Prelude Part 5: Birth

October 4999, OTT

Erik Gustav had arrived once more on the planet of his birth. This time he had not taken the Space Bus but arrived with his own brand new Clarion 7 luxury yacht, the Silver Falcon.

A terrible snowstorm obscured everything behind a whirling flurry of white. The two massive snow removers fought a losing battle. His seventy-meter craft had just landed and already wore a thick cover of snow and so did the Volvo Flier that waited not far from the landing ramp.

He girded Mjördaren and then stomped through the snow and the bitterly cold wind. A figure thickly wrapped in furs stood by the flier and greeted him with a muffled voice. “Hail Lord of the Ragnarsson clan and welcome home.”

Erik Gustav knew of course who the man was and recognized the muffled voice. “Hail Orkning, it is good to be home indeed.”

Erik Gustav climbed into the flier and so did his trusted warrior. Reinhold, another retainer, sat behind the controls. Erik Gustav greeted the usually silent man and realized how fast he had gotten used to the always mild weather of Pluribus, as he was glad to be inside the flier. He settled into the leathers and then noticed the flier’s bar had been forcefully opened.

“Orkning, what has caused this damage?”

“The brutish Isegrim, thinking he owns all that is Ragnarsson my Liege. He uses what he wants and what is locked away he breaks. He commands, gives orders, and yet not even the Elders have confirmed him as the new Chief of the Olafsons.”

The pilot, a long-time Ragnarsson retainer, gritted his teeth as he added, “It is not just this compartment he has damaged. Much has been destroyed, tarnished, and besmirched because our lord decreed that we must bow to creatures we should exterminate instead!”

Erik Gustav sighed. “Volund was an honest and true Viking and I saw so much promise in this union. Reinhold, I hear thy complaint. All that happens between the walls of my old burg reaches my ears, yet I am bound by oaths and I can not break them unless they are broken by others. My honor and our traditions come before all else. Even the short sight of a foolish old man and the hardship he caused his daughter.”

Reinhold grunted and with a short nod, “Aye, not even I want thee to break thy oaths. I have much reason to hate you my liege and yet I am also honor-bound to thee and a Ragnarsson warrior I am.”

Erik Gustav reached forward and put his hand on the man’s shoulder. “I know thy loss was caused by me and if you name the price, I shall pay it. Honor is always first.”

The three men repeated as if speaking with one voice, “Honor is first.” This had been the creed of the Ragnarsson clan for almost 3000 years.

The Ragnarsson clan Chief spoke after there was a spell of silence, “While Isegrim becoming clan chief is most likely a foregone conclusion, I have and will take steps that make sure his rule over Ragnarsson treasures are limited and short. Now tell me how is my daughter?”

“She is as pregnant as a bloater fish, my liege, yet still as radiant as the Shortsummer sun itself. The midwife thinks it is any time now.”

Erik Gustav leaned forward. “Reinhold make haste.”

He then pulled back the cuff of his gauntlet style gloves and revealed a GalNet enabled PDD, “System, connect me with my friend Aaron Silverzweig.”

To Orkning he said, “This is a good friend of mine, a lawyer and law professor. He specializes in analyzing the law structures of alien societies and he studied the Book of Traditions.”

The Viking warrior was true to his liege and clan Chief, but he resented the fact that Erik Gustav was off-planet more often than home and he did not even want to understand or hear anything about off-world things.

“Your place is here, my liege, and not at a faraway place beyond the skies. What business do you, what business do we Neo Vikings have there anyway. We need them not!”

“Orkning, you are a good man and one I trust with my life, but as much as we want to, we can not remain completely isolated.

“For all our strength, we are nothing compared to what is out there and I am the one standing guard much like Heimdahl stands guard at the gates of Asgard. It is not a task that is easy or popular, but once a man sees dangers that could threaten his home he must do all he can to stand firm against them. Do you know what would happen without me being there at Pluribus?”

Orkning glared at his chief. “Everything that happens does so out there and does not concern us.”

Erik Gustav sighed, but stated firmly, “We have been pirates and could not stand against the Union. We have been invaded by the Nogoll and we would not be here if it was not for the Union Fleet.”

