Saga of The Eagle
Chapter 1: The Invocation
The year is 1000 AD and I am Holmkell, the author and chronicler of these works which will be my legacy. My birthright, my destiny has been stripped from me and I am made a prisoner in the confines of "paradise." I stand as merely one of the countless souls which will fall to ruin and obscurity if left to the whims and designs of hateful gods and indifferent Kings. I serve under Haakon of House Kettil, King of The Norse-Gaelic Sea and ruler of northern Britannia. For the past 122 years, House Kettil has fought tirelessly to build their own legend and that of the Kingdom of Sudreyar. While I despise House Kettil and almost all who have borne it's name, they have inexorably shifted a minor nation clutching to the northwestern reaches of Britannia into the superpower I find myself trapped in today. Their value...to the common people at least is worthy of recording and will be the bedrock of my revenge. I am a noble destined for greatness, yet the few pursuits worthy of my family are all denied me. I am forbidden to lead armies, the subsequent glory of battle, and perhaps one day finding myself in The Halls of Valhalla. To feast, to fight, and to look after loved ones at hearth and home...is this not the intrinsic desire of every man? This is a future I will never see if left to my king's supposed "wisdom." If not battle, perhaps prudent leadership and bettering the lot of the people would be befitting of my station I then supposed. But not one single governor has been appointed in The Kingdom of The Norse Gealic Sea for decades. House Kettil rules over it all in an inglorious mess of couriers and direct leadership that stymies the whole Kingdom from ruling over all of Britannia proper. Dejected and broken I surmised at least I could provide for my family, rule over an estate perhaps, and forge a legacy of stone and wood for my children and their children forever to possess and live in. My name would be forgotten, but the hall of my family would live on I mused. But even this...EVEN THIS HAS BEEN STOLEN FROM ME!!! Each and every estate belongs to House Kettil while noble houses like my own are all forced to live in the filthy shacks and ramshackle lodgings the common people call "home." But I will not be hounded away so easily. No...I will not fade quietly into the darkness of the next world without struggle or protest as outside forces attempt to deride my family's name. For I have traveled to distance lands aboard the longships of our ancestry and seen distant lands...Francia, Portugal, even the distant tundras of The Rus. I have learned to read and write while my people and their leadership remain stagnant and unlearned. One day House Kettil will be ash, The Kingdom of The Norse Gaelic Sea will diminish, but MY WORK will live on. The words I bear on these pages will become immortal, and proudly fly over the corpses of House Kettil and all who spurned me until time ends itself and Ragnarok claims this world.
Hear me Odin...let me bear wisdom and knowledge such as you, to know never to trust you again. Thank you for the wisdom to know that glory and significance must be taken, not prayed for.
Hear me Thor...let me bear courage and rage as I never have before, to know the fury of battle and to be spoken of in sagas such as you. But unlike you, I will not be defined merely by powers or gear but legitimate skill.
Hear me Loki...Let every barb, every insult, and every grating word haunt the dead of House Kettil and their sycophants forever. May they know I have exceeded them not in this lifetime and not many lifetimes after, but in time immemorial. May they skulk and hang their heads in Valhalla, knowing I have defeated them and their Kingdom in the end.
Hear me Baldr...may you bring justice and comeuppance before me and my family, may your light shine through and unveil the injustices cruelly heaped upon my family and their name. And should you fail in this, may it be made clear why the simple arrowhead of mistletoe brought you low and sent you to Hel.
Hear me Hodr...We are kindred souls you and I, cruelly cheated by powers beyond our control. May we meet in The Halls of Valhalla and delightfully discuss vengeance and the malign cruelty of this world.
Hear me Vali...You and I are forged with singular purpose, and deliberately cheated of all other pursuits and pleasures in life. Grant me the singular focus to be unerring in my task as you were.
So gather you haughty descendants of Alfred The Great, followers of The Christ God. Gather you noble savages and sons of Anaraut. Gather you twisted and proud Irishmen, the bold sons of Flann Sinna. And of course our distant kin to the south, the bloodthirsty sons of Ragnar Lodbrok himself. Gather young and old, healthy and sick, witty and dull. All are free to learn of our people and will do so for generations now and forevermore. Gather...the hearth is crude but warm and the tale of Sudreyar, House Kettil, and my people begins in earnest...