Kieren thought it self-sacrificing that Iona alone brought in the water for his bath. At first he wondered if she was moved by some form of guilt. But when Iona learned that the young girl that usually filled the tub told stories of him being naked, she did not want the young girl in his room ever again. He found it amusing.

“Enough,” Kieren demanded.

Iona wiped her brow and placed the pail on the floor.

“Join me,” he gave her that rare, beautiful and full smile.

Iona shed her smock quickly, sliding behind him so that he was between her thighs. Iona rested her hands on his back without thinking at first. The feel of what marked him felt strange beneath her touch. His hair had been pulled on top of his head and banded. There was nothing hiding the site of his scars. Having it displayed in front of her, being so close made her catch her breath. Because of the tattooing, from afar, it resembled the fierce wings of a bird. But up close, her fingers found frightening lines of corded skin—scars having healed over scars. She could not imagine the pain that accompanied such a thing.

For the first time, Kieren did not move away or flinch. He let her explore.

“Do not be afraid. It feels nothing,” he volunteered.

The sadness of his voice made her stop the wandering of her hands. Not knowing what to do, Iona slid her hands beneath his arms and around his chest. She pressed the side of her face to the surface of his abused back. It felt good against her skin.

Kieren took her hands in his and kissed her inner wrists.

“Can you share how this came to be, Kieren?”

Kieren raised her hands to his lips and kissed them again, but said nothing.

“You and I, Iona, have shared quite some time together,” he said softly, breaking the silence. “I have intimate knowledge of you.”

She agreed.

Tell me, why is it that you have no menses?”

Iona attempted to reclaim her hands. Kieren kept them in his.

“I left Brenna in charge of your personal needs and…”

“You discussed me with Brenna?” Iona demanded.

“…Russ in charge of your security.”

“You discussed me with Russ? How about Gunner? What did he have to say on the matter?”

“Are you done?” he spoke with patience.

“I do not like having the workings of my body discussed among men, especially Gunner.”

“I can assure you, that is the last thing I would discuss with Gunner.”

“Why do you say it like that?”

“Why do you evade my question, and not with much skill I might add. Settle down.”

Iona sighed in defeat. “Why do you?”

Kieren pulled her arms tighter around him and Iona rested her face against his back once more, finding security in the feel of it.

“At first I was accused of leaving you with child,” Kieren began. “But, we both know that there was no possibility of that.”

Kieren waited.

“There is nothing you cannot tell me. I cannot be shocked or angry at you for things beyond your control, nor those within it. I am a man of many experiences and few things unwitnessed first hand.”

“I do not know why…exactly.”

“I wish only that you open up to me and allow me to grow closer to your heart.”

“You are already close to my heart,” she whispered.

“Then allow me to step inside of it.”

Iona closed her eyes.

“There are things that bring great shame,” she surrendered.

“There is no shame between you and me,” he assured her. “You have seen me at my worse, have you not?”

“I cannot share what I do not fully understand. Just know that a child can never grow within me, not yours or anyone else’s.”

“How do you know?”

“I just do.”

“Were you raped?”

“Is it children that you seek?”

“I have no use for children. The cause matters to me only in relationship to your mental state. I truly want nothing to come between us.”

“Like your back.”

Kieren released her hands and move out of her arms.

“I shall inquire no more.”

He moved to get out of the bath.

“Kieren, no.” She pulled at his arm.

Kieren repositioned himself, between her legs but this time facing her. Her legs were now on top of his.

“Where do I begin? My life is filled with disgraces, both small and large.”

“Begin with the beginning.”

“My first owners sold me to a family with a new wife. I was to be her comfort,” Ion surrendered.

Kieren encouraged her to continue.

“She was kind and from another land. She taught me much and allowed me much freedom. She cared for me. I was treated well by this family.”

She paused.

“But?” Kieren pressed.

