Origin Stories - Holmvik

[Holmvik]

Rebekka Axelsen
Dís Two
The Valkyrie of Klimpfjäll

To become an Ace a pilot must be confirmed as downing five enemy aircraft, Rebekka carried that distinction however she felt it was a lie. The first was so easy. As they'd been patrolling over the sea the orders had come over the radio to be on standby over the capital while attack helicopters entered the city. It had been a strange few weeks for Rebekka, she had grown up in the countryside like so many of the military. The countryside knew greater poverty and there were two ways out, the first was to take some crappy factory job and eek out an existance, the other was to get to University but that created a paradox, to get to University you needed money but to get money you needed the education, for decades this unbroken cycle existed but there was a way out. Pledge five years of your life to the crowns military and assuming you were honourably discharged you'd get to University. Rebekka had three years left when that faithful call of 20th July came in.

"Dis One and Two you're tasked to the capital for overwatch of the choppers. Maintain 10,000 feet and await their instructions."

"Roger that" Squadron Leader Baskkson responded before changing heading and watching carefully as his young wingman did likewise. Little did Baskkson know it was more than the control stick Rebekka was wrestling with. She had been a native of Nyksund and had wept when she'd seen the photos of  ten year old Jorunn Kristoffersen's face that had been caved in by a rubber bullet. She had been tempted to desert that day but her father had convinced her the King wasn't this stubborn and would find a solution everyone could live with but now a month later she knew her father would be down there in the capital marching with his fellow agricultural workers. As Baskkson praised her for her formation flying he gave his attention to checking his control panel and missed Dis Two fall back and with a deep breath, a flick of her wrist and press of a button a burst of machine gun fire ripped through Dis One, as the aircraft spiralled to the ground she saw no parachute and trying to push down the panic of what she had just done she thought again of her father and the approaching attack helicopters. She pushed her throttle to full and headed towards the capital. Several calls came asking what had happened to Dis One which she ignored and then as she approached the capital she spotted the helicopters on radar already engaging targets on the ground. She flicked a switch and imagined the shock on the helicopter pilots face as his missile lock warning rang out, she squeezed the button and watched as the missile streaked away from her. That was two down but now the work began.

"All callsigns we have a rouge fighter" a call came over the air and immediately she saw the helicopters change positions to deal with the bigger threat on the ground. Little did she know the cheers that the helicopter exploding brought from the ground. In that split second she had all but started a revolution as those in the capital believed they could take on the army. The helicopters hadn't been expecting an airborne threat and Rebekka was able to make light work of two more before the Air Forces next fighters arrived. It now became a spot of a dogfight as Rebekka flew in low over the city trying to catch the remaining attack helicopter while avoiding the fighters now after her. Two missiles narrowly missed her as she bobbed and weaved to get a view between buildings. With a split second glimpse and the buzz of a lock she fired her final missile and took down the final helicopter before evading a third missile which used up her last counter-measures. The skies now saw a deadly dance as a pair of fighters chased her and she twisted like a fish on a line to evade and once clear she could have made a run for it but where to. She switched to a frequency 156.8 MHz, used for international distress figuring if this situation wasn't one then nothing was. "This is Dis Two flown by Rebekka Axelsen. I am declaring an emergency. The Kingdom of Holmvik are killing the innocent. May Freyja take my soul." She was convinced it was a matter of time before her own demise and yet with a tight turn completed she was head on with a Royalist fighter. The Goddess must have been watching out for her as she instinctively pulled the trigger of her guns while her foe simply flew head on at her wide eyed. Rebekka pulled up and didn't see the rounds pierce the aircraft sending it crashing. The climb though put her into the sights of the second enemy fighter which brought about the second of Freya's miracles, the incoming bullets missed her but doomed her aircraft. She yanked hard on the ejector seat and felt the air rush from her lungs as she flew skyward. Two minutes later she thumped into the middle of a wide street full of debris and very pissed off civilians who had spent the last half an hour dodging attack helicopters, tear gas and rubber bullets. At first she thought the crowd would kill her but instead a young man rushed forward, a trash can lid as a shield. He grabbed her and pulled her towards a side street as she hobbled her knee sending pulses of pain through her lower body. "I'm not with the King." Rebekka sobbed as she slid slowly down the wall to sit with her back against the wall.

