The sounds of the lake lapped at the bank, the water murky as it always was, and some fishers happily doing their duty to feed their family and create coin. The sun shone in the centre of the sky as he beat down almost harshly if not for the breeze that filtered through the air. Carrying the smell of smoke from Kattegat and salt from the sea. The sounds of Kattegat could be heard a few ways away, and the birds happily filled the forest with song.

The sons of Ragnar Lothbrok were all in the woods, close to the lake and their boots drying in the sun from pushing one another around after a small argument that Sigrud was still fuming over. They were training and being away from the longhouse and their duties, which seemed to weigh heavy on the eldest of the boys. Their father wasn't too far away, at Floki's hut discussing new long boats and other amenities that filled the men's minds.

Bjørn was sharpening his short fighting axe on top of a fallen log while sighing gently as the sun caressed the man's back, his tunic growing warm while the breeze kept him cool. Ubbe was busy throwing the axe towards an old tree. The axe had been lodged in there a few times, and the tree was covered in gashes. Hvitserk was smiling at Ubbe with his teeth dug into his apple and laughing with Sigrud behind him, grumbling about the earlier argument and scuffling. While Ivar was beside Bjørn with the cruch beside him to help him hobble around and mock his brothers.