HEIM OF GODS

FIRES OF INDULGENCE

Kael was in his quarters, pondering the words of the Völva Kaida. "She gave her life to save you," the old woman had said. A flash of memory burst into his mind, a moment from his childhood when his mother had spoken words of encouragement to him.

"You are the best thing that has happened to us all, in all of Nørhaven," she had said, her eyes shining with pride. "They don't know it yet, but the Norns do. Your father would be proud of you, where he is in the halls of Valhalla."

Kael's heart swelled with emotion as he remembered his mother's words. "Join the Fyrd, Kael," she had said, using the Norse word for army. "You will be of great use to us all when the time comes."

"What do you mean, when the comes?" young Kael had asked, his brow furrowed with curiosity.

His mother had chuckled and waved the question away. "Look at how good you look, my little Víkingr!" she had said, using the Norse word for Viking warrior.

Kael smiled, feeling a sense of nostalgia wash over him. He picked up the sword the Völva Kaida had given him, and read out loud the inscription on the blade: "Á handa mótar, vápnit er hættulegt öllum sínum kind."

Just as he finished speaking, Vigdis burst into the room, banging on the door. "Hey, hit head!" he exclaimed, using a friendly Norse insult. "I thought you were done undressing! We need to hurry before the barrels are emptied!"

Kael quickly tucked the sword into its sheath. "Vigdis, we need to stay at vakt," he said, using the Norse word for alert.

But Vigdis interrupted him. "Kael, maðr," he said, using the Norse word for man, "leave that matter for when it's time. Right now, it's time to have some fjölnir!" he exclaimed, using the Norse word for fun.

Kael couldn't help but laugh. "Alright, alright. Let's go before the other karlar empty the ölkeggr," he said, using the Norse word for men and ale barrel.

As they set out on their way to the Ölkelda, Vigdis made a comment. "If I miss this blessed moment, I'll never forgive myself, and you as well, my friend!" he exclaimed, his voice full of humor.

Kael chuckled, feeling a sense of camaraderie with his friend. They walked together in comfortable silence, the sound of laughter and music drifting from the Ölkelda ahead. The night air was filled with the promise of good fellowship and warm ale.

As they walk into the ölkelda it was alive with revelry, thick with the scents of mead, roasted boar, and firewood burning in great iron sconces. Warriors banged their mugs together, spilling ale over the long wooden tables, their voices raised in song as a skald strummed a lyre, singing of Odin’s victories. The great hall echoed with laughter, the deep rumble of men’s voices mingling with the lilting tones of shieldmaidens, their tunics loose, their hair wild from the night’s indulgence.

Kael and Vigdis stood at the bar, raising their mugs to the hearty cheers of those around them.

"Skål!" they roared, downing the golden ale in long gulps. The thick foam clung to their lips as they wiped their mouths with the backs of their hands, the heat of the drink warming their blood.

The bartender, a burly man with arms like tree trunks, clapped Kael on the back. "You drink like a man who has known battle, Kael," he bellowed.

Kael smirked. "And you pour like a man who wants his barrels emptied before dawn."

Laughter erupted around them, but Kael’s focus shifted as he caught sight of a group of women seated nearby. They were draped in light tunics that left little to the imagination, the firelight casting a golden glow over their exposed skin. One of them, a striking woman with sun-kissed hair, leaned forward, the loose fabric of her dress slipping off her shoulder, revealing the curve of a bare breast. Her nipple, soft and rosy, peaked in the cool night air as she laughed, seemingly unaware—or perhaps uncaring—of the eyes upon her.

Beside her, a raven-haired beauty tilted her head, smirking at Vigdis as she traced the rim of her mug with one slender finger.

Vigdis, ever the bold one, grinned. "By Thor’s beard, if I die in this battle, tell the Hersir I died gloriously!"

The women laughed as they grabbed him, their hands wandering, tugging at his belt, pulling him toward the darkened corridors beyond the mead hall.

Kael shook his head, chuckling—until another pair of eyes found his.

She stood in the flickering light, her gaze holding him captive. Her dress, made of fine, thin linen, clung to her body, revealing every curve beneath it. The fabric was nearly translucent, teasing at what lay beneath. Her hair tumbled over her shoulders in waves, her lips full, slightly parted, as if she had just sighed his name.

She moved toward him with slow, deliberate steps, the sway of her hips hypnotic. "You are not so easily swayed as your friend," she mused, her voice smooth, laced with amusement.

Kael exhaled, his chest rising. "Perhaps I was waiting for something worth being swayed by."

Her smile deepened, and without another word, she took his hand and led him through the mead hall’s heavy wooden doors, out into the cool night. The settlement was quieter here, the distant crash of waves against the fjord mingling with the occasional howl of the wind.

They walked through winding paths, past wooden houses and stone altars dedicated to the gods, until they reached a secluded inn. The door bore the sigil of Yggdrasil, carved deep into the wood, marking it as a place of warmth and refuge.

"Inside, the air was thick with the scent of pine and burning embers. A great fur-covered bed lay at the center of the room, illuminated by the golden glow of the firelight..."