"We know. We saw" the young man glanced into the street where green uniformed men fired rubber bullets. "Come on" he grabbed her by the harness of her webbing and pulled her behind him the trash can making perhaps the worlds most ineffective shield. They reached the safety of the crowd who embraced her. It was clear that these people were now longer going to just accept the military bossing them around. Teams of protestors began making petrol bombs, throwing bricks and then Rebekka saw them, the first hunting rifles. Her father used to keep one above the fireplace and like the majority of those who lived in the fields and forests he was a deadly shot. As to where these men and the first soldiers fell to these sharpshooters. For the next 12 hours running battles went through the city and with the crowd beginning to recognise her she found herself in command of a rear guard action with thirty or so grizzled farmers. The University was the place to go. It was an island and walled, it would give some protection. One of her sharpshooters was a man in his forties, Sigmund Haugen, he was well connected in the farmers unions and was confident as news broke that more people would come to their aid and so they turned the University into a fortress. The Universities own military cadet force had already switched sides having killed their officer when he ordered them onto the streets. Rebekka found herself now with a garrison to command.

After two days of mortar and small arms fire a young art student by the name of Kristin clambered onto the University roof with a banner, blue with white stripes, just as the Kingdom had always had, the crowned bear emblem of the royals had gone, instead a Reindeer replacing it. Moments later Haugen and his fellow Union members made a radio announcement, "We, the people of Holmvik refuse to ruled by the Laudrasson family. We demand a right to determine our own future and we will not yield. We name our land the Republic of Holmvik and we believe it is better to fight and fall than to live without hope." Rebekka waited for death and looked forward to feasting with Freyja, she determined she would die well and prayed for the people of the nation to come to support them. Eight days later the walls of the University fell and the defenders began a slow fighting retreat. Of the 308 defenders of the island 189 were captured, Rebekka watched through binoculars as they were machine gunned and vowed revenge. The sacrifice of the 189 though saw hundreds of army officers rebel. That night across the Kingdom battalions turned against battalions, squadrons against squadrons and out on the submarine Ravens Shadow a fight among the crew saw the sub nearly sink. It soon became clear that the royals would lose and despite the old elites holding on for as long as they could word came to Rebekka on the 2nd August 2000 that the King had abdicated. A detachment of his own guard had betrayed him, captured his son and were threatening to execute him. The Republic was now a real breathing thing and from her position in the ruins of a department store the Air Force officer was carried by Haugen and the University survivors on their shoulders to the Palace. Despite the victory and glory Rebekka couldn't celebrate. She still hasn't.

Now half of her life has been lead with her fellow citizens poienting and whispering wherever she goes, people come up asking if she's "Dis Two" the dyed blonde hair fooling no one. "No, I get this a lot" She would smile and say before watching a disappointed member of the public disappear off about their business. Every year journalists would track her down, first at the rebuilt University she had called home, then at her families farmhouse and now even out on the lakes of the south where she flew as an Air Ambulance pilot. She had even once seen her medic crews paint Dis Two on her plane and they hadn't understood her anger as she had fetched white paint and painted over the red writing herself. Haugon had kept in touch, a politican now he often asked Rebekka to join him at rallies but she had refused, she just wanted to fly and let the world forget about her. That though had changed in 2017. Someone made a film of the revolution and despite trying to avoid it she had seen interviews with people portrayed in it and so many spoke of her being the first leader of the Republic. She didn't share their view but she knew hiding wasn't going to change things.

It was this realisation that lead her back to the capital for the first time since being carried through its streets. Her father meet her in a coffee shop and as her familiar "I get this a lot" formed at her lips as a young girl approached he silenced his daughter. "Yes this is Dis Two" he pronounced proudly. The coffee shop all seemed to stop and look at her. The girl, much younger than the Republic smiled and hurried back to her table appearing with a school homework book. She flicked to the history section and there was a picture of the downed Dis Two she asked for an autograph and Rebekkah's father urged her to sign. The autograph done the girl gave Rebekka hug before returning to her Mother. Rebekka was keen to get away and asked for the bill, the waiter smiled and said it had already been paid. She felt embarrassed, thanked the shop and then with her father left. It was clear she couldn't hide who she was. "Can we go see it?" Rebekka asked her father.

