Frida the white witch

In the borderlands of the abandoned capital Gnesen, the caravan moves towards Kalisz in the territory of the Vandals. it is peaceful In the and people are going about their daily activities. Borin the hunter is sitting by a rock near the river, grilling two fish he caught, when he sees a large army approaching. They cross the river at a shallow point in countless numbers. Borin runs into the sparse forest and quickly makes his way to the village.

"HELP, AN ARMY IS COMING TOWARDS US!"

The village is in an uproar, and panic breaks out. People lock their doors and windows and cower in fear inside their homes. After a few minutes, the villagers dare to take a look outside. An endless mass of people stretches towards the village from the hill. A second army emerges behind the silhouette of the hill, displaying the crests of the Goths and Pomeranians. Some villagers faint from fear, while others clench their teeth in terror. In that moment, hysteria and panic spread through Kalisz, as an old lady calmly walks towards the village entrance amidst the chaos.

Her gaze is fixed on the distance, her long, tied-up hair heroically blowing in the wind. She holds her old walking stick, which resembles a magical wand, aloft. The villagers lose their panic and gather around the lady, facing the approaching army. The children in the village shout,

"Aunt Frida! You are the bravest! Let's drive them away!"

For a minute, the village is no longer afraid, as the people reach the village entrance. A sea of people stands before the village. An incredible sight, a handful of people against an army, with Frida at the forefront. However, the confidence and courage quickly fade when the lady asks, "The sun blinded me… Where is the large army? I can hardly see anything..."

A fearsome figure stands before Frida. His brown hair has wild features, and four braids decorate the sides of his head. A deep scar adorns the right side of his face, and a soul-piercing gaze filled with malice and megalomania bores into the villagers of Kalisz. His clothing is adorned with wisent and bear fur, iron armor protects his chest, and a bronze crown decorates his head. The villagers turn pale, and Aunt Frida merely says, "Oh, hello sir! Are you, by any chance, looking for the way?"

"I AM BERING THE CONQUEROR!"

The villagers tremble in fear upon hearing his title. Bering continues, "I am indeed looking for the way to Krakow..."

Aunt Frida replies, "Oh dear, the way to Krakow is along the Netze River to the right, towards Sieradz. You can't miss it."

"Thank you," shouts Bering the Conqueror, giving the signal to continue the journey. The fearsome army marches past the village, and the villagers are relieved.

"Aunt Frida enchanted the army and drove them away," someone exclaims in the square, and everyone cheers for Frida the White. Thus, the legend of the powerful witch Frida the White was born.

Days passed, and the caravan resolutely continued on its way to Krakow. In the border town of Wielun, which lay on the border with Quadien, they passed by a mysterious building. A wooden cross adorned the onion dome, and it smelled strangely of spices. It was a wooden Chalcedonian chapel. Priests emerged from the house, holding their rosaries to their hearts. Prayers and bells rang out from the chapel.

"Sancte Michael Archangele, defende nos in proelio,

contra nequitiam et insidias inimici maligni nos defende.

Imperet illi Deus, supplices deprecamur.

Tuque, Princeps militiae caelestis, Satanam aliosque spiritus malignos, qui ad perditionem animarum pervagantur in mundo, divina virtute in infernum detrude.

Amen."

Hardly anyone paid further attention to the building, and they continued on their way. When they arrived in the capital of Quadien, it was a marvelous sight! Krakow was full of market stalls, and there were so many goods to see that it made one's head spin. There were many houses in various sizes and shapes, and torches illuminated the streets with a soft orange glow.

In the outskirts of Krakow, the camp was set up, and the people bartered for supplies for their journey. They stayed in Krakow for one day before moving on. In the camp of the Scirii, the mood was good. Göll was telling his stories, and a piglet was roasting over an open fire. Mead was being drunk, and even Roman Celtic wine from Civitas Vina Norica was being poured. At one of the campfires, you could see Gerald, Thorvik, Anton, Tiwaz, his wife Altasa (Altansarnai), and their three children Naran, Oktai, and Ravna.

Altasa was not a delicate woman, her arm muscles were the result of hard work as a huntress. Her hair was black, her face had slightly Mongolian features, a broad nose, and her eyes were dark brown. She wore green, inconspicuous clothing and a silver bracelet. Naran was the oldest among the siblings. She was the only one with black hair and resembled her mother more. Oktai was the second oldest, platinum blonde, with most of his facial features from his mother. Ravna was the youngest. He had brown hair and looked more like his father, with one green and one blue eye.

Anton conversed with them and enjoyed the company. The children were happy and brought a cheerful atmosphere. There was laughter, and everything seemed fine until suddenly Anton's runes began to glow, and his eyes flashed green. His mind fell into the earth, and his vision followed the roots westward. He suddenly saw a fir forest and an army armed to the teeth marching in one direction.

"Am I seeing through the eyes of a tree?"

A blonde man with violet-glowing eyes and a rune on the back of his left hand sat on a horse. The symbol of an arrow was visible as the stranger looked directly into Anton's eyes and raised his hand. Anton's vision was disrupted by a violet flash, and he woke up.

"What was that now?!"

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Translation of the names:

Civitas (semi-autonomous city in the Roman Empire)

Vina (Vienna)

Norica (Noric Celtic people)

Eihwaz (yew)

Tiwaz (name of the god Tyr)

Mongolic names:

Altansarnai (golden rose)

Naran (sun)

Oktai (he who understands)