Third Mánadagr (Monday) of Skerpla (a month in early spring), Seventeen years after the battle of Hafrsfjored.

The sky's are clear and the winds mild, it might take us another two weeks to reach Miklagarth, the capital of the Byzantine Empire. My navigator said that the wind should shift soon, and if it does it will cut our journey time in half. Once we sell the furs, wine, and other goods, we are planning to buy slaves and fabric, to bring back home to our city.

Ah, back home, where my dear Revna (Raven) is waiting. I can't believe she said yes. Iv'e dreamed of marrying her for years, and I have finally claimed my bird. I wonder if she realized i named my ship after her? Revna is not an uncommon name, and Loki is popular. But it was her teasing nature, and beautiful dark hair that inspired Lokrevna (Loki's Raven). But her dark hull and gleaming highlights, beautiful as they are, do not compare to my beloved. The sun and moon are dull compared to her eyes, music as if withou-"

A knock interrupted my writing.

Ye," I called, knowing it was pointless, as there wasn't even a door to the small room I used as my office.

"Hello, steersman," came the deep toned reply of my skipari, or second in command.

“Arne, how many times do I need to tell ya, call me Bjorn, not this official title hogwash.”

“Iy, Bjo'n it is,”

“So, what made you disturb me?”

“we spotted something, about half a days sailing away, but we can't tell what it is,” I rose to my feet, slouching under the low ceiling, and glared at my old friend.

“You disturbed me for that!?” I barked, shoving him. “Get up to the deck this instant and make sure the holumenn (ship hands) are doing their job. Tell the journey cook to prepare me dried meat and ale. And in case you didn't catch it, we ain't botherin' ourselves with a rock that's a half days sailin' away!” He stood there for a second, as if unsure of what to do.

“GET GOIN' YOU GLEIDR VITSKERTR HALFTROLL!” I bellowed, loud enough to shake the boat. I waited a few moments after Arne left, before clambering up onto the deck.

I glanced up at the tell, a piece of fabric that tells which way the wind is blowing and up at the noonday sun.I glance around the boat, everyone had paused in here work for a second, and were staring up at me. I made eye contact with the head rower and raised an eyebrow. When he failed to do something I turned and bellowed, “WELL GET GOIN' LADS. YOU'VE STARED LONG ENOUGH.” They started rowing again, slowly building up there rhythm.

I approached the man at the tiller, and relinquished it from his control. I felt the tiller beginning to move slightly to starboard, and corrected it. Enjoying the feel of the boat in my grasp. I felt the boat begin to slow, and again glanced at the tell the wind had stopped, but then, the tell began fluttering, and pointed straight, right down the south eastern route we had been taking.

“ROWERS AT EASE.” I bellowed, turning to Arne, “GET THAT SAIL UP AND SHEET IT TIGHT, ON THE DOUBLE YOU BAULUFOTR BRUSI!” I turned away, very satisfied with my new insult until I heard one of the holumenn laughing, “Cow footed he goats, what well he think of next?”

I woke up in the middle of the night, sure I had heard something, but unsure what. I silently rose from my hammock, and slipped up to the deck. The soft light of the crescent moon reflect of the waves below, not bright enough to see anything by. I heard a quiet footsteps nearby, and the scrape of a lid coming off a barrel. I quietly crept closer, The barrels and other goods were blocking the faint light from the lantern by the tiller, leaving the person a small shadow. It might have been a stowaway, or it might be someone grabbing a midnight snack. But I couldn't take the risk. Moving deceptively fast, I raced forward, grabbed the impostor, and dragged him into the light, throwing him to the deck. I had a second to take in the impostors unfamiliar youthful face before I yelled loud enough to raise the dead.

“STOWAWAY!” When I registered how young the face I had seen was. I looked down at the terrified fifteen-year-old-boy. He had regular pale skin, blonde hair, and blue eyes, but a large curved scar from the outer corner of his left eye, down past his nose, through his lips, to the edge of his chin. He was breathing heavily, his chest rising and falling rapidly.

“Well boy, what do you have to say for yourself?” I could feel my blood boiling, who would dare stowaway on my ship. Rage, clouded my eyes, and I could feel myself losing control.