“But as I grew up beside her step-sons, they became…demanding. As I began to look more like a woman, fighting them off was constant. When my bleeding came, my mistress told me its meaning and how life must change. I know now that I did not fully comprehend her. I did understand that a male could put a child inside me. However, I thought it could happen by mere touch. I became scared of the boys. I avoided them. To me, even the husband was a threat.”

Kieren allowed her to talk at her own pace, but felt himself growing hot with anger. He gave her no sign.

“I upset one of the boys by refusing a gift. He was the oldest and most proud. He had always been the one to stop the other boys. I felt that his gift was given to make me feel beholding. My refusal infuriated him. I ran from him and I fell. He became cruel. He…he kicked me several times. He accused me of thinking I was better than him and forgetting that he owned me. When I came to, several days later, my Mistress was administering care to me. I had been ill with fever. When I was better and more-or-less healed, in tears my mistress sold me. She said that it was time for me to go and that the new family would be good to me. Their sons were older and had wives. My new mistress and master were aged.

“Were they good to you?” Kieren inquired gently.

“For the most part, yes."

“I bled no more though,” she whispered.

“Something inside of me was broken. When my new master began to want me, I knew that it was to my advantage to be willing. Belonging to him in that way made me feel safe from other men. I was treated as a pet. When he traveled, I accompanied him. He required little from me as far as duties. He liked my company and occasionally my body.”

“You had confided in me that his wife grew angry with you?”

“Yes. There was talk amongst the other women. Over time my mistress began to hate me. She had long since refused to service her husband. Theirs was an arranged marriage; too, she was old and had long since given him sons. They lived like sister and brother now. But, I became the source of arguments. She accused me of luring her husband with some form of enchantment. My mistress’ hate grew.”

“In the end, he did not stand for me.”

“To be a woman, as beautiful as you are, and a slave…” Kieren spoke in a low tone after a long silence.

Kieren took her hand.

“Rest easy, you have landed in a safe place.” He placed her hand over his heart. “Here. Know that my heart will always be dedicated to the soft landing of yours.”

As he leaned forward, he slid his hand beneath her bottom and pulled her closer onto his lap. As they kissed, Kieren positioned himself. Iona moaned softly with his ingress. Their love making was slow and tender as they looked into each other’s eyes. Still her flesh adjusted to him, but she loved the way the aching quickly turned into elation and sent erotic shivers through her. She pressed her lips to his and began to move her hips in a circular motion, loving the sense of control it offered her and enjoying the slide of his cock. His eyes were so clear and blue, she could see the ocean. She could feel the sway of it.

To Kieren, nothing was as beautiful as her lovely face in the throes of passion.

Iona did not know if it was the sound of her name that slipped between his lips in a way that was like no other, or the feel of him touching that spot within her. She cried out his name as she free fell over the edge of satisfaction. Her entire body trembled and her arms held him tight, holding on to him for dear life. She could feel the heat of him shoot within her. But, the joy of it was secondary to what her body was feeling.

The world melted away as they satisfied each other. It was an amazing sense of relief and peace combined; something Kieren had never felt with anyone else.

**************************************

Kieren wished he could have shared the entire day with Iona. He wanted to walk with her in the market. Russ said that she delighted in that. Instead, he found himself bored with the worse part of leading—dealing with the pettiness of disagreements between the clans.

He sat back, low in the large and elaborately carved wooden seat. His long legs were open and stretched out before him. His hair hung loose and untamed hiding much of his fine features. He purposefully kept his eyes hooded and low as he played with the gift he had received earlier. Kieren admired the intricate design of the handle and the detail given to the rendering of a fierce sea serpent in the throes of an attack. He liked the way the small weapon caught the light and manipulated it, giving the tail movement as it played into the hilt.

Too many, he was a fearsome sight, known to always be on the edge of violence. Although seeming calm, all knew that at his deadliest there could be a striking calmness. Now he played with a weapon he could use in an instant if he chose.

