"Father, we have a visitor."

“Go fetch Áppo, son.”

The crunch of snow could be heard under Válde’s feet as he stumbled through the blizzard.

It wasn’t often their town, Murmansk, received visitors, and even when they did, they usually weren’t so… dark.

It was still midday. Half of the village was out fishing, leaving the rest to take care of everything before they got back.

Áppo was the village head, who oversaw the daily routine of the residents. If there were not enough people to catch all the fish possible, he would send more to help, so that they could make the most of their haul.

It took Válde a long time to reach the house where Áppo lived, but luckily he knew how to make it through the snow, as he had been doing for 13 years.

Out of breath, Válde nearly collapsed when he reached Áppo. “Giel Áppo, there is someone at my father’s home. He wishes to speak to you.”

Áppo left Válde with a mug of warm milk and hot fish, and walked over to the house where this person was staying.

The fire was crackling, emitting a warm glow throughout the house. The man was wrapped in a blanket, sipping on gløgg, staring into the flames.

Válde’s father gave Áppo his own blanket and gløgg, and after situating himself, spoke to the stranger.

“Welcome to our village. Normally we don’t take kindly to outsiders, but we have never seen a person like you.”

The man simply looked up, with glassy eyes and an emotionless visage. He looked back at the fire, before speaking himself.

“Yes, it has been a long journey. It took many hardships to make it here.”

“And how, may I ask, did you find this place?”

“Years of wandering. It took days to make it here from the last village.” He waved his hand in the general direction of Válde’s father, “I was lucky to find him. I thought I would have to survive on reindeer for the rest of my life!”

The visitor raised his head, meeting Áppo’s eyes, a small smile on his face. Áppo returned the gesture.

“Well, feel free to stay at our village for as long as you wish. We are having spectacular catches today, we will be glad to have you here with us!”

Válde’s father whispered to Áppo. A frown replaced his smile. The village was crowded, and there was no room for a guest to stay.

“If you wish, I could make arrangements for you to stay with me for the night. It will be rushed, however.”

The visitor looked back down at the fire. Áppo noticed the visitor was shivering. He must have been trapped by the blizzard for a while.

“That would be wonderful. Thank you.”

After supper, Áppo questioned the visitor on where he came from, who he was. His name was Alafar, he was born in a city called Pyskov, from far south. His mother and father were, as he called them, Roma people. They were born in Luhansk, even further south of Pyskov. His parents, he said, were Muslim at birth, but converted to Christianity as they began travelling around Muscovy.

They were married in Kyiv, having fallen in love well before then. They gave birth to two sisters, then him. Shortly afterward, however, the entire family fell ill. He was the only survivor.

He boarded a ship with his adoptive family, towards new lands, new nations. They landed at Danzig, in the land of the Goths, where they found new people, new religions (many of their party converted, Alafar was not one of them).

Then, sadly, war broke out. Their new home was being attacked regularly, and in a desperate effort to escape, they snuck on the first ship they saw, headed to anywhere.

Anywhere turned out to be Vlojarvi, a port city not far from his birthplace. His party split up, half deciding to stay at the new city, the others deciding to head south.

Alafar stayed, hoping that finally he would be safe from the war, able to settle down and start a life.

War, however, came right to Vlojarvi. An invasion force seized the city, capturing it after a week.

When they had the chance, Alafar escaped with his friends, Mireli and Vano, both Norse converts, but even so the three had formed an unbreakable bond.

The three stole a boat from a town just north, and followed the shore, finally landing after several days at sea when their water supply ran dry.

Lulea, their landing site, was not very welcoming to the visitors. One of the residents speared Mireli in the leg, hindering the group’s progress in the future.

Travel was difficult, but not impossible. It was summer, and snow had not fallen for a while. The rest of the villages they encountered were much more welcoming, and the three were able to hop between them all, and got along just fine. One villager even fixed Mireli’s wounded leg.

However, during his attempt at healing, the villager likely infected the wound. Disease spread through the village through the rest of their time there, and one of the victims of the disease was Vano.

The loss hurt Mireli deeply, and although he fought through the disease originally, he seemed to give up after Vano’s death. He claimed to have shaken it off, however, and after several days Alafar left the village with Mireli.

Mireli barely managed to make it to the next town. He died after just hours there, and the villagers kicked Alafar out not much later.

Válde’s father was the next person he saw.

The next week was filled with feasts and celebrations, as Alafar’s long and successful journey was celebrated.

Alafar was given fresh food, shown the location of nearby streams and villages, and was sent on his way, to the cheers of the villagers who had helped him survive.

Their cheers turned to screams as the snow turned red where Alafar’s limp body now lay.

---

700km South

Tobar, Agaš of the city of Ytterby, was growing increasingly contempt with his role. He wished to rule grand, large empires that spanned the globe.

He was really just the head fisher, but was popular among the people. He had converted them to the Norse faith, and they seemed to be willing to assist him with his plan for a unified Sápmi people.

He rounded up a small force of 50 people, and headed south, to oust that town’s current leader.

They succeeded, and forcefully added 20 more to his fighting force.

As he continued south, his tactics were refined. The people there had never seen violence, apart from the occasional fishing brawl between neighboring villages over whose waters were whose. He would take the first person he came across, and swiftly but forcefully put a sword through them. The town was usually forced into submission shortly afterward..

This tactic became increasingly difficult as he continued south. These villages were closer to several large empires, and had experienced bloodshed before.

After he had to use combat to force several villages in a row to submit to his rule, a frustrated Tobar Agaš turned north.

His conquests took him up to Murmansk, where Alafar was the first person he saw.

He moved on from Murmansk as usual, and continued his conquests north. Winter slowed him, but once Summer came and the sun started shining all day long, he was able to continue all the way north, to Nordkapp, a small village of 10.

He continued east, but once again he faced the same problems as he had before. Villages here had faced violence thanks to another large empire nearby.

After losing badly to one rather large village, he returned home to Ytterby with just 75 men left.

He had conquered a large area, and although his influence had long worn off on many of them, the fear of violence left them all loosely connected to Ytterby. If something had to be done, his people would do it, even if they wished not to.

Map of claim.