Bloodlines of the Ancient Pantheons

At the same time, all his archers put down their weapons, and the warriors of the three Clans did the same.

"Layrus? Who is he, the wolf you killed with a single blow?" Freydis asked, who already knew the answer, but wanted to eulogize her man, realizing that for those warriors, he had accomplished an incredible feat.

Before Orvar could answer the rhetorical question, Dag interrupted him: "Thank you for your welcome, my colleagues and our men will be eternally grateful for your hospitality. Now, I have a question for you..." 

"Tell me, Dag. Speak, without fear."

"You are at war with the Giants Of Ymir and the Claws Of Fenrir, or at least, so you told me. Just before you let me into the fort, you suspected that I might be a member of Lies Of Loki, ready to set a trap for you... well, considering that the great Clans that populate Krypstorm are just these three... who are you?" the Warchief asked, making the other Masters wonder at these words, who had not noticed these details.

Orvar began to chuckle, without answering, until he crossed his gaze with Dag's, realizing that his was a serious question.

"I don't know where you got this information, but I just realized you don't know anything about the nation of Krypstorm!" 

"Uh? What is he talking about? There are no other Clans, apart from the ones that Dag mentioned before..." Sander said in a low voice, speaking to Egill, who stood silently listening.

"I introduce myself again, my name is Orvar and I'm the chieftain of the Hunters Of Ullr!"

Dag and his companions blinked, believing it was a stupid nonsense joke.

"Hunters Of Ullr? What is this, a joke? There is no Clan with that name!" Kjell exclaimed, who was immediately recognized for his arrogance.

Orvar's expression changed slightly as if those words had annoyed him, but before he could speak, he was interrupted again.

"My friends, it's not what you think" Egill said, stepping forward and stopping by Dag.

"What?!" 

"What are you saying, Egill, are you crazy?!" 

"Master... these notions have been taught to us from the first days of training in the arena, how can you say they are wrong? Do you deny your own teachings?" Dag asked, who, though particularly confused, had already sensed that those bow-equipped warriors did not belong to any of the three Clans of Krypstorm.

Orvar, after noticing Egill's intervention, intrigued about the amount of information he knew, let him talk to his men, without interrupting him and smiling slightly, as if he was enjoying their astonishment.

Egill took a deep breath and began to speak again: "I have been Masters for many years and before I became so, I was a warrior and a student, just like you. In addition to learning skills and studying the principles of herbalism, I have always been fascinated by the ancient history of our world and how legends and reality sometimes are founded. Every Master of each Clan must teach his students the names of the Clans that populate Skjold, specifically its two great nations. You have lived with the conviction that the great Clans are nine... and believe me, I was convinced of that, too. But many years ago, when I came across an ancient text written by a shaman who died more than 150 years ago, I discovered that in ancient times, the Clans were more than twenty..."

The moments after that speech were incredibly silent.

All those present, who had heard those words well, began to elaborate the concept in their minds, and everything on which their knowledge was based went up in smoke.

That news would forever change the way they saw things because they would realize that, in fact, the wars and conquests of the territories of the planet were processes much more articulate and complex than they had ever believed.

"Egill... why didn't you ever say that?" Sander asked, disappointed with his friend's behavior.

"I didn't know it was the truth. I thought I read some nonsense! I thought that the author of that text emphasized the strength of small minorities or groups of warriors by calling them Clans, how could I imagine that they really existed! Believe me, I realized it now, just like you!" Egill replied, looking into Orvar's eyes, who kept giggling, appreciating his detailed explanation.

Dag also looked at the leader of the archers, who stepped toward them and broke the silence again: "What your wise Master says is true. Or rather, it was... things have changed a lot in 150 years." 

Dag shook his head, trying to filter out the stored information, then replied: "What happened then?" 

Orvar's expression became sore as his mind dug into memories.

"Many of the Clans that populated Skjold were entirely exterminated by larger ones, who took over and destroyed every trace of the warriors of the past, making sure that no one remembered their name anymore. Look at us, for example... there are only eight of us" he said, pointing to the men behind him, who looked down. 

"What happened to you? How did you survive?" Sander asked, who after Egill's explanation and realizing it was all true, wanted to know more at all costs.

"Our Clan had more than 100 warriors, and our Masters were the most skilled archers in the world. We were guarding a big village in the northeast... our base was built right within its walls. A dark night more than 40 years ago, the sky seemed particularly clear and quiet and the air was warmer than usual. I was just a kid at the time and I remember that during that night I couldn't sleep and with a friend of mine, I left the base and ventured into the town, just to spend some time doing nothing..." 

The archers behind him, despite hearing that story countless times, remained enchanted, knowing that it was all true.

"There was no one on the streets of Kogr, all its citizens were sleeping. Just when we were about to steal a piece of hot bread from the baker, who was the only one already awake at that time of night, we heard the first screams coming from the houses closest to the southern walls of the city. Frightened and not knowing what to do, we ran back to the base, but before we arrived, we noticed that dark figures, prowled like shadows around the white walls of the building, climbing silently on the windows and sneaked like thieves into the main entrance. Needless to say, they were Claws Of Fenrir's wolves..." Orvar continued, with a melancholy air, unable to hold back his emotions.