Violence today, however, was the last thing on his mind.

Kieren recognized the high quality of the dual edged blade in his hands. He knew why the light hit it in such a way. The intricate design created when it was forged made the metal appear pearl like, etched from within and fluid. It was a distinction no artisan could fake. It was made of Hindvi steel, deceptively lightweight and deadly. He let the tips of his fingers run over its sleekness, now warmed by his own heat. He had a similar one. He knew the lands from which it came, and questioned how his fellow landsman acquired it.

Once again, his thoughts shifted to Iona. Maybe he would give it to her as a gift. It would be a weapon suitable for her to tuck into her skirting. It would be the first one she had acquired without committing thievery.

Kieren thought about how he had found the delicate spots of her body and was without mercy. He mastered the perfect combination of hands, fingers, tongue, lips and teeth. He could make her scream and cry, beg for escape or simply melt all over him—her sweet juices flowing. He simply smiled at her prayers that he please stop, the ones that concluded with her pleads to not stop. And, this was all before he entered her with his cock, capturing her in totally new ways and leaving her on the edge of consciousness--having pursued his own pleasure.

Everything he drew from her only left him more in awe of her body, more committed to her pleasure and more in need of burying himself within her. In the taking of her, he was more taken.

That thought gave him a slight smile, which was misunderstood by those watching him. He heard the voice of the one stating his claim rise with confidence.

Some came to present him with gifts as proof of their allegiance, as if land taxes were not enough. They sought to remain in his good graces. Others came to him to settle disputes. Heated arguments and the threat of blood feuds always disturbed the balance of things. Blood had been spilled or could easily be spilled based on the decisions made by the council that sat on either side of Kieren.

Before Kieren came to these lands, there was a patchwork of opposed chiefdoms and noble families with their own agendas, constantly at each other’s neck. His father’s hand had not stretched out this far. Kieren struck out on his own, to form necessary alliances. There was no match to the war lord he had become. Any one opposing him was quickly brought to their knees. He was not called the Eagle of Fire for no reason. What he could not kill with his own hands, he set on fire, so that nothing remained.

As the Law Speaker read out the law at the beginning of these gatherings for all to hear, the law council gathered to sit at the long table. But, it was unmistakably Kieren’s table. No matter who stood before them, all knew the importance of his attention and his words. Kieren’s riches, and the considerable army dedicated to no one but him, enabled his power. But long before he had established the strength of that, Kieren understood that loyalty was not gained by fear alone but by the comfort of loyalty returned and accessibility to power. He knew that the appearance of democracy was reassuring as well. All need not always be definite, but at least assumed.

As far as the meeting itself, there was little that Kieren had not already been made aware of in great detail beforehand. For the most part, he did not intercede with the things he considered minor. But what he considered of importance, he dealt with that in person. He decided whether it would be heard by the council or if the council would even be informed. No one challenged him. If the members of the council became at odds with one another, a simple nod of Kieren’s head was all that was generally needed.

Gunner usually stood close or sat beside Kieren. The old man had managed to avoid such today. Kieren had assigned him a small mission.

In his boredom, Kieren reviewed an earlier conversation with Gunner. Once again the two had butted heads. Gunner always challenged him with a different way of looking at matters. Sometimes it was what Kieren needed to consider. And, sometimes it was not.

“It may not be what you prefer to hear, but necessary never-the-less,” Gunner declared once they were in private.

Kieren undid the gold broach bore his symbol. The sash it held fell to the floor. He pulled at the restrictive, roped embroidery around the neck of his tunic. It amazed him how so little could feel so confining. He would not bother with the formalities of dress today.

“It should be considered. You too expressed doubt at first. Did you speak of it to her? The kinds, they seek each other out. It is at the base of all that is natural. A mountain goat does not seek out a sheep. Or…”

Kieren warned Gunner with his eyes. Gunner boldly searched for any sign of doubt. And he found none.

