Legend No More

There weren’t always dragons in the Valley. Before the Great Awakening, only the very young, or very old, among the Dalr even believed in the dark, malevolent creatures that now soar freely through the ever-present gloom that has settled menacingly over my ill-fated kingdom. Thought to have been destroyed long ago, how fortunate must I be to be forever known as the ruler to discover the depths of our niavete? They were never slain, only confined deep in their misty mountain caves, bound there by those who came before. How I curse the day The Beggar rode into Konungdomr, once so prosperous, and brought forth this calamity upon us all.

The Peaceable Antiquity:

The morning sun peeked through the misty mountains, stretching for the sky, gently melting away night’s shadow as it rose. The people of Dalr, the quintessential settlement of Konungdomr, spared it barely a glance as it emerged from its slumber for it heralded the dawn of a new day we had long since welcomed. Only the dew on the flowers seemed to note its rise, slowing fading away as the Great Star warmed the surrounding air. A soft, damp, slightly salty breeze was blowing in off the vast sea, adding a slight chill to the early morning air. But even that went unnoticed by those below already solidly entrenched in their morning routines. The Dalr are a proud people. Renowned far and wide for being as skilled on the seas as we were in the fields and forest, making our living primarily as fishermen, farmers, and craftsmen. People came from all over Konungdomr to trade their wares at our bright and bustling seaside marketplace. Established at the mouth of the Lagu Fjord, the fertile soil, open sea, and vast forest stretching back to the base of the mountains made Dalr the most prosperous, and most coveted, village in all of Konungdomr. And it was mine – mine to love, mine to protect, mine to rule.

I stood quietly on the parapet, basking in the morning’s warmth and marveling over all the Gods had seen fit to provide for us. The fjord and majestic sea beyond, so calm, yet glistening in the breaking dawn. On it resplendent surface, I could just make out the first boats of the day making their way out to sea to cast their nets and set their traps. So many depended on their yield, I thought to offer a quick prayer to the Gods for a safe and bountiful catch. At the docks, several larger sea-worthy boats were currently unloading people and goods. Most seemed to be streaming into the Marketplace, while other milled around, seemingly taking stock of their surroundings. I assumed they must be new to Dalr and I was well aware of the glorious image it painted, albeit a bit overwhelming to those unaccustomed to such grandeur. Glancing at their pennants, I realized I couldn’t make out the insignia on their flags. While I expected that was only due to the distance - as I knew the regalia from all areas within sailing distance - I gave a quick nod to my guards to have a few move off to ensure our visitors were only interested in our bountiful crops and decadent wine. After one last considering glance towards the men who had rode in on the boats to confirm my guards had it well in hand, I began to turn back to prepare for my own daily responsibilities.

Then, as iron to a magnet, my gaze was drawn towards our celebrated marketplace, with its vibrant, colorful stalls just beginning to open for the day. The hopefuls were already lined up, jostling loudly for position, all wishing to be first in line to bid on today’s offerings. Wheat and fresh vegetables were common, but fish and wild game were also plentiful here, unlike much of the region, and I could see enthusiastic bartering already beginning over what appeared to be the remains of a particularly large elk. Other stalls held luxurious furs and pelts, practical and well-made clothing, stunning jewelry and other such baubles made from bits of smooth glass and tiny shells that washed up on our shores, and tools and small furniture items courtesy of our accomplished craftsmen. As a child, the marketplace was second only to the training ground as my favorite place. Not for the trinkets or even the sweet treats, but for the mix of people, the sounds and smells, and above all, the bits of conversation not meant for a child’s ear – especially a child of the ruling family. Some things never change, I thought with a smile, knowing it was still my second favorite place to be.

Nearer to the stronghold, away from the simultaneously invigorating and exhausting cacophony of the marketplace, lay our expansive fields, extensive orchards, and exquisite vineyards. The true heart of our prosperity was in our agriculture prowess. Our dedicated farmers were already out tending to their crops and livestock, and still others were preparing for the upcoming harvest. Harvest time meant that people would travel from all over Kongundomr to partake in the ceremonies - and the generous feast where our own wine would flow freely til the wee hours of the morning. Only a few short days away, the village was already humming with excitement - the farmers for the harvest, the raiders for the raids that would start immediately after, and uniting us all - the longing for the free-flowing wine. Telling myself it was too early for a taste, I looked down into the stronghold proper, and found my gaze lingering on something else I longed for.

Inside the stronghold proper were the main guardhouses, the garrison's barracks, and our acclaimed training grounds – still the one place I felt completely at ease and longed to spend my time. A warrior at heart, had the Fates decided differently, I would have contentedly spent my days on the battlefield as a member of our formidable raiding parties. But alas, it was not to be. So now, instead of practicing my swordplay on the battlefield, I practice my wordplay in the throne room. Dedicated as I am to my people, I still recognize the day I accepted the crown, and all that came with it, as the first time I had ever questioned the Gods; how I wish it had been the last.

Admittedly, as a child, I had been groomed for this; in a manner of speaking. I was taught our values, our stringent moral code, and the legends of our ancestors - well before I ever understood what it all meant. Even so, none ever truly believed I would be chosen by the Gods to rule. Looking back, it may be that the Seers had given my parents the wisdom to know their reign would be cut short and the crown and all its responsibilities would come to me before any of us were ready. My elder brother was the obvious chose, to me at least, and I couldn't have been more pleased. In my young mind, I was destined to become a fabled warrior, rising to share the same glory as Ragnar, or even Thor. I was a skilled warrior, even at a young age, and how I chaffed against the confines of the classroom, staring wistfully as my contemporaries practicing on the training grounds. Perhaps my hubris soured the Gods' favor to me, because as the Fates would have it, the throne would pass to me before I had seen my 13th Winter, and all hopes of becoming a mighty warrior died with our crops under their thick blanket of snow.

Finally, on a sigh, I turned from watching our valiant warriors to make my own preparations for the day. My agenda was full of regal duties - inspecting the new training grounds, preparing for the upcoming raids I begrudgingly would not be participating in (at least not until I had an heir), ensuring the crops and fish were being stored well and in sufficient quantities to last us a long winter - not the epic undertakings I had envisioned for myself as a child. I wonder now, had I known what was about to befall my Kingdom as I was going about my daily routine in blissful ignorance, would I have been more content with the mundane?