Kattegat, 793 AD - One Week Later
The fjord was dark under a cloudy sky, and gulls were crying as cold wind carried the smell of tar and salt water. The longship, twenty-five meters of oak, bobbed at an incomplete dock with its dragon head pointing west. The sail was tied down, waiting.
Twenty men moved around the ship; Ragnar, Bjorn, Rollo, Floki, Leif, Arne, Thorstein, Erik, Kauko, and twelve others, they were loading axes, shields, and barrels. They had all sworn their oaths on sacred arm rings. This raid went against Haraldson's wishes, but Ragnar was determined.
Bjorn moved with confidence as he checked ropes and fittings. In his leather pouch, hidden from everyone including Floki and Ragnar, was a small wooden case containing a magnetized needle; a compass he'd crafted in secret during long nights, telling anyone who asked that he was just "tinkering."
Lagertha stood on the dock with ten-year-old Gyda beside her, her strength evident in her straight shoulders and the tight braid of her hair. Her eyes, though, were soft with worry as she looked at Bjorn while Gyda shifted nervously, clutching her mother's hand.
Lagertha pulled Bjorn aside with her hands firm on his arms. "Promise me you'll be careful, my son," she said quietly, her voice intense. "I know you're strong, everyone does. But the sea can be cruel, and men even more so. Keep your head about you out there."
Bjorn met her gaze steadily. "I will, Mother. I promise."
Gyda tugged at Bjorn's sleeve. "Bjorn, will you bring me back something from the new lands? Something no one here has ever seen?"
Bjorn smiled at his little sister and ruffled her hair. "Of course, Gyda. I'll find you the most interesting and beautiful thing I can."
Lagertha studied his face for a long moment, then nodded and stepped back. "Take care of him, Ragnar," she called to her husband.
Ragnar was barking orders while clutching a clear crystal, it's a sunstone that could help find the sun's position even through clouds, and a shadow board, a flat wooden disk with a central pin, used to determine latitude by the length of the sun's shadow.
Floki darted around the ship like an excited child, patting the hull affectionately.
Rollo hauled a heavy barrel aboard, scowling as he worked. "I just hope this isn't some fool's errand, brother," he muttered to Ragnar with doubt clear in his voice.
"Have a little faith, Rollo," Ragnar replied without turning around. "When have my plans ever failed us?"
"Do you want me to answer that honestly?" Rollo shot back, but there was a hint of humor in it.
Leif, tall and broad-shouldered, was stacking shields while listening to Arne's excited chatter about the raid ahead. Thorstein sat quietly sharpening his axe, Erik checked the oars one final time, and Kauko stood silent by the mast, watching everything with careful eyes.
Waves lapped against the dock with no horn to signal their departure, for this was meant to be quiet.
The crew boarded and took their positions at the oars. Ragnar stood at the front of the ship with the sunstone raised toward the cloudy sky.
"Row!" he roared, and the ship surged forward. Kattegat began to fade behind them as they headed into open water.
Soon, thick fog rolled in around them, making the sun disappear completely. Ragnar held up his sunstone, turning it slowly as he peered through it at different parts of the sky.
"There," he said with satisfaction, catching a faint polarized glow even through the thick clouds. "The sun's still there, just hidden. We keep heading this way."
He adjusted their course slightly, using the crystal to track the sun's position through the overcast sky.
Bjorn rowed steadily, watching his father work with the crystal. The sunstone was impressive, but he knew it had limitations. In really heavy storms or at night, it became much less reliable.
A rope suddenly came loose and Floki stumbled dramatically while flailing his arms to catch his balance. Several of the crew laughed.
"Careful there, boatwright!" Arne called out while grinning. "Don't want to lose one of our shipbuilders before we even reach our destination!"
Floki regained his footing and glared back. "Laugh all you want, but I'm the one who'll have to fix anything that breaks out here!"
This only made the men laugh harder, lightening the mood despite the thick fog.
Hours passed, and the fog grew even thicker. The waves were getting choppier, making rowing more difficult. Ragnar continued checking his sunstone and shadow board regularly, but the readings were becoming less certain as the weather worsened.
"The light's getting harder to read," he muttered, holding the crystal up again. "Storm clouds are too thick."
He could still get some guidance from the sunstone and shadow board, but not with the confidence he'd had earlier, and the crew sensed his growing uncertainty.
Bjorn paused in his rowing with his decision made. This was the right time. He reached into his pouch and pulled out the wooden case, then moved carefully toward his father.
"Father," he said calmly. "I made something that might help."
Ragnar's eyes narrowed with curiosity and suspicion. "What are you talking about?"
Bjorn opened the case, revealing the magnetized needle inside. "It always points north, no matter what. It works even when the sunstone can't read the light clearly, in storms, at night, and anytime."