“Old man,” Kieren scolded. “I know what you are trying to do, but I hold no question as to Iona’s loyalty. And, do not speak to me of sheep and goats ever again.”

“I only state the obvious.” Now satisfied, Gunner returned to his usual air of indifference.

A server came into the area with cups and a pitcher. The look the two men gave made her turn immediately and exit the way she had come in.

“Let this always be at the front of your mind,” Kieren spoke as they stood eye to eye. “I am her kind. Iona is my kind. Let it flavor your tongue before you speak to me of her.”

“I have no opinion on the matter. She is simply a woman, you a man. I only say what should be considered.” Gunner snorted, not quite satisfied that Kieren was in control. She affected him like no other.

Gunner retreated and found seating on a bench along the wall. He spread his tired legs out and looked down into his own lap. He let out a rough sigh that reached back through the shared years of the two men.

“I am in no way speaking down of the girl. Even I find myself under her spell. I only want you to be certain and not blinded…”

Once more, Kieren warned him with his eyes.

“…by your interest in her, an interest that I fear has grown into something more confounding.”

“I am certain of her.”

“Then, consider this,” Gunner reasoned. “Russ sensed something when he first encountered the Moor. It was smart of the man to carry no obvious weapons. Russ felt that the Moor acted with intention, as if waiting for the opportunity to become aligned with someone. Russ watched him personally as soon as he was notified that the Moor was seen nearing the village. The Moor’s eyes searched the crowd constantly, as if he were sizing things up. Russ waited, expecting a meeting or exchange of some kind. But, that never occurred. The Moor came with the merchant, but only pretended to assist the old man. The site of Iona shocked him at first. He was not expecting her. She was not his goal.”

Kieren sat beside Gunner to consider his words.

“Russ said that Iona was struck by the sight of him. I believe her when she says that she shares no past with him.”

“Struck,” Kieren questioned.

“Yes, but not out of recognition or fear,” Gunner snorted. “I am not certain that the girl truly fears any man.”

The two men nodded in agreement.

“It would be reasonable that she would be struck by anyone beyond our general paleness,” Kieren noted. “That’s a normal thing. It would surprise a child or you and me, if we knew no travels.”

“Yes,” Gunner assured him. “How often do you think one, anyone, would run into a woman with such bronzed skin, such hair and a softness still to her nature in these parts? The sight of her would make any free man stop to look twice, if not out of anything but pure curiosity. You would think more so for the Moor. And, considering that she does not dress or carry herself as a common servant…”

“Your point?”

“My point is this. The fact that she is here surprised him. So she was not his goal. To want her when there is no doubt that she is yours and here of her own free will, is a wish for death. You are right when you say that she is not of his people. You know firsthand that the people of his land war amongst each other as all men do. Their different shades separate them too. He does not look at her and think home. He has not tried to lead her away. That would have been unwise from the start, but surely much more dangerous now that you have arrived. So far, he watches and waits. Maybe you are who he is watching for.”

“I have thought of this too. He wears the warrior’s markings on his face and neck. What warrior earns such markings, travels so far from his people alone with no cause, no support, no apparent defense, pretending to be a peddler?” Kieren said after pondering Gunner’s words. “He is a fighter in search of a fight. A warrior freed from commitment, a warrior for hire.”

“Warriors that have no honor, no home, no spirit,” Gunner added insistently.

“Someone holds the silver. It is the silver we should concern ourselves with,” Kieren concluded. “To hire this sort, it would have to be someone with the means. It would have to be someone that wishes to remain unknown and unconnected to any incident.”

“A false friend.”

Kieren laughed bitterly. “I have you and a wayward brother. I have no use for friends.”

Much was becoming clear, Kieren thought as he now played with his gift.

While Kieren attended to business, Iona had been penalized for what Brenna considered “her inability to shut-up.”

“He really operates on such little sleep. I don’t see how he does it. And…” Iona was saying.

