Scandinavia, 841 d.C.

The fog is thick, battle, imminent. You're aboard the longship at the service of Ursa, the Valkyrie of the Northern Seas, heading to slay your foe: the Krivich tribe. You look at Freya.

She's more or less your age, you used to train together when younglings, and now she's a fierce Shieldmaiden, surpassed only by Ursa herself. She catches you glancing, and smirks.

"Are you sure you'll be able to slay the Krivich? You keep glancing at me."