- Location
- U.S.
*Future*
"Greetings Ageric The Ransomed, we meet again."
"Stop following me to use me for beer money dammit!"
Legends Never Die (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)
- Thread starter Ideas-Guy
- Start date
"Greetings Ageric The Ransomed, we meet again."
"Stop following me to use me for beer money dammit!"
- Location
- New Zealand
He now resembles a turtle.
- Location
- Pale Blue Dot
Nobody cares that he looks like a Ninja Turtle. They care that he looks like a Ninja Turtle that just swam through a river of blood. And they saw how it happened.
Those new guys in his warband that didn't belive the absolutely Legend-worthy stories? ...that was then. I think they are starting to realise most of those stories were true now.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Siegfried the Wolf-kissed is cool. But Siegfried the Siege-breaker is cooler. Especially to Thorkell, who literally joined Siegfried so that he would never have to participate in another siege ever again.
Harsh Truths
- Location
- USA
"You're a great warrior," Thorkell told me as we watched the people of Frankfort be led out of the city gates. King Widukind didn't want them eating the food in case there was a siege. That wasn't to say everyone had left the city. Many had been taken as thralls. Others were captives. And some were kept for the pleasure of men. "But, you're a poor leader of men," he said, earning a slow blink from me as I looked away from the angry tide of people forced to leave their homes with nothing but the clothes on their backs.
He didn't look at me, just crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to watch the thousands of people being evicted. However, he did elaborate. "I understand why you did what you did. With your size, strength, and speed -- only a seasoned warrior could hope to best you. And only if you didn't kill them immediately. But, there's more to being a leader than being the strongest. Or even the most cunning."
I clenched my jaw, feeling irritation surge in my chest at the criticism. "Have people complained of my leadership? Do you regret your vow to me?" I asked him, an edge in my tone that he picked up on. He gave me a flat gaze, only looking at me with his eyes instead of his face. It reminded me of my father. The reminder didn't help quell my anger.
"You're putting words in my mouth," Thorkell told me, his tone even. "The warriors? They love you. You make them feel like they can't lose. And that's a dangerous thing in itself, but it's not what I mean," Thorkell said, letting out a small sigh. "A good leader, a great one, is always at the front. For him to lead, everyone has to be looking at his back. But, they can't do that if you're so far ahead that they can't even see you."
My lips thinned, "I had to open the gates." I felt compelled to point out, not really seeing why he was calling me a bad leader. I made the victory possible.
"You did," Thorkell agreed. "And in doing so , you saved a lot of lives. But, where was I in the fighting?" He asked me, and… I didn't know. "Where were the rest of your men?" I didn't know. I know they were fighting on the walls after I made a foothold, but after that, I lost track of them. I hadn't seen Thorkell in the fighting at all. Or any other familiar face. "I'm not telling you that you did the wrong thing. I can't really say one way or the other. Maybe if you stuck with us, the fighting would have been way worse and we might not have taken the city. I don't know. Only the gods and norns do."
He took in a deep sigh before letting it out, "What I know is that you weren't there to lead the men, even if you were leading the charge. We didn't fight as a warband. We just fought like fifty individuals. Because of it, we lost ten men." I frowned deeply, looking back at the Franks leaving the city. "We'll replace them easily enough. But, they were good men."
My anger bled away. It didn't vanish entirely, but Thorkell had made his point well. I hadn't known that we lost anyone. In that regard, I was a poor leader. I hadn't spared a thought about my men, where they were, or how they were faring. My attention had been focused on opening the gate and making sure that it opened so we could win the battle.
I didn't think that had been the wrong choice. Opening the gate was the priority. However, I did find myself agreeing with Thorkell. I had all but abandoned my men for my own glory and for victory. I didn't think about them. I didn't think that they would be looking to me for guidance only to realize I was nowhere to be seen.
"I'm sorry," I told him, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thorkell smile ever so slightly. "I'll do better." How, I wasn't sure yet, but I could surely do better than up and abandoning my men.
"I know you will," Thorkell told me. "The Norse warriors suffered the worst of the battle. Losses were light for such an assault, barely a hundred men. But, they aren't happy with being treated as fodder for the Saxons," he explained, not sounding too happy about it either.
I hadn't known that. "Why would King Widukind use us as fodder?" I asked Thorkell, earning a shrug from him.
"Dead mercenaries don't need to be paid is my guess," Thorkell answered. "His allies are fighting it out instead of helping him. So, he's having to pay for extra bodies. The more die in liberating Saxony, the less of a bill he'd be footing when he becomes a king in earnest. It's what I would do." That made sense, I thought to myself. My parents raised me to be honorable. To do the right thing, always. However, I was starting to see that doing the smart thing and the right thing were often two different things.
"I saw a lot of Norsemen. Do you know how many there are?" I asked, and Thorkell shook his head.
"A thousand? Probably less than that now," He answered. "Want me to find out?"
"Please," I agreed. It would be important to know. I didn't expect all of them to be willing to follow me. I didn't even expect half. But, if a hundred decided to join me, either for pay or belief, then I would have a hundred and fif- forty men. If I could figure out how to lead them well, how Thorkell said I should, then I would have the beginnings of an army. Nothing had to be decided now. We still had the war to fight and win. However, it was worth keeping in mind as things progressed.
That the Norse warriors could be potential allies when it was all said and done.
Thorkell nodded and left, leaving me alone as I watched the stream of Franks. Some cast dark looks in my direction. I suspect at least one of them would cast a curse on me. I would have to speak to Morrigan about making sure that it didn't take hold. I'm sure that those that could would be joining King Charlemagne's army to retake their home. King Widukind desired for the Franks to come to him, to siege the city.
It seemed contrary to his plan to win the war, but if he had a reason why, he didn't share it with me.
Regardless of the problems, I had gained much from the sacking. The foodstuffs were being hoarded for the siege to come, but I still gained a great deal. Casks of wine, velvet banners, silver and gold, candles, precious jewels, and so on. All valuable. I had really underestimated what a full share of a sacking would look like. I did give my men a reward to keep them happy, and it seemed like it worked. Which was why I was so caught off guard when Thorkell called me a poor leader.
In terms of profits, I was going to need a third boat to carry my riches to Miklagard. As for advancing my understanding of the gods' domains, I had reached another milestone in Tactics, Physical Condition, Economic Management, and Asset Management.
Balance of Power seemed useful, but too many times, I had been blinded by my height. By a sea of bodies. Where I was fighting with all of my might, but I had absolutely no idea if we were winning or losing. A hundred paces wouldn't give me an overview of the overall battle, but it was a start. One that I desperately needed.
I really didn't see the point of Well Groomed. I hardly combed my hair now, and I only brushed my teeth with a chewstick when my mouth felt too dirty. It seemed like a waste of a perk point. Iron Stomach, however, made it so I wouldn't be poisoned again and I could eat anything if I could stand the taste. I don't see how anyone could pick the former over the latter.
From my various trades, some of which happened after the sacking, I managed to get another Economic Management boon.
Both were good. However, I intended to travel for a number of years. I wanted to put space between me and Jarl Horrik to prevent him from interfering with my quest for vengeance. To that end, Opportunity Spotter would suit me better for now. I selected it with little hesitation.
Neither were particularly useful, but What Lays Within caught my attention. It would help with my crafting, which had, unfortunately, fallen to the wayside with the battles. Given that we were about to be put under siege, it seemed to be a good time to find a way to make up for the lost time. With my decision made, I confirmed my choices. It had taken me longer to decide than I thought, because the gates were being closed to prevent the Franks from getting back inside.
There were scouts being sent out of the city to keep an eye on Aachen. I personally hadn't seen anyone escape the city, but I'm sure some had. If not, then the villages from the surrounding area would have certainly sent word to King Charlemagne that we had taken Frankfort. How he would react was anyone's guess, but the scouts were meant to report troop movements if they moved. King Charlemagne already knew that we were at Frankfort. The only thing that changed was that King Widukind intended to fight behind tall walls.
Turning away from the gate, I headed to the nearest guard tower and headed down the stairs to the ground level. Without the sounds of shouting from the Frankish citizens, the city was already a lot quieter. My cloak fluttered behind me as I decided to walk the city, not quite sure what I was looking for beyond that I needed to move to help me sort through my thoughts. Signs of damage were common, and I knew that came from the raiding after we took the city. Doors were kicked in, one house was burnt to cinders and it was nothing short of the will of the gods that half the city hadn't gone up in flames.
The dirt roads were largely empty as well, though I could hear sounds of merriment coming from within houses. The handful of warriors of our army that I did see straightened up the moment that they did so. There was respect and awe in their faces while whispers were on their lips the moment I stepped past them. Rumors were already spreading. By the end of the month, I suspect I will have taken the city single handedly.
A slight smile tugged at my lips. I wonder how Horrik and his son would react when they at long last heard the rumors of my deeds? Would they quake in fear? Would they wonder why I was here instead of taking their heads?
My gaze drifted up the walls that I found myself surrounded by -- the walls of Frankfort. "Live in fear. Die in terror," I uttered under my breath, hoping the gods would take the curse and whisper it in the ears of them both.
I wasn't really expecting a response, but when I heard my name being called out, I nearly leaped out of my skin. "Lord Siegfried!" I heard, and glancing over, I saw it was Otto. There was a hesitant smile on his face as he greeted me, a familiar simple wood cross resting on his chest and his drab robes seemed like they had seen better days. Though his scalp was freshly shaved. "I had hoped to see you, Lord Siegfried. I wished to thank you for upholding your word."
He hadn't meant to, but the words were offensive. That, I thought, was due to my short temper and foul humor. "I gave you my word," I responded, my tone curter than I intended. To that, Otto bowed his head to me.
"One's word is freely given, but I have found that it is rarely kept," Otto responded. "I have also been tasked with seeing you -- Duke Ageric Roding has requested your presence to discuss the matter of his…release." That earned my full attention. Ransoming Ageric had been extremely profitable for me before. It still seemed absurd to me that a single man could be worth more than all of the thralls taken by an army, but if the Franks were willing to pay that price… I would be more than happy to take that silver from them.
"Where is he?" I questioned, gesturing for Otto to lead the way.
"The church, my lord," Otto informed, leading me back to the church where I had extracted the surrender of the city. "I pray that God has been kind to you since we last met?" Otto began, deciding to make conversation as we walked.
My jaw clenched. "Less than," I answered curtly.
"Then I am sorry to hear it," Otto responded, and Tell Spotter didn't detect a lie in his words. My faith in the ability was shaken harshly. Especially when it had so spectacularly failed to catch Horrik in a lie. Or detect that Thorfinn had my brothers murdered as he made idle conversation or acted friendly. That, I was forced to face, was because both sidestepped telling lies.
How they did so differed, I think. Horrik managed it by misleading me in hindsight -- everything that he said about King Sigfred was true to some degree. There were a lot of small things in hindsight that gave it away. How he raged at his son the day after Kirk's murder -- I thought it was because he was humiliated by King Sigfred, but the anger was at his son. The talk that we had after I made my accusations about King Sigfred -- the plan he uttered…
Tell Spotter was not all-powerful. I was a fool to think that it was.
Which is why it was so troubling that Tell Spotter didn't get anything from Otto. As far as I could tell, he genuinely meant his words. "Do you not hold a grudge against me? It would be in your right to," I responded as we walked, watching the priest carefully. I raided his church, captured him, used what he taught me against his fellow Christians, ransomed him, then ended up capturing him again. Fate had a sense of humor, but it would be understandable for him to hold anger in his heart for me. Much less offer what seemed to be sincere condolences.
"Ill will is a poison of the soul, Lord Siegfried," Otto responded, aiming a small smile down at me.
"Most allow their souls to be poisoned," I responded. Myself included.
To that, Otto let out a warm chuckle. "Perhaps. And there was a time that I was one of them, early on. I harbored anger for you and your compatriots -- for all the slaughter and pillaging. I doubted and feared. The fool that I was, I questioned God and his plan. Lamenting what was lost."
The words rang with a hint of truth to them, "Something changed?"
"I like to believe I did," Otto admitted. "Everything moves in accordance with the will of God. All is within his plan and only He knows what is to come and what shall be. I may not understand what my role in his plan may be, but I have endeavored to fulfill it to my utmost ability. Duke Ageric had taken me in as a priest and advisor, and I have offered what little wisdom I possess. Now, it seems that God has deemed that we be reunited."
The attitude wasn't unfamiliar to me. "You speak of fate and the norns," I said, nodding to myself. The norns were the weavers of fate. Something fundamental and inescapable. Something even the gods were bound by. There were many that some as Otto did. I found the attitude a puzzling one, but not disagreeable.
"I speak of the will of God," Otto corrected.
I grunted, thinking to myself that his God had seized the credit for the work of the norns. However, in the end, they were both the same thing -- Fate had decided that we should meet again. For what purpose? Only the norns would know.
It was then that the church came into view at the very heart of the city. Something I noticed was similar in Cologne. A well was before it in a small central square that had a few warriors around it, keeping an eye on one of the remaining groups of Franks still within the city. They watched me with a sense of awe as we approached the church to find the doors were wide open, revealing half a hundred Franks that were either bound or injured or both. This was where King Widukind decided to house the wealthy hostages.
They, I found, did not look upon me with kindness. Many seemed surprised that I didn't burst into flames the moment I stepped inside. "This way, my lord," Otto said, leading me to the back of the church to what amounted to a closet. It had since been converted to a private room for Duke Ageric. It hadn't been that long since I last saw him, but I noticed that his face was much paler and shiny with sweat.
"Siegfried Erikson," Ageric uttered, resting upon a cot of hay with a blanket over his lap. "Forgive me for not bowing. You were the one that broke my leg, after all." It would seem that Ageric had allowed some poison into his soul.
"You are forgiven," I responded, making his eyes narrow at me. "You wished to speak of your release?"
In response, Ageric reached out to a table next to him, grabbing a goblet of what seemed to be wine. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he brought it up to his lips, drinking deeply from it. Once his thirst was quenched, and he made me wait, he spoke. "A start to negotiations."
I tilted my head to the side, "You were traded for two hundred pounds of silver once before. Are you saying that your value has gone down?" I questioned, grabbing a stool by the bed and taking a seat.
"Have a care of how you speak, heathen," Ageric snapped at me, but even as he did, he sounded tired. "I have… been reaffirmed as Duke of Frisia by King Charlemagne himself. As Duke, I have a duty to my people and I shall not despoil them any further with my shame. I brought you here to tell you that ten pounds of silver is all you shall see from me for my immediate release and that of Otto." He drew himself up as he spoke, glowering at me, but the image was undercut by a head of sweat falling into his eye.
He seemed unwell.
With how little he was offering? I think he was very unwell. "Ten pounds of silver? I thought you were a very valuable hostage. Will your people not pay for your release?"
"They have already done so. They will not do so again. Ten pounds of silver. If not, then slit my throat now and be done with it," Ageric snapped at me, a hand going to the goblet once again, only his hand knocked it over. He cursed, going to grab it, but Otto quickly crossed the distance and did so for him, buying me a moment to think. Ten pounds of silver wasn't an inconsiderate sum, but it was a very far cry from the two hundred pounds that I had hoped to get for him.
"I will not part with you for anything less than a hundred," I told him outright. That was what he was worth.
Ageric laughed, "Then I shall bite my tongue off and damn myself to an eternity of hell. It was a mistake to pay the ransom in the first place. I have a brother. Upon my death, he shall become Duke, and I pray that he is the one that sees you dead." He continued, his tone bitter and hostile.
I did underestimate Ageric, I think. I didn't think of him as a coward, but I underestimated how stubborn he could be. One thing, however, didn't quite add up. "Or, you don't wish for your brother to pay for the life of a dying man," I responded and Ageric flinched. Standing up, I grabbed the bed cover and ripped it away and, almost instantly, I was hit with the smell of rot.
The wound from the break wept puss, and it was inflamed harshly. It was bad enough that I was surprised that the bottom half of his leg hadn't already been removed. It was killing him. Looking at Ageric, if I had to guess, I would say it was his own stubbornness.
"The heathen thinks it's clever, Otto," Ageric snapped at me, baring his teeth. "Yes. I'm dying. Ten pounds of silver for a dying Duke seems a fair offer, does it not?"
I inspected the wound for a moment, thinking on it all. Ten pounds of silver for his immediate release. That told me that he already had ten pounds of silver somewhere. That was less important than the fact he was trying to immediately leave. "You're right. You wouldn't survive a siege," I remarked, making him scowl at me. "And the heathen does think it's clever." My gaze drifted over to Otto, who still clutched a pitcher of wine in his hands. "Clever enough that it realized it asked the wrong question."
That got the Duke's attention, and I answered the unspoken question in his eyes. "How much is your leg worth to you?"
"I… refuse to partake in your… vile magics. What would you have me do? Bathe in the blood of infants and howl at the moon?" He bit the words out, but I saw it in his eyes. Hope. Desperation. I think if I could prove it would work, then he actually would bathe in the blood of infants and howl at the moon if it meant he didn't die from an infection or have to live as a cripple. It made sense to me. It was better to die whole than live as a cripple for what life could a cripple lead?
Even as a Duke, I couldn't imagine it would be a tolerable existence. Perhaps especially as a Duke.
"Think of it as your God's will," I replied. "Anyone else would slit your throat so at least then you could pass without pain. If its possible to save your leg and your life? Then I'm the one who could do it. So, I ask you, Duke Ageric, how much is your leg and life worth to you?"
Ageric scoffed, but it wasn't a convincing sound, "God led you to Frankfort, and allowed you to sack the city, all so you could save my leg?" He questioned, sounding like he didn't believe it.
I didn't either. No. This was the work of Fate. The norns provided an opportunity in the tapestry of my life and the means to seize it.
"I've been told your god works in mysterious ways," I answered. "You must be very important to his plan." Otto seemed extremely displeased with me, but he held his tongue and looked to the floor. I'm sure he truly regretted teaching me anything about his god.
Ageric licked his lips. "F-fifty pounds of silver."
I smiled in response.
He would pay me fifty pounds, but it wasn't in silver.
The price I extracted?
Fifty pounds of gold and precious stones.
…
"You seem pleased with yourself -- an enlightening conversation with that doddering priest?" Morrigan questioned, lounging in the villa that King Windukid gave us. Me. We shared it with the rest of the company, and in the halls, I could hear the men still celebrating our victory. Thorkell among them. The ordinarily plain room was richly decorated with blatant wealth that had been stolen from the wealthy around the city. Barrels of ale, bottles of wine, piles of candle sticks or trinkets.
Some were made of brass, copper, or wrought iron, but the craftsmanship in them made them worth something.
Where I found Morrigan was a small room that was lined with scrolls. Taking one, I unfurled it to see that they were written in Latin. My ability to speak the language was stilted and broken, but reading it was far more difficult. The only person that could that I knew would be Otto and I didn't think he would want to speak to me any time soon. Setting the scroll down, and smudging the vellum with blood I looked at Morrigan to find her watching me carefully.
"I managed to get a good ransom," I informed her, and I saw a ghost of a smile tug at her lips as she leaned back in her seat. "What brings you here?"
"T'is a question I should be asking you," Morrigan responded, dodging the question as she left a scroll she had been looking at after furling it up. "We have taken this city, but as you have so adequately proven, keeping it will prove difficult. This Charlemagne will have numbers on his side, yes? T'is it not obvious that staying here is a very good way to be trapped?" She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"It sounds like you have a suggestion," I pointed out, leaning against the wall. Morrigan had a point. The plan was that we would take the city before King Charlemagne managed to march on us, and we did. Now, however, it meant that we were in the city and he would be outside it, making his cavalry useless. That's what we wanted. I had yet to see it in action, but Father had warned me of the dangers of cavalry, and it was a warning that I would heed.
Still, it would mean that we would be put under siege. I knew little of them, but Thorkell made them sound unpleasant.
"Let this be the tomb of Widukind, and his alone," Morrigan uttered, approaching me. I saw that she helped herself to the jewelry that had been found because her arms were clad in trinkets. As she approached, her voice softened into little more than a whisper, as if wary that she would be overheard. "Convince him that you wish to act as a raiding party. Whatever he might believe. When the Frank King appears with his army, we won't be the ones trapped within, forced to starve and wait. A siege could last years."
Betrayal. She spoke of betrayal. Morrigan pressed a hand against the side of my face, her golden eyes gazing heavily into mine. "We already have what we came for -- wealth and splendor. We needn't bind our fates to the Saxon King. Let us take our spoils and depart, continue down to Miklagard with what warriors will join us." Before, she spoke of considering our options. Now, her talks of betrayal were more blatant.
My eyes narrowed, "What brings this?" I asked her because if I didn't know any better, I would say that Morrigan sounded scared.
To that, her lips thinned. "The Saxon King is a fool. This is a fight he cannot win," she informed, withdrawing her hand before she grabbed the scroll that she had been looking at. She pressed it into my hands and I unfurled it, looking at… something.
"T'is a map," Morrigan informed, pressing a finger on the parchment that was marked. Frankfurt. "It marks the territory of the Frankish kingdom," she continued, her finger moving and…
My heart clenched as I realized that the odd shapes were supposed to represent countries. I didn't see Denmark on the map, but I did see the blob that was meant to represent Saxony. A small muddy brown color that had the Rhine river running through it. On its border was Frankland…
Frankland was more than a dozen times larger than Saxony.
"T'is a fool's endeavor," Morrigan summarized her thoughts, "What battles we might have won are paltry against the true might of the Frankish Kingdom. I suspect the only reason why we have not been crushed is simply the long journey his troops must make to reach us. If this foolish plan to hide behind these walls is the only one that we have? Then defeat is certain."
With that, leaving me staring at the map, Morrigan left me alone in the room. Leaving me with nothing but my thoughts. A heavy weight settled on my shoulders as I tightly gripped the map, Thorkell's words echoing in my head.
Being a leader truly was a difficult thing.
What did I honor?
My word, or the lives of my men?
...
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He didn't look at me, just crossing his arms over his chest as he continued to watch the thousands of people being evicted. However, he did elaborate. "I understand why you did what you did. With your size, strength, and speed -- only a seasoned warrior could hope to best you. And only if you didn't kill them immediately. But, there's more to being a leader than being the strongest. Or even the most cunning."
I clenched my jaw, feeling irritation surge in my chest at the criticism. "Have people complained of my leadership? Do you regret your vow to me?" I asked him, an edge in my tone that he picked up on. He gave me a flat gaze, only looking at me with his eyes instead of his face. It reminded me of my father. The reminder didn't help quell my anger.
"You're putting words in my mouth," Thorkell told me, his tone even. "The warriors? They love you. You make them feel like they can't lose. And that's a dangerous thing in itself, but it's not what I mean," Thorkell said, letting out a small sigh. "A good leader, a great one, is always at the front. For him to lead, everyone has to be looking at his back. But, they can't do that if you're so far ahead that they can't even see you."
