It was a northern land.
At the top of the world, right under Polaris.
There was a war about to brew.
As often was in those days, it was a senseless war.
A war over a slight at a wedding.
Of an insulted bride, of a guest not invited, or a scorned suitor...
In the end, there were many who could be found at fault for all this.
But here, so far removed from rest of the world, it was inconsequential.
Especially for a certain man.
His boisterous laugh like the sun.
His wild eyes like fire.
His unruly hair the colour of blood.
With a broadsword strapped to his back, he stepped out to confront the forces that had gathered.
Thousand spears were pointed at him and yet - he laughed.
After all, how could he not?
It was just as his mother had foretold:
"If thou goeth to the grim north -
Into wedding of that harlot -
In there shalt thou call thy doom forth -
Shall thy neck there bloom in scarlet!"
How could he not be satisfied?
Disregarding his mother's advice, he had come here, against all odds.
Even when he had wrangled the Gods themselves to help him, just to spite the owners of this palace.
No, not just them.
Fate itself had conspired against him, tried to frighten him away from this place by foretelling of his death.
And he laughed in destiny's face.
He came here all the same, even if he were to die.
Because he would not be afraid.
Not once had he known fear.
And he never would.
He was a man, larger than life.
A hero that the legends sung of.
He was Gentle Lemminkäinen - Farmind of the Farshore.
The Baldr Who Defeated Death.
And for a moment...
... So was Colt Davin, seeing the world through the eyes of this undying hero.