Gunnarr gazed upon the letter in his hand. Even without reading its words, he knew others had been sent across the realm.
For nearly two years, his charge had been to fortify Heimaey, raise a fleet of his own, and gather the men to row its prows.
And Gunnarr had fulfilled that task with excellence. Like every other thegn and jarl under Vetrúlfr's reign, he had been inspected regularly by agents of his king; each visit a judgment of loyalty, progress, and strength.
Now, as the sea winds howled against the timber walls of his hall, Gunnarr lowered the vellum to the table and lifted his drinking horn.
He took a long draught; the mead washing down like fire through his chest.
"The time has come... Show us the way, son of Ullr."
He turned to the young page standing at the threshold.
"Sound the drums of war! Gather my host and prepare the longships. Our King calls... and we shall answer!"
The boy saluted and fled, boots thudding across stone and ice.