My lips thinned, "I had to open the gates." I felt compelled to point out, not really seeing why he was calling me a bad leader. I made the victory possible.
"You did," Thorkell agreed. "And in doing so , you saved a lot of lives. But, where was I in the fighting?" He asked me, and… I didn't know. "Where were the rest of your men?" I didn't know. I know they were fighting on the walls after I made a foothold, but after that, I lost track of them. I hadn't seen Thorkell in the fighting at all. Or any other familiar face. "I'm not telling you that you did the wrong thing. I can't really say one way or the other. Maybe if you stuck with us, the fighting would have been way worse and we might not have taken the city. I don't know. Only the gods and norns do."
He took in a deep sigh before letting it out, "What I know is that you weren't there to lead the men, even if you were leading the charge. We didn't fight as a warband. We just fought like fifty individuals. Because of it, we lost ten men." I frowned deeply, looking back at the Franks leaving the city. "We'll replace them easily enough. But, they were good men."
My anger bled away. It didn't vanish entirely, but Thorkell had made his point well. I hadn't known that we lost anyone. In that regard, I was a poor leader. I hadn't spared a thought about my men, where they were, or how they were faring. My attention had been focused on opening the gate and making sure that it opened so we could win the battle.
I didn't think that had been the wrong choice. Opening the gate was the priority. However, I did find myself agreeing with Thorkell. I had all but abandoned my men for my own glory and for victory. I didn't think about them. I didn't think that they would be looking to me for guidance only to realize I was nowhere to be seen.
"I'm sorry," I told him, and out of the corner of my eye, I saw Thorkell smile ever so slightly. "I'll do better." How, I wasn't sure yet, but I could surely do better than up and abandoning my men.
"I know you will," Thorkell told me. "The Norse warriors suffered the worst of the battle. Losses were light for such an assault, barely a hundred men. But, they aren't happy with being treated as fodder for the Saxons," he explained, not sounding too happy about it either.
I hadn't known that. "Why would King Widukind use us as fodder?" I asked Thorkell, earning a shrug from him.
"Dead mercenaries don't need to be paid is my guess," Thorkell answered. "His allies are fighting it out instead of helping him. So, he's having to pay for extra bodies. The more die in liberating Saxony, the less of a bill he'd be footing when he becomes a king in earnest. It's what I would do." That made sense, I thought to myself. My parents raised me to be honorable. To do the right thing, always. However, I was starting to see that doing the smart thing and the right thing were often two different things.
"I saw a lot of Norsemen. Do you know how many there are?" I asked, and Thorkell shook his head.
"A thousand? Probably less than that now," He answered. "Want me to find out?"
"Please," I agreed. It would be important to know. I didn't expect all of them to be willing to follow me. I didn't even expect half. But, if a hundred decided to join me, either for pay or belief, then I would have a hundred and fif- forty men. If I could figure out how to lead them well, how Thorkell said I should, then I would have the beginnings of an army. Nothing had to be decided now. We still had the war to fight and win. However, it was worth keeping in mind as things progressed.
That the Norse warriors could be potential allies when it was all said and done.
Thorkell nodded and left, leaving me alone as I watched the stream of Franks. Some cast dark looks in my direction. I suspect at least one of them would cast a curse on me. I would have to speak to Morrigan about making sure that it didn't take hold. I'm sure that those that could would be joining King Charlemagne's army to retake their home. King Widukind desired for the Franks to come to him, to siege the city.
It seemed contrary to his plan to win the war, but if he had a reason why, he didn't share it with me.
Regardless of the problems, I had gained much from the sacking. The foodstuffs were being hoarded for the siege to come, but I still gained a great deal. Casks of wine, velvet banners, silver and gold, candles, precious jewels, and so on. All valuable. I had really underestimated what a full share of a sacking would look like. I did give my men a reward to keep them happy, and it seemed like it worked. Which was why I was so caught off guard when Thorkell called me a poor leader.
In terms of profits, I was going to need a third boat to carry my riches to Miklagard. As for advancing my understanding of the gods' domains, I had reached another milestone in Tactics, Physical Condition, Economic Management, and Asset Management.
Tactics
Spatial Awareness:
During a battle, you become aware of everything within a hundred paces around you.
Balance of Power:
On the eve of battle, the odds of victory are displayed, considering all factors such as troop quality, discipline, and numbers. Useful for knowing when to avoid a battle.
Spatial Awareness:
During a battle, you become aware of everything within a hundred paces around you.
Balance of Power:
On the eve of battle, the odds of victory are displayed, considering all factors such as troop quality, discipline, and numbers. Useful for knowing when to avoid a battle.
Balance of Power seemed useful, but too many times, I had been blinded by my height. By a sea of bodies. Where I was fighting with all of my might, but I had absolutely no idea if we were winning or losing. A hundred paces wouldn't give me an overview of the overall battle, but it was a start. One that I desperately needed.
Physical Condition
Well Groomed:
You will never have to worry about white teeth or combing your hair. Your grooming needs will never be a cause for concern in any shape or fashion.
Iron Stomach:
You gain nutrients from everything you eat. Gives base resistance to poisoning.
Well Groomed:
You will never have to worry about white teeth or combing your hair. Your grooming needs will never be a cause for concern in any shape or fashion.
Iron Stomach:
You gain nutrients from everything you eat. Gives base resistance to poisoning.
I really didn't see the point of Well Groomed. I hardly combed my hair now, and I only brushed my teeth with a chewstick when my mouth felt too dirty. It seemed like a waste of a perk point. Iron Stomach, however, made it so I wouldn't be poisoned again and I could eat anything if I could stand the taste. I don't see how anyone could pick the former over the latter.
From my various trades, some of which happened after the sacking, I managed to get another Economic Management boon.
Economic Management.
Trade Secrets:
A real-time list of places visited that displays the price of owned items -- both for what they would sell for and how much it would be to buy.
Opportunity Spotter:
At times, a profitable opportunity in your area will be brought to your attention -- A group or city might desperately need an item, such as a herd of horses or a component needed for dyes, and they would be willing to pay exuberant rates for whatever you deliver.
Trade Secrets:
A real-time list of places visited that displays the price of owned items -- both for what they would sell for and how much it would be to buy.
Opportunity Spotter:
At times, a profitable opportunity in your area will be brought to your attention -- A group or city might desperately need an item, such as a herd of horses or a component needed for dyes, and they would be willing to pay exuberant rates for whatever you deliver.
Both were good. However, I intended to travel for a number of years. I wanted to put space between me and Jarl Horrik to prevent him from interfering with my quest for vengeance. To that end, Opportunity Spotter would suit me better for now. I selected it with little hesitation.
Asset Management
What Lays Within:
When working on an object -- wood, metal, or mineral -- what the material can be will always be clear.
Sterling:
All assets have an improved appearance.
What Lays Within:
When working on an object -- wood, metal, or mineral -- what the material can be will always be clear.
Sterling:
All assets have an improved appearance.
Neither were particularly useful, but What Lays Within caught my attention. It would help with my crafting, which had, unfortunately, fallen to the wayside with the battles. Given that we were about to be put under siege, it seemed to be a good time to find a way to make up for the lost time. With my decision made, I confirmed my choices. It had taken me longer to decide than I thought, because the gates were being closed to prevent the Franks from getting back inside.
There were scouts being sent out of the city to keep an eye on Aachen. I personally hadn't seen anyone escape the city, but I'm sure some had. If not, then the villages from the surrounding area would have certainly sent word to King Charlemagne that we had taken Frankfort. How he would react was anyone's guess, but the scouts were meant to report troop movements if they moved. King Charlemagne already knew that we were at Frankfort. The only thing that changed was that King Widukind intended to fight behind tall walls.
Turning away from the gate, I headed to the nearest guard tower and headed down the stairs to the ground level. Without the sounds of shouting from the Frankish citizens, the city was already a lot quieter. My cloak fluttered behind me as I decided to walk the city, not quite sure what I was looking for beyond that I needed to move to help me sort through my thoughts. Signs of damage were common, and I knew that came from the raiding after we took the city. Doors were kicked in, one house was burnt to cinders and it was nothing short of the will of the gods that half the city hadn't gone up in flames.
The dirt roads were largely empty as well, though I could hear sounds of merriment coming from within houses. The handful of warriors of our army that I did see straightened up the moment that they did so. There was respect and awe in their faces while whispers were on their lips the moment I stepped past them. Rumors were already spreading. By the end of the month, I suspect I will have taken the city single handedly.
A slight smile tugged at my lips. I wonder how Horrik and his son would react when they at long last heard the rumors of my deeds? Would they quake in fear? Would they wonder why I was here instead of taking their heads?
My gaze drifted up the walls that I found myself surrounded by -- the walls of Frankfort. "Live in fear. Die in terror," I uttered under my breath, hoping the gods would take the curse and whisper it in the ears of them both.
I wasn't really expecting a response, but when I heard my name being called out, I nearly leaped out of my skin. "Lord Siegfried!" I heard, and glancing over, I saw it was Otto. There was a hesitant smile on his face as he greeted me, a familiar simple wood cross resting on his chest and his drab robes seemed like they had seen better days. Though his scalp was freshly shaved. "I had hoped to see you, Lord Siegfried. I wished to thank you for upholding your word."
He hadn't meant to, but the words were offensive. That, I thought, was due to my short temper and foul humor. "I gave you my word," I responded, my tone curter than I intended. To that, Otto bowed his head to me.
"One's word is freely given, but I have found that it is rarely kept," Otto responded. "I have also been tasked with seeing you -- Duke Ageric Roding has requested your presence to discuss the matter of his…release." That earned my full attention. Ransoming Ageric had been extremely profitable for me before. It still seemed absurd to me that a single man could be worth more than all of the thralls taken by an army, but if the Franks were willing to pay that price… I would be more than happy to take that silver from them.
"Where is he?" I questioned, gesturing for Otto to lead the way.
"The church, my lord," Otto informed, leading me back to the church where I had extracted the surrender of the city. "I pray that God has been kind to you since we last met?" Otto began, deciding to make conversation as we walked.
My jaw clenched. "Less than," I answered curtly.
"Then I am sorry to hear it," Otto responded, and Tell Spotter didn't detect a lie in his words. My faith in the ability was shaken harshly. Especially when it had so spectacularly failed to catch Horrik in a lie. Or detect that Thorfinn had my brothers murdered as he made idle conversation or acted friendly. That, I was forced to face, was because both sidestepped telling lies.
How they did so differed, I think. Horrik managed it by misleading me in hindsight -- everything that he said about King Sigfred was true to some degree. There were a lot of small things in hindsight that gave it away. How he raged at his son the day after Kirk's murder -- I thought it was because he was humiliated by King Sigfred, but the anger was at his son. The talk that we had after I made my accusations about King Sigfred -- the plan he uttered…
Tell Spotter was not all-powerful. I was a fool to think that it was.
Which is why it was so troubling that Tell Spotter didn't get anything from Otto. As far as I could tell, he genuinely meant his words. "Do you not hold a grudge against me? It would be in your right to," I responded as we walked, watching the priest carefully. I raided his church, captured him, used what he taught me against his fellow Christians, ransomed him, then ended up capturing him again. Fate had a sense of humor, but it would be understandable for him to hold anger in his heart for me. Much less offer what seemed to be sincere condolences.
"Ill will is a poison of the soul, Lord Siegfried," Otto responded, aiming a small smile down at me.
"Most allow their souls to be poisoned," I responded. Myself included.
To that, Otto let out a warm chuckle. "Perhaps. And there was a time that I was one of them, early on. I harbored anger for you and your compatriots -- for all the slaughter and pillaging. I doubted and feared. The fool that I was, I questioned God and his plan. Lamenting what was lost."
The words rang with a hint of truth to them, "Something changed?"
"I like to believe I did," Otto admitted. "Everything moves in accordance with the will of God. All is within his plan and only He knows what is to come and what shall be. I may not understand what my role in his plan may be, but I have endeavored to fulfill it to my utmost ability. Duke Ageric had taken me in as a priest and advisor, and I have offered what little wisdom I possess. Now, it seems that God has deemed that we be reunited."
The attitude wasn't unfamiliar to me. "You speak of fate and the norns," I said, nodding to myself. The norns were the weavers of fate. Something fundamental and inescapable. Something even the gods were bound by. There were many that some as Otto did. I found the attitude a puzzling one, but not disagreeable.
"I speak of the will of God," Otto corrected.
I grunted, thinking to myself that his God had seized the credit for the work of the norns. However, in the end, they were both the same thing -- Fate had decided that we should meet again. For what purpose? Only the norns would know.
It was then that the church came into view at the very heart of the city. Something I noticed was similar in Cologne. A well was before it in a small central square that had a few warriors around it, keeping an eye on one of the remaining groups of Franks still within the city. They watched me with a sense of awe as we approached the church to find the doors were wide open, revealing half a hundred Franks that were either bound or injured or both. This was where King Widukind decided to house the wealthy hostages.
They, I found, did not look upon me with kindness. Many seemed surprised that I didn't burst into flames the moment I stepped inside. "This way, my lord," Otto said, leading me to the back of the church to what amounted to a closet. It had since been converted to a private room for Duke Ageric. It hadn't been that long since I last saw him, but I noticed that his face was much paler and shiny with sweat.
"Siegfried Erikson," Ageric uttered, resting upon a cot of hay with a blanket over his lap. "Forgive me for not bowing. You were the one that broke my leg, after all." It would seem that Ageric had allowed some poison into his soul.
"You are forgiven," I responded, making his eyes narrow at me. "You wished to speak of your release?"
In response, Ageric reached out to a table next to him, grabbing a goblet of what seemed to be wine. His hand trembled ever so slightly as he brought it up to his lips, drinking deeply from it. Once his thirst was quenched, and he made me wait, he spoke. "A start to negotiations."
I tilted my head to the side, "You were traded for two hundred pounds of silver once before. Are you saying that your value has gone down?" I questioned, grabbing a stool by the bed and taking a seat.
"Have a care of how you speak, heathen," Ageric snapped at me, but even as he did, he sounded tired. "I have… been reaffirmed as Duke of Frisia by King Charlemagne himself. As Duke, I have a duty to my people and I shall not despoil them any further with my shame. I brought you here to tell you that ten pounds of silver is all you shall see from me for my immediate release and that of Otto." He drew himself up as he spoke, glowering at me, but the image was undercut by a head of sweat falling into his eye.
He seemed unwell.
With how little he was offering? I think he was very unwell. "Ten pounds of silver? I thought you were a very valuable hostage. Will your people not pay for your release?"
"They have already done so. They will not do so again. Ten pounds of silver. If not, then slit my throat now and be done with it," Ageric snapped at me, a hand going to the goblet once again, only his hand knocked it over. He cursed, going to grab it, but Otto quickly crossed the distance and did so for him, buying me a moment to think. Ten pounds of silver wasn't an inconsiderate sum, but it was a very far cry from the two hundred pounds that I had hoped to get for him.
"I will not part with you for anything less than a hundred," I told him outright. That was what he was worth.
Ageric laughed, "Then I shall bite my tongue off and damn myself to an eternity of hell. It was a mistake to pay the ransom in the first place. I have a brother. Upon my death, he shall become Duke, and I pray that he is the one that sees you dead." He continued, his tone bitter and hostile.
I did underestimate Ageric, I think. I didn't think of him as a coward, but I underestimated how stubborn he could be. One thing, however, didn't quite add up. "Or, you don't wish for your brother to pay for the life of a dying man," I responded and Ageric flinched. Standing up, I grabbed the bed cover and ripped it away and, almost instantly, I was hit with the smell of rot.
The wound from the break wept puss, and it was inflamed harshly. It was bad enough that I was surprised that the bottom half of his leg hadn't already been removed. It was killing him. Looking at Ageric, if I had to guess, I would say it was his own stubbornness.
"The heathen thinks it's clever, Otto," Ageric snapped at me, baring his teeth. "Yes. I'm dying. Ten pounds of silver for a dying Duke seems a fair offer, does it not?"
I inspected the wound for a moment, thinking on it all. Ten pounds of silver for his immediate release. That told me that he already had ten pounds of silver somewhere. That was less important than the fact he was trying to immediately leave. "You're right. You wouldn't survive a siege," I remarked, making him scowl at me. "And the heathen does think it's clever." My gaze drifted over to Otto, who still clutched a pitcher of wine in his hands. "Clever enough that it realized it asked the wrong question."
That got the Duke's attention, and I answered the unspoken question in his eyes. "How much is your leg worth to you?"
"I… refuse to partake in your… vile magics. What would you have me do? Bathe in the blood of infants and howl at the moon?" He bit the words out, but I saw it in his eyes. Hope. Desperation. I think if I could prove it would work, then he actually would bathe in the blood of infants and howl at the moon if it meant he didn't die from an infection or have to live as a cripple. It made sense to me. It was better to die whole than live as a cripple for what life could a cripple lead?
Even as a Duke, I couldn't imagine it would be a tolerable existence. Perhaps especially as a Duke.
"Think of it as your God's will," I replied. "Anyone else would slit your throat so at least then you could pass without pain. If its possible to save your leg and your life? Then I'm the one who could do it. So, I ask you, Duke Ageric, how much is your leg and life worth to you?"
Ageric scoffed, but it wasn't a convincing sound, "God led you to Frankfort, and allowed you to sack the city, all so you could save my leg?" He questioned, sounding like he didn't believe it.
I didn't either. No. This was the work of Fate. The norns provided an opportunity in the tapestry of my life and the means to seize it.
"I've been told your god works in mysterious ways," I answered. "You must be very important to his plan." Otto seemed extremely displeased with me, but he held his tongue and looked to the floor. I'm sure he truly regretted teaching me anything about his god.
Ageric licked his lips. "F-fifty pounds of silver."
I smiled in response.
He would pay me fifty pounds, but it wasn't in silver.
The price I extracted?
Fifty pounds of gold and precious stones.
…
"You seem pleased with yourself -- an enlightening conversation with that doddering priest?" Morrigan questioned, lounging in the villa that King Windukid gave us. Me. We shared it with the rest of the company, and in the halls, I could hear the men still celebrating our victory. Thorkell among them. The ordinarily plain room was richly decorated with blatant wealth that had been stolen from the wealthy around the city. Barrels of ale, bottles of wine, piles of candle sticks or trinkets.
Some were made of brass, copper, or wrought iron, but the craftsmanship in them made them worth something.
Where I found Morrigan was a small room that was lined with scrolls. Taking one, I unfurled it to see that they were written in Latin. My ability to speak the language was stilted and broken, but reading it was far more difficult. The only person that could that I knew would be Otto and I didn't think he would want to speak to me any time soon. Setting the scroll down, and smudging the vellum with blood I looked at Morrigan to find her watching me carefully.
"I managed to get a good ransom," I informed her, and I saw a ghost of a smile tug at her lips as she leaned back in her seat. "What brings you here?"
"T'is a question I should be asking you," Morrigan responded, dodging the question as she left a scroll she had been looking at after furling it up. "We have taken this city, but as you have so adequately proven, keeping it will prove difficult. This Charlemagne will have numbers on his side, yes? T'is it not obvious that staying here is a very good way to be trapped?" She questioned, crossing her arms over her chest.
"It sounds like you have a suggestion," I pointed out, leaning against the wall. Morrigan had a point. The plan was that we would take the city before King Charlemagne managed to march on us, and we did. Now, however, it meant that we were in the city and he would be outside it, making his cavalry useless. That's what we wanted. I had yet to see it in action, but Father had warned me of the dangers of cavalry, and it was a warning that I would heed.
Still, it would mean that we would be put under siege. I knew little of them, but Thorkell made them sound unpleasant.
"Let this be the tomb of Widukind, and his alone," Morrigan uttered, approaching me. I saw that she helped herself to the jewelry that had been found because her arms were clad in trinkets. As she approached, her voice softened into little more than a whisper, as if wary that she would be overheard. "Convince him that you wish to act as a raiding party. Whatever he might believe. When the Frank King appears with his army, we won't be the ones trapped within, forced to starve and wait. A siege could last years."
Betrayal. She spoke of betrayal. Morrigan pressed a hand against the side of my face, her golden eyes gazing heavily into mine. "We already have what we came for -- wealth and splendor. We needn't bind our fates to the Saxon King. Let us take our spoils and depart, continue down to Miklagard with what warriors will join us." Before, she spoke of considering our options. Now, her talks of betrayal were more blatant.
My eyes narrowed, "What brings this?" I asked her because if I didn't know any better, I would say that Morrigan sounded scared.
To that, her lips thinned. "The Saxon King is a fool. This is a fight he cannot win," she informed, withdrawing her hand before she grabbed the scroll that she had been looking at. She pressed it into my hands and I unfurled it, looking at… something.
"T'is a map," Morrigan informed, pressing a finger on the parchment that was marked. Frankfurt. "It marks the territory of the Frankish kingdom," she continued, her finger moving and…
My heart clenched as I realized that the odd shapes were supposed to represent countries. I didn't see Denmark on the map, but I did see the blob that was meant to represent Saxony. A small muddy brown color that had the Rhine river running through it. On its border was Frankland…
Frankland was more than a dozen times larger than Saxony.
"T'is a fool's endeavor," Morrigan summarized her thoughts, "What battles we might have won are paltry against the true might of the Frankish Kingdom. I suspect the only reason why we have not been crushed is simply the long journey his troops must make to reach us. If this foolish plan to hide behind these walls is the only one that we have? Then defeat is certain."
With that, leaving me staring at the map, Morrigan left me alone in the room. Leaving me with nothing but my thoughts. A heavy weight settled on my shoulders as I tightly gripped the map, Thorkell's words echoing in my head.
Being a leader truly was a difficult thing.
What did I honor?
My word, or the lives of my men?
...
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
There is a way to keep his honor and his victory here, but I won't say what it is because I'm curious to see what our plucky protag does with this opportunity.
This isn't a quest, there is no "we"
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Is this supposed to update on Wednesday or is it just whenever and I imagined Wednesdays?
Arimai
Curmudgeon
It's Christmas season. The lad is probably pulling double shifts. If he's a government employee amigo it's triple and quadruple rate season.
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The Gods Laugh at the Plans of Men
- Location
- USA
I found King Widukind in a tavern. It was one of decent make, more stone than wood, though the floors were made from thick wooden planks. Furniture was of decent make, but it was currently stacked up along the walls to make room for the comings and goings of messengers. At the heart of the tavern were a long couple of tables that were pushed together to hold the model that was being meticulously assembled. One of Frankfurt was being combined with one of the surrounding area. King Widukind himself was piecing it together with twigs and stacking stones.