"About time." They walked the streets, stopping every now and again to peer down at golden coloured cobblestones bearing the name of a single person, the date of birth and the date of death, always July 2022. They turned a corner and a large crowd were milling around, the two joined them as Rebekka pulled up her hooded top. There at the centre of the crowd just outside the University were 189 of the golden plaques neatly arranged in a line. "Did I get them killed?" Rebekka asked her father. He paused for a moment and took hold of his daughters hand.

"Maybe" he said matter of factly. "That though isn't the question you should ask. You should ask did they know they would die? That answer to is yes, all of you in those walls considered yourself dead. Then ask yourself did they have a chance to walk away? Of course they did. They didn't though as just like you they knew that only through standing up for the people would we be free. They marched into Fólkvangr proud to have been beside you." Rebekka didn't need to read the names, she knew them all. She knelt next to the first and placed a hand on it. A black jacketed soldier approached her, four of them guarded the memorial and touching or walking on the stones wasn't permitted. Rebekkah apologised and stood but was then shocked as the young Guardsman looked wide eyed, snapped to attention and saluted. "I'm sorry Ma'am....carry on." She thanked him and tried to slide back into the crowd but it was too late and various people approached some shaking her hand, others wanting a picture, she didn't wait but just ran. It was clear she could have no life of anonimity and she there and then she made a decision just as she had done on that faithful day in 2000. She would face her destiny head on, if Freyja had placed her there it was for a reason and so that night she removed the blonde dye, the hoody was thrown out and the next day the flying jacket she had kept in a box was donned. There was only one place she wanted to go and she phoned ahead, which she regretted as the media had arrived. She ignored them as she entered the national museum. There in the first gallery it sat, now a twisted mess of metal, a few panels of holed history. "Dis Two" she said as she reached a hand out towards it behind the security barrier. She stopped spotting the "Please do not touch" sign.

"Its yours do what you like" a familiar voice behind her, Haugen had come. He was President now and watched as she turned back to the aircraft, reached out her hand and ran it along the writing under the cockpit saying "Flt Officer Axelsen - Dis Two" This is why Freyja put her here she thought to defend her family and folk. She thanked the plane and turned to Haugen, "I'm ready. I want my life back and I'm taking it. Sign me up." she smiled.

"Yes Ma'am" Haugen returned her grin and gave a small casual salute just as those at the University had done during the eight defiant days.

[Holmvik]

Sigmund Haugen

Sigmund cursed repeatedly with every pull of the rope. Each piece of strenuous effort brought more frustration just as it also brought more sweat to his forehead. After the tenth, or maybe twentieth, pull on the cord he gave up. "Damn thing is screwed" he dropped the chainsaw to the ground and kicked it. He'd have to head over to his neighbours place and see if he could borrow his. Walking back to the small whitewashed farm house he quickly found the keys to his small pickup and turned the key. With a pop, band and puff of smoke the engine turned over and Sigmund puttered off towards the farm just over a mile away. The bumps and bangs of the rutted track announced his impending arrival to Jonas long before he actually arrived however his kind natured neighbour was not alone. A group of men in military uniform were busying themselves in the farm yard with a large truck. Jonas was being held back by two of them as his wife sobbed from the doorway. Six men were trying to cajole and manhandle a large brown cow into the rear up a ramp but rather stubbornly it was edging backwards down the slope rather than climbing into the truck. "What's going on?" Sigmund enquired as he closed his truck door.

"Royal tribute being collected" A man wearing green and brown patterned camo informed him. "Mr. Faust here is late and so goods are being confiscated." The man returned his gaze to the cow that was now nearly back at ground level and so in a calm manner the apparent officer crossed to the beast, removed his sidearm and fired three bullets into the huge skull of the bovine. The cow slumped to the ground and Jonas let out a pained scream and broke free of the soldiers who had been holding him he managed to swing a punch at the shooter just as the two guarding him tackled him to the cow-blood soaked ground meaning the punch missed. "Hack it up, drag it, I don't care we leave in twenty minutes" The officer shook his head and walked back towards to Sigmund. "And pray who are you?" he enquired. Sigmund knew better than to cause further problems and so introduced himself. The officer flicked open a note book and traced his finger down a list of names before repeating the process. Satisfied that Sigmund was not on his list the soldier snapped the book shut with a clearly practiced motion and then wrapped the black elastic band round it to keep it neatly closed. "Excellent to see some around here are up to date on their payments." and with that the soldiers had attached a winch to the carcass and had now secured it as Jonas was allowed back to his feet.

