Aleksandr found his father alone before sunset. The council chamber had emptied hours ago, but Askorld had remained behind. The map of the kingdom was still spread across the table, though most of the markers had been pushed aside, and a cup of untouched wine sat beside his hand.Aleksandr closed the door behind him. “You meant what you said.”Askorld did not look up. “About the truce?”“Yes.”“I did.”Aleksandr walked toward the table. “Then we disagree more than I thought.”Askorld finally raised his eyes. “I know.” There was no anger in his voice, and that almost made it worse.Aleksandr placed both hands on the table and looked down at the map. “When I was a boy, you taught me that a king who shows weakness invites his enemies closer.”“I did.”“You taught me that borders are not protected by walls. They are protected by the men willing to defend them.”“That is also true.”“Then I do not understand you.”Askorld leaned back in his chair. “You understand me. You simply do not agre

The gathering began before noon. The great hall at Gutagard had been cleared of most of its tables, leaving only a long space in the center where the Jarls and their men could stand. Fires burned along the walls despite the mild weather, and guards had been placed outside every entrance. Erik stood near the high seat, though he did not sit in it. He had invited the Jarls to Gutagard because the South could no longer be treated as a distant problem—Borislav had already seen northern blood spilled against its walls, and the war had begun to affect trade, ships, grain, and the safety of settlements far from the battlefield.But the gathering was not a war council. No army had been summoned, and no attack had been planned. The Jarls had come because the balance between the clans was changing, and none of them trusted what that change might bring.The first to arrive had been Jarl Torvald of Bjornheim, who came with several warriors from the central plains and entered the hall without cere

The decision had been made before the sun rose over Slovia. King Askorld stood beside the long table in the council chamber while Queen Yeva watched from the opposite side.Aleksandr stood near the window. He had been summoned expecting another discussion about troops, but instead, his father had told him that the kingdom would seek a truce.“You are sending an envoy north,” Aleksandr said, turning from the window.Askorld nodded.“To whom?”“To the Jarls.”“All of them?”“If they will listen.”Aleksandr took a step closer to the table. “And what exactly are we offering?”“A pause.”“For what?”“To stop the fighting long enough for both sides to speak.”Aleksandr gave a short, disbelieving breath. “After Borislav?”Askorld's expression remained calm. “Borislav still stands.”“And our enemies know it.”“That is precisely why we can speak from a position that is not one of defeat.”Aleksandr walked toward the table. “You want them to believe we are willing to stop while they rebuild.”“

Here is Chapter 28 reformatted with merged dialogue, integrated character movement, and smooth paragraph transitions—eliminating the choppy, single-line structure while keeping every word of your original story intact.Chapter 28 — The VölvaThe news from Varnvik stayed with Erik longer than he expected. It was not because the battle was large—a few dozen men had died on each side, and the crossing remained in southern hands—yet the fighting had happened far from Gutagard, between men who had never met the commanders whose decisions had set the wider conflict in motion. The war was spreading on its own.Erik had spent the previous evening in the great hall listening to merchants and returning warriors speak about the roads beyond the Wolf Coast, and every account seemed to lead to another concern. Trade routes were becoming contested, small settlements were being forced to choose sides, and the southern kingdom was pushing its influence north while the northern clans guarded their own

The ships returned to Gutagard under a pale morning sky. Erik stood at the edge of the harbor as the first vessel reached the shore, watching men climb from the deck carrying weapons, shields, and bundles of supplies. Some looked tired, while others were already speaking about the journey home.Gutagard had changed since he left—not greatly, but enough. The repaired houses stood beside those still waiting for new roofs, fresh timber had replaced sections of the palisade, and new boats rested near the water while others remained pulled onto the shore with their hulls open for repairs.People came down to meet the returning warriors, and Erik saw Hilda among them. She waited until the first men had reached the pier before approaching him.“You came back,” she said.“So did most of us.”Her eyes moved over the warriors behind him. “Most.”There had been times when he had returned from the South with fewer men than he had taken. This time, however, he had not returned simply from another