"How many steps from the pen to the wall?" He asked, not noticing my arrival as he poured over the model. It was a very interesting method of preparation. Time-consuming, however. Five men stood before the table as he was measuring everything out.
"Thirteen," one man spoke up, making King Widukind pause. There was a small beat of silence and the man started to look nervous.
"Thirteen?" King Widukind echoed, a sharp and deadly edge in his voice. "Thirteen? How could it be thirteen steps when the road between the wall and this house is twenty-three? Did the road get narrower? Is the pen out of place? Or did you miscount?" He questioned, looking at the man that uttered the answer with a gaze sharp enough to cut.
He swallowed thickly. "I… I shall recount, my king." He voiced, offering a stiff bow as if to ask for forgiveness.
"Do so," King Widukind returned, his voice curt. It was when he sent the scout away, as he brushed past me with pale bloodless skin, only then did King Widukind notice my arrival. He jerked up, standing tall as he turned to face me. "Siegfried. I did not hear you enter. Welcome -- wine? The Franks had a fine selection. They're godless, but they do know how to make a drink."
"No thank you," I responded instinctually, quickly enough that it earned his attention while an attendant brought a jug of wine forward. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the scouts, all of which looked upon me with wide eyes as they left.
He didn't seem surprised with my refusal, "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to so readily take a drink after so recently surviving a poisoning." He remarked, making my eyes narrow when he poured himself a glass. He offered me a sly smirk, "Your men talk about many things when they're drunk and in high spirits. One of the things that they mentioned is your family being branded outlaws and the attempt on your life. Something you failed to mention when you arrived."
My lips thinned. It wasn't a secret. Not exactly. But, I didn't like the fact that he knew before I told him. Even if I wasn't sure if I was ever going to tell him. "Does it matter? I took the city for you, did I not?" I questioned, watching King Widukind carefully. It felt like I just entered a game of wits that I was unprepared for. King Widukind had been watching me, I suspected. Pumping my men for information.
King Widukind inclined his head to me. "That, you did," he admitted. "And no, it does not. I always believed Jarl Horrik to be a curr. I advised King Sigfred to avoid inviting a snake to sup with us, but he believed it to be an opportunity to finally rid himself of an old longstanding enemy. Perhaps he might have succeeded, but the gods have clearly made their favor known."
It never occurred to me, but could King Widukind hold a grudge against me? I knew little of the relationship that King Widukind and Sigfred had. Only that King Widukind had fled from Saxony to Denmark when King Charlegmane first invaded. Harbored him. Did the relationship extend beyond politics? Were the friends? Had I, in my ignorance, alienated King Widukind by helping Horrik supplant his friend?
"The gods work in mysterious ways. No one can truly know if one has their favor," I responded, looking away from the king and to the model that was being built. That was something that still nipped at me in the back of my mind. I had clearly fallen for a cruel jest from Loki in believing that King Sigfred had been responsible for the deaths of my brothers. However, if I truly had the blessing of the gods, then surely my brothers and father would still live?
Had it really been their fate to die like that? To daggers in the dark at the hands of cowards?
"I suppose you would know, Siegfried," King Widukind remarked, looking at me over the rim of his wine glass. He was measuring me with his eyes and I saw them flicker down to the axe and sword I kept at my belt. He looked at me how Horrik and King Sigfred used to look at me -- as if they were deciding how to use me. What they could get from me. "I didn't really believe it. Men like to tell tall tales. I didn't doubt the deeds themselves, but taking a fortress single handily? A city? Tall tales indeed."
He was leading up to a point, and I was content to let him take his time. Something I've found in recent times was that people wanted to use me. As much as some looked upon me with awe or fear, there were people like King Widukind that saw what I could do and plotted to use me for all I was worth. He wanted me to win his war for him, I suspected. And the map in my waistband felt heavy because I didn't know if that was even possible.
"But the stories had more truth in them than I suspected. You took the walls of Frankfort. Something that I suspected would take hundreds of lives to accomplish," he continued, his tone decidedly even as he set his goblet of wine down on the table, next to the model. "I suspect that you know your own value, Siegfried. That you shall be… instrumental in winning the freedom of the Saxons."
"I hardly think I'm a replacement for thousands of men," I returned. Especially if everything that we had faced so far was merely the start. I couldn't get it out of my head -- how vast that map had been. How large the Frank kingdom was. How many men could King Charlegmane muster? Had everyone we killed so far… Did it even matter?
"I wouldn't be so sure," King Widukind continued to flatter me. "War… I traveled far in my search for wisdom when I was a much younger man. Wisdom on how I could defeat the Franks. There was a quote that I heard once. I know not who uttered it, but I've found that they knew the truth of war better than any other. 'Out of every hundred men, ten shouldn't even be here, eighty are targets, nine are the real fighters. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, who shall see the others back safely.'" As King Widukind uttered the quote, he sat down and I saw a glimpse of exhaustion as he looked upon the model.
I frowned at the saying, finding that it didn't sit well with me. I could clearly see what he was trying to say -- I was the warrior. Or one of the nine. But the quote and sayer was wrong. Perhaps that was true in lesser cultures, but Norsemen were brave. We didn't cower in the face of the enemy. That being said, I couldn't help but be struck by familiarity -- it sounded similar to what King Charlegmane said about his own army.
However, before I could say anything, he continued. "You are a corpse maker. One unlike I have ever seen, Siegfried. Woden favors you and you do his bidding well. In the face of you, the ten shall flee. Their cowardice will make the other eighty route. The ten that fight… they shall be overwhelmed. The battle shall be won."
"Winning a battle is different from winning a war," I decided, reaching back to the map. I saw that King Widukind knew exactly what I was going to show him before I passed it to him. All the same, he accepted the map and unfurled it, looking at the map. The rivers were marked upon it, as were many cities. Paris, Rouen, Brussels, and so many more. "People believe that the war is all but won. We have had three victories and slain many men. That couldn't be further from the truth, could it?"
King Widukind ran his fingers over the roads and rivers. "I imagine that it does look daunting seeing it like this," he admitted. "Saxony is clearly larger than what is portrayed, but I confess to knowing that the Franks were a kingdom many times larger than us."
"And you chose to hide it," I stated, an edge in my tone. I expected a sharp rebuke, but King Widukind nodded, still overlooking the map. His lips tugged down into a frown while a hand drifted up to strike his beard in thought.
"Of course, I did. If a look at this is enough to make a corpse maker like you tremble, then what of the lesser men?" He questioned and I narrowed my eyes at the insult. I wasn't trembling. I wasn't a coward. I had concerns. Reasonable ones. "I hid the knowledge from but a select few. It'd cause unnecessary strife within our army… and the very thing that shall cause that strife is what will cause the downfall of the Franks, Siegfried." King Widukind looked at me after a long moment, his gaze intense. There was a burning fire in his eyes that told me that he believed them.
I felt a flash of shame run through me. I thought he didn't have a plan. I should have learned if he did or not before jumping to conclusions. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, glancing at the map and seeing a nation that utterly dwarfed Saxony. The only weakness I could think of was that it would take a great deal of time to muster up an army in the far west and march them over to Saxony. However, that time was measured in weeks. Maybe two. Less by ship.
"King Charlemagne is an old enemy of mine. I've hated him long before he ever knew who I was. However, I am hardly the only enemy he has," King Widukind spoke, leaning forward as he pushed the map to me. "Tell me, Siegfried. What do you know of our enemy?" He asked me and my lips thinned.
"Not a lot," I admitted. I knew that he detested us for being heathens. And I agreed with the sayings that he would kill us all if he could. King Charlemagne struck me as a man who believed in what he was doing. As surely as I believed in what I did. Beyond that, I didn't really know much.
King Widukind did. "When I was young, the Frankish kingdom wasn't what it is today. It was still a mighty kingdom, to be sure, but it wasn't what King Charlemagne would turn it into. You see, the prior king, his father, knew that his sons could not coexist within the same kingdom. One would not submit to the other for they were both too ambitious by nature. For that reason, upon his death, King Pepin divided his kingdom between his sons." I didn't know that king Charlemagne had a brother. "However, this made the rivalry between them turn bitter. Both felt cheated out of their inheritance. For that reason, they began to scheme on how to reunify Francia."
"Kinslaying," I muttered the word bitterly, knowing where he was going with this. I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't. It was vile in an instinctual way. There were times I disliked my brothers. There were times when I outright hated them. However, I'd sooner part with a hand than raise it against them with the intention to kill. To murder. There was no one more forsaken than those that killed their own kin out of ambition.
King Widukind nodded, "Aye. King Charlemagne murdered his own brother for the crown, but before that, there were years of foul actions and blood debts made. Both brothers discredited the other at every turn or weakening their support base. Meaning, that when King Charlemagne inherited King Carloman's kingdom, he inherited the same men that he had insulted and disgraced to weaken his brother." And with that, the plan became much clearer.
We had allies within the kingdom. Perhaps ones that weren't outright friends, but they possessed a common enemy. "You intend to weaken King Charlemagne enough that his enemy's take action against him," I voiced, earning a slow nod from the Saxon King.
"King Charlemagne possessed too many Jarls underneath him. Many are dissatisfied, but they are afraid to take action. They're afraid because King Charlemagne rarely loses in anything, which makes this so damning. By now, word of King Charlemagne's string of defeats would have spread throughout his kingdom. The loss of four or five thousand men would be disastrous for anyone else, but as you have shown… Francia has the men to spare. But taking Cologne? That will cause some ripples. People will always remember the defeats more than the victories. Especially when they come so rarely and against heathen barbarians such as ourselves."
I nodded slowly, seeing it in my mind. The only thing that I could compare it to was the gossip I heard back in Alabu back when Horrik hadn't announced that we would be joining this campaign. Something I never thought much of until now. If Horrik had decided not to go, what would have happened? Would people have called him a coward? Would they have gone on their own? The support that Horrik had would have fractured, however slightly. Meaning that if the support was hammered enough, then it could break like King Widukind said.
"Do we have stated support from anyone within the kingdom?" I questioned, making King Widukind shake his head. "Do we know of anyone that would act?"
He smiled slightly in response, "Several. I know not of their lands, but I do know their names. Hunoald Louping, Loup Louping, Theoderic Nevers, Theobert Nibelunging, Wido Leudoni. They are powerful jarls within Francia. But, I suspect that they shall act cautiously."
I thought about it. I knew who I could ask to gain such information, though I doubt that Ageric would be feeling… positively disposed to me at the moment. Between Morrigan and I tending to him, we should be able to save his leg but it couldn't be denied that he was paying a hefty price for it. Beyond that, it was a risk, I could see. If we deliberately allowed some of Francia to gather its strength, there was no guarantee that it would be used against King Charlemagne and not us. We could be giving the enemy the time they needed to gather themselves.
"Siegfried," King Widukind started, bringing my attention back to him. "I will be sending a number of raiding parties out into Francia to raid. Both in hopes of disrupting the Franks supplies, and to foster discord among them. To embolden those that would take action against their king. I want you to lead the largest of them. Two hundred men. Go wherever you feel you can do the most damage." He instructed, and two hundred men was a large jump from the current number of forty.
What could I do with two hundred men?
Thorkell said that there had been a hundred losses taking Cologne. It was a city that was defended. Could we take a city with fewer deaths? That would certainly blacken the eye of the Frankish king. More than that, it was an opportunity to obtain more wealth.
"What will you do in the meantime?" I questioned, not committing to the idea yet. I couldn't let my greed guide me here. I had to think like a leader. What would be best for my men? What would be best for my quest of vengeance?
"We shall hold here. King Charlemagne will not attack so recklessly. He will understand the dangers to his own rule far better than us. He will be cautious and build up his strength. Cologne will be put under siege, but that matters little. I have men in Saxony that are gathering forces. Between the raiding parties and another army, King Charlemagne will find himself surrounded and he knows it but he must be seen taking action. As such, his army shall be stuck here instead of patrolling the countryside where it will be needed." King Widukind stated, and I saw that was his intention all along.
Morrigan hadn't been wrong. Not exactly. But her concerns seemed to be accounted for and the siege itself was a way to advance King Widukind's plans. I thought it over in my head for a long moment, considering our course. In truth, I had no true stake in this war. The only concern I had was if King Charlemagne would continue upward and conquer Denmark, robbing me of my vengeance. With what I had, it did make sense to continue onward to Miklagard.
However, it also felt… wrong. As if I were abandoning King Widukind when he needed me. When he was relying on me. I didn't owe him anything. Not really. Not enough to commit myself to his cause. But I gave him my word to act as a mercenary and he gave me a reason to believe that he did know what he was doing. The only true difficulties he faced were due to his allies abandoning him because of internal struggles.
"I'll lead the raiding parties on the condition that all the valuables we take belong to us," I decided, seeing a slow smile spread across the face of King Widukind. There was relief in his expression as he held out a hand to clasp forearms.
"I expected nothing less," King Widukind returned, telling me that I could have haggled for a better price. I'm not entirely certain for what, though. I had no interest in joining his court nor in land. The only thing I could think of was getting a promise of aid against Horrik, but given that the future of Saxony itself was in doubt, it felt like a hollow promise to receive. "Siegfried, I suspect you have a grand destiny before you, but the gods have seen fit to bind our fates for now. So, allow me to give you some wisdom -- sometimes the only way to defeat an enemy is to make them defeat themselves. Learning where they are strong is just as important as learning where they are weak."
He reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze and I offered a small nod, feeling… humbled. Thorkell had admonished me for how I acted as a leader. Now King Widukind showed me that there was a great deal more to war than winning battles. It showed me how little I really knew about war and how much I still had to learn.
"I'll take the lesson to heart, King Widukind."
…
It took a week for the raiding parties to be formed. Which was a week that I spent questioning Ageric about the dukes that King Widukind had mentioned. In doing so, I learned that a number of them resided on the coastline in what had been King Carloman's kingdom. Meaning that raiding by ship would be unwise because I would be harming potential… allies.
The raiding parties varied in size a great deal. Some were as few as ten, while I was the largest of two hundred. Thirty of which were my mercenary company. As the week passed, some things became very apparent.
"You were right," I remarked at Thorkell, overlooking the two hundred men that I would be in command of. "All of them are Norse."
"Raiding is dangerous work," Thorkell acknowledged. "There are going to be patrols, or forces coming up the roads. As much damage as we're going to do to the Franks, the raiders are going to be spilling blood as well. Better than the blood is mercenaries over Saxons," Thorkell remarked, leaning on the rampart as we stood in a watch tower, with his arms crossed.
All of the raiders were Norse. There were an odd two hundred that would remain behind within Frankfurt, but out of the near nine hundred Norse mercenaries that King Widukind had, he was sending out about seven hundred of us throughout Francia. All were completely independent with no organization to speak of. I imagine that a number of them would be raiding for some wealth before leaving the war entirely. While others would end up forming larger groups.
It was difficult to see anything other than bleeding us while the Saxons stayed behind the wall. Safe.
"Do you think I made the wrong choice?" I asked Thorkell, looking up at the man to find him shrugging.
"Can only know that after everything is all said and done. Letting mercenaries take the risks is normal enough. This is blatant enough to leave a bad taste in the mouth, but given that the Norse kingdoms abandoned him, I can't say I don't understand why he's not putting any trust into us," Thorkell admitted. "Still, the whole strategy makes sense as far as I reckon. No unity makes us difficult to pin down, and even as they get one group, there's another dozen running amok."
King Widukind hadn't lied to me. Not in a way that triggered Tell Spotter. But it also didn't feel like he told the whole truth.
Another lesson, I suppose. I needed to be aware that everyone I dealt with had an ulterior motive.
"In any case, it's a good opportunity. I would have done the same," Thorkell offered and I felt myself breathe a little easier at his approval. Thorkell knew what he was doing. More so than I, I suspected. It helped convince me that this was the correct course of action.
"Good," I decided, heading for the stairs down to the guardhouse below the top of the tower. Below, I saw a number of my men -- the ten that I would be leaving behind along with Jill and Morrigan. Morrigan was unhappy. She stayed unhappy since she learned that we wouldn't immediately abandon King Widukind and she only got more unhappy the moment that she learned that she was staying behind.
"Leaving, were you?" Morrigan questioned, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a line as she regarded me coldly. "T'is not too late to change your mind from this fool's endeavor. Let us be done with the Saxons and move on to Miklagard while we still can." She voiced her opinion and I saw a few of the men glower at her for her sharp words. Thorkell looked like he was fighting off a smile. And losing. Badly.
I swallowed a sigh. It felt like we already had that argument. Several times. "King Widukind has a plan. A good one that makes winning this war possible."
"For how long, I wonder? T'is very optimistic to simply assume that the whole nation will plunge into civil war until Ragnarok comes. Which is what the Saxons shall need if they hope to remain independent," Morrigan pointed out, earning a dirty look from Jill out of the corner of her eye. Dealing with Morrigan could be exhausting at times, but it was a good thing she wasn't willing to swallow her opinions simply because I said something.
To that, I shrugged, "It won't be our problem." I answered her, knowing it to be true. Maybe we could strike down King Charlemagne. Maybe we could bring Francia low. Or, in the more likely case, we gave the Franks bigger issues to deal with and the invasion of Saxony was pushed to the wayside. For how long? Could be as little as a year. Could be decades. It also didn't really matter. I wasn't a Saxon. After my contract was fulfilled, what happened next wasn't on me unless King Widukind hired me again.
By the time King Widukind could hope to threaten Denmark, I intended to be king of it.
"How very mercenary of you," Morrigan remarked, sounding like she did approve of that, at least. "Still, if you insist on going on this fool's errand, then I should go with you. I have no interest in staying here and trading words with that doddering priest you're so fond of."
Jill spoke up as well, her hands bunched into her skirts, "I would like to go as well." She stated, offering nothing else. She seemed very disappointed when I shook my head.
"Morrigan, I need you to preserve Algeric's leg and he can't come with us," I reminded why she couldn't come. Jill had less of a reason to stay, but she couldn't come with us. The two hundred warriors that were coming were warriors. Jill wasn't a fighter. We would need to be swift and deal devastating damage everywhere we went. To that end, we couldn't have anyone that would slow us down. Jill, unfortunately, did. That was one reason.
Instead of voicing the other, I looked to the ten men. "Your job is to protect them," I told them in no uncertain terms. They all gave me nods all around before I glanced at the doors to make sure that they were closed before continuing. "And you are to speak to the remaining Norse warriors within the city once we are gone."
Morrigan perked up immediately, "Treachery, is it?"
I scowled at her, "No," I bit the word out. "King Widukind has done nothing to earn my ire nor my treachery. I don't believe he intends to betray us, but that doesn't mean that he won't. Nor does it mean that he is right about this plan," I told her, and something in my tone made Morrigan look away. "Speak to the Norse warriors. Use the time that you have here to make allies. And plan how to leave should it come to it. Do you understand?"
"Aye, Wolf-Kissed," one of my men said, clasping a hand on his armring. Eystein Ornolfsson, if I remembered the name. Learning them all would be difficult, but it was something that would be worth doing. "You have my word. No harm shall fall upon your women while we still draw breath." To that, Jill flushed while Morrigan rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Thorkell sounded like he was choking on something. I'm pretty sure it was a laugh.
"I believe you," I told him, making him stand a bit straighter. Tell Spotter wasn't tripped. It may not mean he was uttering the truth, but I don't think he was lying. "Jill, Morrigan…" I started, looking at the two. I didn't want to leave them, in truth. I couldn't protect them if I wasn't here or they were with me. But it was foolish to bring them both into danger just so I could protect them from it. "I know that you do not care for each other."
Almost as if on cue, both girls looked at one another and their faces pinched in unison. No. No, they did not care for one another. At all. Even still, I continued, "But I ask that you take care of one another. We do not have as many friends here as people will have us believe. Will you promise me that?" I asked, looking between them, uncertain of what the answer would be. As I expected, Morrigan scowled, rejecting the notion that she would need anyone to take care of her. And bulking at the idea of being responsible for anyone other than herself.
Jill took the request with far more grace. "As you say, Siegfried. I will look after Morrigan as if she were my own sister."
"You look after me-" Morrigan started, sputtering at the mere idea of it before she bit the words back. Looking away as she scowled to herself, she flicked a golden eyed stare at me for a moment before she offered a curt nod. "Fine. I shall ensure that your tag-along shan't suffer a well-deserved fate." That was about as much as I could expect from her and, honestly, it was more than I expected in the first place.
Jill also seemed equally unsurprised by the remark and simply stepped forward, reaching out to take my hands in hers. "Be safe, Siegfried. We shall await your return," Jill stated before leaning forward and pressing her lips to my cheek. My flesh felt hot as she pulled back, and I found that Jill was blushing at her own actions as I was. She gave my hands a small squeeze before stepping back, deliberately ignoring the look that Morrigan was giving her. And, in that moment, I'm pretty sure the greatest danger to Jill was Morrigan herself.
"I… shall," I got my mouth to work after a moment, much to Thorkell's amusement. I was starting to wish that he really would choke on those laughs he was failing to swallow down. Not really sure what else to say, I headed for the door, heading for the ramparts where I would greet the two hundred men that I would be fighting beside.
Between women and war… I suspected that the latter was easier to understand.
...
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"How many steps from the pen to the wall?" He asked, not noticing my arrival as he poured over the model. It was a very interesting method of preparation. Time-consuming, however. Five men stood before the table as he was measuring everything out.
"Thirteen," one man spoke up, making King Widukind pause. There was a small beat of silence and the man started to look nervous.
"Thirteen?" King Widukind echoed, a sharp and deadly edge in his voice. "Thirteen? How could it be thirteen steps when the road between the wall and this house is twenty-three? Did the road get narrower? Is the pen out of place? Or did you miscount?" He questioned, looking at the man that uttered the answer with a gaze sharp enough to cut.
He swallowed thickly. "I… I shall recount, my king." He voiced, offering a stiff bow as if to ask for forgiveness.
"Do so," King Widukind returned, his voice curt. It was when he sent the scout away, as he brushed past me with pale bloodless skin, only then did King Widukind notice my arrival. He jerked up, standing tall as he turned to face me. "Siegfried. I did not hear you enter. Welcome -- wine? The Franks had a fine selection. They're godless, but they do know how to make a drink."
"No thank you," I responded instinctually, quickly enough that it earned his attention while an attendant brought a jug of wine forward. With a wave of his hand, he dismissed the scouts, all of which looked upon me with wide eyes as they left.
He didn't seem surprised with my refusal, "I suppose I shouldn't expect you to so readily take a drink after so recently surviving a poisoning." He remarked, making my eyes narrow when he poured himself a glass. He offered me a sly smirk, "Your men talk about many things when they're drunk and in high spirits. One of the things that they mentioned is your family being branded outlaws and the attempt on your life. Something you failed to mention when you arrived."
