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Chapter 3: The Tavern of Midgard

Time passed, and what was a small camp became a modest village. On the shores of Fenrir Bay, a small deck was built to facilitate the mooring of ships. Small huts proliferated, and a humble Tavern came to gather the warriors after an exhausting day of work. Within this place was an altar, built by the elders in the first days after arriving in this land, to thank Dio for guiding them on their journey. But it was a humble altar, the dream was to create a sanctuary worthy of the Supreme. But that would be for later.

There were more urgent things to do first. The sanctuary was as important as it was, but certain things were vital to the survival of the group. It was necessary to build a more resistant palisade, to create defense fortifications, ditches, traps, etc., until the village became a really safe place to live. What they had up to now was a poor wooden enclosure, merely built to delineate their territory, something very important to them. After all, what was his property deserved to be defended to the death.

In the face of all this, some younger and weaker men, who were not yet imbued with the savage and indomitable spirit of the Vikings, were discouraged. The oldest elder of all, hearing these rumors of discontent, gathered them all into the Tavern (which had been called the Tavern of Midgard) and sai😛

To the discontented, do not fear. I had a dream! The day will come when three boats, with white and red sails and wild beasts in their trials, will leave our port - yes, a real port, not the deck we have - and they will win the seas. They will be only a small fraction of the great fleet that we will have, and that will be envied and feared in every corner of the known world. And the Village ... Ah, my friends, the Village will grow. Yes, it will grow bigger than anyone has ever dreamed of. There will be more huts than a man can count on his fingers, more people than our numbers can encompass, more food than any of us have ever seen, and will have a warrior army larger than any who have ever marched on the face of the Earth.

Confident in the old man's wisdom, the men finished drinking their beer mugs-and the young, mead-and went to their huts to sleep. A new day was about to begin, and they would roll up their sleeves to turn these words into realities. Big cities were not part of the Viking culture. But they would get there.

They would build a citadel out of nowhere, and show the world that they were there.
Map of the islan😛