"Bastards" he cursed. "I only owed $50 and that cow was one of my best. They've took much more." He shook his head in disgust.


The next day at the local inn the local farming community had gathered. In the region of Burgde there were 33 farms, 21 of them had been visited by the Army, another four were expecting visits that day. It was getting beyond a joke. All farmers in the Kingdom of Holmvik held their land for perpetuity but on a kind of lease from the crown. Up until 1997 that had been a single kilogram of produce paid each year, a mere token of respect for the crown. It had become a big event too. Each year the mayor would host a garden party at the manor house and the farmers would each come bringing their family along with their kilogram bag. A huge cart was placed on the middle of the lawn and each would place their bag and then enjoy some ales, roasted meats and dancing until the small hours. Under King Sven XII things began to change. In 1997 it was 100kg, then shortly after it was in cash and now that amount had become so high some farmers struggled to find it and that was when the seizures took place. Sigmund was lucky, his farm sat on a geothermal and so not only did he pay next to nothing for heating he had also allowed a small company to tap into it for electricity. It meant his income was keeping him afloat but he had sympathy for his fellow farmers. They talked through their problems and crisis' and determined that the next weekend they'd go to Nyksund and at their summer festival hold a protest and collect a petition. They'd heard the farmers there were struggling too and they would work together to make the King see sense. The problem was he didn't when the two villages farmers came together and began a protest outside the local council office. King Sven XII believed it was unacceptable and so members of the military had tried to disperse the crowd. It hadn't worked and even threats of arrests had failed. Soon the nations media arrived and the sight of hundreds of farmers, their families and neighbours were being beamed into the homes of people across the nation. It was then the screams began. First it was flashbangs whizzing and popping as they exploded in the crowd sending pockets of protestors running for cover. Moments later the "thunk" of rubber bullets firing and then the sickening thud as they hit people replaced the pops. Sigmund would never forget that moment, this most blood curdling noise he had ever heard as a young girl collapsed yards from him. Her mother had been running for cover when one of the bulbous projectiles had smashed into her daughters head. Now the 10 year old Jorunn Kristoffersen's lay motionless except for tiny convulsions as her deformed face spluttered blood. Sigmund was nearly sick and like many stood in shock as a comrade rushed to offer what aid he could. Jorunn became the first to go to Fólkvangr in the name of the Revolution.

Days later numbers had swollen and the capital itself was being marched upon. Farmers, fisherman, foresters and their friends had gathered just outside Klimpfjäll in a large field used for music festivals. Organisers from the Farmers Union had spent the last 48 hours frantically making phone calls and sending e-mail and as Sigmund looked around all he could see was vast swathes of banners, drums and angry people. The target was the Royal Palace, they'd march through the capital bringing it to a halt and then demand the King stop this insanity. All had seemingly gone to plan until they reached the central square of the city. Some historians today estimate close to a million people marched, to Sigmund though it seemed like the whole of Mundus was packed into that square. Time stood still as soldiers used tanks and other armour to block most of the routes out and then that fizz, pop, thunk and thud began and instantly Sigmund froze with fear remembering the face of little Jorunn. Soon she was being joined in Fólkvangr as people fell and others trampled on them as they sought safety from the mayhem. Things got worse moments later as the spinning rotar blades of helicopters began to fill the sky above the city and then a sound that still sends shivers down his spine. The whirl of canon fire. Sigmund ran for a shop door way as the street behind him was torn up by the gunfire. Soon though Sigmund realised the severity of what was happening. He was at the epicentre of a civil war. Three men appeared from the rear of the crowd and knelt calmly with rifles as they took careful aim at soldiers with radios sticking out the top of tanks. With poised practice they squeezed their triggers almost in unison and puffs of red mist emptied the spaces the tank commanders had once occupied. They slung the rifles on their shoulders and hurried to find more cover and soon there were hundreds of farmers with long hunting rifles. While the military might have the superior fire power the farmers had the superior marksmanship and each round fired resulted in an Royalist down. The helicopters were now flying laps providing support for pinned down units of ground troops. Sigmund knew everyone here was likely doomed and so picked up the rifle of a dead farmer and began taking his own pot shots at targets of opportunity. It had seemed like a life time but was in fact closer to ten minutes when he felt the wings of the Valkyries had come for him as he found himself almost face to face with an attack helicopter from the roof of a taxi office. He swore and closed his eyes waiting for the bullets but instead just felt a great heat, was this how it felt to take the journey? Not hearing Freja voice he opened an eye and saw mangled metal falling to the ground and the whoosh of a jet fighter curving through the streets. Soon people realised what they were witnessing, they weren't alone. Above their heads the skies saw a deadly ballet of aerial combat that ended the helicopter fight, each downed aircraft bringing a cheer from the farmers who did their best to push forward. Seemingly saved from the Valkyries for now Sigmund found himself with ten young lads in tow and they began assaulting a barricade manned by men with military rifles. It was an interesting stand off. If one of the farmers showed himself a shower of heavy but largely inaccurate rifle fire came their way, meanwhile the soldier firing it had just exposed himself and with a superior range and accuracy one of the farmers picked him off. Slowly but surely this dangerous game of cat and mouse whittled down the defenders numbers and just as the saviour in the sky was shot down they had cleared it. Sigmund looked up and uttered a prayer for its pilot. They had seemingly saved so many lives and when he saw the bright orange parachute he found himself smiling. "Come on, lets help them." he waved to his farmer boys and the group rushed to find Rebekka Axelsen slowly descending on a street with soldiers at the far end. "Tobias grab them, we'll cover you." Sigmund laughed as the stocky lad grabbed a large metal bin lid and holding it before him like a warrior of old he braved the street as the men behind him kept the soldiers at the far end of the street pinned down. Soon the man was back with a slender red headed girl half tucked under his arm. The group introduced themselves and explained they intended to try and reach the Palace.