My lips thinned. It wasn't a secret. Not exactly. But, I didn't like the fact that he knew before I told him. Even if I wasn't sure if I was ever going to tell him. "Does it matter? I took the city for you, did I not?" I questioned, watching King Widukind carefully. It felt like I just entered a game of wits that I was unprepared for. King Widukind had been watching me, I suspected. Pumping my men for information.
King Widukind inclined his head to me. "That, you did," he admitted. "And no, it does not. I always believed Jarl Horrik to be a curr. I advised King Sigfred to avoid inviting a snake to sup with us, but he believed it to be an opportunity to finally rid himself of an old longstanding enemy. Perhaps he might have succeeded, but the gods have clearly made their favor known."
It never occurred to me, but could King Widukind hold a grudge against me? I knew little of the relationship that King Widukind and Sigfred had. Only that King Widukind had fled from Saxony to Denmark when King Charlegmane first invaded. Harbored him. Did the relationship extend beyond politics? Were the friends? Had I, in my ignorance, alienated King Widukind by helping Horrik supplant his friend?
"The gods work in mysterious ways. No one can truly know if one has their favor," I responded, looking away from the king and to the model that was being built. That was something that still nipped at me in the back of my mind. I had clearly fallen for a cruel jest from Loki in believing that King Sigfred had been responsible for the deaths of my brothers. However, if I truly had the blessing of the gods, then surely my brothers and father would still live?
Had it really been their fate to die like that? To daggers in the dark at the hands of cowards?
"I suppose you would know, Siegfried," King Widukind remarked, looking at me over the rim of his wine glass. He was measuring me with his eyes and I saw them flicker down to the axe and sword I kept at my belt. He looked at me how Horrik and King Sigfred used to look at me -- as if they were deciding how to use me. What they could get from me. "I didn't really believe it. Men like to tell tall tales. I didn't doubt the deeds themselves, but taking a fortress single handily? A city? Tall tales indeed."
He was leading up to a point, and I was content to let him take his time. Something I've found in recent times was that people wanted to use me. As much as some looked upon me with awe or fear, there were people like King Widukind that saw what I could do and plotted to use me for all I was worth. He wanted me to win his war for him, I suspected. And the map in my waistband felt heavy because I didn't know if that was even possible.
"But the stories had more truth in them than I suspected. You took the walls of Frankfort. Something that I suspected would take hundreds of lives to accomplish," he continued, his tone decidedly even as he set his goblet of wine down on the table, next to the model. "I suspect that you know your own value, Siegfried. That you shall be… instrumental in winning the freedom of the Saxons."
"I hardly think I'm a replacement for thousands of men," I returned. Especially if everything that we had faced so far was merely the start. I couldn't get it out of my head -- how vast that map had been. How large the Frank kingdom was. How many men could King Charlegmane muster? Had everyone we killed so far… Did it even matter?
"I wouldn't be so sure," King Widukind continued to flatter me. "War… I traveled far in my search for wisdom when I was a much younger man. Wisdom on how I could defeat the Franks. There was a quote that I heard once. I know not who uttered it, but I've found that they knew the truth of war better than any other. 'Out of every hundred men, ten shouldn't even be here, eighty are targets, nine are the real fighters. Ah, but the one, one is a warrior, who shall see the others back safely.'" As King Widukind uttered the quote, he sat down and I saw a glimpse of exhaustion as he looked upon the model.
I frowned at the saying, finding that it didn't sit well with me. I could clearly see what he was trying to say -- I was the warrior. Or one of the nine. But the quote and sayer was wrong. Perhaps that was true in lesser cultures, but Norsemen were brave. We didn't cower in the face of the enemy. That being said, I couldn't help but be struck by familiarity -- it sounded similar to what King Charlegmane said about his own army.
However, before I could say anything, he continued. "You are a corpse maker. One unlike I have ever seen, Siegfried. Woden favors you and you do his bidding well. In the face of you, the ten shall flee. Their cowardice will make the other eighty route. The ten that fight… they shall be overwhelmed. The battle shall be won."
"Winning a battle is different from winning a war," I decided, reaching back to the map. I saw that King Widukind knew exactly what I was going to show him before I passed it to him. All the same, he accepted the map and unfurled it, looking at the map. The rivers were marked upon it, as were many cities. Paris, Rouen, Brussels, and so many more. "People believe that the war is all but won. We have had three victories and slain many men. That couldn't be further from the truth, could it?"
King Widukind ran his fingers over the roads and rivers. "I imagine that it does look daunting seeing it like this," he admitted. "Saxony is clearly larger than what is portrayed, but I confess to knowing that the Franks were a kingdom many times larger than us."
"And you chose to hide it," I stated, an edge in my tone. I expected a sharp rebuke, but King Widukind nodded, still overlooking the map. His lips tugged down into a frown while a hand drifted up to strike his beard in thought.
"Of course, I did. If a look at this is enough to make a corpse maker like you tremble, then what of the lesser men?" He questioned and I narrowed my eyes at the insult. I wasn't trembling. I wasn't a coward. I had concerns. Reasonable ones. "I hid the knowledge from but a select few. It'd cause unnecessary strife within our army… and the very thing that shall cause that strife is what will cause the downfall of the Franks, Siegfried." King Widukind looked at me after a long moment, his gaze intense. There was a burning fire in his eyes that told me that he believed them.
I felt a flash of shame run through me. I thought he didn't have a plan. I should have learned if he did or not before jumping to conclusions. "What do you mean by that?" I asked, glancing at the map and seeing a nation that utterly dwarfed Saxony. The only weakness I could think of was that it would take a great deal of time to muster up an army in the far west and march them over to Saxony. However, that time was measured in weeks. Maybe two. Less by ship.
"King Charlemagne is an old enemy of mine. I've hated him long before he ever knew who I was. However, I am hardly the only enemy he has," King Widukind spoke, leaning forward as he pushed the map to me. "Tell me, Siegfried. What do you know of our enemy?" He asked me and my lips thinned.
"Not a lot," I admitted. I knew that he detested us for being heathens. And I agreed with the sayings that he would kill us all if he could. King Charlemagne struck me as a man who believed in what he was doing. As surely as I believed in what I did. Beyond that, I didn't really know much.
King Widukind did. "When I was young, the Frankish kingdom wasn't what it is today. It was still a mighty kingdom, to be sure, but it wasn't what King Charlemagne would turn it into. You see, the prior king, his father, knew that his sons could not coexist within the same kingdom. One would not submit to the other for they were both too ambitious by nature. For that reason, upon his death, King Pepin divided his kingdom between his sons." I didn't know that king Charlemagne had a brother. "However, this made the rivalry between them turn bitter. Both felt cheated out of their inheritance. For that reason, they began to scheme on how to reunify Francia."
"Kinslaying," I muttered the word bitterly, knowing where he was going with this. I couldn't imagine it. I couldn't. It was vile in an instinctual way. There were times I disliked my brothers. There were times when I outright hated them. However, I'd sooner part with a hand than raise it against them with the intention to kill. To murder. There was no one more forsaken than those that killed their own kin out of ambition.
King Widukind nodded, "Aye. King Charlemagne murdered his own brother for the crown, but before that, there were years of foul actions and blood debts made. Both brothers discredited the other at every turn or weakening their support base. Meaning, that when King Charlemagne inherited King Carloman's kingdom, he inherited the same men that he had insulted and disgraced to weaken his brother." And with that, the plan became much clearer.
We had allies within the kingdom. Perhaps ones that weren't outright friends, but they possessed a common enemy. "You intend to weaken King Charlemagne enough that his enemy's take action against him," I voiced, earning a slow nod from the Saxon King.
"King Charlemagne possessed too many Jarls underneath him. Many are dissatisfied, but they are afraid to take action. They're afraid because King Charlemagne rarely loses in anything, which makes this so damning. By now, word of King Charlemagne's string of defeats would have spread throughout his kingdom. The loss of four or five thousand men would be disastrous for anyone else, but as you have shown… Francia has the men to spare. But taking Cologne? That will cause some ripples. People will always remember the defeats more than the victories. Especially when they come so rarely and against heathen barbarians such as ourselves."
I nodded slowly, seeing it in my mind. The only thing that I could compare it to was the gossip I heard back in Alabu back when Horrik hadn't announced that we would be joining this campaign. Something I never thought much of until now. If Horrik had decided not to go, what would have happened? Would people have called him a coward? Would they have gone on their own? The support that Horrik had would have fractured, however slightly. Meaning that if the support was hammered enough, then it could break like King Widukind said.
"Do we have stated support from anyone within the kingdom?" I questioned, making King Widukind shake his head. "Do we know of anyone that would act?"
He smiled slightly in response, "Several. I know not of their lands, but I do know their names. Hunoald Louping, Loup Louping, Theoderic Nevers, Theobert Nibelunging, Wido Leudoni. They are powerful jarls within Francia. But, I suspect that they shall act cautiously."
I thought about it. I knew who I could ask to gain such information, though I doubt that Ageric would be feeling… positively disposed to me at the moment. Between Morrigan and I tending to him, we should be able to save his leg but it couldn't be denied that he was paying a hefty price for it. Beyond that, it was a risk, I could see. If we deliberately allowed some of Francia to gather its strength, there was no guarantee that it would be used against King Charlemagne and not us. We could be giving the enemy the time they needed to gather themselves.
"Siegfried," King Widukind started, bringing my attention back to him. "I will be sending a number of raiding parties out into Francia to raid. Both in hopes of disrupting the Franks supplies, and to foster discord among them. To embolden those that would take action against their king. I want you to lead the largest of them. Two hundred men. Go wherever you feel you can do the most damage." He instructed, and two hundred men was a large jump from the current number of forty.
What could I do with two hundred men?
Thorkell said that there had been a hundred losses taking Cologne. It was a city that was defended. Could we take a city with fewer deaths? That would certainly blacken the eye of the Frankish king. More than that, it was an opportunity to obtain more wealth.
"What will you do in the meantime?" I questioned, not committing to the idea yet. I couldn't let my greed guide me here. I had to think like a leader. What would be best for my men? What would be best for my quest of vengeance?
"We shall hold here. King Charlemagne will not attack so recklessly. He will understand the dangers to his own rule far better than us. He will be cautious and build up his strength. Cologne will be put under siege, but that matters little. I have men in Saxony that are gathering forces. Between the raiding parties and another army, King Charlemagne will find himself surrounded and he knows it but he must be seen taking action. As such, his army shall be stuck here instead of patrolling the countryside where it will be needed." King Widukind stated, and I saw that was his intention all along.
Morrigan hadn't been wrong. Not exactly. But her concerns seemed to be accounted for and the siege itself was a way to advance King Widukind's plans. I thought it over in my head for a long moment, considering our course. In truth, I had no true stake in this war. The only concern I had was if King Charlemagne would continue upward and conquer Denmark, robbing me of my vengeance. With what I had, it did make sense to continue onward to Miklagard.
However, it also felt… wrong. As if I were abandoning King Widukind when he needed me. When he was relying on me. I didn't owe him anything. Not really. Not enough to commit myself to his cause. But I gave him my word to act as a mercenary and he gave me a reason to believe that he did know what he was doing. The only true difficulties he faced were due to his allies abandoning him because of internal struggles.
"I'll lead the raiding parties on the condition that all the valuables we take belong to us," I decided, seeing a slow smile spread across the face of King Widukind. There was relief in his expression as he held out a hand to clasp forearms.
"I expected nothing less," King Widukind returned, telling me that I could have haggled for a better price. I'm not entirely certain for what, though. I had no interest in joining his court nor in land. The only thing I could think of was getting a promise of aid against Horrik, but given that the future of Saxony itself was in doubt, it felt like a hollow promise to receive. "Siegfried, I suspect you have a grand destiny before you, but the gods have seen fit to bind our fates for now. So, allow me to give you some wisdom -- sometimes the only way to defeat an enemy is to make them defeat themselves. Learning where they are strong is just as important as learning where they are weak."
He reached out and gave my shoulder a squeeze and I offered a small nod, feeling… humbled. Thorkell had admonished me for how I acted as a leader. Now King Widukind showed me that there was a great deal more to war than winning battles. It showed me how little I really knew about war and how much I still had to learn.
"I'll take the lesson to heart, King Widukind."
…
It took a week for the raiding parties to be formed. Which was a week that I spent questioning Ageric about the dukes that King Widukind had mentioned. In doing so, I learned that a number of them resided on the coastline in what had been King Carloman's kingdom. Meaning that raiding by ship would be unwise because I would be harming potential… allies.
The raiding parties varied in size a great deal. Some were as few as ten, while I was the largest of two hundred. Thirty of which were my mercenary company. As the week passed, some things became very apparent.
"You were right," I remarked at Thorkell, overlooking the two hundred men that I would be in command of. "All of them are Norse."
"Raiding is dangerous work," Thorkell acknowledged. "There are going to be patrols, or forces coming up the roads. As much damage as we're going to do to the Franks, the raiders are going to be spilling blood as well. Better than the blood is mercenaries over Saxons," Thorkell remarked, leaning on the rampart as we stood in a watch tower, with his arms crossed.
All of the raiders were Norse. There were an odd two hundred that would remain behind within Frankfurt, but out of the near nine hundred Norse mercenaries that King Widukind had, he was sending out about seven hundred of us throughout Francia. All were completely independent with no organization to speak of. I imagine that a number of them would be raiding for some wealth before leaving the war entirely. While others would end up forming larger groups.
It was difficult to see anything other than bleeding us while the Saxons stayed behind the wall. Safe.
"Do you think I made the wrong choice?" I asked Thorkell, looking up at the man to find him shrugging.
"Can only know that after everything is all said and done. Letting mercenaries take the risks is normal enough. This is blatant enough to leave a bad taste in the mouth, but given that the Norse kingdoms abandoned him, I can't say I don't understand why he's not putting any trust into us," Thorkell admitted. "Still, the whole strategy makes sense as far as I reckon. No unity makes us difficult to pin down, and even as they get one group, there's another dozen running amok."
King Widukind hadn't lied to me. Not in a way that triggered Tell Spotter. But it also didn't feel like he told the whole truth.
Another lesson, I suppose. I needed to be aware that everyone I dealt with had an ulterior motive.
"In any case, it's a good opportunity. I would have done the same," Thorkell offered and I felt myself breathe a little easier at his approval. Thorkell knew what he was doing. More so than I, I suspected. It helped convince me that this was the correct course of action.
"Good," I decided, heading for the stairs down to the guardhouse below the top of the tower. Below, I saw a number of my men -- the ten that I would be leaving behind along with Jill and Morrigan. Morrigan was unhappy. She stayed unhappy since she learned that we wouldn't immediately abandon King Widukind and she only got more unhappy the moment that she learned that she was staying behind.
"Leaving, were you?" Morrigan questioned, her arms crossed over her chest and her lips pressed into a line as she regarded me coldly. "T'is not too late to change your mind from this fool's endeavor. Let us be done with the Saxons and move on to Miklagard while we still can." She voiced her opinion and I saw a few of the men glower at her for her sharp words. Thorkell looked like he was fighting off a smile. And losing. Badly.
I swallowed a sigh. It felt like we already had that argument. Several times. "King Widukind has a plan. A good one that makes winning this war possible."
"For how long, I wonder? T'is very optimistic to simply assume that the whole nation will plunge into civil war until Ragnarok comes. Which is what the Saxons shall need if they hope to remain independent," Morrigan pointed out, earning a dirty look from Jill out of the corner of her eye. Dealing with Morrigan could be exhausting at times, but it was a good thing she wasn't willing to swallow her opinions simply because I said something.
To that, I shrugged, "It won't be our problem." I answered her, knowing it to be true. Maybe we could strike down King Charlemagne. Maybe we could bring Francia low. Or, in the more likely case, we gave the Franks bigger issues to deal with and the invasion of Saxony was pushed to the wayside. For how long? Could be as little as a year. Could be decades. It also didn't really matter. I wasn't a Saxon. After my contract was fulfilled, what happened next wasn't on me unless King Widukind hired me again.
By the time King Widukind could hope to threaten Denmark, I intended to be king of it.
"How very mercenary of you," Morrigan remarked, sounding like she did approve of that, at least. "Still, if you insist on going on this fool's errand, then I should go with you. I have no interest in staying here and trading words with that doddering priest you're so fond of."
Jill spoke up as well, her hands bunched into her skirts, "I would like to go as well." She stated, offering nothing else. She seemed very disappointed when I shook my head.
"Morrigan, I need you to preserve Algeric's leg and he can't come with us," I reminded why she couldn't come. Jill had less of a reason to stay, but she couldn't come with us. The two hundred warriors that were coming were warriors. Jill wasn't a fighter. We would need to be swift and deal devastating damage everywhere we went. To that end, we couldn't have anyone that would slow us down. Jill, unfortunately, did. That was one reason.
Instead of voicing the other, I looked to the ten men. "Your job is to protect them," I told them in no uncertain terms. They all gave me nods all around before I glanced at the doors to make sure that they were closed before continuing. "And you are to speak to the remaining Norse warriors within the city once we are gone."
Morrigan perked up immediately, "Treachery, is it?"
I scowled at her, "No," I bit the word out. "King Widukind has done nothing to earn my ire nor my treachery. I don't believe he intends to betray us, but that doesn't mean that he won't. Nor does it mean that he is right about this plan," I told her, and something in my tone made Morrigan look away. "Speak to the Norse warriors. Use the time that you have here to make allies. And plan how to leave should it come to it. Do you understand?"
"Aye, Wolf-Kissed," one of my men said, clasping a hand on his armring. Eystein Ornolfsson, if I remembered the name. Learning them all would be difficult, but it was something that would be worth doing. "You have my word. No harm shall fall upon your women while we still draw breath." To that, Jill flushed while Morrigan rolled her eyes to the ceiling. Thorkell sounded like he was choking on something. I'm pretty sure it was a laugh.
"I believe you," I told him, making him stand a bit straighter. Tell Spotter wasn't tripped. It may not mean he was uttering the truth, but I don't think he was lying. "Jill, Morrigan…" I started, looking at the two. I didn't want to leave them, in truth. I couldn't protect them if I wasn't here or they were with me. But it was foolish to bring them both into danger just so I could protect them from it. "I know that you do not care for each other."
Almost as if on cue, both girls looked at one another and their faces pinched in unison. No. No, they did not care for one another. At all. Even still, I continued, "But I ask that you take care of one another. We do not have as many friends here as people will have us believe. Will you promise me that?" I asked, looking between them, uncertain of what the answer would be. As I expected, Morrigan scowled, rejecting the notion that she would need anyone to take care of her. And bulking at the idea of being responsible for anyone other than herself.
Jill took the request with far more grace. "As you say, Siegfried. I will look after Morrigan as if she were my own sister."
"You look after me-" Morrigan started, sputtering at the mere idea of it before she bit the words back. Looking away as she scowled to herself, she flicked a golden eyed stare at me for a moment before she offered a curt nod. "Fine. I shall ensure that your tag-along shan't suffer a well-deserved fate." That was about as much as I could expect from her and, honestly, it was more than I expected in the first place.
Jill also seemed equally unsurprised by the remark and simply stepped forward, reaching out to take my hands in hers. "Be safe, Siegfried. We shall await your return," Jill stated before leaning forward and pressing her lips to my cheek. My flesh felt hot as she pulled back, and I found that Jill was blushing at her own actions as I was. She gave my hands a small squeeze before stepping back, deliberately ignoring the look that Morrigan was giving her. And, in that moment, I'm pretty sure the greatest danger to Jill was Morrigan herself.
"I… shall," I got my mouth to work after a moment, much to Thorkell's amusement. I was starting to wish that he really would choke on those laughs he was failing to swallow down. Not really sure what else to say, I headed for the door, heading for the ramparts where I would greet the two hundred men that I would be fighting beside.
Between women and war… I suspected that the latter was easier to understand.
...
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Mr. Cloak
Orchestrator of Paradoxical Apocalypse
- Pronouns
- I
Ha! Yes, war is simpler.... But women are more rewarding to understand.
Good luck doing that though!
Edit for clarification- men and women generally have very different views on chain-of-result actions due to how we weigh priorities. It means that learning how the opposite sex thinks is usually somewhat alien (not really, but it requires a mental twist that is hard to accomplish consistently to get accurate results all the time).
Good luck doing that though!
Edit for clarification- men and women generally have very different views on chain-of-result actions due to how we weigh priorities. It means that learning how the opposite sex thinks is usually somewhat alien (not really, but it requires a mental twist that is hard to accomplish consistently to get accurate results all the time).
Last edited:
To be Iviking
- Location
- USA
As it would turn out, King Widukind's need for exact measurements worked out perfectly for us. The scouts that were sent out to patrol the countryside and monitor the Frankish army had reported almost everything that they had seen, ranging from good terrain, poor terrain, hamlets, villages, and towns. There was a rather clearly marked border between what they explored and everything beyond it, but at the very least, it served as a starting point to decide our course of action.
There were a number of villages dotted around the countryside, but they were relatively sparse. More so now because the smaller raiding parties were able to mobilize ahead of us. Meaning that we would have to penetrate deeper into the Frankish Kingdom for spoils. I did, however, learn the names of a number of towns and cities that laid beyond what we knew -- down the Rhine River was a settlement called Mannheim. Deeper inland were cities known as Luxembourg, Saabrucken, and Trier.
Many notable towns and villages were dotted along the way, connected by dirt roads and sometimes stone. From the tales the scouts had told us, echoing what they were told by Frankish thralls, some of these towns were as large or larger than Alabu.
But, that didn't mean all of them were viable targets. I had a company of two hundred men. Fifty were archers, the rest were warriors. Each carried a shield but few possessed any type of armor beyond a gambeson. Our ships only carried enough food for a week without any other source of sustenance. The assumption was that we would be taking our food from the villages that we came across. For that same reason we weren't given any carts or animals to move our supplies once we moved inland.
Lastly, I learned that the territory that I intended to start raiding was all owned by a single man. Duke Hanabi Agilolfing. A staunch supporter of King Charlemagne and a powerful man within the kingdom. The core of his territory stretched from a notable town called Ulm to a place called Bern, but he commanded the thegns- or 'Counts' as the Franks called them, of the smaller territories around him.
Altogether, it was a good amount of information. Enough to put together a plan of action and decide what targets we wanted to raid. While our numbers were too few to take and hold a city, they were too many to waste on villages. Towns that lacked walls were ideal. Cities without an army in them similarly so.
