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The manner of Æthelglyth's rise amongst the ḡesith led many to call her wælcyrḡe, a chooser of the dead brought from legend to reality, or maybe a sigewif, a victory-woman, that decides the fate of those who covet her queen's head; simple scare-tales she nevertheless takes care not to dismiss, for is not reputation the chief weapon of the warrior, and indeed the warrior-maiden? Æthelglyth herself allows none, not even the Queen of Mierce, to know much of her, of her childhood nor her adult life, and thus Mierce as a whole knows little of Æthelglyth except for her deeds, the speed of her axe-swing and the silver-quick of her blade, the strength of her anger for the rabid Ysians and the perfidious Northumbres, the crazed strawhairs and the painted warriors of the far north. Of Æthelglyth, one thing is certain - an enemy of Mierce is an enemy of Æthelglyth, and whilst she may be slight and her years young, her battle-skills - as well as her avowed beauty - are bewitching to all that can see with clear eyes.
