was shorter than his peers, and no matter how much he trained, his build was nothing like the stocky figures of the other inhabitants. He also had short-cropped silvery hair, pale blue eyes and sharp, elongated features. Furthermore, although he did not fully understand it, he seemed to be stronger and more resilient than his peers, a trait he did not particularly wish to stand out with; he often trained in secret so that he would later appear tired after the training sessions he led for boys over the age of ten.
When he was just six years old, he asked Olaf about his parents. He could see that the question had taken the jarl by surprise, but when he explained that he’d been wondering why he was the only one who was different, that was the only explanation. Olaf sighed heavily and said that Einar really did take after his father. He then recounted how they’d met during one of their expeditions to the south.
The young jarl had become separated from the rest of his men during an attack on a Nakher supply post. He got lost in the forest and, by chance, stumbled straight into a patrol of soldiers from a nearby garrison. Without a moment’s hesitation, they drew their weapons and a fight broke out. Olaf didn’t stand a chance, all alone against an entire squad. Yet he stood with his head held high and, resigned to his fate, threw himself at the twelve men, who were taken aback by his behaviour. After a fierce battle in which four Nakher men fell, the future jarl was left with rather severe wounds, the scars of which he still bore to this day. Yet just as he was about to join the gods and was ready to take his place at the table with his ancestors, a nondescript figure in light leather armour and a dirty-green cloak emerged from the forest behind him.
At first, Olaf thought it was a deathbed hallucination, but the clang of steel was very real indeed. Before the jarl could get himself up,
