In the frigid waters of the Icy Sea, the Utstad fleet had spread out to avoid collisions in the choppy waters. Hundreds of Utstad ships moved across the seemingly endless waves, as they navigated this body of water near to the Arctic circle. The scudding, grey clouds looming overhead laboured to hold onto their contents, threatening to dust the men and ships with snow.
The king’s sailors leaned over the windward side of their ships, keeping their vessels on as even a keel as possible. Sails were pulled taut, the ships reaching along as they rode up the faces of huge waves, and down the other sides. They ripped along at a respectable twelve knots in these brutal, icy winds.
King Ulden Argenson’s face looked as grim as the skies above, heartsick at what he was being forced to do. His lined face, framed by silver hair and beard, expressed his anguish without a trace of self-consciousness. He wore a fur-lined patch over what was once his right eye, the ugly vertical scar too long to cover.
Tears leaked from his one functioning tear duct. The other had been seared shut with a red hot dagger tip to seal the wound. An Ohlsbachi broadsword had almost cleaved his head in two during the last Ohlsbachi rebellion.
Although the men could see his tears, Ulden felt no shame. The men understood. They knew what this journey was about. The king’s own son had betrayed them all. He would love nothing more than to forgive his wayward son, but as king, he could exempt no one from the punishment for treason. Not even family.
Six days had passed since they left the shores of Utstadland. If this wind persisted, they could make landfall on the Bruderman coast in one or two more days. His thoughts dwelled on whether they would resist or recognise their king’s dominion over them and avoid unnecessary bloodshed. He prayed to the Gods that it would be the latter. The Brudermen were his people, and he did not wish to be at war with them.
As night began to descend upon them, Ulden pushed his brooding aside. He ordered the signal to trim sail, and for the lanterns to be put up for the night. They would rest in shifts as they slowed down overnight. Once he was satisfied that his ships were following his direction and passing it on, Ulden wrapped himself in his oiled canvas sleeping sack, the furs inside keeping him warm. He would take the last watch, the watch just before daybreak.
Sleep did not come easy, as the king tossed and turned within his covers, worrying over his youngest son, Harolf. However, eventually, exhaustion won over, and he sank into a restless sleep.
Several hours had passed when he felt a gentle hand shaking him awake.
“Your Majesty. It’s time,” whispered the sailor.
“Hm? Ah yes, good man,” replied the king in kind.
The king lay there for a few brief moments, preparing himself to leave the warmth of his bedding to face the briskly cold early morning air. Once he was out of his bedding, he went to the rear of the ship and relieved himself over the side.
“Morning my King,” said Aksel, the first mate manning the rudder.
“Morning. Anything to report?”
“Nothing overnight. Uneventful.”
“Good, good. We will take that, you get yourself some sleep.”
“Thank you, Majesty.”
Ulden took the rudder and scanned the horizon with his one eye. He noted that the sea had settled somewhat during the night, and the scudding clouds had also cleared. He could make out the shapes of other ships in the fleet, as the sky had also cleared up, allowing the moon to cast some small amount of light over the water. The sails still bellied out, so the wind had not lessened overly much.
And so the morning wore on until it was time to wake the crew. It was still dark. As it was heading into winter, it would remain so until later in the morning. Once the men had all woken, they set about their assigned tasks of cleaning the ship, dousing the running lights, setting the rigging, and preparing food for breakfast. Another sailor approached the king and wordlessly extended his hand, gesturing his intent to relieve Ulden at the tiller.
“Thank you. Hand me that pry bar, so I may leverage my fingers off, they appear to have frozen to the handle,” the king jested.
The man laughed and said, “I can piss on ’em for yeh, that’ll thaw ’em out, Majesty.”
That had both men laughing. “Nice one. Although, know that I would be drying my hands on your beard. Did you eat?” asked Ulden.
“Not yet, Majesty”
“Get some food in you, and then come back. I can steer a while longer, ’tis no bother.”
“Aye, Majesty. Thank yeh.”
After he was relieved from the tiller, the king ate, and opened the chart to see how far they were from the coast of Bruderman.
“We’ve made good time. I had thought we wouldn’t travel so far overnight,” said King Ulden to his first mate.
“Aye. We should make landfall sometime in the afternoon, by the looks of it,” said Aksel.
“Here’s to hoping we don’t have to fight our way to the capital,” said one of the men.
“Why? Afraid of battle? Always thought you were a coward, Onfel,” said another.
“Do you want to find out, Drell? We can see if I am right now if you like,” retorted Onfel, belligerently.
“Both of you stop this!” growled the king. “Onfel is right to lament. These are our people we may have to fight. I hope that we may land without bloodshed. Am I a coward, Drell? Hm?”
