The dawn after the test feels different.
The air itself hums—charged, waiting.
Word has spread through the settlement: Ragnar Lothbrok has built a device that finds the sun's path. Some call it witchcraft. Others call it genius. All agree it's dangerous.
Kalf trails behind me as I walk toward the great hall, his voice low.
"You sure about this, brother?"
"No," I admit. "But it wouldn't matter if I was."
The hall looms ahead, its carved dragon-heads glaring down like silent judges. Inside, the smell of smoke and mead mixes with iron and sweat. Warriors crowd the benches, whispering.
At the far end sits Jarl Haraldson—broad, grim, his beard streaked with silver and his eyes like chips of ice. Sten stands at his right hand, arms folded, gaze unreadable.
Haraldson's voice fills the hall the moment I cross the threshold.
"So. You're the boy who would sail where no man sails."
I bow slightly, the gesture awkward in Ragnar's young body. "Jarl Haraldson. I seek only to prove that the sea does not end where we think it does."
Laughter ripples through the room. Someone mutters, "Madness."
Haraldson lifts a hand, silencing them. "My son speaks of your trick—your 'sun finder.' Show me."
I step forward and place the device on the long table. The firelight gleams off the polished bone pin. "It measures the sun's shadow. With it, you can know which way is west, even when clouds hide the coast."
Haraldson leans forward, his expression carved from stone. "And why would a farmer's son need to know that?"
The question is a test, but also a threat.
My pulse quickens.
"Because the world is larger than we've been told," I say. "Because there are lands across the sea—fertile, rich. If we reach them first, Kattegat will be remembered forever."
A long silence follows. Fire pops. Mead sloshes.
Then the jarl smiles—but it's not kindness. It's the smile of a wolf.
"Many men dream of glory, Ragnar Lothbrok. Most find only the sea's teeth."
He stands, towering. "You speak boldly for one so young. Boldness is a fine thing—if it's tested."
He gestures toward the warriors nearest him. "There's a merchant ship readying to sail east to trade furs. You'll join them."
I blink. "East?"
His smile widens. "If your device can find west, surely it can find east as well."
The hall laughs with him, rough and cruel.
"Prove your skill," Haraldson says. "Bring the ship home faster than any before it. Do that, and perhaps I'll listen to your talk of distant lands."
It's not an invitation—it's a leash.
But I nod. "I'll prove it."
Haraldson's gaze sharpens, searching for fear. "See that you do. The sea is hungry, and I'd hate to lose such a promising tongue."
Sten's eyes meet mine briefly. There's something there—respect, or warning. Maybe both.
I back away, bowing again. The laughter follows me out into the cold morning.
Kalf is waiting just beyond the doors. "What happened?"
"I've been given a test," I say. "One meant to break me."
He grins anyway. "Then we'd better make sure it doesn't."
We walk together down to the docks. The ship lies moored there—a broad-bellied trader smelling of tar and salt, its sail furled like a sleeping beast. Men move along the deck, preparing for departure.
As I study the vessel, a thin, sharp-eyed man with a streak of soot across his cheek watches me from the shadows near the sheds. His hands are stained with pitch and iron.
He grins when our eyes meet. "You're the one who built the sun finder," he says, voice rough as gravel. "Interesting. I make ships that don't sink."
Before I can answer, he disappears into the gloom of his workshop, laughter echoing after him.
Kalf frowns. "Who was that?"
I glance toward the dark doorway. "Maybe someone I'll need soon."
The wind shifts, carrying the scent of the open sea. The horizon gleams—east this time, not west.
I touch the compass at my belt, feeling its steady weight.
Haraldson thinks he's set a trap.
But every voyage begins somewhere.
Tomorrow, I'll sail east to prove a point.
Soon, I'll sail west to change the world.