“Hush girl,” Brenna stormed. “No one wants to hear your girlish ramblings. We all know his manliness has consumed you. We’ve witnessed first-hand the faultiness of your gait.”

The young girls assisting Brenna laughed. Iona flushed in shame.

“I’ve known him for as long as you have breathed. There is nothing that you can tell me about him. And I find myself not wanting to know the things that you wish to share. We shall see who is in need of your assistance today, since I am not.”

With that, Iona was banished to perform lesser duties. In the fine wear Kieren insisted upon, she found herself stirring a heated cauldron filled with the piss of Kieren’s soldiers. She moved the felt like strips of char cloth, made from the beaten touch-wood of oak, in a circular motion with a large wooden pole. It was a necessary chore. The women of the village took turns enduring it. Kieren’s men needed the treated cloth for fire. It was the urine that gave it its power. It was a disgusting chore as far as Iona was concerned.

When the women brought more, it splashed into her face.

“Oh,” Iona swore in shock, “I so hate you spiteful bit….”

She caught her tongue.

“We are simply following the directions of Brenna.” The women laughed.

It had been a while since Iona had lent a hand to the women. They had been used to seeing her when she helped with the wash and similar things. Now she was who they did the work for. A few of them had mixed feelings about such matters.

Relief flooded her when she heard the familiar laugh of Russ. She turned to see his smiling face, alongside two other of Kieren’s men.

“She’s our finest hand,” one of the older women volunteered cheerfully.

“I see.” Russ laughed.

“I hope you are enjoying yourself,” She said, rolling her eyes at him.

“Very much so,” Russ returned, amused. “Your fine bottom bent over a vat of piss is a sight to see.”

“Save me.” Iona mouthed the words to him in sincerity.

He raised a doubtful eyebrow and shook his head.

She mouthed the word, “Please.”

“Ladies,” He announced dramatically. “As enticing as this scene appears to be, I must remove your most entertaining counterpart.”

Iona wiped her hands off on her skirting and walked quickly past the three men. She was more than ready for this chore to be over.

“Do you need me to scrub your back?” Russ teased, draped over the same chair she had sat in just last night.

“No my dear Long Sword,” Iona laughed. “I’m just about finished. Could you bring me my dressing on the bed?”

Russ brought the item to her, but lingered as she used the drying cloth. He had not forgotten how beautiful her dark body was, with its dips and curves. Her breasts were more enticing than any he had ever experienced—and he had experienced much. The darkness of the circles that held her firm, now extended nipples was in contrast to the honeyed brown of her skin. He still remembered how sweet she tasted and how, like silk, her skin felt against his.

Once again, Russ thought his brother to be the luckiest of all men when he looked at Iona. She was surely fine.

“Maybe you can tell me something Russ,” Iona was saying, when she noticed his eyes on her. There was no doubt about what he was thinking.

Russ smiled wickedly, with no shame.

“And what may I supply for you in the absence of my brother.”

Iona dismissed his flirting and smoothed out the long tunic. She wrapped the leather cording loosely around her hips. She liked the shine of the threads woven into the cording. There was a long vest like over laying that draped over her as well. Iona had never worn something so fine and delicate. She had bracelets and earrings with stones the same color as the vesting. She liked the color; it reminded her of ripened grapes.

“Like wine,” she thought, touching the material.

Russ watched her carefully run her hand over the fine materiel.

“How wanton my brother makes you,” he mused. “The girl of months ago would have never dressed in front of me with such ease. Now the woman before me has no cautiousness and her body cries out for attention.

Iona merely looked at Russ and rolled her brown eyes. He was an accomplished flirt.

“You are beautiful, Iona,” Russ said with seriousness.

“It’s these clothes,” Iona gushed. “Have you ever seen anything so soft and flowy?”

Russ laughed.

“Flowy?” He thought the word to be silly. But, he loved the way it fell from her lips. She made it sound sensual.

