As he spoke, his voice was still deep but something - an ember of fervour – now burned beneath:

“Olaf Tryggvason saw the world through the eyes of a slave yearning to become king. He came to Norway - a kingdom in Denmark's servitude and riven by the folk's hatred for its corrupt ruler: he exploited these dissensions, gained the trust of the masses and was crowned King. Abroad, he had seen the advantages of uniting with the great powers of the world through faith, but guilt of renouncing his own belief haunted him; so his mind made up delusions to justify his betrayal. Now he believes himself a god, and he'd rend the knees of all unbelievers to make sure they bow before him.”

The crowd was now silent, watching Yngvar as he walked on the wooden platform to be seen and heard by all, his sword's hilt of silver and ivory glimmering at his waist beneath a rune-carved belt.

“Our King is a resourceful man, sly and warlike, dogged to the point of fanaticism; he feeds on weakness, demands obedience but scorns it, he'd rise to the height of his ambitions upon a pile of limbs and gore. He'll ask - graciously, at first. And then he'll take. With fire and sword.”

The sun came out of the clouds – in the luminescence, Yngvar's eyes lit up a blazing blue, contrasting with the black coal that lined them.

“From all of you,” he pointed to the audience, “I ask nothing but this: keep your eyes open. And when you are summoned to Niðarós, when all chieftains are rallied and forced to convert to the new faith, remember my words! And when you think to refuse him - but find your position, family, or freedom threatened and yourself coerced to give in - look back upon this day. In life, one can bend like air, shift like water, break like earth, or shine like fire in the darkness, strong and uncompromising. Which will you be?”

The audience finally stirred. Not doubting, bur nodding. Fair enough, even the skeptical among them murmured. The chieftain tilted his head and, rubbing his beard contemplatively, said:

“Food for thought, your speech. Thank you for your wisdom and your presence here, Yngvar Eindride. Ves heill!”

and raised his drinking horn. Eyolf stood up, arms opened, the same grace in this gesture that shone through his magical dance the previous day:

“Hear, hear! The insight, the vision, the spirit! I told you, my friends, that I'd bring before you a man worth hearing and knowing. Ves heill!” The others followed, unanimously, and the seiðmaðr took in the sight. "And now, on to more pragmatic concerns: let us discuss the reforms Yngvar Eindriði is proposing."

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Ves heill - "Be healthy" (Old Norse)