The funeral for the fallen warriors had been an extravagant affair. Large rafts were lashed together and soaked with oil and pitch, and the bodies of the warriors and their fallen pokemon were laid atop them and set adrift in the fjord. Archers on the shore lit bundles of oil soaked rags affixed to their arrowheads and launched their flaming missiles. The rafts ignited with a roar and drifted out towards the open ocean, leaving nothing but ash. The surviving warriors on shore beat their swords and axes against their shields in a final salute to their fallen comrades.

Ulfi's body was spared the funeral pyre on Wulfric's request, and the monk took the boat builder out into the woods near Yeavenguut to bury him according to the Arcean rite. He dug the pit himself the evening following Halvard's victory over Ingmar, his tired muscles protesting. When the grave was half-dug, Halvard appeared, moving silently between the trees. The king held a shovel over his shoulder, and he silently fell in beside Wulfric, digging at a steady tempo. Neither man said a word until the pit was several feet deep and long enough to hold Ulfi's body. Together they lowered the boat builder down and laid his sword and shield over Ulfi's body and folded a carved wooden Druddigon in the boat builder's hand. Hjodtr had been immolated on the pyre with the other pokemon, but it didn't seem right to send Ulfi off without some memento of his stalwart companion.

Wulfric stood over the grave and clutched the iron ring hanging around his neck. Halvard stepped back and raised an eyebrow. The monk took a deep breath and pressed his hands together in supplication.

"Arceus on high,

In Your light we are born

Your providence guides our lives

And at Your command we return to dust.

Lord Arceus, those that die live on in Your presence,

Their lives changed but not ended.

We pray in the hope that our flock

And for all of the dead known to You alone.

In company with You, Lord of All;

May they rejoice in Your Kingdom,

Where all tears are wiped away.

Unite us together again in one family,

To sing Your praise forever and ever.

In Your name we pray."

Wulfric wiped away his tears and felt Halvard's hand on his shoulder. The king nodded and picked up his shovel again. In silence, they filled in the grave. Halvard found a wide, flat stone to set above it. Using a hammer and chisel, he carved Ulfi's name in the northerner's runic script and set the stone in the earth. When that was done, Halvard turned and returned to Yeavenguut as quietly as he had appeared.

The days following the fall of Yeavenguut were tumultuous. Of the seven jarls Ingmar had called to aid him, four bent the knee and swore fealty to Halvard. The three that refused were quickly executed and more compliant successors were found among their followers. Halvard had also attempted to execute Donatus Builder, but Wulfric had managed to dissuade him. Donatus had only done what he had to do so that he could survive, and it was not his fault he had landed on the opposite side of the conflict. Besides, Wulfric had argued, the north could use a man with his skills, not only to rebuild Yeavenguut and Rovngalad but also to mimic the Kalosian building styles and bring the north into the modern era.

Torvald had agreed, and after much deliberation, Halvard had allowed the man to live. However, he used the Storm Bringer's power to destroy the towers holding the chain and forbade Donatus from ever designing something of its ilk again.

When Halvard's power was secured and oaths of allegiance had been taken from all present, a feast was thrown in honor of the new king. Helga and Aesgir each had some musical skill and were attempting to write the sagas of the Battle of Yeavenguut. Helga strummed a stringed instrument that reminded Wulfric of a lute and tried to spin together some prose while Aesgir set the tempo on a hand drum.

"…and when we hear the dragon's roar,

The Golden King is here

The thunder's crash shakes the fjord…"

Halvard sat at the high table they had dragged out onto the beach, raising his drinking horn with every toast, but Wulfric saw that he rarely let the mead pass his lips. The monk shuffled along the fringes of the crowd until he caught Halvard's eye. The king motioned to the empty chair next to him, recently vacated by Torvald. Wulfric pushed through the revelers and sank down next to Halvard. The king sighed and poured Wulfric a generous portion of mead. "Drink up. One of us ought to."

Wulfric took the proffered horn and frowned. "Why aren't you celebrating? I thought this was everything you ever wanted."

"Is it really?" Halvard glanced over his shoulder to where Zapdos was devouring an offering of several Mareep and smirked. "I told you long ago that I'm just a simple farmer. Now that I'm here wearing the crown, I think I only went down this path was because I felt I had to, because it was my birthright and it was expected of me. All I ever really wanted to was to work the land. But now…" He reached up and tapped a finger against his battered crown. "But now I have more land than I know what to do with. It's an odd problem to have."

