BEFORE THE BLADES
The war room of the main ship was a dim chamber carved from the ship's deepest hold, lit only by lanterns swaying with the waves. A long table sat in the center, strewn with maps, daggers stabbed into regions of interest, and blood-red ink scrawled across borders. Around it, five generals and the pirate captain stood locked in low, heated discussion.
The door creaked.
Varnok stepped inside, his shadow stretched across the room like a ghost arriving unannounced, the murmurs faded.
"Viking," came the gruff voice of Lucien Marros, arms crossed, jaw clenched. "Welcome."
He motioned to a seat at the far end of the table, varnok moved without a word and sat, his eyes didn't look at them, only at the maps.
"Where was the attack from?" he asked flatly, studying the red circle drawn over a northern shipping route.
Lucien exchanged glances with the others. "They were bounty hunters, sire," the captain answered.
Varnok narrowed his eyes. "Bounty hunters?"
"Aye," the captain nodded, scratching his beard, his voice laced with a harsh, weathered pirate's accent. "We found a skull badge on one o' their bodies... etched with Arimite runes."
That name froze the room, "Arimites?" Seraphine Drael said, stunned. "That's impossible. The Arimites dwell far beneath the North. They couldn't even reach our borders, let alone launch an ambush at sea."
Caelum Virel slammed a gloved fist on the table. "This mission was privately sanctioned. No one knew about our route—no one but the king... and the village chief."
Varnok's fingers drummed slowly on the wood.
"The King…" he muttered under his breath.
Alren Vos cut in, gaze sharp. "Captain. Are you certain they were Arimite bounty hunters?"
The captain nodded slowly. "Yessir. Checked their ship meself. Weren't nothin' but a death crate. Letters and blades in their own tongue. 'Twas Arimite writin'. Can't mistake it."
Aurex Vellor leaned into the table, tone low and grim. "Then it wasn't a random attack, It was planned."
The air in the room thickened.
"A planned attack?" Caelum barked, anger boiling in his tone. "By who? The Arimites don't cross waters, they're landlocked cowards, and if they've breached our sea... it means someone opened the way."
Varnok stood motionless, lost in thought. "Have any letters arrived from the king's men?"
"None, sire," the captain replied, shaking his head. "No word from the crown, nor whisper from the knights. Wind's been too silent, if ye ask me."
Everyone kept quiet for a while as the weight hung between them.
"I see," Varnok said at last, eyes still on the red lines scrawled across the map. "Then we're walking into fog… with wolves already inside."
"How long before we reach Shivarath?" Varnok asked, pointing at the coastal kingdom drawn along the eastern coast.
The captain rubbed his temple. "Five days, sire. If the winds stay loyal."
"Five days?!" Caelum's voice erupted. "We'll lose every soldier by then. We don't have five days, dammit—they are no back ups or requits after us!"
"Can this ship go any faster?" Varnok asked.
Aurex Vellor nodded. "By 'faster,' he means three days. Can we do it?"
The captain's brow furrowed deeply. "Three days... The sea's cold and angry this time o' year. This ship—aye, she's a beauty. Reinforced hull, twin sails, she can take pressure, fight hard winds. But to push her like that... we'd be breakin' her back."
Alren snapped, "So fix her bones with fire and rope. We don't have time for fear."
The room grew louder, voices clashed, plans fought against logic, Rage built.
But Varnok stayed still, just listening.
His mind wasn't just on the ship… it was on the attack. The Arimites. The precision. The message would side are the Arimites on, and why would they launch an attack on them
"Arimites disguised as bounty hunters…" he said aloud. "No flags. No survivors. Just blood...."
Then he looked at the captain again.
"How about four days?"
The captain blinked and then he nodded.
"Aye, sire. Four days... that, we can do."
Varnok straightened. His long coat shifted as he stepped back toward the exit.
Caelum turned to the captain, "Full speed ahead, Cap!" The captain snapped upright "Aye aye, General!" he roared, spinning on his heel and storming up to the top deck.
The table was left behind covered in maps and drenched in doubt.
Outside, the sea awaits.
And so did war.
The metal doors of the war council hall groaned shut behind Varnok, He stepped out into the chill sea air, the cold wind brushing against his face. For a moment, he stood still, staring out into the horizon.
Then, without a word, he turned and walked along the deck.
He found Akio near the starboard edge of the ship, standing on a crate, peering through a small hole in the hull to watch the waves crash far below. The boy's shoulders were hunched, his small frame still. He didn't turn when Varnok approached.
