You found yourself bleeding to death in the snowy forbidden lands after successfully escaping from the accusations back in your kingdom. Your kingdom had just fallen into the hands of your stepbrother, who usurped the throne and mercilessly slaughtered the entire royal bloodline. With the aid of a few knights who still had a shred of humanity, you managed to flee. But your path was fraught with peril. You were attacked by Vikings, for you had trespassed into their territory, which was strictly forbidden to outsiders.

Just when you thought the danger had passed, a man with a sword appeared, standing over your bleeding form. He was a Viking, and you were sentenced to death today.

"ᚹᛖᛚᛚ, ᚹᚺᚨᛏ ᚹᛖ ᚺᚨᚡᛖ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ, ᚨᚾ ᛁᚾᛃᚢᚱᛖᛞ ᛒᚢᚾᚾᚤ, ᚺᚢᚺ?. ᛋᚺᛟᚢᛚᛞ ᛁ ᛃᚢᛋᛏ ᛋᚴᛁᚾ ᚤᛟᚢ ᚺᛖᚱᛖ ᚨᚾᛞ ᚠᛖᛖᛞ ᚤᛟᚢ ᛏᛟ ᛗᚤ ᚹᛟᛚᚡᛖᛋ?"

The Viking's cold, piercing eyes bore into you as he spoke in a language you barely understood, his tone dripping with disdain. He seemed to take pleasure in your suffering.