“Like water poured over me,” she replied, awe-struck.

Russ loved her animated spirit. It was as interesting to him as her temper.

“Yes, my flower. It is beautiful as well.

“He chose it just for me,” she exclaimed.

Russ did not respond, but waited patiently as she pulled her hair up and secured it with decoration.

“Tell me,” she said more serious. “How did Kieren get his scars?”

“Which ones?” Russ feigned innocence.

“The ones his back bears.”

“He is a man.” Russ sobered and returned to his seat. “What true man does not bear scars?”

“None like his,” she said, positioning herself before him.

“Oh, and you think yourself and expert on men now?”

Russ’ eyes no longer teased, they were serious and focused clearly on hers.

“If you wish to know something in regards to your man, you simply need to ask him.”

“I have.”

“Then this conversation is over.” Russ rose from the chair.

When he spoke next, he was standing close to Iona, looking down into her lovely face.

“Do not complicate matters with details that mean nothing.”

“Russ, Kieren means everything to me. I simply wish to know all that makes him.”

“Then let him have his secrets and trust that he is simply what he is.”

With that, he pushed her into the chair.

“With all the gallantry I can muster,” Russ returned to the playfulness of his nature, “I shall place these slippers on your feet and entertain you till the night’s meal. Only then will I return you to my brother.”

Iona could not help but break into a childlike smile.

“I shall discover answers to this mystery,” she said playfully, as Russ led her out the door.

“I have no doubt.” Russ dipped his head politely.

The village was prepared for a week of serious feasting. The entire community was taking part. This was a time when all gathered to eat, drink strong ale and dance--in that order. Sacrifices would be made and eaten in honor of the Gods. Departed kinsmen lost in battle and ancestors were honored too. Toasts would be made to the God Æsir. Cattle and horses would be slaughtered, and their blood used to redden the idols. It was all performed in hopes that the approaching winter would prove plentiful.

Iona was familiar with the fall feast. However, this festival would be on a much grander scale than any she had ever witnessed.

Families were coming out of the hills and setting up temporary settlements outside of the city. Invited nobles and a limited number within their entourage filled what space was left within the walls of The Eagle’s Head.

The men had already begun their dangerous games and bloody contests. They called to Russ the Long Sword with their challenges.

“Go play your man games,” Iona teased. “I promise to be good."

Iona was enjoying skewered chunks of fruit. The fruits were dipped in honey and held over the fire until the honey formed a hardened shell.

“And miss you sucking the honey off that fruit. Never.”

“Off with you, I have my guards.”

“Do not stray far,” Russ through over his shoulder.

Of course, Iona had other plans.

As darkness drew near, circles began to form around fires. Children came to hear the stories about great warriors. During times like these, once filled with mead everyone was a story teller. Iona tuned into the sagas shared.

**************

“What has he given you,” Kieren said to one of his men as they made their way through the trees.

“After much encouragement, he continues to request that he be brought to you.”

“Did you ask him in the right way?”

“Most definitely. He would not surrender anything. He has a core of steel,” one of Kieren’s men informed him.

They came to a clearing lit by fire where six of Kieren’s men stood with Gunner, surrounding a man on his knees, with his hands tied behind his back. Blood decorated his face. One eye was swollen shut. His head was hung low.

“It took seven of you to apprehend him,” Kieren inquired, unamused.

The countenance of the soldier beside him fell. “He is trained well.”

“Let us begin,” Kieren announced now focused on the man before him.

The ebony colored man raised his head.

“You wish to speak to me?”

The man grunted in agreement.

“Speak.”

“Yes,” the man supplied

“Tell me, what is your name?”

“I am Arjun,” he managed to say.

Iona listened intently to the stories shared around the fire…

The Eagle of Fire was born marked by Oden himself.

It was the symbol of a master. He would master the white tailed eagle,

the eagle of the sea. He would control fire and flight—and man.

He was marked for greatness as foretold.