Orkning laughed. “Those goat faces? We killed them all, each and everyone!”

“One Nogoll ship, an advanced recon group. 260 Nogoll and we lost over 2000. Aye, it was a great victory but we could not have stood against the Nogoll if they sent more. It was the Union fleet preventing that.”

Orkning was still not convinced. “They did that without you being there.”

“Do you remember the two Lowmen you killed about five years ago? Indeed you were drunk and indeed you paid the Peerson clan for the loss.”

“I do remember, what business did they have to come into a tavern and stay?”

“If I am not at Pluribus to make sure our way of life is protected, then a Lowman can go to a Union Court and ask for his rights and declare you a murderer. I doubt you would like to be hanged, you and three-quarters of all men of Nilfeheim. If Union law and Union police come to Nilfeheim, their executioners will have work for years!”

Orkning had seen broadcasts of Federal executions, one of the few GalNet programs the Vikings liked to watch at the taverns. He too had gone to Union school and remembered the virtual excursions. He was a stubborn Viking but suddenly he was glad Erik Gustav did prevent Union law arriving. He was stubborn like they all were, but he was not stupid.

Erik Gustav nodded as he saw the light of understanding in Orkning’s eyes. “I knew you might change your mind.”

Reinhold listened to the conversation and said nothing. He too was a trusted warrior, but he resented this Olafson business. He blamed his clan Chief for the death of his wife. A wife that died before she could give him a son. It was less than a decade ago in old Terran years when Erik Gustav was elected as the Representative of Nilfeheim and had left for Pluribus the first time.

When Erik Gustav returned, he also carried a curse to this world, a microbe, a bacteria, or something of that kind that Erik Gustav was immune to, due to the treatments he had received off-world. While other worlds adhered to the stringent Union hygiene laws, Nilfeheim did not. The fever caused by the microbe spread fast and before the decision was made to call the Union Doctor instead of trying more herbs and home remedies, it was too late. Hilda Hellstrom, the wife of Erik Gustavson and Gunhilde his wife, had died, killed by an off-world disease.

But hearing that made him think differently as well. It was him who decided to delay calling the Union doctor. He hated everything off-world with a passion, mostly because it was fashionable and traditional to hate off-world things.

He didn’t want his wife to be touched by an off-world man and yet the Union Doctor had scolded him and told him how easy it would have been to save them all if he had been called right away.

Reinhold knew this haunted the Old Man and Erik Gustav grieved over the loss of his own wife as well. Erik Gustav had loved his wife very much, no one doubted that. Reinhold found this, however, a fitting punishment from the Gods for the man who brought the disease in the first place.

Reinhold would serve his master but he was no longer the staunch defender of all that was Ragnarsson. Thus, he decided not to tell the Old Man what everyone knew, Volund did not die of an accident and that the upstart Isegrim was bedding a Nubhir herder’s wife instead of having eyes only for his pregnant wife.

No one could remember a winter storm of such ferocity. Temperatures dropped to -99 on the C-scale, but the rumbling thunder and lighting were quite rare.

Erik Gustav could almost feel the atmosphere of mistrust and anticipation wafting like fog within the walls of Ragnarsson Rock. This was not how he envisioned the last days of his clan and if he was true to himself, he had to admit he was not a good clan chief. A good chief was reachable and took care of his clan’s needs and concerns. A clan chief was more than a ruler, he was also a protector and caretaker; he had not taken very good care of his clan.

As much as he was a man of Nilfeheim’s rules and traditions, he was also a Union Citizen now. No matter how many times he told himself how necessary his task was to be the Nilfeheim Representative, he knew the true reason was that he was intoxicated by Pluribus, by being a member of the Finance and Trade Council. Men like Rex Schwartz and Alex Enroe knew of him. He had the private access code to the President of the Union Bank and could call the old insect any time he wanted. He was invited to parties, rubbed shoulders with Mega Tycoons, kings, queens, and the representatives of other worlds.

Being at the center of the mighty Union and being part of its government was addictive like nothing else.

Other Reps used telepresence Avatars. They could even have hired a professional representative from one of the Representative Agencies, but those weren’t options he considered.

