Conqueror’s Blade update is now rolling out on PC (Steam). According to the official Conqueror’s Blade patch notes, the latest update added quality of life improvements and gameplay optimizations.
Since the last patch, players are facing a number of problems with the game. Today’s Conqueror’s Blade patch will fix a few of these issues.
Check out more details below.
Conqueror’s Blade Patch Notes – May 26, 2022
Next to The Whale-Road in the northwest of Azalon. The Norse ancestors chose to settle here.
Thousands of years ago, Azalon’s climate was warm, and the land dotted with lush forests. Many a creature was born of the land, including the romantic, mysterious, and passionate Norsemen.
Yet, fortune didn’t grace the land forever. Cold winds and snow swept across the land and the southern crops could no longer grow here. Others even began calling it the Frozen Lands. The Norse had no choice but to supplement their farming by raising livestock, hunting, and fishing.
At first, they would work in the short spring and summer to gather resources for the winter. During winter, they would enjoy the fruits of their labor in the warmth of their fires.
But the gods of the north were not so benevolent: the land grew increasingly barren and the environment worsened. Living in such harsh lands, the Norse quickly realized that brute force would fill their warehouses better than any hard work ever could…
Near one of the fjords upon these Frozen Lands, countless spruces, pines, conifers and oaks stood tall, forming a nigh thick wall as if guarding against the sunset.
“Booooom—”
One after another these gigantic trees toppled, stirring up soil and dust.
As the dust dissipated, I saw before me throngs of young Norse scurrying about the busy docks, and rows upon rows of ships at least 50 feet long and 8 feet wide.
“We come from the land of frost,
out of the moonlight we surge,
and Mjolnir shall push our ships onto new lands…”
The busy workers suddenly stopped what they were doing and turned their gazes toward a middle-aged man and nodded in salute.
It was Erkbert, their leader.
Erkbert remade their traditional merchant ships by making them longer and narrower, and the hull curved instead of flat. These longships had shallows drafts and could easily enter shallow rivers and bays. On days with good weather, their longboats were twice as fast as the southern kingdoms’ most elite knights.
Fearless Norse warriors filled their new longboats and sang furious war songs as their axes ravaged faraway lands… Their roars rang through the very skies.
Biting winds rose in the late autumn night as the aurora seemingly melded with the ground. Silence fell on the busy docks.
A young boy lay nestled in his father’s embrace within the cabin of a newly built longboat. He gazed up into the sky at the aurora and the stars.
“Father, is that Valhalla?” The boy suddenly rose, then went over to the mast and pointed into the sky and asked. His eyes reflected the aurora, as well as childish ignorance.
“No, Alf, that is the battlefield of the gods. Valhalla is Odin the Allfather’s palace. Where only the greatest of Norse warriors may enter.” Erkbert took the boy back into his embrace and wrapped his clothes tightly around him.
“Do all great warriors ride your longboat to Valhalla?” The world of a five-year-old boy is full of fancies.
Erkbert was stunned, but then he burst out in raucous laughter: “Silly boy, only fearless warriors who die in battle have a chance to ride the Valkyrie’s horses into Valhalla. My boat will lead us to the south where will storm their settlements and turn their sweet dreams into nightmares. These hypocrites will fall to our weapons, their women will kneel and beg for mercy, their children will become slaves, and we shall bathe in their blood and prepare to enter Valhalla!”
As he finished, Erkbert looked at his new longboat, his eyes full of resolve.
“Father, I don’t want you to go to Valhalla! I want to be with you always!” The five-year-old boy didn’t understand about life and death, all he knew was that if what his father said would come true, then his father would no longer be there to dote on and protect him.
“Alf, we must never fear death. Remember, only a brave warrior may enter the Allfather’s palace. Its walls are lined with polished spears, the dome covered in golden shields, and the chairs themselves are adorned with magnificent armor—all gifts to us from the Allfather himself. At day, we and all great Norse warriors must battle until death takes us. At night, we will be reborn and enjoy the company of all the women we can wish for and mead and food enough for a lifetime. The Allfather will train us in Valhalla as his most elite warriors. We will fight side-by-side with him until a new world is made!”
A look of longing overcame Alf as he saw his father’s resolve. While he didn’t understand most of what he had said, he knew that this was what the Norse pursued throughout their lives.
“Father, do these ships have a name?” Alf asked.
“They do. They’re known as the Furies of the Seas!”