Drell looked down at his feet. “No Majesty.”
“Hmph. However, I do expect we will be fighting once we arrive at the palace. I don’t think that can be avoided,” said the king, regret clear upon his face. He sighed as he re-rolled the chart and slid it back into its leather tube. After he stowed it securely, he moved to the prow and looked toward the horizon.
Sometime later the sun rose and began its short, low trek across the sky to the south. They had around nine hours of good daylight at this time of the year. If they didn’t make landfall before the sun began setting, they would have to stand off until the next morning. Landing on the Bruderman coast was perilous in even the best of conditions, as most of it was either sheer cliffs, or rocky shorelines.
The king moved back to the rear of the ship to consult with Aksel. “How do we fare?” asked the king.
“I make it we will see land midafternoon. We will be cutting it fine. I think we may have to stand off until the morrow, Majesty.”
“I was afraid of that. Oh well, there is no help for it.”
“A suggestion, Majesty?”
“Feel free, man. You well know that I’m always willing to bend my ear to wisdom, regardless of its origins.”
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“I think we should dock in the town of Holkeshofn. If we land somewhere on a desolate beach and form up and march in as an army, it might cause the very reaction we don’t want. If we enter the town, it can be a visit from their king to help Bruderman through a time of uncertainty. Well, that’s what I think, Majesty.”
“Well, it may just be as you say. Your suggestion has merit, as I was thinking much akin to it.”
Later in the afternoon, the lookout shouted back, “LAND HO.”
The king ordered, “Come about to port. We shall follow the coast until we reach Holkeshofn.”
It took another two hours until they saw the telltale signs of smoke from a multitude of chimneys floating across the vivid orange and pink afternoon sky. The origin of the singular dark grey cloud pinpointed what could only be a sizeable gathering of buildings.
King Ulden moved aft and instructed Aksel, “Have the signal men tell the lead boats to dock, along with the knarrs carrying our mounts. We shall alight once they are clear.”
“Aye, Your Majesty,” replied the first mate, before relinquishing the tiller to his king and moving off to relay the instructions.
Ulden had finally arrived after almost a week at sea. The king could have shortened it by at least half, with the help of his air and water magi, but he thought it prudent not to exhaust them. He was unsure if he would be landing in the face of a hostile reception.
The king looked along the street of the coastal town, taking in the muddy streets where the early snow had melted and turned to slushy mud by the middle of the day. The glistening, steeply sloped rooftops were damp from the sparse flakes that landed and melted immediately. Overnight they would build up a thin dusting of white only for it to melt, and run off onto the street in the morning sun.
After he and his men had debarked, King Ulden was surprised at the enthusiasm of the Brudermen welcoming his arrival. He noted as much when he turned to his guard captain, Triger Valbrun, and said, “I had expected a more chilly reception. What has my son been doing in his lands.”
Triger was short for a Halderman, standing at five feet and nine inches in height. He had a ruddy face with large hazel eyes and red-blonde hair and whiskers. His face made him appear friendly and jovial, belying the competent fighter that wore it.
“It could be that his people have no knowledge of, nor any part in his dealings,” the captain responded.
“Send someone to get answers. We want to be in the capital in a week’s time, and We want no surprises along the way.”
“Your Majesty, that will require us to push hard. The men may balk at that,” Triger reasoned.
“Spread some coin about town. Make arrangements for the men’s comfort in all things. We shall set up camp outside of town and have those comforts brought to them. I’ll have none of my men roving about town, upsetting the locals. We shall address them, instruct them of my requirements and then I shall reward them tonight with some good old-fashioned revelry.”
“Well, Your Majesty. Since you put it that way, no doubt the men will be more amenable to a quickened pace. Of course, we won’t get an early start out of them, just so you are aware.”
“Yes well, I expected that to be the case. But, the carousing will see them rewarded ahead of their labours, and they will possibly have the added reward of a nice little fight at the end for their efforts. I believe that should be ample motivation to squeeze thirty or so miles per day out of them, don’t you think, Triger?” asked Ulden with a slight chuckle.
“Oh, of that, I have no doubt, Your Majesty,” answered the captain, mirroring his king's broad smile. “I shall arrange suitable rooms for you to retire to after you address the men, sire and then-”
“Nonsense, Triger! I shall stay with the men! If they sleep in tents, then so shall I.”
“Your Majesty, please reconsider. It is only proper that-”
“Triger, we have known one another for too long to bother with these little subterfuges. If you and the officers wish to sleep in beds instead of canvas cots, just out and say so.”
