• Pembrook, the oldest of Midhelm’s territories. The holy land. The heart of the old nobility.

• Pembrook’s history is deep and devout—built on Christian faith, noble lineage, and soil blessed by scripture.

• When Ragnarvik Norsemen came to shore, Pembrook led a purge of pagan ways and people, desperate to wipe out every trace of Norse influence. This attack ended with a truce forged by the wives of the Pembrook and Ragnarvik leaders

• Now, Pembrook stands quieter—distant from the war, but never untouched. Its vast farmlands stretch across golden hills, up into the colder north.

• It is the kingdom of harvest, livestock, and quiet judgment.
  It is the hand that feeds the realm—and watches it.

• Ragnarvik, the southernmost territory—newest to the realm, but oldest in spirit.

• Ragnarvik was once Pembrook land, ined with pebbled shores and mountainous forests, until a fleet of Ragnarvik knarrs carved its silhouette across the coast.

• The shield-folk who landed here came with axes in hand, and fought for a place to reside

• Once a truce was met they laid down their weapons in exchange for fishing nets and ploughs.

• Thirty-five winters have passed since their arrival, and Ragnarvik now flourishes with fertile soil, black-stone cliffs, and amber-crowned trees.

• Just because peace is their friend, trust that the fire, the strength, in their blood has never faded

• Worthyn, the eastern shield. The iron fist of Midhelm, surrounded by thick pine forests and grassy plains.

• The Greek Worthyn leaders separated from Holy Pembrook when Ragnarvik was accepted as a part of Midhelm, forging a new kingdom away from Norse influence

• Worthyn is a kingdom forged in discipline and duty. Its people pride themselves on strength, structure, and sacrifice. To them, weakness is a wound healed only by ruthlessness.

• Now, Worthyn stands at the edge of all things—locked in war against the northern forces of Perdyr, guarding the border with blade and blood.

• Fairtide, a jewel by the sea, now shattered.

• Once a thriving port town beneath Pembrook’s banner, Fairtide was the realm’s gateway—rich with trade, music, and foreign goods. Its open docks hummed with stories in a dozen tongues. Its beaches ran soft with sand, and its streets with life.
  But war came, and left nothing behind.

• Now, Fairtide stands hollowed. A ghost town with salt on its bones.

Hidden by the Norns…