Zentmeister

"When the old gods are forgotten, they do not die—they wait."

In the year 1025, the Viking Age wanes.
Iceland bows to Christ. The Althing governs by law. And the gods of old fade to whispers.

But in the far Westfjords, something stirs.

Vetrúlfr Úllarson, a former Varangian captain and exile, returns from the East with foreign gold, forgotten warcraft, and a hunger no man can name.

He comes not in peace, but to raise Ullrsfjörðr from ash and ice; building walls, carving runes, and waging war on behalf of a dying faith.

From Reykjavík to Aachen, rumors spread: a ghost walks the North once more. Some call him the son of Ullr. Others, a wolf-cloaked demon.

But all will know his name.

and when the Valkyries call, he will answer.

Valkyries Calling

In Rome, the early autumn sun cut through narrow windows of colored glass, casting bars of ruby and sapphire across the marble floor.

Within the Lateran Palace, Pope John XIX sat flanked by his cardinals, their crimson robes bright against the pale stone.

Scrolls lay open upon the broad table; letters from Norman abbots, hastily penned reports from itinerant priests, the formal instruments of Richard's forced tonsure bearing both Robert's seal and that of the archbishop of Rouen.

A heavy silence lingered after one of the papal secretaries finished reading aloud the terms of Richard's renunciation; the ex-duke of Normandy, once proud and defiant, now cloistered in a quiet monastery far inland, his house's claim smothered by solemn oath.

Pope John drummed his ringed fingers against the arm of his chair, eyes hooded beneath his mitre.

In the Halls of Saint Peter