“Not at all, Sire. You need not display your willingness to suffer discomfort for the benefit of the men, you will have a week of that on our way to Bruderman City.”
The king eyed his captain for several moments and then sighed as he said, “Very well. Make the arrangements. Also, purchase supplies for the journey from the townsfolk, and pay them fairly.”
“As Your Majesty wills it,” said Triger, a sly grin creasing his face.
The king gave him a hard look as he shook his head, then snorted, smiling despite himself. He put on his most regal pose and said, “A wise man would keep his victory hidden from Us until he were out of Our presence, captain.”
“I shall make a note of it and heed your advice in future, Sire. I shall return anon.” And with that, Triger spurred his horse ahead to make the arrangements.
Later that evening, after Ulden had delivered his address to the men, and shared a couple of mead horns with them to boost morale, he retired to his rooms to receive reports.
His room was well furnished, but not extravagant; some fur-covered chairs, a large bed with a straw-filled mattress and warm blankets. A large hearth with a cheery fire warmed the spacious room.
The people of Bruderman had little interest in luxury. Theirs was a beautiful but harsh land far to the north. For them, if a place was warm, clean, and comfortable, then it was good enough.
Sitting across from the king was a wiry man with a narrow face, brown eyes, light brown coloured lank hair, and beard. The scout said, “From what I could gather, the locals have no real feelings one way or the other toward Prince Harolf, Your Majesty. It seems he is rarely, if ever, here.”
“Well, prior to his betrayal, he was with me at the summit, and it does take some time to sail around Skord and along the coast to Fludavera,” responded the king.
“Apologies for not being more clear, Sire, but I believe that Harolf was spending most of his time abroad.”
“Where would he be spending his time? He hasn’t been in the Nevan Empire, because Shufi would have reported that to me.”
“I can only give the information I retrieve, Sire. I am sorry, but I cannot hazard a guess as to where he spends all his time if not in his lands. One thing I can add, though. It seems a large portions of the Bruderman population from towns to the east and south of here, have migrated elsewhere also. This I heard from a merchant who has recently travelled from town to town as he travelled north along the Saugar River.”
Ulden waved his hand irritably and dismissed the scout. “On your way out, send in Captain Triger Sonderson.”
“Your command, Sire.” The thin man bowed and quietly left the room.
A few moments later, there was a light rapping at the door.
“Come,” Ulden commanded.
The door swung open gently on well-oiled hinges and Triger entered before coming to attention smartly before his king. “You sent for me, Majesty?”
“Sit down, my friend. We are alone here.”
“Your Majesty is too kind.”
The king peered into the fire as he mulled over the information the scout had brought him before he turned to his guard captain and asked, “So? How goes the acquisition of supplies?”
“We managed to gather enough for the journey, and we hired some wagons to ferry them with us,” said Triger.
“Ah, well done. And the men? They are not causing too much strife?”
“They are happy where they are. They are warm, well fed, drunk, and have enough women to keep them occupied. There were a few fist fights, but no fatalities.”
“Good, good. I take it you received the scout’s report?” Ulden asked, smiling slightly while giving Triger a sidelong glance.
The ruddy-faced captain coughed uncomfortably and blushed as he replied, “I got the gist of it, Sire. Essentially, Harolf has gone, he has taken a portion of the Bruderman population with him, and so has left the running of his Duchy in the hands of another.”
“That concerns me. I don’t know if this person has been left with instructions to defer, or resist should we approach the Ducal Palace at Bruderman City.”
“Should they be hostile, the men are ready, Your Majesty. Though it brings no pleasure, we will do our duty,” declared Triger.
“Of that, I have no doubt. Once we have established ourselves in the capital, I shall place the governorship temporarily under Thayn’s rule until we can work out more suitable arrangements. I cannot have someone unknown to me ruling over and collecting revenue from our sovereign territory. This situation is untenable, I shall not have it!” stated the king with vehemence.
“On another note, although Your Majesty did not approve it beforehand, I took the liberty of purchasing some twenty polearms. It was under suggestion from one of the traders. Apparently, Harolf hired some Kula berserks.”
“Come, now Triger, we’ve dealt with berserks before.”
“Sire, forgive my correcting you, but Kula berserks turn into bears when they lose control.”
“Yes, yes, I know, the rage and strength of a bear. I’m well versed in this aspect of Brudermen physiology.”
“No Sire, I fear that you are not. Bruderman berserks become enraged and gain uncanny strength. Kula berserks actually turn into white bears. We will need the polearms, Majesty.”
“Turn into bears, you say? Well, I should like to see that. Very well, you have given me much to ponder. I shall take my rest now, Captain.”
“Good night, Your Majesty.”