Ragnar stared, first at the simple device, then at Bjorn. His initial suspicion warred with a dawning curiosity. He reached out and took the case, his large calloused hand were surprisingly gentle. He turned it while watching the needle hold its course.
He held it high, then low, then walked a few paces but the needle was stubbornly indifferent to his movements, always returning to its single, silent declaration. "How did you make this? Where did you learn such craft?"
Bjorn shrugged, keeping his expression casual. "Just experimenting in my spare time. Trying different things with iron and lodestone. I thought it might be useful as a backup to the sunstone."
Floki, drawn by the unusual quiet and the sight of Ragnar so engrossed, had abandoned his tinkering and now peered over Ragnar's shoulder, his eyes were wide and alight with an almost manic fascination. He poked a tentative finger towards the needle, then snatched it back as if expecting a spark. "A magic needle? You sly little fox!" He clapped Bjorn on the shoulder, delighted. "Why didn't you tell me you were working on this?"
"I wanted to make sure it worked properly first," Bjorn replied with a slight smile. "Didn't want to get anyone's hopes up if it was useless."
"Useless?" Floki laughed. "This could change everything! No more guessing in storms, no more getting lost in fog!"
Rollo snorted from his position at the oars. "He is full of surprises, isn't he? What other tricks are you hiding, nephew?"
"Wouldn't be much of a surprise if I told you, would it?" Bjorn grinned, earning a few chuckles from the crew.
"This is... remarkable work, son," he said with a note of pride creeping into his voice. "With this, we'll never lose our way. Keep it close and ready."
"And stay near me. When the sunstone or the shadow board gets uncertain, we'll use your needle to stay on course." Ragnar used both tools together now; the sunstone and shadow board when possible, and the compass to confirm their heading when the crystal's readings grew unclear.
--------------------------
EARL HARALDSON'S LONGHOUSE – PRIVATE DINING CHAMBER – NIGHT
The room was warmly lit by firelight. A simple but well-prepared meal was laid out on the wooden table: roast meat, black bread, and mead in clay cups. Earl Haraldson sat at the head of the table, his wife Siggy to his right, and their daughter Thyri seated across from them. The mood was calm and quiet, and silverware clinked softly against wooden bowls.
A knock at the door interrupted the peaceful meal. Svein entered, bowing his head respectfully before speaking in a lowered voice. "My lord, he is here."
Haraldson wipes his mouth with a cloth, sighs as if burdened by duty, and nods to Siggy. "Excuse me."
He rises and walks to the side, but not out of the room.
The messenger entered and was clearly nervous, then stood near the firepit's edge and he was shifting his weight from foot to foot.
"Well?" Haraldson asked with his voice quiet but expectant.
"They've set sail, my lord," the messenger reported. "Ragnar and his crew left at Dawn."
Haraldson leaned back in his chair slowly with a satisfied expression crossing his face. "Good. They'll never be heard from again."
He lifted his cup and drank deeply. The family resumed eating as the tension was seeming to ease. But the messenger remained standing by the fire, clearly having more to say.
Haraldson noticed after a moment. "Is there something else?" he asked without looking up from his meal.
The messenger hesitated, glancing nervously at Siggy and Thyri before speaking. "My lord... forgive me for asking, but what if Ragnar is right about the western lands?"
The clinking of cutlery stopped abruptly and the room became completely still. Haraldson slowly raised his eyes to meet the messenger's gaze, and his expression was dangerous.
The messenger swallowed hard but continued. "People in the settlement talk, my lord. They say strange things about Ragnar and his family. That the gods favor them. And that his son is... touched by the gods. And if there really are lands to the west, and if they find them..."
"There are no lands to the west," Haraldson cut him off sharply with his voice. He stood abruptly with his chair scraping against the floor. Thyri flinched at the sudden movement while Siggy watched her husband closely but remained silent.
"There is nothing out there but endless water," Haraldson continued while taking a step toward the messenger. "Ragnar Lothbrok is chasing lies spun from fever dreams and arrogance. And anyone who believes otherwise... is a fool."
He moved closer, his presence intimidating. "Get out."
The messenger bowed hastily and hurried from the room. The door closed behind him with a solid thud.
Haraldson stood staring into the fire for a long moment as if trying to glimpse into something with his hands clenched at his sides.
Finally, he returned to the table and sat down, then picked up his knife with deliberate calm.
"The gods may watch our actions," he said quietly, as if speaking to himself, "but they rarely intervene to save fools from their own choices."
Thyri resumed eating in silence, her movements were careful and quiet.
Siggy continued to study her husband's face with suspicion and concern evident in her expression. She had heard the doubt in his voice, even if he refused to acknowledge it himself.