"That's insane" Rebekka informed them. From the air she'd seen more and more armour mobilising and knew their best chance was to keep moving. "I got a message out about what is happening. I hoped we'd get someone outside the capital come." It was as good a plan as anyone had and so Sigmund relinquished his command to their sky saviour. For a tiring 12 hours they marauder the streets picking off soldiers were they could, stealing equipment and trying to avoid the armour. Soon it became clear though they were on borrowed time and so their officer friend took them to the University. It sat on an island and being a former fort its walls gave cover. For a moment it looked like the cadet force there would be an obstacle but with their officer murdered by his own cadets and their small armoury open it saw their numbers swell to over 300. For the next few days across the city they still heard gunfire and battles raged around their own perimeter. They endured shelling, mortar fire and snipers but still they held. Each morning at 7am and again twelve hours later Sigmund used the Universities radio station to try and broadcast to the nation, the wonders of the internet had certainly helped even after the radio mast had been blown up. "People of Holmvik. Our King has shown exactly what kind of man he is. He is happy to leave his people penniless with no chance to support their families. We, the farmers of Holmvik keep you fed, we are proud of our work and we are proud that you enjoy the fruits, quiet literally, of our labour. To put food on your tables is a great privlege and you have been denied that. Hundreds of farmers, fisherman, foresters, our families, our children and many good friends are now dead and more of us will die in the coming days. We shall march into Fólkvangr knowing we have fought for freedom and for you. When your time comes will you be marching beside us or when the Valkyries pass over Holmvik will they leave you as you coward in your homes. If we, the people of Holmvik stick together we can not lose. Come to the capital, bring your rifle, bring your courage and bring us victory."

Soon though the walls fell and 189 of the garrison were slaughtered. If Rebekka had given them hope it was this disaster that turned the tide. Fighting armed farmers who were crack marksman was one thing, lining up the wounded and those who had surrendered and blasting them in the back of the head was not honourable and so before Sigmunds eyes he witnessed those who had only moments earlier been firing into the University turn on their commanders, sergeants fought corporals, platoons picked sides and the military was broken.  It took only a few days now and on the morning of the 2nd August 2000 word came. King Sven and his family had fled, no one knew where too but across the country his loyalists laid down their arms. Sigmund knew the next moments were crucial. Rebekka had become a talisman to the cause of freedom and he woke her from her makeshift bed in the basement of a department store. Freedom Fighters filled the streets cheering and hugging each other. It seemed from every crater or makeshift trench a beaming farmer appeared, his trusty rifle in hand. "To the Palace" Sigmund declared. In his mind a race was on, he assumed who controlled the Palace and could get the people behind them would run the country and so he hoisted Rebekka on his shoulders. A few miles of rushing through the streets, pushing through crowds and singing songs they reached the Palace. Crowds had already gathered but the sight of Rebekka being carried saw the crowd split and as such Sigmund and his crew were inside and it was here the future of the nation was determined. Senior military officers who had fought against their King, a handful of politicians and now Sigmund of the Farmers Union talked long into the night and by the following daybreak a timetable for a new nation was in place. Rebekka would serve as the interim leader until elections. At least that had been the plan but as morning broke the room she had been given to sleep was empty, the window was open and the curtains billowed out into a crisp morning. As such Sigmund, an army officer called Bjorn Bjornsson and a member of the influential Green Party had been formed into a kind of three headed council.