"Hey, Dad," Akio said quietly.
Varnok smiled and walked closer, standing behind him. "What are you doing?"
"Just... ocean seeing, I guess."
Varnok folded his arms, watching his son. "So... how do you like it?"
"Like what?"
"Being on a ship."
Akio shrugged. "It's cold, Loud, A little scary."
Varnok chuckled. "That's what makes it real."
Akio sighed and then said, "then I guess it's fine".
A silence passed between them.
"What's wrong, boy?"
Akio's voice dropped, sad and soft. "I miss... I miss Mom."
Varnok looked at the sea, letting the wind speak for a while. Then he smiled gently. "I bet she misses you too."
Akio didn't look away from the water. "You think so?"
"I know so. She must be proud of her boy, going to war to protect his father."
Akio sniffled. "Does it make me less of a warrior? Missing her?"
Varnok lifted him with ease, hoisting him onto his shoulders. "No, my son. It makes you more of one."
Akio smiled at that. There was no one in the world whose words weighed more than his father's.
"So... Dad? Do you miss Mom?"
Varnok's answer came without hesitation. "Yes. Every day."
Akio sighed. "I wonder how you stay so far away from her. I can't."
"Neither can I," Varnok said. "But I have a duty. To protect her. And you."
Akio beamed, then paused as Varnok added with a smirk, "But I can't have you missing my wife, boy."
Akio looked stunned. "She's my mom!"
"She's my wife!"
"She gave birth to me!"
"And I married her!"
They stared at each other. Then burst into laughter.
"I love you, Dad," Akio whispered.
Varnok's smile stretched wide, his hand gently tapping Akio's leg. "I love you more... son."
They stood there, wrapped in wind and peace.
Below deck, in the belly of the ship, Lucien Marros, Borrik Nosebite, and Tanka Twin-Axe worked together with a dozen pirates. Cannons clanked into position, Crates of iron-tipped bolts were stacked neatly, New equipment looted from the enemy ship was examined and fitted.
Lucien scratched something onto a parchment, Tanka heaved a cannon into place with a grunt, while Borrik inspected an oiled blade.
"All right, that's the last of it," Borrik muttered, wiping his brow. "That ship's stripped cleaner than a winter hare."
Lucien nodded. "We scavenge fast, but leave nothing behind....Sink it."
They opened the valves. One final push, and the enemy vessel groaned before slipping into the sea. A boiling splash, a swirl of bubbles—they stare at it until the ship was completely covered by the sea.
The captain stepped in, coat billowing.
"Is the ship ready?"
Borrik stood straight. "We'll leave the second you say so, sire."
"Good." The captain left as quickly as he came.
Borrik turned to Lucien, "So... the Arimites. What are they like?"
Lucien's face darkened.
"They were once tribes, Poor, Frozen, Nameless, Used as slaves by the Valkarian Empire."
"Slaves?" Tanka echoed.
Lucien nodded. "Forced to mine the black dust beneath their own soil, Iron, bloodstone, cursed ore, used as slaves and raised like livestock in their own land. The Valkarians broke their backs while preaching salvation.
despite that they were giving redemption."
"By Who?" Borrik asked.
"No one knows his real name," Lucien said softly. "He was only ever called... the Warlord."
He stared at the floor, voice growing quiet.
"He burned the slave camps, freed thousands with warriors from different tribes over 10 million. Spoke once: 'This world belongs to wolves, not shepherds.' Then he left for war. Twenty years of rebellion, the Arimites bathed the north in blood, They didn't fight for crowns, they burned them, Even when they were victorious... the Warlord never ruled after some years, he vanished no where to be found."
"What happened after?"
"Madness," Lucien replied. "some generals tore the land apart, Then Arvak Thorne came. Declared himself king. Built a new army, Not of freedom—but fear all in the name of the warlord. He conscripted children, Executed his own, Made weapons of bones and flesh."
He paused, "Now their ships sail with black sails dipped in ash, their soldiers don't fight for coin. They fight for vengeance."
"Sounds cursed," Borrik muttered.
"Some say the gods are with them," Lucien said. "Others say the gods turned their backs."
Tanka grunted. "I thought this war was between Vikings. Why are the Arimites here?"
Lucien looked at them both, his voice steady.
"Because this isn't just any war. This is something else. Something bigger. Something darker."
He glanced toward the direction of the wind.
"Whatever it is… gods help us."
The others stood in silence, suddenly cold despite the weather.
Outside, the waves rolled on.
