The gathering in the torchlit hall is a grand sight to behold. Wulder the Vatling, Eorl of Ydalir, sits proudly before his thanes, dressed in his finest wool hacele, pinned with a seælfen brooch. Near him stands his cempa from Heorot, Beowulf. And beside Beowulf stands Wulder's brooding cousin, Idis Skatha the Wéofodthegn, the warrior-priestess.

"Friends," Wulder begins in his booming tone, "The Skjoldungs are defeated and return to their holdings to the North. Once again Ydalir belongs to the Vatlings. Woden has granted this. Many of our kith and kin have fallen against the Skjoldungs, taken to the Walheall by the Waelcyrgie. They will be remembered for ages to come -- especially my father Horvendil, my uncle Weyland the Smith, my brother Amleth and brave Balthar the Fair. May they feast in the Heroes' Hall, inspiring Scops for many generations to come!"

The assembly gives up a cheer but silences quickly after a cold glance from the Wéofodthegn. Satisfied with the spell of captivation she has cast upon the Thing, Skatha cracks a smile and returns her eyes to her cousin, the Eorl.

"Now," Wulder begins again. "What of the people of free Ulfdael? Are there any cases to be settled? Or are there any newly-arrived freemen from the Rhineland or elsewhere who wish to make an oath of fealty? I invite any freeman, man or woman, to step foward."