"We leave the smaller targets to the roaming bands. Our priority should be towns and cities," I decided, looking at the map of the Frankish Kingdom. Only the big cities were marked on it, but I could use them as points of reference. "And we can't afford to stay in one place," I continued, making a small dot on a map between the town of Mannheim as we sailed down the Rhine River. Smoke drifted up from it and there were the smoldering ruins of several buildings. As we passed by, I saw a number of sacrifices around a tree in the village square, all hanging from it.
Sacrifices to Odin.
I crossed that dot out with another strike of a charcoal piece, marking the village as looted.
"Can't take thralls either. Maybe a few for hard labor, but when slaves feel like they aren't outnumbered, they start acting rowdy," Thorkell remarked, sitting at the rudder and savoring the breeze that blew behind us. My ships were all being used for the raiding, and of the hundred and fifty men, thirteen more had longships as leaders of their own mercenary companies. "As I see it, the biggest problem is going to be hauling loot. Men are loathe to leave behind anything that glitters, even if it means that they're slow enough for a hungry wolf to catch up to them."
As far as problems went, having too much loot was about as good of one to have as you could hope for. "Sending loot back up the Rhine is asking for it to be stolen. And I imagine it won't be too long before King Charlemagne realizes that we're using it," I agreed. Rivers were great for transportation, but if it came to an ambush, there was precious little we could do to respond beyond row faster to escape it. Or land if the ambushing party was small enough.
"Could try burying it," Thorkell remarked with a shrug. "Take some thralls, have them bury it, then kill them when we're done. No one but you would know where it is. Getting it might not be easy given the circumstances, but it'll be better than leaving it behind." The idea did have merit, I suppose.
"I suppose it depends on how much we find," I responded, thinking that it was something to consider. I was about to say more before Thorkell's head perked up, making me lift mine as well. I saw what he was looking at -- the scout ship that we had sent up the river was banked on the side. Empty of men, but there were a handful of our warriors that were waving us down. Standing up, I grabbed a horn before I pressed my lips to it and blew a sharp note while Thorkell began to guide us to the bank.
Almost as soon as we were within speaking distance, a man that I recognized approached. Short but stocky, dark black hair, black beard, and dark brown eyes. Hallstein Bergvidsson. One of the captains of the mercenaries that were put under my command. Though, most people called him Blood-Feather on account of the raven feathers that were woven into his chainmail. "Wolf-Kissed. We've finally outpaced the scraps," Hallstein greeted, giving me a wide smile as we began to disembark.
"Did we out-pace them or did they pass it over?" I questioned, my boots sloshing through the water. A lot of the mercenary bands had a week head start on us, but they went in every single direction except for into Saxony. The river was a natural choice for some, yet not everyone had a longship to navigate it. Between that, and the time it would take to perform the raid itself, our goal was to cut off the smaller bands before cutting into the kingdom by road.
The hope was to draw some Norse mercenaries to us in hopes of greater wealth. Not only to increase our numbers a bit, but to replace any losses we might suffer.
"Could be both," Hallstein admitted. "It's a big village. Smaller bands would know better than to try it. Any case, it's ripe for the taking," he voiced his opinion. I gestured for him to lead the way while the rest of the company started to get off the ships. Some would stay behind to guard them.
One thing that I was learning about Francia and Saxony was that there were a lot of forests. Dense ones, too. Between them and the hills, traversing without the ships would be difficult. A march that should only take a day could end up taking two instead. Even three in the wrong circumstances. All the same, Hallstein lead us up through a narrow path carved out of the forest, up a hill, before I saw what he spoke of.
It was a city. Did we arrive at Mannheim already? I thought it would have taken longer. Maybe another six hours of sailing, or so. Depending on how many bends there were in the river. The city itself had a low wall around it that had seen better days. It had outright collapsed in some places. There were a number of stone houses with clay roofing that all seemed to be arranged within the walls. However, there were a number of buildings that were made of wood arranged outside of the walls.
At the heart of the city itself was a large building. A church, I was coming to recognize.
I did see that several buildings were being disassembled for the stone and it was being used to rebuild the walls that were left in disrepair. Too little too late. Within the walls, the buildings were all arranged in a pattern. A grid. It was odd looking, I decided. I didn't like it.
Holding up my map, I frowned at it, seeing several turns and bends of the Rhine that we hadn't taken but I saw no other city that it could be. It had to be Mannheim. Rolling the map up, I looked down at the city in thought, flanked by Thorkell and Hallstien while the rest of the men disembarked. From what I could see, it was a bustling town. Bigger than Alabu, for certain. Bigger than Cologne, the more I looked at it. Was Mannheim supposed to be this big? We're all the important towns this size? Cologne was on it, but Frankfurt wasn't. It seemed almost arbitrary.
"We should attack swiftly. Those holes in the walls won't mean much if they're filled with the bodies of Franks," Hallstien remarked. A true point. This was different from Cologne. There was no Christian holiday to take advantage of. The gates were already closed and there was a constant workforce around the crumbling walls. I'd give it another three days before they were repaired completely, but even a half wall was better than no wall.
"Might be best to give up getting over that wall," Thorkell remarked, nodding at the city. "Plenty outside of it. Could set fire to the houses to disrupt any pitch battle and our movements." Another good plan.
In all likelihood, even the garrison of the city would outnumber us. We couldn't afford a pitched battle. Thorkell's suggestion was the wiser of the two, I thought, but it was missing something. That church would hold great wealth. Getting into the city would further weaken King Charlemagne because it would make it clear that his cities were not safe. That even a small force could sack them. To that end…
"The church tower is the alarm," I voiced, thinking the plan through. "They might work through the night, but they might not. Depends on how pressured they feel. Barracks are going to be points of concentration for soldiers…" I muttered, tilting my head at the city as I figured out how to best take it. The two captains watched me in silence, watching me work before I came to a conclusion. "We wait until nightfall. I'll sneak into the city now to learn where the enemy is and to disable that bell. Thorkell, Hallstien -- you two both lead a hundred men each into the city along paths that I mark. I'll open a path from within. At the same time, thirty men will set fire to a handful of buildings to draw attention in the wrong direction."
Delay their response and hit them where they were weak. There was a time for glory and there was a time for wisdom. We raid the church and everything along the path, get in and get out with our spoils. The fire would be a good distraction and to prevent us from being followed. Simple and clean.
"A shadow walking," Thorkell remarked, scratching at his cheek. "These things only hinge on the shadow walker surviving to get the job done and we don't have to worry about that with you. Aye, makes sense to me."
Hallstien laughed, "This will be a first for me! It shall be interesting fighting with you, Wolf-Kissed. Aye, I agree to this plan."
Good. All that was left was for them to wait. And for me to enter the city.
Quest: Sack the city
Rewards: 2000 Tactics exp and Prestige.
Additional Objective: Go undetected in your sabotage of its defenses.
Additional Reward: 500 Plotting exp.
…
"I don't want to be eaten…!" A small child wailed at the top of his lungs as he walked with his mother along the dirt streets, one hand in hers while she carried a basket against her hip. Fat tears dropped down his cheeks, and stumbling as he walked. His mother looked down at him, opening her mouth to say something, but swallowing it down.
"Hush, William," she chided as they walked past me. "No one will be eaten. I promise you that. King Charlemagne and his brave paladins will protect us from the heathens. I promise you, darling." The words did little to reassure the child and from the sound of it, the Frank woman was reassuring herself as much as she was her child.
Continuing past them, I drank in the city as the sun began to make its descent. I wore Frankish clothing and kept a scarf around my neck to hide the scar. Getting into the outer town had been easy. There were no sentries to speak of. Which left me time to explore the town to find the most direct path into the inner city. The wall itself had six holes from what I could see -- all from the walls being dismantled to build houses. Of those six, two were half complete but the other four were barely started.
The crews working them were about twenty people each. Labors with one overseer -- a few would deliver the stone, the rest would work to lay the stone, while the overseer barked orders the entire time. There were four gates to the walls as well, all left open, but all were guarded by about a dozen men.
Making a decision, I approached the overseer. He was a portly man, with thinning hair, but he wore marked better clothing than everyone around him. "Serah, I want to help build the wall to protect us from the heathens! But my Ma' says I have to help her with chores. Could I come back tonight and help build with the night shift?" I questioned, looking up at the man, who had a brief expression of annoyance until he looked at me.
"I- you do your king proud, young man. As well as your family, but there is no night shift. Go on to your mother, young one. She has need of you more than us," he remarked and I bobbed my head in a nod, and the scowl wasn't entirely fake. Was he saying that there wasn't a night shift because there wasn't one, or because I was a child in his eyes? I would need to keep an eye on that, but from what I saw, it would mean little. A fast attack would blow past them with ease.
Once I was out of sight, I headed to one of the gates and passed under it to enter the inner city. The roads were still dirt, but all of the buildings were made of stone, all pressed together and whitewashed. Most were two stories, each sectioned off in a grid pattern, which made the building that broke this pattern obvious. One of the barracks was a long building that was half open to serve as a stable. A couple dozen horses by the look of things. Hard to say what number I would be looking at in terms of guards, but I had overestimated what to expect by a decent margin.
The barrack and the towers at the walls. Altogether they might have… two hundred? Maybe more? Maybe less? In theory, we would be evenly matched, but that wasn't really the case. If I could do something to halt the guards in the barrack and in the watchtower near where I was going, then it would be two hundred against fifty to a hundred. Far better odds. I needed to take as much risk as I could upon myself. I needed to look at it as the more I killed, the less danger my men were in.
Making a mental note about that, I made my way up to the church and… "What deal did King Charlemagne make with the dwarves?" I wondered quietly to myself, looking at the building. It was a large building, just like the one that was in Cologne, but this one was even more decadent. If that were possible. Large stained glass windows, engravings on the stone that were in turn painted, depicting stories from the bible. With the doors open, I saw that the interior was rich. The walls were painted, gold and silver aplenty, the smell of something sweet coming from within.
It was worrying, in truth. If the dwarves favored King Charlemagne so clearly, they could pose an unexpected ally to the Frankish King. The dwarves were said to have little interest in the world above, preferring to toil in their vast underground kingdoms, but… if they would ever rise to the surface, it seemed like it would be for King Charlemagne. At any rate, it was something to keep an eye on.
Looking away from the splendor, I made my plan. My men were waiting on my signal, so I went back to the fringes of the city and started to collect stones and met up with a runner that would get everyone in position. Making an arrow after stomping them into the ground, people just laughed when I said it was to avoid getting lost. If my youth hindered me, then it could also help me.
I made my paths all the way up to the church, picking the path of least resistance. For the barracks and the tower walls, that was actually easier. Purchasing several jugs of wine had been expensive, but I would more than make up the wealth. Positioning them on top of the wood roofing? Easy enough. Waiting for the sun to descend and quietly moving a wagon and barricading the door? Little more tricky, but it was no issue.
All that was left was the bell, which I saved for last. I heard it ring out, calling for curfew as I climbed up the tower. It was shockingly easy, I found. The engravings offered plenty of handholds, and my strength gave me a rather firm grip. I thought I might have been scared when I looked down, but my heart beat steadily in my chest, focusing on the task at hand. In no time at all, I was inside the bell tower itself, finding it empty except for a brass bell. It was a bit bigger than I thought it would be, but nothing that I couldn't handle.
Taking out a piece of cloth and wrapping it around the piece of metal inside of the bell, I grabbed hold of the rope that turned it and cut it off with the edge of my axe. Using that rope to give me more cushioning, I grabbed hold of the brass clapper and gave a harsh pull. For a moment, I thought I would rip the entire thing off the wood block it was sat on, but the clapper gave way without the rest of the bell. Meaning that it was useless.
All that was left was to take out a torch that I had brought along with me -- a stick wrapped in some rags that were soaked in wine. Catching a spark with a piece of flint, the torch went up in a blaze. Grabbing it, I turned to the direction of my raiders and waved it back and forth. The signal for them to attack.
In response, I saw a handful of fires spark up in the distance, only barely visible because of my elevation. They became more visible when they were used to set arrows alight just before they were let loose to fall upon the city on the opposite end. Taking from their cue, I lifted the bow and arrow I had on my back -- also purchased inside of the city from an old hunter -- taking an arrow, I used the torch to light the rag I tied around it. Taking aim at the wine jugs on the barrack roof, I fired.
The flaming arrow sailed through the air, smashing into the wine jugs, and instantly the roof was on fire. Doing the same at the guard tower, I heard sounds of panic as people started to realize that they were under attack. I could see my men running through the space between the forest and the city, heading straight for the paths that I had marked. They would get in easily enough from what I saw.
Bonus Objective Complete!
Bonus Reward: 500 Plotting exp.
I paid the notification no mind beyond noting that I was eligible for my first Intrigue perk, because the door to the tower was hurriedly opened. It flung to the side, revealing a monk. Drab brown robes with an odd-looking haircut -- his hair was long, but his scalp was cut short. His eyes widened dramatically, "W-Wait-" he started, only to be silenced by my axe hacking into his neck. Grabbing him by the robe, I dragged him in while the sounds of panic were starting to grow. Closing the door behind him, I used his corpse to block it. It wouldn't work forever, but it would give me more time to react the next time someone tried to ring the bell.
Setting my two quivers to the side, I looked down into the city to see how it was reacting. There was a lot of confusion from what I could see. People thought the panic was because of the fires, but people didn't yet know that the fires happened because of an attack. There were sounds of panic that were coming up from the other side as my warriors entered the city, but they were intermingled with the calls of fire. The guard was reacting, however. A handful of them here and there were trying to figure out where they were supposed to go.
Taking aim with my bow and arrow, I lined up a shot before letting the arrow leap from my bow. It was nearly invisible in the air for but a moment before it reappeared in the back of the head of a guard that was barking orders to get the barrack open. The eight or so guards looking at him went bloodless, throwing up their shields, but they were clueless to where the arrow came from. Arrows leaped from my bow as the attack commenced in earnest. My warriors were cutting a swath through the city, attacking a meager defense in a two pronged attack. They didn't need my help, even if they did receive it.
The door opened again -- another monk. Killing him made my barrier stronger and gave me more time to fire at the guards that were going to the gates and holes in the city wall or tried to put out the fire that was slowly spreading. Panic had settled in for the most part, but most of the city didn't know it was under attack yet, though that wouldn't last. More and more people survived coming across my men and shouted about them as they fled, or guessed the city was under attack themselves. That was fine with me. As the guards formed up, I dropped them.
"The church! They're in the church!" I heard someone scream in horror, the words reaching me. I soon spotted the one who said them, the one that figured out where the arrows were coming from. Guards and people were flooding into the church as a place of refuge, as they always did. It was a young man, brown hair and green eyes, a few years older than me. As if he sensed his death incoming, he dived behind the nearest piece of cover, protecting himself from me.
Instead, I dropped a guard that was next to him, my last arrow spent. Dropping my bow, I pulled out my axes to address the shoving at the door as more people tried to ring the alarm. Ripping the door open, I batted away a panicked thrust from a guardsman before splitting his skull with an axe. Shoving him forward, there were shouts of heathen coming from below. The body acted as a shield from another guard, knocking him off balance enough that I could leap over him to land on the corner step. Hacking at his neck and killing him swiftly, I started making my way down the stairs.
"They're in the building! They're in the building!" The shouts of panic were harsh as more guards surged up the stairs, only to find their death. It was almost as if they were attacking me one at a time, and because of it, they had no hope. I slaughtered my way down the stairs, my face doused in a fine spray of blood while it dripped in rivers from my axes. Stepping through the door, I saw that the lavish church had a number of people in it. Citizens and guards alike. Not as many as there normally would be, but from the sounds of fighting outside, I'm guessing that they felt pressured to close the doors early.
A handful of guards rushed toward me and they faltered when I did the same. People sobbed and cried out in horror as I desecrated their church, spilling blood upon the stone floor and splattering the walls with Frankish blood. I carved a line through to the door that was being pounded at. Axes rather than fists by the sound of it. The half dozen men that were trying to barricade the door with their bodies died in position, allowing me to swing the doors wide open.
"Wolf-Kissed!" Hallstein greeted me, his face wet with blood, contrasting the wide smile on his face. His dark eyes were alive with excitement and joy as my raiders poured into the church to take everything of value. "Your plan worked! Hahahaha! Loved by the gods indeed! HAHA!" He shouted, diving into the thick of the looting.
"Remember! No thralls!" I shouted after those that entered with a shake of my head to find that they weren't listening. It reminded me of my first raid, I realized. The moment the looting started happening, any cohesion immediately evaporated like mist under the sun. Leaving us open to counterattacks.
It was hard to believe that it was only half a year ago that I was on my first raid. I watched it all happen, curling my lips in distaste, thinking that the moment I was in charge, I would do things differently. Well, I was in charge and I was seeing the exact same issues. A failure on my part. Or perhaps it was the arrogance of the ignorant. I wasn't sure yet. I wouldn't know until I tried to do things a bit differently. If only to make sure we didn't lose anyone to a stab in the back while they were looting.
"How dare you!" I heard someone scream a split second before a cup nearly nailed me in the head. A woman was getting held back by a few of my warriors, her clothing marking her as a nun, but the expression on her face was anything but peaceful. Tears gathered in her eyes, her face was a furious snarl as she lunged against the two warriors, who laughed. "How dare you attack the sacred city of Worms? King Charlemagne himself is a patron to this church!"
So little time, but I felt like a very different person. On my first raid, I would have looked at her with shame. Or been unable to meet her eyes at all. However, the words of my Father echoed in my ears, ringing with a truth that I couldn't deny. The strong did what they wished and the weak could do nothing to stop them.
"Worms?" I questioned, frowning at the woman, who stopped struggling. "Hm. I thought this was Mannheim," I admitted, feeling a bit foolish. I attacked the wrong city. One that wasn't on the map. That was frustrating, but the frustration was washed away with the sight of my men carrying off valuables.
"You… what kind of monster are you? How could you make light of this? Do you feel nothing in your heart?!" She demanded of me, thrashing in the grip of the men as she lunged for me again.
"I imagine it must be easy to always decide when you're right," I refuted, gesturing for the men to rejoin the looting. The woman, to her credit, seized her chance. She had courage. She charged for me, but it was a clumsy thing. Sticking out a foot to trip her was easy enough, and she fell to the floor. "From the stories I've heard, the people we've killed here pale to the numbers you Franks slaughtered when you conquered Saxony."
"The heathens needed to see the light of God! It was a noble quest for the salvation of their souls!" She protested, getting up until I pressed the edge of my axe into her throat. She reached up and grasped it and in doing so, she revealed her hands. Calloused. Not what you expect from a nun that only had to… I don't know. Sit around all day. Whatever nuns did, I suppose.
"As I said -- how very convenient that when you slaughter men, women, and children, it's for a noble cause. But when we do it, it's because we're monsters," I refuted and, despite herself, I could see the words struck a mark. "Your hands. You're an archer," I remarked, gesturing to the callouses. On one hand, the pads of her fingers were calloused, but on the other, only the tips of two fingers were.
"I am a nun," She argued, seemingly more unhappy with me now that I found that out judging by how she closed her hands.
"Do you know this land well?" I questioned, and she curled her lips, knowing what I wanted. I wanted a guide so I didn't end up attacking the wrong city. Again. That was… really embarrassing, now that I think about it. I should have asked around or something. Hopefully, none of my men would figure it out and everyone would just think that we sacked Mannheim.
"Never. I'd sooner lead you to the gates of Hell!" She declared, shouting the words out with no fear. To prove her point, she pushed up against the edge of my axe, uncaring of the small cut that dripped a drop of crimson blood down her pale neck.
I smiled at that. Brave indeed. "I imagine you'll have to get in line," I told her, removing the blade from her neck. She was courageous. She didn't balk at the prospect of death. It felt like a shame to kill her here and now, defenseless. I didn't know her name or her circumstances, but in her chest beat the heart of a warrior. She deserved a warrior's death.
"I'm going to kill you," she declared, her lip trembling ever so slightly.
"Good luck."
...
Let me know what you think of this chapter because looking back on it, I'm not entirely certain how I feel about it.
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There were a number of villages dotted around the countryside, but they were relatively sparse. More so now because the smaller raiding parties were able to mobilize ahead of us. Meaning that we would have to penetrate deeper into the Frankish Kingdom for spoils. I did, however, learn the names of a number of towns and cities that laid beyond what we knew -- down the Rhine River was a settlement called Mannheim. Deeper inland were cities known as Luxembourg, Saabrucken, and Trier.
Many notable towns and villages were dotted along the way, connected by dirt roads and sometimes stone. From the tales the scouts had told us, echoing what they were told by Frankish thralls, some of these towns were as large or larger than Alabu.
But, that didn't mean all of them were viable targets. I had a company of two hundred men. Fifty were archers, the rest were warriors. Each carried a shield but few possessed any type of armor beyond a gambeson. Our ships only carried enough food for a week without any other source of sustenance. The assumption was that we would be taking our food from the villages that we came across. For that same reason we weren't given any carts or animals to move our supplies once we moved inland.
Lastly, I learned that the territory that I intended to start raiding was all owned by a single man. Duke Hanabi Agilolfing. A staunch supporter of King Charlemagne and a powerful man within the kingdom. The core of his territory stretched from a notable town called Ulm to a place called Bern, but he commanded the thegns- or 'Counts' as the Franks called them, of the smaller territories around him.
Altogether, it was a good amount of information. Enough to put together a plan of action and decide what targets we wanted to raid. While our numbers were too few to take and hold a city, they were too many to waste on villages. Towns that lacked walls were ideal. Cities without an army in them similarly so.
"We leave the smaller targets to the roaming bands. Our priority should be towns and cities," I decided, looking at the map of the Frankish Kingdom. Only the big cities were marked on it, but I could use them as points of reference. "And we can't afford to stay in one place," I continued, making a small dot on a map between the town of Mannheim as we sailed down the Rhine River. Smoke drifted up from it and there were the smoldering ruins of several buildings. As we passed by, I saw a number of sacrifices around a tree in the village square, all hanging from it.
Sacrifices to Odin.
I crossed that dot out with another strike of a charcoal piece, marking the village as looted.
"Can't take thralls either. Maybe a few for hard labor, but when slaves feel like they aren't outnumbered, they start acting rowdy," Thorkell remarked, sitting at the rudder and savoring the breeze that blew behind us. My ships were all being used for the raiding, and of the hundred and fifty men, thirteen more had longships as leaders of their own mercenary companies. "As I see it, the biggest problem is going to be hauling loot. Men are loathe to leave behind anything that glitters, even if it means that they're slow enough for a hungry wolf to catch up to them."
As far as problems went, having too much loot was about as good of one to have as you could hope for. "Sending loot back up the Rhine is asking for it to be stolen. And I imagine it won't be too long before King Charlemagne realizes that we're using it," I agreed. Rivers were great for transportation, but if it came to an ambush, there was precious little we could do to respond beyond row faster to escape it. Or land if the ambushing party was small enough.
