared his throat to begin the new story. Servants moved among them, replenishing cups, and bringing platters of fruit. However, instead of leaving and returning to their duties, the servants moved to the walls as they tried to avoid notice, while other servants gathered at the door so they could hear.

The story telling went on well into the evening, as various guests told stories, including Marius, who gave a telling of how the Empire was born. They sang songs, and laughed, and drank into the night.