And somewhere far beyond the mist they know something awaits them
Akio had fallen asleep in Varnok's arms, his head resting against his father's chest, breath slow and peaceful.
The ship swayed gently beneath them, the sound of waves murmuring through the wooden hull.
Varnok rose quietly, cradling the boy in his arms, he walked down the dim corridor of the lower deck, passing creaking beams and flickering lanterns, until he reached the sleeping quarters — the crew's bunks, also known among the pirates as the hammock hold, But tonight, Varnok had arranged a small cot in a quiet corner, away from the noise and boots of drunken sailors.
He stepped inside the cramped cabin, ducking beneath low beams.
The walls smelled faintly of salt and smoke, a single oil lamp burned softly on a hanging hook, casting warm amber light.
Varnok knelt and laid Akio gently on the makeshift bed, the boy stirred but didn't wake, his small fingers curled slightly around the edge of the blanket.
Varnok sat beside him for a moment.
He reached out and brushed a hand over Akio's hair, slow and careful.
"You'll grow strong," he whispered, voice like gravel softened by love. "Stronger than I ever was."
He leaned down, pressed a gentle kiss to his son's forehead, and lingered there for a while longer.
Then, without a word, Varnok stood and walked out back into the cold, creaking of the ship's dark corridors, leaving behind only the soft sound of a child's breath and the scent of iron and oak.
THE HISTORY OF THE ARIMITES
"Some say the gods blessed the Arimites.
Others say the gods simply turned away."
Long ago, the Arimite Nation was nothing more than scattered tribes buried beneath the white dust of the Northern Barrens — poor, hungry, dying. Their land was cursed with frost and fire, where winters snapped bones and summers scorched skin, They had no king. No flag. No name. Only chains.
The Valkarian Empire ruled them then — a golden army of crusaders who burned entire cities to ash and called it holy justice, the Arimites were slaves in their own soil, forced to mine blackstone and iron for the empire's war machines, some where raised, some raised like life stock, they were branded like cattle, beaten in pits, and raised to believe they were born only to serve.
Years passed the Arimites continued to live with no name, but that didn't last forever.
From the pits of suffering rose a man — or perhaps a monster, no one knew his true name, they called him only the Warlord.
A former Valkarian general turned traitor, the Warlord had seen the truth behind the empire's gold-lined lies, He appeared from no where, no one knows his name or where his from, He spoke only once when he reappeared, standing in the center of the largest slave camp.
"This world belongs to wolves, not shepherds."
Then he burned the entire camp, The Guards, The Officers, The Commanders, And the slaves followed him, their shackles broken of their wrist, What followed next was twenty years of bloodbath.
The Arimite Rebellion became a storm that shook the northern world, Entire Valkarian garrisons were devoured in the night, Towns once under imperial banners flew black flags, the symbol of the Warlord — a wolf devouring a sun.
The Warlord had no diplomacy, No mercy, He made alliances with pirates, outcasts, even demons if the stories are true. He used forbidden war magic, poisoned rivers, unleashed wild beasts into cities and when the Valkarian capital fell, he didn't take the throne.
He burned it, He built no palace, He declared no crown.
"This land has no kings," he said. "Only the scars of them."
The Arimites were free, But freedom is not peace.
When the Warlord vanished — some say he died, others believe he walked into the mountains to become something more — the Arimites fractured, but seeing a new warlord changed the mind of them all, maybe he's alive maybe he's dead no one knows.
They tried to rule themselves, some great generals rise to claim the land, each more ruthless than the last, each carving up land with power and greed.
From this chaos the new Warlord rose — not a liberator, but a conqueror.
King Arvak Thorne crowned himself under the old wolf banner, But he was no Warlord, He was obsessed with the past, With power, With vengeance.
He raised a new generation of Arimite warriors, bound not by freedom, but oaths.
He reopened the war halls.
He conscripted children.
He declared enemies of the state to be anyone who questioned his rule — even old Arimite veterans who once fought beside the Warlord.
Now, under Arvak's reign, the Arimites are feared once more — but not respected. Their soldiers are fanatics, trained to die without hesitation. Their ships sail under black sails dipped in the ashes of the dead.
Their weapons are forged from bone and scrap, cursed with sigils only the mad dare speak.
Some say they have no soul left — only wrath.
They are some rumors that the Knights of the South have been trading secrets to the Arimites.
The king of your land may have offered the Arimites land in secret, hoping to use them as mercenaries.
Others believe the Arimites aren't attacking for land but for power.