He was destined to gather great men from the north and from the south,

so that they could become one, under him, and rule over a land of prosperity.

He would rule beyond the land, to where the ocean ends.

And then, he would rule beyond that.

Even his father fears The Eagle of Fire’s destiny,

as all men should.

Kieren bent over so that he was eye to eye with the man.

“What I ask you will only be asked once or I’ll take your head myself.” Kieren placed the tip of his gift under the man’s chin and they rose together. “Understand?”

“Yes,” Arjun replied.

“Why are you here?”

“I am here to offer myself to your cause.”

“The way you have gone about it is quite questionable. Of what benefit would this have for me.”

“I am a fine fighter and I have information.

“Yet my men over threw you. What information could I value coming from you?

“The house of Haffrin has given great payment to have your life ended. He has paid me with silver.”

“Does he now? Why should I believe words so quickly surrendered over a fellow clansman?”

“Did he not gift you with the very knife you now have pointed at my throat. Do you not recognize the styling of my people upon it? It was my gift to Haffrin. He insults you with it.”

Kieren removed the knife from the man’s neck.

“How did Haffrin come upon you?”

“I happened upon him.”

“In the situation you are in now, what man would not attempt to save his life with words.

“I have no fear of death.”

Kieren’s smile was threatening.

“Good. Being that I am your focus and you have failed, what prevents me from taking your head and wiping your blood from the blade of this gift?”

“Nothing prevents it.”

The Eagle of Fire was stolen as a child while on a trip with his father.

He was tortured.

The torture was so complete that it left him unable to feel pain.

To have survived gave him extraordinary powers.

His father fought a great battle and recovered his son.

But his life now made him look beyond his father.

In his eyes you could see the sea and its tempestuousness.

His father then knew that he could never be contained.

When he was of age, he could not stay.

There could be only one man ruling in his father’s long house.

His mother sacrificed herself to the Gods to give him strength and assure his destiny.

He would need it in his quests. This is how she let him go.

He went back to the land of his captors. Like and eagle, he swooped down.

His anger was so hot and eager to leave him that he breathed fire,

burning everything.

To this day that land is baron and the seas no longer meet it.

“Your honor and allegiance appear to be an act of convenience. A lucrative act, I must say. I do not pay for loyalty and I myself take the lives of my enemies.”

“My honor belongs to the man that fights his own battles, not one that hires another to do his bidding. I wish to be counted amongst your warriors and give my allegiance to your cause. The price of the bribery is yours. I want no part of it.”

The Eagle of Fire’s father once loved him dearly.

Everywhere he went, he took his son. The boy went to sea with his father.

There was a great storm. He was separated from his father and crew.

Many ships were lost.

Örm, the great serpent of the sea, rose up and took him.

He fought the serpent with all the strength he had.

His effort to take the head of the serpent was so brave that Oden watched with interest.

Oden then showed mercy and swooped from the sky like a large eagle.

Oden blew fire at the serpent, saving the boy who became a man on that day.

But man’s memory is short.

So Oden named him The Eagle of Fire to make all remember that day always,

Oden marked his back and vowed to guard him in battle.

To this day no man has struck down The Eagle of Fire

But, the mark of the eagle is also what keeps him from ever having a home.

He is the man that must always search the seas.

“The house of Haffrin is consumed with jealousy and contempt, Arjun continued. With each toast of alliance the hatred grows. You have much and have created a fortress. They fear your power which grows. You will own the South and your father the North. The union of the two would bring the world to its knees. Who would challenge you? This is what he whispers to all that will listen. Haffrin sparks fear and plays on it.

“What is it that you believe?”

“I believe that it is wise to join the winner. Your hand is great and you hold many. I wish to serve the man that you have proven to be, not the ones that fear you.”

“Winning is subjective. I need men that dedicate themselves to honor, win or lose.”

“You alone are The Eagle of Fire. Test my worthiness.”