"Could try burying it," Thorkell remarked with a shrug. "Take some thralls, have them bury it, then kill them when we're done. No one but you would know where it is. Getting it might not be easy given the circumstances, but it'll be better than leaving it behind." The idea did have merit, I suppose.
"I suppose it depends on how much we find," I responded, thinking that it was something to consider. I was about to say more before Thorkell's head perked up, making me lift mine as well. I saw what he was looking at -- the scout ship that we had sent up the river was banked on the side. Empty of men, but there were a handful of our warriors that were waving us down. Standing up, I grabbed a horn before I pressed my lips to it and blew a sharp note while Thorkell began to guide us to the bank.
Almost as soon as we were within speaking distance, a man that I recognized approached. Short but stocky, dark black hair, black beard, and dark brown eyes. Hallstein Bergvidsson. One of the captains of the mercenaries that were put under my command. Though, most people called him Blood-Feather on account of the raven feathers that were woven into his chainmail. "Wolf-Kissed. We've finally outpaced the scraps," Hallstein greeted, giving me a wide smile as we began to disembark.
"Did we out-pace them or did they pass it over?" I questioned, my boots sloshing through the water. A lot of the mercenary bands had a week head start on us, but they went in every single direction except for into Saxony. The river was a natural choice for some, yet not everyone had a longship to navigate it. Between that, and the time it would take to perform the raid itself, our goal was to cut off the smaller bands before cutting into the kingdom by road.
The hope was to draw some Norse mercenaries to us in hopes of greater wealth. Not only to increase our numbers a bit, but to replace any losses we might suffer.
"Could be both," Hallstein admitted. "It's a big village. Smaller bands would know better than to try it. Any case, it's ripe for the taking," he voiced his opinion. I gestured for him to lead the way while the rest of the company started to get off the ships. Some would stay behind to guard them.
One thing that I was learning about Francia and Saxony was that there were a lot of forests. Dense ones, too. Between them and the hills, traversing without the ships would be difficult. A march that should only take a day could end up taking two instead. Even three in the wrong circumstances. All the same, Hallstein lead us up through a narrow path carved out of the forest, up a hill, before I saw what he spoke of.
It was a city. Did we arrive at Mannheim already? I thought it would have taken longer. Maybe another six hours of sailing, or so. Depending on how many bends there were in the river. The city itself had a low wall around it that had seen better days. It had outright collapsed in some places. There were a number of stone houses with clay roofing that all seemed to be arranged within the walls. However, there were a number of buildings that were made of wood arranged outside of the walls.
At the heart of the city itself was a large building. A church, I was coming to recognize.
I did see that several buildings were being disassembled for the stone and it was being used to rebuild the walls that were left in disrepair. Too little too late. Within the walls, the buildings were all arranged in a pattern. A grid. It was odd looking, I decided. I didn't like it.
Holding up my map, I frowned at it, seeing several turns and bends of the Rhine that we hadn't taken but I saw no other city that it could be. It had to be Mannheim. Rolling the map up, I looked down at the city in thought, flanked by Thorkell and Hallstien while the rest of the men disembarked. From what I could see, it was a bustling town. Bigger than Alabu, for certain. Bigger than Cologne, the more I looked at it. Was Mannheim supposed to be this big? We're all the important towns this size? Cologne was on it, but Frankfurt wasn't. It seemed almost arbitrary.
"We should attack swiftly. Those holes in the walls won't mean much if they're filled with the bodies of Franks," Hallstien remarked. A true point. This was different from Cologne. There was no Christian holiday to take advantage of. The gates were already closed and there was a constant workforce around the crumbling walls. I'd give it another three days before they were repaired completely, but even a half wall was better than no wall.
"Might be best to give up getting over that wall," Thorkell remarked, nodding at the city. "Plenty outside of it. Could set fire to the houses to disrupt any pitch battle and our movements." Another good plan.
In all likelihood, even the garrison of the city would outnumber us. We couldn't afford a pitched battle. Thorkell's suggestion was the wiser of the two, I thought, but it was missing something. That church would hold great wealth. Getting into the city would further weaken King Charlemagne because it would make it clear that his cities were not safe. That even a small force could sack them. To that end…
"The church tower is the alarm," I voiced, thinking the plan through. "They might work through the night, but they might not. Depends on how pressured they feel. Barracks are going to be points of concentration for soldiers…" I muttered, tilting my head at the city as I figured out how to best take it. The two captains watched me in silence, watching me work before I came to a conclusion. "We wait until nightfall. I'll sneak into the city now to learn where the enemy is and to disable that bell. Thorkell, Hallstien -- you two both lead a hundred men each into the city along paths that I mark. I'll open a path from within. At the same time, thirty men will set fire to a handful of buildings to draw attention in the wrong direction."
Delay their response and hit them where they were weak. There was a time for glory and there was a time for wisdom. We raid the church and everything along the path, get in and get out with our spoils. The fire would be a good distraction and to prevent us from being followed. Simple and clean.
"A shadow walking," Thorkell remarked, scratching at his cheek. "These things only hinge on the shadow walker surviving to get the job done and we don't have to worry about that with you. Aye, makes sense to me."
Hallstien laughed, "This will be a first for me! It shall be interesting fighting with you, Wolf-Kissed. Aye, I agree to this plan."
Good. All that was left was for them to wait. And for me to enter the city.
Quest: Sack the city
Rewards: 2000 Tactics exp and Prestige.
Additional Objective: Go undetected in your sabotage of its defenses.
Additional Reward: 500 Plotting exp.
…
"I don't want to be eaten…!" A small child wailed at the top of his lungs as he walked with his mother along the dirt streets, one hand in hers while she carried a basket against her hip. Fat tears dropped down his cheeks, and stumbling as he walked. His mother looked down at him, opening her mouth to say something, but swallowing it down.
"Hush, William," she chided as they walked past me. "No one will be eaten. I promise you that. King Charlemagne and his brave paladins will protect us from the heathens. I promise you, darling." The words did little to reassure the child and from the sound of it, the Frank woman was reassuring herself as much as she was her child.
Continuing past them, I drank in the city as the sun began to make its descent. I wore Frankish clothing and kept a scarf around my neck to hide the scar. Getting into the outer town had been easy. There were no sentries to speak of. Which left me time to explore the town to find the most direct path into the inner city. The wall itself had six holes from what I could see -- all from the walls being dismantled to build houses. Of those six, two were half complete but the other four were barely started.
The crews working them were about twenty people each. Labors with one overseer -- a few would deliver the stone, the rest would work to lay the stone, while the overseer barked orders the entire time. There were four gates to the walls as well, all left open, but all were guarded by about a dozen men.
Making a decision, I approached the overseer. He was a portly man, with thinning hair, but he wore marked better clothing than everyone around him. "Serah, I want to help build the wall to protect us from the heathens! But my Ma' says I have to help her with chores. Could I come back tonight and help build with the night shift?" I questioned, looking up at the man, who had a brief expression of annoyance until he looked at me.
"I- you do your king proud, young man. As well as your family, but there is no night shift. Go on to your mother, young one. She has need of you more than us," he remarked and I bobbed my head in a nod, and the scowl wasn't entirely fake. Was he saying that there wasn't a night shift because there wasn't one, or because I was a child in his eyes? I would need to keep an eye on that, but from what I saw, it would mean little. A fast attack would blow past them with ease.
Once I was out of sight, I headed to one of the gates and passed under it to enter the inner city. The roads were still dirt, but all of the buildings were made of stone, all pressed together and whitewashed. Most were two stories, each sectioned off in a grid pattern, which made the building that broke this pattern obvious. One of the barracks was a long building that was half open to serve as a stable. A couple dozen horses by the look of things. Hard to say what number I would be looking at in terms of guards, but I had overestimated what to expect by a decent margin.
The barrack and the towers at the walls. Altogether they might have… two hundred? Maybe more? Maybe less? In theory, we would be evenly matched, but that wasn't really the case. If I could do something to halt the guards in the barrack and in the watchtower near where I was going, then it would be two hundred against fifty to a hundred. Far better odds. I needed to take as much risk as I could upon myself. I needed to look at it as the more I killed, the less danger my men were in.
Making a mental note about that, I made my way up to the church and… "What deal did King Charlemagne make with the dwarves?" I wondered quietly to myself, looking at the building. It was a large building, just like the one that was in Cologne, but this one was even more decadent. If that were possible. Large stained glass windows, engravings on the stone that were in turn painted, depicting stories from the bible. With the doors open, I saw that the interior was rich. The walls were painted, gold and silver aplenty, the smell of something sweet coming from within.
It was worrying, in truth. If the dwarves favored King Charlemagne so clearly, they could pose an unexpected ally to the Frankish King. The dwarves were said to have little interest in the world above, preferring to toil in their vast underground kingdoms, but… if they would ever rise to the surface, it seemed like it would be for King Charlemagne. At any rate, it was something to keep an eye on.
Looking away from the splendor, I made my plan. My men were waiting on my signal, so I went back to the fringes of the city and started to collect stones and met up with a runner that would get everyone in position. Making an arrow after stomping them into the ground, people just laughed when I said it was to avoid getting lost. If my youth hindered me, then it could also help me.
I made my paths all the way up to the church, picking the path of least resistance. For the barracks and the tower walls, that was actually easier. Purchasing several jugs of wine had been expensive, but I would more than make up the wealth. Positioning them on top of the wood roofing? Easy enough. Waiting for the sun to descend and quietly moving a wagon and barricading the door? Little more tricky, but it was no issue.
All that was left was the bell, which I saved for last. I heard it ring out, calling for curfew as I climbed up the tower. It was shockingly easy, I found. The engravings offered plenty of handholds, and my strength gave me a rather firm grip. I thought I might have been scared when I looked down, but my heart beat steadily in my chest, focusing on the task at hand. In no time at all, I was inside the bell tower itself, finding it empty except for a brass bell. It was a bit bigger than I thought it would be, but nothing that I couldn't handle.
Taking out a piece of cloth and wrapping it around the piece of metal inside of the bell, I grabbed hold of the rope that turned it and cut it off with the edge of my axe. Using that rope to give me more cushioning, I grabbed hold of the brass clapper and gave a harsh pull. For a moment, I thought I would rip the entire thing off the wood block it was sat on, but the clapper gave way without the rest of the bell. Meaning that it was useless.
All that was left was to take out a torch that I had brought along with me -- a stick wrapped in some rags that were soaked in wine. Catching a spark with a piece of flint, the torch went up in a blaze. Grabbing it, I turned to the direction of my raiders and waved it back and forth. The signal for them to attack.
In response, I saw a handful of fires spark up in the distance, only barely visible because of my elevation. They became more visible when they were used to set arrows alight just before they were let loose to fall upon the city on the opposite end. Taking from their cue, I lifted the bow and arrow I had on my back -- also purchased inside of the city from an old hunter -- taking an arrow, I used the torch to light the rag I tied around it. Taking aim at the wine jugs on the barrack roof, I fired.
The flaming arrow sailed through the air, smashing into the wine jugs, and instantly the roof was on fire. Doing the same at the guard tower, I heard sounds of panic as people started to realize that they were under attack. I could see my men running through the space between the forest and the city, heading straight for the paths that I had marked. They would get in easily enough from what I saw.
Bonus Objective Complete!
Bonus Reward: 500 Plotting exp.
I paid the notification no mind beyond noting that I was eligible for my first Intrigue perk, because the door to the tower was hurriedly opened. It flung to the side, revealing a monk. Drab brown robes with an odd-looking haircut -- his hair was long, but his scalp was cut short. His eyes widened dramatically, "W-Wait-" he started, only to be silenced by my axe hacking into his neck. Grabbing him by the robe, I dragged him in while the sounds of panic were starting to grow. Closing the door behind him, I used his corpse to block it. It wouldn't work forever, but it would give me more time to react the next time someone tried to ring the bell.
Setting my two quivers to the side, I looked down into the city to see how it was reacting. There was a lot of confusion from what I could see. People thought the panic was because of the fires, but people didn't yet know that the fires happened because of an attack. There were sounds of panic that were coming up from the other side as my warriors entered the city, but they were intermingled with the calls of fire. The guard was reacting, however. A handful of them here and there were trying to figure out where they were supposed to go.
Taking aim with my bow and arrow, I lined up a shot before letting the arrow leap from my bow. It was nearly invisible in the air for but a moment before it reappeared in the back of the head of a guard that was barking orders to get the barrack open. The eight or so guards looking at him went bloodless, throwing up their shields, but they were clueless to where the arrow came from. Arrows leaped from my bow as the attack commenced in earnest. My warriors were cutting a swath through the city, attacking a meager defense in a two pronged attack. They didn't need my help, even if they did receive it.
The door opened again -- another monk. Killing him made my barrier stronger and gave me more time to fire at the guards that were going to the gates and holes in the city wall or tried to put out the fire that was slowly spreading. Panic had settled in for the most part, but most of the city didn't know it was under attack yet, though that wouldn't last. More and more people survived coming across my men and shouted about them as they fled, or guessed the city was under attack themselves. That was fine with me. As the guards formed up, I dropped them.
"The church! They're in the church!" I heard someone scream in horror, the words reaching me. I soon spotted the one who said them, the one that figured out where the arrows were coming from. Guards and people were flooding into the church as a place of refuge, as they always did. It was a young man, brown hair and green eyes, a few years older than me. As if he sensed his death incoming, he dived behind the nearest piece of cover, protecting himself from me.
Instead, I dropped a guard that was next to him, my last arrow spent. Dropping my bow, I pulled out my axes to address the shoving at the door as more people tried to ring the alarm. Ripping the door open, I batted away a panicked thrust from a guardsman before splitting his skull with an axe. Shoving him forward, there were shouts of heathen coming from below. The body acted as a shield from another guard, knocking him off balance enough that I could leap over him to land on the corner step. Hacking at his neck and killing him swiftly, I started making my way down the stairs.
"They're in the building! They're in the building!" The shouts of panic were harsh as more guards surged up the stairs, only to find their death. It was almost as if they were attacking me one at a time, and because of it, they had no hope. I slaughtered my way down the stairs, my face doused in a fine spray of blood while it dripped in rivers from my axes. Stepping through the door, I saw that the lavish church had a number of people in it. Citizens and guards alike. Not as many as there normally would be, but from the sounds of fighting outside, I'm guessing that they felt pressured to close the doors early.
A handful of guards rushed toward me and they faltered when I did the same. People sobbed and cried out in horror as I desecrated their church, spilling blood upon the stone floor and splattering the walls with Frankish blood. I carved a line through to the door that was being pounded at. Axes rather than fists by the sound of it. The half dozen men that were trying to barricade the door with their bodies died in position, allowing me to swing the doors wide open.
"Wolf-Kissed!" Hallstein greeted me, his face wet with blood, contrasting the wide smile on his face. His dark eyes were alive with excitement and joy as my raiders poured into the church to take everything of value. "Your plan worked! Hahahaha! Loved by the gods indeed! HAHA!" He shouted, diving into the thick of the looting.
"Remember! No thralls!" I shouted after those that entered with a shake of my head to find that they weren't listening. It reminded me of my first raid, I realized. The moment the looting started happening, any cohesion immediately evaporated like mist under the sun. Leaving us open to counterattacks.
It was hard to believe that it was only half a year ago that I was on my first raid. I watched it all happen, curling my lips in distaste, thinking that the moment I was in charge, I would do things differently. Well, I was in charge and I was seeing the exact same issues. A failure on my part. Or perhaps it was the arrogance of the ignorant. I wasn't sure yet. I wouldn't know until I tried to do things a bit differently. If only to make sure we didn't lose anyone to a stab in the back while they were looting.
"How dare you!" I heard someone scream a split second before a cup nearly nailed me in the head. A woman was getting held back by a few of my warriors, her clothing marking her as a nun, but the expression on her face was anything but peaceful. Tears gathered in her eyes, her face was a furious snarl as she lunged against the two warriors, who laughed. "How dare you attack the sacred city of Worms? King Charlemagne himself is a patron to this church!"
So little time, but I felt like a very different person. On my first raid, I would have looked at her with shame. Or been unable to meet her eyes at all. However, the words of my Father echoed in my ears, ringing with a truth that I couldn't deny. The strong did what they wished and the weak could do nothing to stop them.
"Worms?" I questioned, frowning at the woman, who stopped struggling. "Hm. I thought this was Mannheim," I admitted, feeling a bit foolish. I attacked the wrong city. One that wasn't on the map. That was frustrating, but the frustration was washed away with the sight of my men carrying off valuables.
"You… what kind of monster are you? How could you make light of this? Do you feel nothing in your heart?!" She demanded of me, thrashing in the grip of the men as she lunged for me again.
"I imagine it must be easy to always decide when you're right," I refuted, gesturing for the men to rejoin the looting. The woman, to her credit, seized her chance. She had courage. She charged for me, but it was a clumsy thing. Sticking out a foot to trip her was easy enough, and she fell to the floor. "From the stories I've heard, the people we've killed here pale to the numbers you Franks slaughtered when you conquered Saxony."
"The heathens needed to see the light of God! It was a noble quest for the salvation of their souls!" She protested, getting up until I pressed the edge of my axe into her throat. She reached up and grasped it and in doing so, she revealed her hands. Calloused. Not what you expect from a nun that only had to… I don't know. Sit around all day. Whatever nuns did, I suppose.
"As I said -- how very convenient that when you slaughter men, women, and children, it's for a noble cause. But when we do it, it's because we're monsters," I refuted and, despite herself, I could see the words struck a mark. "Your hands. You're an archer," I remarked, gesturing to the callouses. On one hand, the pads of her fingers were calloused, but on the other, only the tips of two fingers were.
"I am a nun," She argued, seemingly more unhappy with me now that I found that out judging by how she closed her hands.
"Do you know this land well?" I questioned, and she curled her lips, knowing what I wanted. I wanted a guide so I didn't end up attacking the wrong city. Again. That was… really embarrassing, now that I think about it. I should have asked around or something. Hopefully, none of my men would figure it out and everyone would just think that we sacked Mannheim.
"Never. I'd sooner lead you to the gates of Hell!" She declared, shouting the words out with no fear. To prove her point, she pushed up against the edge of my axe, uncaring of the small cut that dripped a drop of crimson blood down her pale neck.
I smiled at that. Brave indeed. "I imagine you'll have to get in line," I told her, removing the blade from her neck. She was courageous. She didn't balk at the prospect of death. It felt like a shame to kill her here and now, defenseless. I didn't know her name or her circumstances, but in her chest beat the heart of a warrior. She deserved a warrior's death.
"I'm going to kill you," she declared, her lip trembling ever so slightly.
"Good luck."
...
Let me know what you think of this chapter because looking back on it, I'm not entirely certain how I feel about it.
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
I don't expect it given the nature of the story, but it would be amazing to see a no-kidding debate where Siegfried is challenged over that.
That aside, it's going to be interesting whether he can maintain order in the next chapter. He's hitting the limits for how much personal command and charisma can control subordinates in stress times.
That aside, it's going to be interesting whether he can maintain order in the next chapter. He's hitting the limits for how much personal command and charisma can control subordinates in stress times.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
So give her an axe and let her fight? Why invite trouble by letting the obvious belligerent zealot with a fresh grudge live?
It's not like she can cyberstalk him and take a bus to his location. The degree to which a lone flunky can actually threaten him long term is sort of limited.
Plot might change that, but from an IC perspective she's no more or less dangerous than the hundreds of people who probably feel the exact same way in that city who either don't have the guts of haven't had the opportunity to say it to his face.
In that context killing her doesn't significantly increase his safety. He could just as easily get killed in a few months by some teenager watching quietly from the back of the room as by this random nun.
Metatron
Celestial Scribe Enoch
Because he's a Viking more Fantasy than realistic, so if he dies in battle he wins as the valkriyes take him to valhalla, and if he lives he wins because he can fight, eat, fuck and drink some more.
Its not a realistic depiction of a viking, but I am sure there were at least a few who were devout enough to follow this creed.
In fairness to him, it's much easier to be confident in stuff like the afterlife when you see something that you believe is a divine miracle every day.
As far has he's concerned he has irrefutable proof that the gods are real, actively involve themselves in mortal lives, and like him in particular.
In a way it's sort of surprising he isn't more of a zealot than he's shown himself to be so far.
- Location
- Pale Blue Dot
The Norse Gods wanting to see people do great deeds? Perfectly in character. And they evidently give xp and perks for it. The Zealotry would probably show up as "I want to do Great Deeds because I know the gods are watching me in particular for it, and they have even given me gifts to make it possible".
This is the kind of guy who could absolutely end up a Great Hero because the xp rewards for it are so significant. Great xp rewards = the gods consider it a significant deed. He just has to be careful what exactly to do because Loki and/or Ratatoskr could be sneaking in quests as well. Besides, just because Thor thinks something sounds like a splendid idea - and he does too - doesn't mean he's actually tough enough to make it happen. Yet.
The Hunt
- Location
- USA
I let out a breath and I saw a cloud of fog. The first real sign that the weather was turning. There had been a chill in the air for the last few weeks, but it receded as the sun rose. However, in the early morning, with a rooster crowing to announce the start of the day, the chill persisted. My gaze drifted up above to the cloudy sky, seeing nothing but a curtain of grayish white. I asked Hallstein if it was going to rain today and he said that it wasn't. His knee wasn't acting up.
An old injury from when he was a younger man. How he told the tale, he fought a dozen men at once before one of them broke his leg. An injury that should have crippled him based on the scar, or at least left him with a bad limp, but he stood tall beside me all the same.
Looking away from the sky itself, I turned my gaze down to a camp. Two hundred and fifty men, so not an inconsiderable force. They were camped on a slope of a hill, on the very edge of a forest. A good few dozen tents, and sentries already moving about along their paths. An hour's walk from a populated town that I'm sure I would be able to see from the crest of the hill.
"They're trying to be clever," I voiced to Thorkell, titling my head at the camp.
"Been the turning of a season. About time for them to start acting clever," Thorkell returned with a grunt. I hadn't really felt it, but summer had turned into fall. The last harvests of the year were being collected, and grain was being stored for the people that dwelled in cities and towns. All of which were overfull because of the refugees that had drifted towards them. Survivors of villages that were raided, or people that were trying to flee the fighting to no such luck. "But, they aren't the group that's been hunting us."
I nodded, "They're trying to box us in." I agreed. Fall was starting to turn into winter. Not quite there yet, but it would be soon. It was more than long enough for King Charlemagne to form a response to our raiding throughout his kingdom. That response was that instead of concentrating his forces in one place, he had spread them out to patrol the borders of his kingdom. Between the cities and towns and villages. Each group big enough that smaller raiding parties would avoid them while a dedicated force was sent to hunt us down.
