In the name of our dead father, in the name of Ragnar Lothbrok, the greatest hero of our country, and in the name of Odin, we declare war on the whole world.
Every great cause has martyrs. Every war has suicide missions and make no mistake, this is war. One half of the human race at war with the other. The invisible army hovering at our elbow, tending to our homes, raising our children. Ignored, patronised, disregarded. Not allowed so much as a vote. But an army nonetheless, ready to rise up in the best of causes. To put right an injustice as old as humanity itself. So you see, Watson, Mycroft was right. This is a war we must lose.
War is war, but killing a man at a wedding, horrid. What sort of monster would do such a thing? As if men need more reasons to fear marriage.
The war is not over. And I promise you, friend, the true enemy won’t wait out the storm. He brings the storm.
Men don’t have the strategic intelligence to conduct a war between families. Men are less good at keeping secrets out of their lies.