The next months were very different to what had gone before. Sigmund had worked hard within his local councils, Farmers Union and the like but never imagined running a nation. He enjoyed it though and apart from the occasional thought of how his sheep were he busied himself with thoughts of constitutions, councils and elections and on the 6th November 2000 he found himself elected President. He had thirsted for the role once he had accepted the fact that his son would now be the head of the farm and he had half expected the missing Rebekka to resurface and run against him. She had all but disappeared. Rumour had it she was a student up at the university, she'd even apparently changed her name from Rebekkah to Viktoria and dyed her hair. One of his first duties as President was to honour her with a medal but she never collected it. He named a street after her and again nothing. She became a folkstory, the first ace of Holmvik since the Great War era, twenty helicopters shot down some said, while others said she wasn't even real and that she had been a Valkyrie who having seen the bravery of those fighting for freedom had stepped in. Sigmund however was content to let her live out a life in secret. He assigned a member of the intelligence services to keep tabs on her fearful that one day a Royalist sympathiser might seek revenge but those things never came. Sigmund spent his days for the next ten years forming a nation that he hoped people saw as fair, free and proud.

In 2010 his two terms were up and with a proud smile he handed the keys to his office over to his fellow Farmers Union friend, Preben. He too had been at the University a decade earlier and Sigmund sat back as an ambassador to the Union of Nordic People. He had been tempted to return for a crack at a third term but his wife had persuaded him not to. The Union of Nordic People was gone now, they'd thankfully been back in Holmvik when the Uppsala Disaster took place but now as Nya Aland shaped itself Sigmund began to fall out of love with the place. So when in 2021 his friend Ingebjørg saw her three year old son die he felt a call to return to the Presidency. As she resigned to mourn he stepped up and won by a landslide. It was then he realised the time was at hand. The Farmers Union had become the political powerhouse of the nation based on the blood of its members two decades earlier. The time though was to leave the past behind and create new memories. He made some decisions and the first was to sit and write a letter.

That letter lead to that meeting in July 2022. He had felt as nervous as he had that day he first meet his beloved wife Inga. He had heard from the Secret Service she was there and his motorcade and its escort arrived to find a crowd of the media already outside. Without acknowledging the press Sigmund made his way up the steps of the National Museum. There in the central hall sat the mangled wreckage of a fighter jet surrounded by a thick rope and messages not to touch. He could see the woman standing with her hand hovering as if caught between the morals of following the messages or touching the gunmetal grey craft. He watched for a moment thinking how much she had changed in these twenty years. Back at the university fortress she had seemed so confident, he knew it was a façade put on for their benefit but now she seemed meek. "Its yours do what you like" He finally broke the silence. He stood and watched as she gently ran a hand first over her name and then the rest of the plane. Sigmund saw the disapproving looks of one of the museum workers as he personally moved the rope. He stood next to her as she seemed to run her eyes over every inch of the aircraft that had brought a whole nation to this point. He heard her mutter a prayer to the Gods thanking the plane and then for the first time she spoke to him.

"I'm ready. I want my life back and I'm taking it. Sign me up." Sigmund felt a sense of relief that Rebekka had said those words. She would quickly fire orders at the Farmers 20 years earlier with the confidence of youth. They had found it amusing and each would give a sloppy salute and mutter "Yes Ma'am" before doing their newly appointed duty and with a smile Sigmund stepped back and with his right arm gave a very unmilitary salute. She was to be his envoy, she was to be once more lead the nation somewhere they hadn't been before. In the year 2000 it had been towards life as a republic, and now it would be towards Holmvik becoming a global player. Her name carried weight back home and people trusted her, if she came back from somewhere with a recommendation Sigmund was confident the fiercely loyal people would follow their hero. It was time to start aiming for a forth term.