His grandfather was the first Ragnarsson looking outward and started the little company called Silver Hawk Emporium. His father expanded it by adding a mining operation on Balder. But it was he that truly made it a successful company with revenues reaching billions of credits.

All this went through his mind as he sat in his old chair before the massive fireplace in the Lord’s Hall and stared into the orange flames licking around the Tyranno oil-drenched Soak Stones.

Next to him sat three Elders and together they waited for Isegrim Olafson. They had summoned Isegrim and expected his summons to be answered promptly, yet they had waited for over an hour before they saw the massive Olafson come up from the High Halls.

It appeared that the son of Volund had grown even bigger than Erik Gustav remembered. Instead of a sword, he wore a coiled whip and his beard was not braided, but an open mess of black curls. He wore the clan Chief Necklace of the Olafsons and the red fur-trimmed cloak Erik Gustav had given Volund as a gift not so long ago.

Isegrim planted himself with crossed arms before the three Elders. “The Elders summoned me and here I am.”

Erik Gustav said. “We expected you to heed my call over an hour ago, but you being tardy had been a problem even when your father was alive.”

“I have chores and work. I am not an idle man.”

“That is a good sentiment indeed. Maybe it will suit you well if you hire out to another clan to cast nets or help them scrub Nubhir hides. You are the husband of my beloved daughter, but don’t test me again.”

Isegrim glared at the older man. “Are you retracting from thy contract and word?”

“No Isegrim, never has a Ragnarsson retracted a word given. I wanted to make sure you know the full extent of that contract, once the Elders have completed their business with you.”

The Ragnarsson chief motioned to the other Elders. “Now pay your respects to the Elders as it is tradition and just, or do you reject our laws and traditions?”

“I live by it,” Isegrim bowed and greeted the Elders as it was required. “I have a wife that is close to giving birth, the joys of fatherhood await me and I intend not to miss a moment of it.”

One of the elders said, “According to our laws and traditions, I ask you here and now, are you intending to become the clan Chief of the Olafson? Are you going to ask the Circle present to confirm ye in this?”

“Of course I am the firstborn and there is no one who challenges me.”

“You are aware of all the implications? You are then not only speaking for thyself but all Olafson. You are to sit in the company of Chiefs at the great council and all contracts, bonds, and pledges made in the name of the Olafson clan before you are binding to you.”

“Of course I know it all. I was born to this! I shall abide by the laws and traditions and accept the bonds, contracts, and pledges made by those who came before me, so I swear upon the Spear of Odin.”

“Then it shall be so.”

All the old men rose from their chairs and the same Elder declared, “You are hereby declared Chief of the Olafson clan and all thy peers shall recognize you as such. Your word is that of Olafson, your will is that of the clan.”

One of the Elders handed him the Clan Leader Seal Ring that had been collected by them from Volund’s hand. “This is your last chance to step back, you put this ring upon your hand, it is done and your oath is sealed.”

Isegrim grunted and put the ring on his finger and his victorious grin showed despite his beard.

Erik Gustav however also smiled.

“Of course one of the contracts and pledges you just confirmed is this one.” The Ragnarsson Chief produced a leather-bound folder with the seals of the two clans upon it. “This is the very contract I had made with Volund and the Olafson clan, it was sealed with that ring, and by you wearing it, you accepted that.”

Isegrim waved his hand.

“Of course, and I know it makes the clan Chief of the Olafsons the lord over this burg and all that it represents, is that not the case Old Man?”

“Almost, Isegrim, almost but not quite. It makes the firstborn son that comes forth between your union to Ilva Ragnarsson the sole inheritor of it all, both Olafson and Ragnarsson, and he will be Lord over it all. You are, like Volund, just a steward.”

Isegrim was neither concerned nor surprised.

“I know that too, but he will be my son and this is Nilfeheim. He is born and whatever I decide will be his and what I want to take will be mine.”

Isegrim cracked both seals and opened the folder and then scanned over the document. He found what he was looking for and read out loud: “The firstborn shall inherit the day he is declared a man before the Elders. Until then the caretaker and steward of the Ragnarsson holdings on Nilfeheim remain under the control of the last living Ragnarsson, a retainer of twelve percent of the earnings of the Nilfeheim bound estates shall be paid annually to the steward.”