You’ve just arrived in a swampy, dim town. As you look around, your gaze is met with shacks and cabins. It smells of rotted wood and wet moss. You duck and step into a tattered tent, illuminated by a series of candles suspended in the air. At the back of the tent, an old hag raises her head, “What brings you to this dingy town? she begins, then pauses to study your face—”Ah, it’s you. I’ve been expecting you. Sit,” she gestures at a cushion, “Tell me your story.”
Svargrim paused, eyeing the hag apprehensively for a moment. "Expecting me?" he responded. "Who am I to you?"
The Hag smiled subtly, answering "A norlandic flotilla gets wrecked and its shipwrecked crew is turning up along the coast, word of such an event tends to spread fast. Judging by your waterlogged appearance and your accent, it's safe to assume you're one of them, isn't it? Come, tell me what happened. What were your kind doing in these waters?"
The disheveled Norlander tensed somewhat but remained quiet and distant. He did not like how coy this stranger was being, wondering what she was trying to get at, was she someone he would have to worry about. Finally, the old woman once again broke the silence, "You are distrusting and I do not blame you, you would be stupid if you weren't. I should tell you now that you are not safe here." She then motioned again to the cushion, "Come, sit. I'll get you some tea and bread, you obviously need it."
Svargrim reluctantly complied, and then asked "Have others like me been here? And what do you mean it's not safe?"
"Several higlanders passed through here."
"They're still here?"
"Yes, but you should not go looking for them." she warned, before handing Svargrim his food and drink. Despite how hungry and dehydrated he was, all his focus was on his fellow mariners. The hag continued, "The pirates who attacked your ships have their run of this village as well. Your kin were sold out to them by residents here for petty rewards, our simply out of fear."
Becoming flustered, Svargrim demanded "What happened to them?"
"They were taken away, back to the pirates' camp presumably." said the hag. "But you cannot do anything for them."
Svargrim felt a spike of outrage, but quickly understood what she meant. There was no way he, a lone, starving, injured, exhausted castaway was going to storm a heavily guarded camp for people who may still not be alive. Yet what of the tenets that were sacred to his people? Honor, kinship, and unrelenting defiance no matter the adversity. He thought about what the great heroes of his people would do in his position. Most likely charge in furiously, taking many down with them but ultimately dying in what was a glorious yet vain suicide mission, for his shield-brothers would still not be saved.
Observing Svargrim, the hag remarked. "You're silent but you understand, it looks like. Leave now. I'll give you some supplies and you must head east and further inland. You will reach safety. Do not feel bad about all of this, for there are only so many situations us simple humans can control."
And he ran. He ran and did not look back. Svargrim's fear was rivalled only by his growing shame. He fought back tears as he violently panted. Leaving his peaceful merchant family to enlist with a mercenary company a year prior, Svargrim had known only victory and comradery. These Norlandic warriors were a second family to him, with which no battle seemed insurmountable, yet now it all came crashing down. Svargrim had not known tragedy before this moment, but everyone is introduced to it eventually.
How did it come to this?, he wondered.
No matter the circumstances, his retreat was just so...wrong. However could he live with himself now?
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