-"Everyone agrees that he's an idiot, right?" The speaker wore a chain mail and a helmet but both were rusty from disuse. His name was Fredrik Zetterman and he was the marshal at the newly forged county of Öland. Until recently it had been just Öland, no county, no dukedom, nothing official. Just an island in the Baltic, with some trade, a chief and small stone fort. More of a large house really. I didn't have any forests and it's greatest claim to fame was the weird rock and earth that made up the soil. But now...
-”Yeah, a total idiot. His mother and father was probably related.” This speaker was blond and wore stylish red cloths. His name was Jedvard af Hulterstad. He was the closest thing to a religious authority on the island, meaning the unofficial priest. Most where actually catholic but the rulers had been pagans for as long as any can remember. And since the only place with more than a dozen people in it was Bornholm, then what the ruler wanted, the ruler got.
-”He's big though. And the King's man.” That was Peder af Mykleby, Christian and Spymaster. By the King he meant Stenkil af Stenkil, king of Sweden. By big he meant well... big. But really big, you see?
-”We answer to the Jarl of Uppland, not some West-Geatish usurper.” Zetterman again. The Jarl of Uppland was the son Emund af Munsö, the former king. Erik he was called, Erik the Heathen. And he was pissed that his father had made Stenkil, a Christian and someone who favored the south, not the north, king instead of him. The former chief had been a good friend of Erik.
-”Have you seen his wife? A hunchback and a inbred knight! How does the king expect us to suffer him?”
-”He is big though...”
He was really big. Maybe the largest man in Europe. And yes, his mother and father had been related. He wasn't very bright, or very handsome. In fact he was about as smart as a rock and about as good-looking as one too. But he was very big. And he had killed that man who tried to stab King Stenkil in a skirmish near the Scanian border. And that man at battle of Närke, when the peasants revolted against Duke Sven of Östergötaland. And that time is Blekinge, with the fisherman. After being saved three times King Stenkil had knighted him. He had got to choose his own house name. He choose Jätte, meaning Giant. Everyone thought it was appropriate.
Two weeks ago Stenkil had fell sick. His insides where burning. If he died Erik the Heathen might rise up against his sons. Stenkil didn't want that. He wanted to make Erik as weak as possible. So he had sent for his biggest, meanest knight and told him to go to Borgholm. He was told that he had a claim to Öland, and that anyone who stood in his way was a traitor. So the knight had taken his weapons, his armor, his dogs and his wife to Borgholm. The old chief, Tyke Slatte, had listened to his claim and then thought it over. Then he had left on a boat going north. It was a good move.
His name was Anund Jätte, count of Öland. And things are about to change.
-”Yeah, a total idiot. His mother and father was probably related.” This speaker was blond and wore stylish red cloths. His name was Jedvard af Hulterstad. He was the closest thing to a religious authority on the island, meaning the unofficial priest. Most where actually catholic but the rulers had been pagans for as long as any can remember. And since the only place with more than a dozen people in it was Bornholm, then what the ruler wanted, the ruler got.
-”He's big though. And the King's man.” That was Peder af Mykleby, Christian and Spymaster. By the King he meant Stenkil af Stenkil, king of Sweden. By big he meant well... big. But really big, you see?
-”We answer to the Jarl of Uppland, not some West-Geatish usurper.” Zetterman again. The Jarl of Uppland was the son Emund af Munsö, the former king. Erik he was called, Erik the Heathen. And he was pissed that his father had made Stenkil, a Christian and someone who favored the south, not the north, king instead of him. The former chief had been a good friend of Erik.
-”Have you seen his wife? A hunchback and a inbred knight! How does the king expect us to suffer him?”
-”He is big though...”
He was really big. Maybe the largest man in Europe. And yes, his mother and father had been related. He wasn't very bright, or very handsome. In fact he was about as smart as a rock and about as good-looking as one too. But he was very big. And he had killed that man who tried to stab King Stenkil in a skirmish near the Scanian border. And that man at battle of Närke, when the peasants revolted against Duke Sven of Östergötaland. And that time is Blekinge, with the fisherman. After being saved three times King Stenkil had knighted him. He had got to choose his own house name. He choose Jätte, meaning Giant. Everyone thought it was appropriate.
Two weeks ago Stenkil had fell sick. His insides where burning. If he died Erik the Heathen might rise up against his sons. Stenkil didn't want that. He wanted to make Erik as weak as possible. So he had sent for his biggest, meanest knight and told him to go to Borgholm. He was told that he had a claim to Öland, and that anyone who stood in his way was a traitor. So the knight had taken his weapons, his armor, his dogs and his wife to Borgholm. The old chief, Tyke Slatte, had listened to his claim and then thought it over. Then he had left on a boat going north. It was a good move.
His name was Anund Jätte, count of Öland. And things are about to change.