laneys.info Beware of Yankees, drunks, and loose women.

Busy with the multitude of wagons, carts, soldiers and dockworkers, the port's bustling traffic nearly overwhelmed Jilahd as he dismounted with Haakon and his men. Looking over what seemed like madness, he grinned in appreciation at the logistics of such an endeavor. Many bowed and cleared a path for the High King and his entourage of two hundred along with their prized horses.

"Long live the King," someone shouted which was repeated over and over. Seagulls leapt into the air to escape the fervor and Jilahd noticed a cluster of crates and barrels which adrenaline pushed his older body to leap up upon, then turn to face the crowd.

"Friends of Chatelet," he yelled, arms outstretched. "Witness the returned glory of Varangia around you. We embark on a mission that has been given us by the Aesir themselves. No longer will our names be remembered only in our own lands, by our families. But, today begins a new age. The world will be reminded that the Great Men of the North have returned! Our blades will seek out the enemy, not matter where they hide and root them out! Glory will be ours once again!" Cheers erupted nearly shaking the wooden planks of the dock itself and he suddenly feared the power at his fingertips. Even his own guard were elated and he realized that if he didn't get them on the longship soon, they may take out their enthusiasm on the crowd instead and dropped down.

"It's an honor to be serving with you, Sire," Haakon smiled broadly.

"And you, my friend."

* * *

Standing on the raised step at the bow, wind at his back which blew his long, silvery hair around his shoulders, Jilahd glanced back to the armada of over five hundred and seventy ships whose square sails reached to the horizon. A mass of men and material which had been summoned for a great cause.

"Impressive, isn't it, Sire," Haakon commented as he stood nearby, one hand on the supporting line for the single mast.

"It is indeed." Pride swelled knowing he was given this opportunity to lead his people on an adventure. "It seemed like just a short time ago that I sailed to Nordkapp with friends that I haven't seen in a long time."

"I as well, Sire. Grimnir has blessed you for many years," the stout warrior stated as he turned back to eye Jilahd. "And that hasn't ended yet, nor will it."

Jilahd grinned. "Let's hope I don't lose their favor."

Their trip was long and arduous, braving high seas once rounding the northernmost point at Nordkapp, then on west and south, keeping the majestic Tortosa Range on the horizon. Two heavy storms claimed five ships and nearly a hundred men, but they pressed on southward. It wasn't long before sighting merchant vessels of the Astaran Empire which fled back westward upon seeing the square sailed fleet, no doubt to save their own skins as well as warn their king. Aargau had been a favorite target for Varangian raiders over the centuries, yet these days had found a peace. At least with De Haan. Though, Jilahd assumed that many raiders out on their own took any opportunities that availed themselves without bragging too loudly around their king when they got home.

Nearing the end of the two weeks, Jilahd noticed land on the horizon. Brynmar was in sight.

"My lord," Haakon called, then pointed westward. Jilahd looked that way and soon noticed the lateen sails of a warship heading to intercept them. Brave men, he thought.

"Head to catch them before one of the other ships does."

"Aye," Haakon then turned to the stern and the helmsman. "Hard to starboard!" Not long after, the longest vessel in the fleet leaned to the right and cut through the dark blue waves. Most of the flanking ships turned with him while those farther to port continued on to Brynmar.
Soon, he recognized the red flag and black stag's head in the center as a ship of Glarus, another Astaran kingdom south of Aargau and now west of their location.

"Lower the sail," Jilahd commanded as the brig closed within three hundred yards.

Haakon hesitated for a moment, then gave the command. Once several of the huscarl manned several ropes, he walked up to the king. "Sire, if they found out who you were, they may..."

"They don't mean to fight. If they did, they would've brought more than one ship against us." Haakon had a point though. Jilahd had used this same tactic more than once in his lifetime. Something his father taught him. Use any strategy within grasp to get what you want. Subtlety wasn't normally a Varangian trait, but it did come in handy once in a while.

Soon, the brig lowered her sails as his ship rowed closer, then turned to port as the two vessels closed. Green eyes noticed one of the opposing crewmen wore a brown velvet hat which sported a red plume from it which raised his right hand in salute. "Hail," he yelled.

Jilahd mimicked the gesture. "Hail. What brings you out this far?" Peacock.

"The king of Glarus means to know your business in these waters. Whether for peace or war. What shall I tell him?"

"Tell your king that this fight isn't against Astara. Had I meant to do so, I would've started in Aargau. I have no intentions in this land."

The captain nodded as he glanced down the length of the longship which was twice the brig's length. "Then, I wish you safe passage to wherever you're headed." His hands rested on his sword and belt. "Who shall I tell my king is visiting?"

"Jilahd, High King of Varangia," Haakon proudly boasted. "Run back to your hole, peacock," he continued in Varangian which prompted a eruption of laughter from the soldiers onboard.

Jilahd smiled as the captain nervously stood there, probably pissing himself. "Tell your king, I wish him long life and good fortune," he extended, then waved and looked to Haakon. "Raise sail and on to Brynmar."

"Aye, Sire." In moments, the lower draft vessel turned and left the slower brig to lumber back home. It wasn't long before he noticed his fleet from home crowding the shoreline and dock at the walled city. This was going to be fun.