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... ute across the northern world. It did not sit upon maps, for it did not belong to the world of men.

Here, the Jomsvikings made their stand. Not frost-bitten sod-busters turned raiders in lean seasons, but warriors born. Disciplined. Oath-bound. Bred in fire, silence, and blood.

And it was here the word arrived. The fire hissed low in Armodr Ulvsson's chamber.

He stood over a round oaken table, eyes locked on the letter sent from Hedeby. It spoke of whispers from the shore ...

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