They didn't have much luck in that regard. We moved fast, and that dedicated force was large enough that we could move twice as fast as them in half the time. However, it was large enough that we had no hope of defeating them in open battle. A battle that they were trying to force us into by posting soldiers in and around cities.
"Nearly winter. Can't keep the pace up for much longer. It's a question what we're supposed to be doing as well. Raiding in the dead of winter isn't for the faint-hearted. Lose more to exposure than the enemy, we would," Hallstein remarked. That was true. Very true.
"Let's focus," I voiced. King Widukind gave some instructions before we departed. Not long after we did, Frankfurt was put under siege. A light one, all things considered, but enough to be daunting to attack alone. The plan was to link up with the Saxon army when it materialized. So far, it hadn't. But I was out of the loop and always outrunning news. For all I knew, the siege had been lifted. Either way, I think we would be returning to Saxony and wintering there. In comfort. "Thorkell?"
"On it," Thorkell responded, taking a bow that a warrior offered before sticking an arrow in a small flame that we had concealed. Lighting it, he nocked the arrow before tilting the bow up and releasing it into the air. Directly into the early morning sun glare. The Franks missed it, the sentries tired from being up all night, yet not clear to be relieved. Because of it, they were unaware of the signal for two hundred and fifty men to close in.
I moved with them, my hands going to my axes and ready for battle. The tall wheat between us obscured our approach as three separate groups all moved in. As we moved, Hallstein flanked out, getting in position with the archers. The wheat shifted like a curtain until I could peer through it. Almost on cue, I saw arrows leap from the wheat, striking two sentries. One to the throat, another dead in the eye.
The alarm did go out. It was just too late to do anything with it because we were already inside of the camp. My awareness of the battle was beyond just what my eyes were seeing. I couldn't see the third group. Or the archers that were in position. I did see the group that Thorkell led as they came in from the side as we clashed against the Franks. Many were without armor, scrambling for their weapons. Others fled, only to run into one group or be felled by the archers that we had placed in strategic positions.
The sounds of combat were quick to be silenced, replaced with the cries of the dying and injured. "We need some of them," I voiced, stopping a warrior from beheading a Frank with a Dane axe. "Loot what you can -- food, weapons, and anything warm." I added, earning a thump on the chest from a few warriors before they started looting the tents while others began to grab the horses that they had for messengers.
"Are we taking the town, Wolf-Kissed?" I heard a warrior speak as I passed by, overlooking the short battle. A lot of dead Franks, I saw, as the dying were put to death. I did see the bodies of a few of my men. Others were sporting injuries.
"No," I answered without giving it much thought. The town in question was Djon. A decently sized town. A great deal of wealth there, but our baggage train was already a liability. We had gotten fat and slow. And I overlooked the hill to get a view of the city itself, I felt a net closing in around me. There was no evidence of it now, but less than a full day's march away were our hunters. A thousand and five hundred strong. All on foot now. I personally put down over five hundred horses that they initially had, and we took great lengths to ensure that they didn't get any more.
It was a good trap, I thought. I would attack the city -- lightning quick as I proved I was capable of. No siege of any kind. Just a bit of cleverness. The force we just killed would move into to confront us, either pinning us down or forcing us in the direction they wanted us to go in. Boxing us in until the only option was two things -- abandon our spoils or fight for them. Our spoils weren't just gold, silver, and jewels but food, water, and warm clothing. Everything I thought we might need wherever we wintered.
Only I just cut a hole in that net and I intended to slip through it.
"Three dead. Five wounded," Thorkell informed me as I tore my eyes away from another prize. Raiding Elephant would be possible. And profitable, but I'd rather gain another day of distance between us. Eventually, snow would slow us both down and being two days away from us might as well be across the kingdom. "A good battle for us. Fifteen thralls should do the trick."
We needed the extra hands to pull the supplies. Information was useful as well.
"They've been closing in," I voiced now that Thorkell was alone with me. "That wouldn't happen if there were many other distractions to divide their attention." I ended up taking in about five of the raiding groups, but our numbers didn't grow a great deal. Mostly, we made up for our losses. However, everywhere we went in the past few weeks told me one of two things -- either King Charlemagne had raised a great many men, or he could divert a great deal of men to focus solely on me.
"Makes sense. I imagine he hoped to get us by now, but he certainly doesn't want us to winter inside his borders. Even if there are any others out there, my bet is he's focusing exclusively on us," Thorkell offered his counsel. I was of a similar mind. With King Widukind tied up in Frankfurt? I was possibly the only one still actively fighting in the war.
Two hundred and fifty men was a considerable fighting force. I had proved that much over the past season.
Tactics rapidly went up -- though less so now. Just like Prowess. But, I gained two gifts from the gods in tactics and Tyr's wisdom was incredible.
Organized March made us faster than we should be. Simple enough. Like Blistering Speed, our marching never encountered difficulties. No broken wheels on the wagons, no soft ground, and the mud was never so thick that it hindered us. A fact that we used more than once to keep ahead of Charlemagne's hunters.
Sharpshooters was an interesting gift because it was the only one I encountered so far that had stipulations. I didn't know what a 'percent' was so it gave me a number that I could understand -- I could only have twelve archers with a fighting force of two hundred and fifty men. Very few, admittedly. But it seemed worth it if it meant that the arrows actually did something. And thus far, it worked out rather well.
"We need to head back to Saxony," I decided. "The weather hasn't turned on us yet, but better to start heading back now before the snow gets us."
"King Widukind won't be happy," Thorkell remarked. To that, I shrugged.
"We can't win his war for him if we're dead," I returned, earning an agreeing grunt from Thorkell.
"Let's move."
…
Our speed was only slowed by the baggage train. Wagons upon wagons that were stuffed full of goods. We made a mistake during our raiding, a fact I realized only in hindsight. We had looted too much at Worms. The church had been stuffed to the absolute brim with gold and silver and it alone would have been more than a haul, but we took more in terms of supplies. If we looted the dozen towns and two cities like we had Worms? We wouldn't be able to move an inch.
The only reason we weren't was because of the horses. I had a near herd of them now. Workhorses to war horses. My men were all seated on one. The wagons were all being pulled by about four that were all tied together to help the animals keep pace. The thralls pushed the wagons or they carried items that we couldn't afford to stack on a wagon.
A gift from the gods was the only reason why we hadn't started dumping loot.
A stewardship perk. One that I never could have guessed the value of before I ran into the issue of just not having enough room or enough wagons. Now, all the wagons were heavy with loot, and the thralls carried what we couldn't fit in the wagons, or because we lacked the wagons or horses to pull them.
And yet…
"Too slow," I muttered, seeing the smoke drift up over the trees as we made our way back toward Saxony. A week had passed as we trekked back through the area we had raided in. A number of burnt-out villages littered the way back. Crops were left in the field to rot because the people to sow them had been killed or driven off. Frost had been on the ground, but it had melted in the early morning. Towards dusk, however, the chill had returned. Enough so that our hunters had decided to light campfires to keep warm.
We had slipped the net, but they were still closing in.
As if to confirm it, I saw one of our scouts returning from the road ahead. Based on his expression, I saw that he didn't have good news. He made his way through the camp for the night, past the sounds of laughter and mirth. My mercenary band was in high spirits and they had been for some time. Few things raised men's spirits more than victory and loot. "Wolf-Kissed, they have two bands on the road. I got a quick count, but their number doubles ours. Seemed like they're setting up for an ambush."
Meaning that there were two thousand Franks that were closing in on us. Not a number that we could deal with and who knew what lay beyond this net? Or did we stumble across something of a success in our attempts to sow discord among the Franks?
Our prisoners conveyed that some lords had raised up in rebellion against King Charlemagne. Some of them were familiar names. However, from what I heard, that rebellion wasn't the fracture that King Widukind had envisioned. Only one Duke had openly declared a rebellion. The rest seemed to be quietly ignoring the King's words or withholding supplies. Challenging his authority rather than fighting against it. Still useful, but not what we wanted.
We couldn't take the risk, so we had to assume that both bands belonged to King Charlemagne.
"We'll go around them," I decided. We couldn't challenge them. Ambushing an ambush was doable, but it would take time to set up that ambush. To prepare for it. Time that we didn't have.
"They'll discover us," my scout informed me, making me glance over my shoulder. He was one of my archers. He was a few years older than me -- dark hair, green eyes. Handsome face that had a thin patchy beard, but his expression was serious. Authun Osvifsson. "One way is to skirt around a bare hill. The other is through the forest."
I nodded, seeing what he meant. "Out in the open or they'll find us because of the noise," I ventured, earning a nod from Authun. Taking the baggage train through the forest would slow us down, but my perks wouldn't work out in the open. I had gained two in Plotting in the past season.
My scouts were considered Agents. Effective ones, I've found. Because of them, we hadn't encountered an ambush before it was too late and they themselves hadn't been discovered. All of them were good at what they did, and Subtle Touch simply aided them in doing it. However, those perks only applied to my 'Agents', not my army.
I made a decision. "We're breaking up camp," I told him to spread the message. Walking away from the small hill I stood on, I headed down to the camp while the merriment was still ongoing. Francia was hilly and there were a great many trees, so the forest we were in covered our position rather well. My mind was racing, drifting back to a conversation that I had with Thorkell at the very start of the expedition.
Men were reluctant to leave behind what glittered and shined, even as a wolf was snapping at their heels. I was reluctant. The wealth that we had gathered was enough to buy a kingdom it felt like. But, we wouldn't be able to keep it at this rate. Meaning that we had to take action.
I gave a few orders as the merriment came to an end, much to the displeasure of my men. However, they loaded everything up with practiced ease, knowing that we were going to march through the night to avoid a battle. Not something anyone wanted in the cold and after a long day of riding. While they did that, I made my preparations. The thralls that were gathered over the season were all fetched. As was the wealth.
And we did the only thing that we could do.
"Sure about this?" Thorkell asked me as we watched the thralls dig a hole. A large one. Our men were already heading around the ambush through the woods. They should get around with little difficulty now that they were several wagons lighter without anyone left on foot. To make sure that they would get away, I had something in the works. Something that I hoped would give us the breathing room that we needed to get back to Saxony.
"We're not moving fast enough and we need to shed some weight," I voiced, scratching at my cheek to find that I had a few hairs on it. It wasn't even enough to be called a beard yet. But I hoped that it would soon grow into one. A red one, like my father's. It was one of the hints that I was becoming a man in body at long last. "And I trust you."
Thorkell chuckled because he would be the only one who knew about the treasure. The rest of my men would only know that we left it in the area. As for the thralls…
"I meant this. You have a habit of mercy," Thorkell remarked, earning a small shrug from me. I understood what he was saying. It was common enough talk amongst the men at this point.
"I'm merciful when I can be. I can't be with this," I returned, knowing exactly what he meant. The thralls stopped digging before they started carrying down chests. A great many of them. We weren't leaving all the wealth behind -- I still needed some to pay my men -- but we were leaving the bulk of it. The total came out to three hundred pounds of gold, twelve hundred pounds of silver, and fifty pounds of precious gems. All that was being buried.
Thorkell grunted in acknowledgment, "Fair enough." We watched the thralls work in silence after that, all the other preparations already made. The chests of wealth were stacked on top of one another and in packed together rows. Each was wrapped in linen and pelts to stop the iron from rusting because I had no idea when I could come back to get the horde. The thralls were exhausted after digging the hole, but filling it up proved to be just as tiring for them.
So, I gave them rest.
They didn't seem surprised when I got off my horse with my axes. They sensed it coming from the beginning. They did their best to fight with shovels, but they stood no chance against me and they knew it. Their bodies soaked into the dirt before they too were buried under it while Thorkell spread out the excess dirt and sprinkled the dead leaves over the ground that we gathered clearing the area.
I had picked out a rock to mark the space that I set down on top of the hoard and I took a look at my map of Francia. It was marked on the map with a small x.
With that, I started to cover our tracks. The wagons that we brought were all loaded up with tinder -- leaves, wood, and so on. Oils had been spilled on and around the wagons to make sure that the fire spread. Taking out a piece of flint and striking it with my axe, the first of the wagons caught fire, suddenly illuminating the pitch-black forest and making the shadows dance. The fire quickly spread to the trees, sending up smoke and sparks that would carry the fire all on its own.
Getting on my horse that was easily baying at the fire, I rubbed his neck to see that the fire was spreading nicely. There was plenty of foliage to set alight There hadn't been any rain for a week, so things were dry as well. Perfect conditions for a burn.
I watched it for a moment, the smell of smoke and the sounds of crackling fire dominating my senses. The fire spread to the rock that I had placed, burning the leaves, so even if anyone passed by here? It would be no different than any other patch of burned earth.
Without a word, I turned away from the fire and started to gallop away with Thorkell right behind me.
…
The fire ended up getting out of control as far as I could tell. Smoke drifted up to the sky in thick columns, and there had been a day when the world seemed to be entirely red. An omen, many of the men thought, but it seemed to be a good one for us. The entire forest seemed to be burning, protecting us from the ambush and the hunters because in the week we marched back to the borders of Saxony, we saw no hint of them. They were left dealing with the fire that we caused.
Still, I didn't let up. It took another two weeks of marching to get back to the Rhine River. Crossing it turned out to be far more difficult than it had been the last time because of the wagons and horses. A rope bridge had to be constructed to get us over it, and that had slowed things up pretty badly. Still, as we destroyed the rope bridge behind us to make sure that we couldn't be followed over it, there were no signs of our hunters.
But, I also wasn't sure how much that was actually worth. There were a number of burnt out villages on the Saxon side of the Rhine. Some villages I recalled us sailing past. There was always going to be some level of give and take when it came to raiding, but it could very well mean that the Franks had an army outside of the one that was besieging Frankfurt. The crux of the issue was the lack of information -- I didn't know what was going on overall. I had just been raiding and doing what damage that I could.
It wasn't until another day had passed that we finally found a village that had been spared of the raiding. Naturally enough, people immediately went indoors to prepare for the worst when someone warned them that we were coming. When I left the bulk of our men outside the village and continued inside with only Thorkell and Hallstein, only then did someone venture out.
"You aren't Franks!" I heard a man shout, the door to a house creaking open and it was shut almost the instant that he stepped through it. His family, I suppose. He was a graybeard, I noticed. His beard was either gray or white, his hair long since receded and was the same colors. A face full of wrinkles while he stood with a slight hunch from a lifetime of farming.
"I'm Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed. We just got back from Francia. We came here in the hopes of getting news. We have food to repay you," I voiced, making the graybeard look from Thorkell to me with an expression of surprise and doubt on his face. His eyes flickered between Thorkell and Hallstein before eventually settling on me. To prove my words, I reached for a bag that had been hung over the side of my horse and tossed the man a loaf of bread.
He caught it with fumbling fingers, hunger showing in his eyes as he clenched it close to his chest. Licking his lips, he looked at me with far more respect. "O-of course! What can I tell you?" He questioned, sounding like if he had a single secret in this world, he would reveal it for another loaf of bread. Shameful. Age was a hard thing to determine with just a glance, but he seemed to have long since reached the age to commit Ättestupa.
It was one thing to continue to live when your family and grandchildren had plenty. To continue to do so in times of hardship was cowardly.
"What's happened to Saxony since the fall began? Is the Frankish army here?" I questioned and the gray beard shook his head slowly.
"No. I don't think so, my lord. Just some bands of them that have been raiding around for supplies for that army that's around King Widukind, or so I hear. We thought you were one of them," he admitted, meaning that the bands of Franks had been in sizable numbers. "But they'll be shown right out soon enough! Some lads came here not that long ago, lookin' for fighting folk. Wanted us to go to Sigiburg to join up with an army." That was the news I was looking for.
An army was gathering at Sigiburg? Odd timing, I thought. Winter was almost on us. The chill in the air was getting more consistent and the morning frost lingered a little longer each day. The only use for the army, this late in the year, was to relieve the siege of Frankfurt.
"How many of your men went?" I questioned, thinking the information over. "How many did they say they had?"
"Well, they said that they had an army of thousands and thousands, my lord, but… that's young folk talk. To me, it sounded like they knew no one would go if they said hundreds. Not against the Frank army, and 'specially not with winter around the corner." The graybeard continued, not answering how many fighting men this village had sent.
I had more questions, but I didn't expect answers to them. Not from him. I would find them at Sigiburg. Beyond getting a general direction to the fortress that I took what felt like a lifetime ago, he had nothing to offer. Still, fulfilling my word, I gave the village a helping of grain that we had taken from the Franks before continuing on our way.
As it would turn out, we wouldn't need the directions because as we left the village, there were a lot of signs of people moving in the same direction that we were. Grass had been trodden down until it became dirt from a great many feet, telling me that the Saxon army wasn't inconsiderable. All the same, it was another day before we caught sight of the fortress and the army around it. We heard it first. And smelled it.
The general clamor of a great many people. Sounds of revelry as people celebrated Yule while they still had the chance. When we finally caught sight of the fortress, I almost thought that it was under siege. A large army was seated outside of the fortress because it wasn't large enough to house everyone. Thorkell let out a low whistle when he saw the army.
Fast Counter wasn't perfect for the job, but I knew what a thousand men looked like. This was double that. Two thousand men, give or take a few hundred. Possibly more inside of the fortress itself, which could hold about five hundred men. I underestimated the turnout as we approached, taking a broad path that would ensure that the fortress scouts would be able to see our approach.
Our own scouts seemed to have passed the message of who we were on because we were greeted warmly as we passed through the camps. Saxons cheered as we approached, but that just could be because they were in a good mood. Or they were happy to have more fighting bodies. Almost everyone that I saw looked like a Saxon to me, and the speaking of Germanic was a dead giveaway.
However, as we were led up to the gates of Sigiburg, I noticed that there were more Norsemen. How we approached had hidden them, but there were a lot of them. If I had to guess, I'd say up to half of the Saxon army was actually Norse. Some of those could have been the men that were left behind to man the fortresses. They had been Norse exclusively since the Saxons were drumming up support for the rebellion.
A knot of tension formed between my shoulder blades as I approached the entrance of Sigiburg, seeing that it was filled with Saxons. "Wolf-Kissed!" Someone greeted me as I got off my horse. A man with dirty blonde hair and a long beard with a long scar that started at his hairline and traveled the length of his face, taking out one of his eyes. "We've been trying to find you for weeks!" He announced with a laugh, approaching me and clasping my forearm warmly.
"We must have outrun the messengers," I returned, the tensions not leaving despite the warm reception. That was a lot of Norsemen. Enough so that the idea that they were just all mercenaries was hard to swallow. Especially considering that the war for Denmark should still be going.
"Franks must be a slow lot! Words traveled about your band taking cities and slaying armies. We were getting worried you'd win the war before we got to spill any Christian blood!" The Saxon said, throwing back his head and laughing loudly.
I gave a wan smile, "All the same, I've arrived. Two hundred and fifty strong. I take it you are the commander of this army?" I questioned him and I saw it. The hesitation in his eye and the expression that flickered over it.
"Aye, one of them," he confirmed. One of them. "King Widuking managed to get a message to us. He wants us to gather up here and march on Frankfurt. Break the siege and send the Franks running. We'll winter in Frankfurt and come spring, we'll march on the Franks," he said, sounding excited for it, and the plan was more or less what I thought it would be. A sound plan as far as I could tell.
"When do we march?" I questioned.
"Now-"
"You're smaller than I expected, Wolf-Kissed," I heard another voice loudly proclaim, near shouting. My gaze instantly darted to the man that spoke, seeing him walk down the stairs I had slaughtered my way down. A Norseman. Tall. Broad shoulders. Fine clothing, nice boots, and a sword at his hip that one hand rested on. He looked down at me as he approached, the slight smile playing at the edges of his lips not quite matching the look in his eyes. "From the tales, I expected a man fully grown. Taller than a house, eats a horse for lunch, and slaughters armies alone."
My heart started to pound in my chest, blood surging in my veins as I looked at the man. I didn't know him. I've never met him once in my life, but there wasn't a shadow of doubt in my mind that I recognized him. Not because I saw him before… but because of a family resemblance. Dark hair and dark blue eyes. He favored his father because I knew exactly whose son he was with the quickest glance.
"One of those things is certainly true," I returned, trying to control the snarl in my voice, gripping an axe at my belt hard enough that I delivered a fatal crack to the wooden shaft.
Horrik had more daughters than sons, but Thorfinn hadn't been Horrik's only son. He had five sons. I knew their names even if I never met them before. As far as I knew, all of them had their own families and land, or they roamed the seas as mercenaries. Thorfinn was the oldest and the heir. The next oldest, I believed…
The son of my sworn enemy came to a stop directly in front of me, towering as he looked down with a sneer in his eyes. "Ha," he returned, his voice devoid of humor.
Hate shone in my eyes, my lips peeling back into a snarl. "Which son are you?" I asked him, wanting to know which son of Horrik's I was about to blood eagle.
To that, he smiled.
"Grimar Horrikson."
...
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An old injury from when he was a younger man. How he told the tale, he fought a dozen men at once before one of them broke his leg. An injury that should have crippled him based on the scar, or at least left him with a bad limp, but he stood tall beside me all the same.
Looking away from the sky itself, I turned my gaze down to a camp. Two hundred and fifty men, so not an inconsiderable force. They were camped on a slope of a hill, on the very edge of a forest. A good few dozen tents, and sentries already moving about along their paths. An hour's walk from a populated town that I'm sure I would be able to see from the crest of the hill.
"They're trying to be clever," I voiced to Thorkell, titling my head at the camp.
"Been the turning of a season. About time for them to start acting clever," Thorkell returned with a grunt. I hadn't really felt it, but summer had turned into fall. The last harvests of the year were being collected, and grain was being stored for the people that dwelled in cities and towns. All of which were overfull because of the refugees that had drifted towards them. Survivors of villages that were raided, or people that were trying to flee the fighting to no such luck. "But, they aren't the group that's been hunting us."
I nodded, "They're trying to box us in." I agreed. Fall was starting to turn into winter. Not quite there yet, but it would be soon. It was more than long enough for King Charlemagne to form a response to our raiding throughout his kingdom. That response was that instead of concentrating his forces in one place, he had spread them out to patrol the borders of his kingdom. Between the cities and towns and villages. Each group big enough that smaller raiding parties would avoid them while a dedicated force was sent to hunt us down.
They didn't have much luck in that regard. We moved fast, and that dedicated force was large enough that we could move twice as fast as them in half the time. However, it was large enough that we had no hope of defeating them in open battle. A battle that they were trying to force us into by posting soldiers in and around cities.
"Nearly winter. Can't keep the pace up for much longer. It's a question what we're supposed to be doing as well. Raiding in the dead of winter isn't for the faint-hearted. Lose more to exposure than the enemy, we would," Hallstein remarked. That was true. Very true.
