ill-fated expedition had lost his brother-in-law, a friend, a mentor, and the meagre funds he had intended to multiply through trade, began to seek solace for his aching soul in the bottle. Before he knew it, he’d blown through everything he had with him and, with his last few pennies, got himself drunk to the point of unconsciousness in the worst dive bar in the slums.
The next thing he remembered was waking up on a bunk at the Imperial Fleet’s training camp. As his boatswain later told him, Alrik, blind drunk, had staggered into the recruitment centre without even knowing where he was, and when asked if he wanted to serve on a warship, he said yes. The recruiters decided that Ytren must have experience not only on a ship but also in combat, and they filled in the relevant information themselves. And so it was that Alrik Svenson became a sailor in the Imperial Navy.
Einar listened with interest to the story being told aloud from start to finish, not only because it was interesting, but mainly because it allowed him to take his mind off the twins’ endless ramblings about the blacksmith’s daughter and the last night they’d spent with her. The only one worse off than Einar was Surt, who was sitting right next to Leif and could not even attempt to ignore him, as Bragi had done. In any case, the eldest of the brothers was fulfilling his duties as the firstborn son and, together with their father and mother, was conversing with the guests.
The feast, though noisy, full of laughter and thunderous shouts, was considerably more subdued than the one that had taken place the day before. It seemed that the valiant Ytrens had not yet managed to recover from their all-night revelry. Yet from the Imperials’ perspective, it must have been a legendary feast of the Sea-People.
Unfortunately, whilst the mood at the head table was high and the occasional small, friendly gesture could be spotted, things were somewhat different a little further away. Every now and then, Einar glanced at the
