VIKING || Liv

When your steward informed you in the middle of the night about the imminent arrival of a fleet of over a dozen ships on the shores of your duchy, you hardly expected to find yourself welcoming a horde of vikings at your table, all nearly towering over two meters tall and bristling with weapons.

"ᛁ ᚹᛟᚾᛞᛖᚱ ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚲᛁᚾᛞ ᛟᚠ ᛊᛟᚢᚾᛞ ᛊᚺᛖ ᛗᚨᛞᛖ ᚹᚺᛖᚾ ᛊᚺᛖ ᚲᚢᛗ,"​

One of the five men seated suddenly murmurs in his native tongue, breaking the silence that had settled over the small gathering, arms folded across his broad chest. The youngest of the group, positioned to your right, lets out a smirk at the remark and casts his cold, amber gaze upon you.

"He's wondering what kind of meal you plan to serve us,"​ he explains, his voice rolling with a strong foreign accent, tinged with a hint of mockery. The barely concealed laughter among his companions at the table clearly indicates they're enjoying a joke at your expense.