Asser and his retinue stood before the hearth of the Jarl's longhouse; the seat of Heimaey, the largest of the Vestmannaeyjar.
Once a lonely outpost battered by salt and wind, now it thrived as the keystone of trade across the southern seas.
And it belonged to Gunnarr. Once a mere lieutenant of Vetrúlfr, now a Jarl in his own right.
One of many.
All across the lands of Ísland and Vestmannaeyjar, the new order had raised loyal men to power; men of valor, cunning, and faith to the High King. Men entrusted with fortifying the realm, raising armies, and projecting strength through fleets worthy of myth.
And among them, Gunnarr stood the tallest.
When they arrived, Gunnarr had been poring over ledgers written in a strange new script; a fusion of Elder and Younger Futhark, repurposed into a phonetic system that mimicked the Latin alphabet in structure, but not spirit.