"Let's focus," I voiced. King Widukind gave some instructions before we departed. Not long after we did, Frankfurt was put under siege. A light one, all things considered, but enough to be daunting to attack alone. The plan was to link up with the Saxon army when it materialized. So far, it hadn't. But I was out of the loop and always outrunning news. For all I knew, the siege had been lifted. Either way, I think we would be returning to Saxony and wintering there. In comfort. "Thorkell?"
"On it," Thorkell responded, taking a bow that a warrior offered before sticking an arrow in a small flame that we had concealed. Lighting it, he nocked the arrow before tilting the bow up and releasing it into the air. Directly into the early morning sun glare. The Franks missed it, the sentries tired from being up all night, yet not clear to be relieved. Because of it, they were unaware of the signal for two hundred and fifty men to close in.
I moved with them, my hands going to my axes and ready for battle. The tall wheat between us obscured our approach as three separate groups all moved in. As we moved, Hallstein flanked out, getting in position with the archers. The wheat shifted like a curtain until I could peer through it. Almost on cue, I saw arrows leap from the wheat, striking two sentries. One to the throat, another dead in the eye.
The alarm did go out. It was just too late to do anything with it because we were already inside of the camp. My awareness of the battle was beyond just what my eyes were seeing. I couldn't see the third group. Or the archers that were in position. I did see the group that Thorkell led as they came in from the side as we clashed against the Franks. Many were without armor, scrambling for their weapons. Others fled, only to run into one group or be felled by the archers that we had placed in strategic positions.
The sounds of combat were quick to be silenced, replaced with the cries of the dying and injured. "We need some of them," I voiced, stopping a warrior from beheading a Frank with a Dane axe. "Loot what you can -- food, weapons, and anything warm." I added, earning a thump on the chest from a few warriors before they started looting the tents while others began to grab the horses that they had for messengers.
"Are we taking the town, Wolf-Kissed?" I heard a warrior speak as I passed by, overlooking the short battle. A lot of dead Franks, I saw, as the dying were put to death. I did see the bodies of a few of my men. Others were sporting injuries.
"No," I answered without giving it much thought. The town in question was Djon. A decently sized town. A great deal of wealth there, but our baggage train was already a liability. We had gotten fat and slow. And I overlooked the hill to get a view of the city itself, I felt a net closing in around me. There was no evidence of it now, but less than a full day's march away were our hunters. A thousand and five hundred strong. All on foot now. I personally put down over five hundred horses that they initially had, and we took great lengths to ensure that they didn't get any more.
It was a good trap, I thought. I would attack the city -- lightning quick as I proved I was capable of. No siege of any kind. Just a bit of cleverness. The force we just killed would move into to confront us, either pinning us down or forcing us in the direction they wanted us to go in. Boxing us in until the only option was two things -- abandon our spoils or fight for them. Our spoils weren't just gold, silver, and jewels but food, water, and warm clothing. Everything I thought we might need wherever we wintered.
Only I just cut a hole in that net and I intended to slip through it.
"Three dead. Five wounded," Thorkell informed me as I tore my eyes away from another prize. Raiding Elephant would be possible. And profitable, but I'd rather gain another day of distance between us. Eventually, snow would slow us both down and being two days away from us might as well be across the kingdom. "A good battle for us. Fifteen thralls should do the trick."
We needed the extra hands to pull the supplies. Information was useful as well.
"They've been closing in," I voiced now that Thorkell was alone with me. "That wouldn't happen if there were many other distractions to divide their attention." I ended up taking in about five of the raiding groups, but our numbers didn't grow a great deal. Mostly, we made up for our losses. However, everywhere we went in the past few weeks told me one of two things -- either King Charlemagne had raised a great many men, or he could divert a great deal of men to focus solely on me.
"Makes sense. I imagine he hoped to get us by now, but he certainly doesn't want us to winter inside his borders. Even if there are any others out there, my bet is he's focusing exclusively on us," Thorkell offered his counsel. I was of a similar mind. With King Widukind tied up in Frankfurt? I was possibly the only one still actively fighting in the war.
Two hundred and fifty men was a considerable fighting force. I had proved that much over the past season.
Tactics rapidly went up -- though less so now. Just like Prowess. But, I gained two gifts from the gods in tactics and Tyr's wisdom was incredible.
Organized March
Logistics is the backbone of war, and organization is the language of logistics. Increased movement speed when marching.
Sharpshooters
Less can be more. Instead of focusing on volley tactics, sharpshooters can pick off the enemy.
Warning: Perk is only activated when archers are less than 5% of active fighting force.
Maximum allowed archers with current force: 12
Logistics is the backbone of war, and organization is the language of logistics. Increased movement speed when marching.
Sharpshooters
Less can be more. Instead of focusing on volley tactics, sharpshooters can pick off the enemy.
Warning: Perk is only activated when archers are less than 5% of active fighting force.
Maximum allowed archers with current force: 12
Organized March made us faster than we should be. Simple enough. Like Blistering Speed, our marching never encountered difficulties. No broken wheels on the wagons, no soft ground, and the mud was never so thick that it hindered us. A fact that we used more than once to keep ahead of Charlemagne's hunters.
Sharpshooters was an interesting gift because it was the only one I encountered so far that had stipulations. I didn't know what a 'percent' was so it gave me a number that I could understand -- I could only have twelve archers with a fighting force of two hundred and fifty men. Very few, admittedly. But it seemed worth it if it meant that the arrows actually did something. And thus far, it worked out rather well.
"We need to head back to Saxony," I decided. "The weather hasn't turned on us yet, but better to start heading back now before the snow gets us."
"King Widukind won't be happy," Thorkell remarked. To that, I shrugged.
"We can't win his war for him if we're dead," I returned, earning an agreeing grunt from Thorkell.
"Let's move."
…
Our speed was only slowed by the baggage train. Wagons upon wagons that were stuffed full of goods. We made a mistake during our raiding, a fact I realized only in hindsight. We had looted too much at Worms. The church had been stuffed to the absolute brim with gold and silver and it alone would have been more than a haul, but we took more in terms of supplies. If we looted the dozen towns and two cities like we had Worms? We wouldn't be able to move an inch.
The only reason we weren't was because of the horses. I had a near herd of them now. Workhorses to war horses. My men were all seated on one. The wagons were all being pulled by about four that were all tied together to help the animals keep pace. The thralls pushed the wagons or they carried items that we couldn't afford to stack on a wagon.
A gift from the gods was the only reason why we hadn't started dumping loot.
Effective Packer
Items and goods just seem to snap together, making packing very efficient.
Items and goods just seem to snap together, making packing very efficient.
A stewardship perk. One that I never could have guessed the value of before I ran into the issue of just not having enough room or enough wagons. Now, all the wagons were heavy with loot, and the thralls carried what we couldn't fit in the wagons, or because we lacked the wagons or horses to pull them.
And yet…
"Too slow," I muttered, seeing the smoke drift up over the trees as we made our way back toward Saxony. A week had passed as we trekked back through the area we had raided in. A number of burnt-out villages littered the way back. Crops were left in the field to rot because the people to sow them had been killed or driven off. Frost had been on the ground, but it had melted in the early morning. Towards dusk, however, the chill had returned. Enough so that our hunters had decided to light campfires to keep warm.
We had slipped the net, but they were still closing in.
As if to confirm it, I saw one of our scouts returning from the road ahead. Based on his expression, I saw that he didn't have good news. He made his way through the camp for the night, past the sounds of laughter and mirth. My mercenary band was in high spirits and they had been for some time. Few things raised men's spirits more than victory and loot. "Wolf-Kissed, they have two bands on the road. I got a quick count, but their number doubles ours. Seemed like they're setting up for an ambush."
Meaning that there were two thousand Franks that were closing in on us. Not a number that we could deal with and who knew what lay beyond this net? Or did we stumble across something of a success in our attempts to sow discord among the Franks?
Our prisoners conveyed that some lords had raised up in rebellion against King Charlemagne. Some of them were familiar names. However, from what I heard, that rebellion wasn't the fracture that King Widukind had envisioned. Only one Duke had openly declared a rebellion. The rest seemed to be quietly ignoring the King's words or withholding supplies. Challenging his authority rather than fighting against it. Still useful, but not what we wanted.
We couldn't take the risk, so we had to assume that both bands belonged to King Charlemagne.
"We'll go around them," I decided. We couldn't challenge them. Ambushing an ambush was doable, but it would take time to set up that ambush. To prepare for it. Time that we didn't have.
"They'll discover us," my scout informed me, making me glance over my shoulder. He was one of my archers. He was a few years older than me -- dark hair, green eyes. Handsome face that had a thin patchy beard, but his expression was serious. Authun Osvifsson. "One way is to skirt around a bare hill. The other is through the forest."
I nodded, seeing what he meant. "Out in the open or they'll find us because of the noise," I ventured, earning a nod from Authun. Taking the baggage train through the forest would slow us down, but my perks wouldn't work out in the open. I had gained two in Plotting in the past season.
Subtle Touch
The best agents are those that no one knows are there. Decreased Agent detection chance by 10%.
Actionable Intel
With the right eye, spotting any trail is possible. Agent Plot Discovery chance increased by 10%.
The best agents are those that no one knows are there. Decreased Agent detection chance by 10%.
Actionable Intel
With the right eye, spotting any trail is possible. Agent Plot Discovery chance increased by 10%.
My scouts were considered Agents. Effective ones, I've found. Because of them, we hadn't encountered an ambush before it was too late and they themselves hadn't been discovered. All of them were good at what they did, and Subtle Touch simply aided them in doing it. However, those perks only applied to my 'Agents', not my army.
I made a decision. "We're breaking up camp," I told him to spread the message. Walking away from the small hill I stood on, I headed down to the camp while the merriment was still ongoing. Francia was hilly and there were a great many trees, so the forest we were in covered our position rather well. My mind was racing, drifting back to a conversation that I had with Thorkell at the very start of the expedition.
Men were reluctant to leave behind what glittered and shined, even as a wolf was snapping at their heels. I was reluctant. The wealth that we had gathered was enough to buy a kingdom it felt like. But, we wouldn't be able to keep it at this rate. Meaning that we had to take action.
I gave a few orders as the merriment came to an end, much to the displeasure of my men. However, they loaded everything up with practiced ease, knowing that we were going to march through the night to avoid a battle. Not something anyone wanted in the cold and after a long day of riding. While they did that, I made my preparations. The thralls that were gathered over the season were all fetched. As was the wealth.
And we did the only thing that we could do.
"Sure about this?" Thorkell asked me as we watched the thralls dig a hole. A large one. Our men were already heading around the ambush through the woods. They should get around with little difficulty now that they were several wagons lighter without anyone left on foot. To make sure that they would get away, I had something in the works. Something that I hoped would give us the breathing room that we needed to get back to Saxony.
"We're not moving fast enough and we need to shed some weight," I voiced, scratching at my cheek to find that I had a few hairs on it. It wasn't even enough to be called a beard yet. But I hoped that it would soon grow into one. A red one, like my father's. It was one of the hints that I was becoming a man in body at long last. "And I trust you."
Thorkell chuckled because he would be the only one who knew about the treasure. The rest of my men would only know that we left it in the area. As for the thralls…
"I meant this. You have a habit of mercy," Thorkell remarked, earning a small shrug from me. I understood what he was saying. It was common enough talk amongst the men at this point.
"I'm merciful when I can be. I can't be with this," I returned, knowing exactly what he meant. The thralls stopped digging before they started carrying down chests. A great many of them. We weren't leaving all the wealth behind -- I still needed some to pay my men -- but we were leaving the bulk of it. The total came out to three hundred pounds of gold, twelve hundred pounds of silver, and fifty pounds of precious gems. All that was being buried.
Thorkell grunted in acknowledgment, "Fair enough." We watched the thralls work in silence after that, all the other preparations already made. The chests of wealth were stacked on top of one another and in packed together rows. Each was wrapped in linen and pelts to stop the iron from rusting because I had no idea when I could come back to get the horde. The thralls were exhausted after digging the hole, but filling it up proved to be just as tiring for them.
So, I gave them rest.
They didn't seem surprised when I got off my horse with my axes. They sensed it coming from the beginning. They did their best to fight with shovels, but they stood no chance against me and they knew it. Their bodies soaked into the dirt before they too were buried under it while Thorkell spread out the excess dirt and sprinkled the dead leaves over the ground that we gathered clearing the area.
I had picked out a rock to mark the space that I set down on top of the hoard and I took a look at my map of Francia. It was marked on the map with a small x.
With that, I started to cover our tracks. The wagons that we brought were all loaded up with tinder -- leaves, wood, and so on. Oils had been spilled on and around the wagons to make sure that the fire spread. Taking out a piece of flint and striking it with my axe, the first of the wagons caught fire, suddenly illuminating the pitch-black forest and making the shadows dance. The fire quickly spread to the trees, sending up smoke and sparks that would carry the fire all on its own.
Getting on my horse that was easily baying at the fire, I rubbed his neck to see that the fire was spreading nicely. There was plenty of foliage to set alight There hadn't been any rain for a week, so things were dry as well. Perfect conditions for a burn.
I watched it for a moment, the smell of smoke and the sounds of crackling fire dominating my senses. The fire spread to the rock that I had placed, burning the leaves, so even if anyone passed by here? It would be no different than any other patch of burned earth.
Without a word, I turned away from the fire and started to gallop away with Thorkell right behind me.
…
The fire ended up getting out of control as far as I could tell. Smoke drifted up to the sky in thick columns, and there had been a day when the world seemed to be entirely red. An omen, many of the men thought, but it seemed to be a good one for us. The entire forest seemed to be burning, protecting us from the ambush and the hunters because in the week we marched back to the borders of Saxony, we saw no hint of them. They were left dealing with the fire that we caused.
Still, I didn't let up. It took another two weeks of marching to get back to the Rhine River. Crossing it turned out to be far more difficult than it had been the last time because of the wagons and horses. A rope bridge had to be constructed to get us over it, and that had slowed things up pretty badly. Still, as we destroyed the rope bridge behind us to make sure that we couldn't be followed over it, there were no signs of our hunters.
But, I also wasn't sure how much that was actually worth. There were a number of burnt out villages on the Saxon side of the Rhine. Some villages I recalled us sailing past. There was always going to be some level of give and take when it came to raiding, but it could very well mean that the Franks had an army outside of the one that was besieging Frankfurt. The crux of the issue was the lack of information -- I didn't know what was going on overall. I had just been raiding and doing what damage that I could.
It wasn't until another day had passed that we finally found a village that had been spared of the raiding. Naturally enough, people immediately went indoors to prepare for the worst when someone warned them that we were coming. When I left the bulk of our men outside the village and continued inside with only Thorkell and Hallstein, only then did someone venture out.
"You aren't Franks!" I heard a man shout, the door to a house creaking open and it was shut almost the instant that he stepped through it. His family, I suppose. He was a graybeard, I noticed. His beard was either gray or white, his hair long since receded and was the same colors. A face full of wrinkles while he stood with a slight hunch from a lifetime of farming.
"I'm Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed. We just got back from Francia. We came here in the hopes of getting news. We have food to repay you," I voiced, making the graybeard look from Thorkell to me with an expression of surprise and doubt on his face. His eyes flickered between Thorkell and Hallstein before eventually settling on me. To prove my words, I reached for a bag that had been hung over the side of my horse and tossed the man a loaf of bread.
He caught it with fumbling fingers, hunger showing in his eyes as he clenched it close to his chest. Licking his lips, he looked at me with far more respect. "O-of course! What can I tell you?" He questioned, sounding like if he had a single secret in this world, he would reveal it for another loaf of bread. Shameful. Age was a hard thing to determine with just a glance, but he seemed to have long since reached the age to commit Ättestupa.
It was one thing to continue to live when your family and grandchildren had plenty. To continue to do so in times of hardship was cowardly.
"What's happened to Saxony since the fall began? Is the Frankish army here?" I questioned and the gray beard shook his head slowly.
"No. I don't think so, my lord. Just some bands of them that have been raiding around for supplies for that army that's around King Widukind, or so I hear. We thought you were one of them," he admitted, meaning that the bands of Franks had been in sizable numbers. "But they'll be shown right out soon enough! Some lads came here not that long ago, lookin' for fighting folk. Wanted us to go to Sigiburg to join up with an army." That was the news I was looking for.
An army was gathering at Sigiburg? Odd timing, I thought. Winter was almost on us. The chill in the air was getting more consistent and the morning frost lingered a little longer each day. The only use for the army, this late in the year, was to relieve the siege of Frankfurt.
"How many of your men went?" I questioned, thinking the information over. "How many did they say they had?"
"Well, they said that they had an army of thousands and thousands, my lord, but… that's young folk talk. To me, it sounded like they knew no one would go if they said hundreds. Not against the Frank army, and 'specially not with winter around the corner." The graybeard continued, not answering how many fighting men this village had sent.
I had more questions, but I didn't expect answers to them. Not from him. I would find them at Sigiburg. Beyond getting a general direction to the fortress that I took what felt like a lifetime ago, he had nothing to offer. Still, fulfilling my word, I gave the village a helping of grain that we had taken from the Franks before continuing on our way.
As it would turn out, we wouldn't need the directions because as we left the village, there were a lot of signs of people moving in the same direction that we were. Grass had been trodden down until it became dirt from a great many feet, telling me that the Saxon army wasn't inconsiderable. All the same, it was another day before we caught sight of the fortress and the army around it. We heard it first. And smelled it.
The general clamor of a great many people. Sounds of revelry as people celebrated Yule while they still had the chance. When we finally caught sight of the fortress, I almost thought that it was under siege. A large army was seated outside of the fortress because it wasn't large enough to house everyone. Thorkell let out a low whistle when he saw the army.
Fast Counter wasn't perfect for the job, but I knew what a thousand men looked like. This was double that. Two thousand men, give or take a few hundred. Possibly more inside of the fortress itself, which could hold about five hundred men. I underestimated the turnout as we approached, taking a broad path that would ensure that the fortress scouts would be able to see our approach.
Our own scouts seemed to have passed the message of who we were on because we were greeted warmly as we passed through the camps. Saxons cheered as we approached, but that just could be because they were in a good mood. Or they were happy to have more fighting bodies. Almost everyone that I saw looked like a Saxon to me, and the speaking of Germanic was a dead giveaway.
However, as we were led up to the gates of Sigiburg, I noticed that there were more Norsemen. How we approached had hidden them, but there were a lot of them. If I had to guess, I'd say up to half of the Saxon army was actually Norse. Some of those could have been the men that were left behind to man the fortresses. They had been Norse exclusively since the Saxons were drumming up support for the rebellion.
A knot of tension formed between my shoulder blades as I approached the entrance of Sigiburg, seeing that it was filled with Saxons. "Wolf-Kissed!" Someone greeted me as I got off my horse. A man with dirty blonde hair and a long beard with a long scar that started at his hairline and traveled the length of his face, taking out one of his eyes. "We've been trying to find you for weeks!" He announced with a laugh, approaching me and clasping my forearm warmly.
"We must have outrun the messengers," I returned, the tensions not leaving despite the warm reception. That was a lot of Norsemen. Enough so that the idea that they were just all mercenaries was hard to swallow. Especially considering that the war for Denmark should still be going.
"Franks must be a slow lot! Words traveled about your band taking cities and slaying armies. We were getting worried you'd win the war before we got to spill any Christian blood!" The Saxon said, throwing back his head and laughing loudly.
I gave a wan smile, "All the same, I've arrived. Two hundred and fifty strong. I take it you are the commander of this army?" I questioned him and I saw it. The hesitation in his eye and the expression that flickered over it.
"Aye, one of them," he confirmed. One of them. "King Widuking managed to get a message to us. He wants us to gather up here and march on Frankfurt. Break the siege and send the Franks running. We'll winter in Frankfurt and come spring, we'll march on the Franks," he said, sounding excited for it, and the plan was more or less what I thought it would be. A sound plan as far as I could tell.
"When do we march?" I questioned.
"Now-"
"You're smaller than I expected, Wolf-Kissed," I heard another voice loudly proclaim, near shouting. My gaze instantly darted to the man that spoke, seeing him walk down the stairs I had slaughtered my way down. A Norseman. Tall. Broad shoulders. Fine clothing, nice boots, and a sword at his hip that one hand rested on. He looked down at me as he approached, the slight smile playing at the edges of his lips not quite matching the look in his eyes. "From the tales, I expected a man fully grown. Taller than a house, eats a horse for lunch, and slaughters armies alone."
My heart started to pound in my chest, blood surging in my veins as I looked at the man. I didn't know him. I've never met him once in my life, but there wasn't a shadow of doubt in my mind that I recognized him. Not because I saw him before… but because of a family resemblance. Dark hair and dark blue eyes. He favored his father because I knew exactly whose son he was with the quickest glance.
"One of those things is certainly true," I returned, trying to control the snarl in my voice, gripping an axe at my belt hard enough that I delivered a fatal crack to the wooden shaft.
Horrik had more daughters than sons, but Thorfinn hadn't been Horrik's only son. He had five sons. I knew their names even if I never met them before. As far as I knew, all of them had their own families and land, or they roamed the seas as mercenaries. Thorfinn was the oldest and the heir. The next oldest, I believed…
The son of my sworn enemy came to a stop directly in front of me, towering as he looked down with a sneer in his eyes. "Ha," he returned, his voice devoid of humor.
Hate shone in my eyes, my lips peeling back into a snarl. "Which son are you?" I asked him, wanting to know which son of Horrik's I was about to blood eagle.
To that, he smiled.
"Grimar Horrikson."
...
The next chapter is currently available on my Patreon and Subscribe Star, so if you want to read it a week early, all it takes is a single dollar in the tip jar. Or, for five dollars, you can read the chapter after that two weeks before its public release! I hope you enjoyed!
- Location
- BEHIND YOU, COMRADE!
It seems like Grimar is the leader of the Norse group that makes up a large portion of this army that's forming up. And he thinks he can use that to ... do something. Kill the MC? Steal from him? Just be a dick in general?
That'd probably be what would happen to anyone else in that situation. But I think the MC could kill Grimar, and then kill everyone else on his way out if he wanted to.
But does he want to? (he does.)
Will he though? I really want to see if he holds himself back (and why, if he does).
That'd probably be what would happen to anyone else in that situation. But I think the MC could kill Grimar, and then kill everyone else on his way out if he wanted to.
But does he want to? (he does.)
Will he though? I really want to see if he holds himself back (and why, if he does).
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Seems pretty likely. I'm wondering if he's going to give Grimar much chance to speak or if he's just going to rip his lungs out of his back on the spot.