August 23, 870 AD.
City Titan, Iron Kingdom.
Four months had passed since Erik's wild expedition first landed on the freezing shores of Iceland...
And more than six months had melted away since the conquest of Calais, the Frankish coastal city that was now securely ruled by Bjorn, the Supreme Commander of the southern forces.
Inside the walls of City Titan, Ragnar Ulfsson stood in front of a glass mirror inside the warmest room of his stone keep.
"Damn..." Ragnar grumbled, trying to adjust the belt that held his custom-forged steel pistol. "Who designed this fucking coat?"
"You look exactly like a King, Ragnar." a soft, amused voice called out from the doorway.
Ragnar stopped fighting his collar and turned around, a smile instantly spreading across his face.
Standing in the doorway was Gyda. She was wearing a beautifully stitched silver-gray dress, and resting in her arms was a tiny, sleeping bundle wrapped in warm bear furs.