"Everything is as Arceus wills."

"Do you really believe that, Wulfric?"

Wulfric nearly replied that of course he did, but he caught himself. "I… I don't know. Not anymore. I have to believe it, but after everything we've been through, I have to wonder why Arceus would will any of this to happen. How could He let so many die so senselessly?"

Halvard took a deep draught of mead, draining his horn in one long pull. He slammed the empty horn down on the table and refilled it. "Now you see why I don't put any stock in fate? If fate exists, then it's simply cruel. It's so much easier to think that all of this is just…" Halvard waved his hand lazily through the air. "Random."

"As you say, your majesty."

"Don't call me that." Halvard gestured out at the assembled warriors. "They can call me that if they think it's proper. But you? You of all people know better than to put me on a pedestal. I'm just a man like any other."

"A man like any other?" Wulfric cried. "For Arceus's sake, Halvard! You fought a god and won! You triumphed over the heavens themselves! And regardless of how you feel about it, you led your people to victory and reclaimed your birthright. I can count on one hand all the men in history more deserving of honor and glory than you!" He raised his drinking horn and tapped it against Halvard's. "So don't be so maudlin! Ragnhildr and Ulfi fought and died for you to be here." He pointed out at the revelers. "For you to have this honor and this burden. Those are your people, and they need a king. You were never just a simple farmer, Halvard. You're their king now, whether you want it or not. It's time you acted like one."

Halvard's face flashed with raw fury at Wulfric's impudence, but as soon as he worked himself up, he deflated with a laugh. "You're right, damn it. Of course you are." He reached over and clasped Wulfric's hand. "What would I do without you?"

"You wouldn't have gotten this far, that's certain."

Halvard stood so quickly he knocked his chair backwards. The king raised his drinking horn and all the revelers fell silent. "Raise your cups to a new era!" Halvard boomed. "To the future of the north!"

"Aye!" the northerners cheered. Zapdos spread its wings and rattled its feathers, its triumphant shriek splitting the night air like a thunderclap.

Two days after the feast, Halvard dismissed the Storm Bringer. He walked alone to the rise where Zapdos had made its roost and spoke to it for some time. The one-eyed bird inclined its head to Halvard, and the king raised his hand to the side of the Storm Bringer's beak. After a moment, Halvard stepped back, and the Storm Bringer shot into the sky. Thunder cracked and lightning flashed as the Storm Bringer vanished into the clouds and flew south.

Halvard returned to the city gates, where the warriors of Rovngalad had gathered. The king smiled. "My arrangement with the Storm Bringer was always a temporary one. I bested it in battle, and so it lent me its power. I accomplished what I needed to do, and our arrangement was concluded."

"But what if the other jarls try to overthrow you?" Ivarr asked. "Without the Storm Bringer they—"

Halvard shook his head. "If they think that just because I no longer have a god at my beck and call, I am without protection, they are forgetting that I was able to defeat that god. I am not without allies of my own." The gathered warriors all looked out at Uthald drifting lazily in the fjord, his cobalt and gold scales shining. Halvard followed their gaze and chuckled. "Uthald is certainly formidable, but he's not exactly who I meant." He held out his arm and Dismas fluttered from Wulfric' shoulder to Halvard. "Should my enemies try to best me, they had best be prepared to weather the wrath of Dismas Godsbane." Halvard returned Dismas to Wulfric and turned to Torvald. "Brother, I have given this some thought, and it does not seem right for me to claim Yeavenguut."

"But you're the king!" Skaldi cried. "It is yours by right!"

Halvard shrugged. "Yeavenguut has always been the seat of the king of the north. But it does not have to remain so. Torvald was the one who breached Yeavenguut's walls and took the citadel. By right of conquest, it ought to go to him. Besides," Halvard smiled. "Rovngalad is my home. I will have my seat of power there, where I know the land best. Torvald, you were always going to be jarl when I ascended. So why not be jarl of Yeavenguut?"

Torvald raised an eyebrow, and Wulfric struggled to hide his discomfort. Halvard had either made a calculated move or a desperate gamble, and it all hinged on whether or not Torvald decided to take it as a slight. On the one hand, Torvald could choose to be honored that Halvard was turning Yeavenguut over to him, the seat of power in the north for generations immemorial. And yet, it could also be seen as an insult, for even though Yeavenguut held great historical significance, between the Rovngalad invasion and the Storm Bringer's wrath, Yeavenguut was in ruins, while Rovngalad was already largely rebuilt following Ingmar's attack while they had raided in the south.

Torvald was the superior swordsman, and Skerast drifted in the air behind his head. If he had a mind to, he could cut Halvard down before any of Halvard's men could stop him. The king had sent away the Storm Bringer, leaving him defenseless should his brother decide he deserved more. Torvald's fingers twitched and Wulfric tensed. But Torvald the Red smiled his carnivorous smile and extended his arm to Halvard.

"Jarl of Yeavenguut… I like the sound of that."

Halvard clasped Torvald's forearm and pulled him into an embrace. "Hail, Torvald, jarl of Yeavenguut!"

"Hail, Halvard, king of the north!"

Wulfric sighed and saw Ivarr and Aesgir remove their hands from their weapons, and Skaldi visibly relaxed. Wulfric wasn't sure which side the warriors would have come down on had Torvald acted, and if he was honest with himself, he preferred to keep it that way. The last thing they needed now was another war.

Finally, the day came for them to return to Rovngalad. Roughly half of the surviving invaders elected to stay behind in Yeavenguut to help Torvald rebuild and keep Ingmar's old allies in line. The forces of Rovngalad said their farewells on the docks of Yeavenguut. Torvald presented Halvard with a new crown of burnished gold, melted down and forged from treasure taken from Ingmar's vault.

Branna, perched on Torvald's shoulder, turned her imperious stare on Dismas and chirped something. The Chatot puffed out his feathers and preened. "Indomitable!" he squawked.

Beside the new jarl, Ivarr said his goodbyes to his comrades. He had been the first to volunteer to remain with Torvald, and Wulfric knew he would make a fine lieutenant and second-in-command in the jarl's court. He embraced Wulfric warmly and leaned down to whisper in Wulfric's ear. "Seems a shame to let Ulfi's workshop sit empty, doesn't it?"

"What do you mean?"

"He taught you his secrets, didn't he?"

"Well, yes, but I could never—"

"The old man had faith in you, Wulfric. He trusted you. And Rovngalad needs a boat builder." Ivarr winked and let him go. "Think it over, at least."

Wulfric boarded Halvard's longship and joined the king at the prow. The sails unfurled as the rowers went to their places and took up their oars to guide them out of the fjord. Uthald rose up from the waves, his coils glinting as he moved through the water. Wulfric stroked Dismas's feathers and turned to Halvard. "What did happen between you and the Storm Bringer?"

Halvard stared westward, his new crown shining in the midday sun. "We fought," he said. "And in the end, I won. That's all there is to it."

"That's all there is to it?"

"Maybe I'll tell you the whole story one day. Once I've embellished things enough to make myself look properly heroic." Halvard smiled when Dismas crowed in indignation. "I assure you, Dismas, nothing will be at your expense. Without you, I never would have carried the day." He winked at Wulfric.

"But really," Wulfric pressed. "You just let the Storm Bringer go on its merry way? What if the other jarls don't take kindly to you usurping the Usurper?"

Halvard tapped a finger to his lips. "There may be some things I didn't share about my arrangement with the Storm Bringer. Something like a provision that should I ever call upon its aid again, it is bound by honor to assist me. I can't say for certain whether the Storm Bringer will uphold our bargain, but perhaps if I arrive again with Uthald and Dismas in tow, it can be persuaded to see things my way." The king chuckled. "Should it come to that, we'll have to see, won't we?"

"You can be infuriating, you do know that?"

"One of the perks of being a king, I suppose."

Wulfric sighed. "So what's next?"

"I do recall making you a promise," Halvard said. "To unite the north and south. But something tells me that won't be as simple as walking up to the gates of your Kalosian king and demanding a treaty. No, I think this will require time and careful planning." He turned to Wulfric. "And I trust you will help me?"

"Of course. I made a promise too."

Halvard looked out at the open ocean and smiled. "We'll get to the south someday, Wulfric." Uthald swam in front of them as they passed through the opening of the fjord, the ruins of Donatus's towers on either side. Uthald swam in front of the ship, his cobalt scales gleaming. "But for now, the north is enough, don't you think?"

Wulfric nodded, feeling a deep ache in his heart for the rolling pastures of Rovngalad. For home. "Yes. For now, the north is enough."

6