The map function would probably be more useful for war but I too would have went for the shiny magic option.
Legends Never Die (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)
- Thread starter Ideas-Guy
- Start date
I think that True Sight is the better perk. It's not what you want (information), but what you need (solution).
It's easy to solve problems when you get blatant golden markers pulling you by the nose.
I couldn't even finish Morrowind without a detailed walkthrough because I had no idea where to go and what to do.
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- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Also: how useful are the various versions of Eagle Vision from the Assassin's Creed series?
Unless i've got my geography wrong, I think Ireland is west of Denmark
Family
- Location
- USA
The plan to invade during the winter was dismissed. It had relied on the assumption that we would be joined by the second Saxon army, taking advantage of the defeat of the besieging army to punch deep into Francia while they were unprepared. Given our own losses, King Widukind made the decision to wait and gather our strength and to let word spread throughout Saxony. To see what his nation would react with - fear, or anger.
The war had already proven costly, and the menfolk were needed home to take care of their families and homesteads. Fields needed seeding and plowing, sheep and cows needed herding -- the hard labor of farming wasn't put on hold because of the war. No matter how much we might wish it so. With winter ending, the crop needed to be planted and with everything else, there was a very real concern that the army would simply disintegrate. Maybe not because they saw the war as unwinnable, but simply because the soldiers knew that if they didn't go home, their families could find themselves hungry in the coming year.
It was a concern that King Widukind was well aware of, so he made an unusual choice. Instead of marching into Francia, he chose to march into Saxony. The army was kept together, only instead of invading, we found ourselves acting as a massive workforce that swept across Saxony. We didn't pillage or raid -- we seeded crops, plowed fields, herded animals, and even did maintenance on every farmstead, village, and town we came across.
Which was how I found myself with a harness around my shoulders, the other end tied around a log that I dragged to a pile to be turned into lumber. Because an old Saxon farmer decided to take advantage of all the free labor and claimed that his son was going to build a larger fence for his animals. Just like another family claimed that their husband or father was going to dig a cellar, or expand a field.
"They should call you Siegfried the workhorse instead of Wolf-Kissed!" One of the men shouted, laughing as I kept pace with a workhorse that was being aided by two men. There was a slight smile on my face as I showed them up by pulling harder, earning shouts of protest. There were a good fifty men working on the farm -- all of them my warriors. And despite that number, the old man found a job to do for every single one of them on the modest farm.
I found that I didn't particularly mind. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling, I decided. For the past months, my work revolved around taking lives. It wasn't uncommon for people to call me a Crow-Feeder. Working on the farm was nostalgic. If I closed my eyes, I'm sure I could pretend that I was back home, on my family's farm, and the bickering I heard could be my brothers trying to show each other up.
With a heave, I brought the trunk to the mobile lumber yard that had been set up. A good thirty men worked on the logs -- sheering the bark off, then hammering in wedges before splitting the logs. Those logs were then split into planks that were being piled up. Some would be used here, on this farm, but others would be taken to the main camp that acted as a distribution center for materials and labor. What we didn't use would go to a stockpile, and when a job requested something to be built, the planks would go there.
It was a rather efficient system. King Widukind wanted things to be precise and efficient, and I was really starting to see a value in the way that he did things.
Taking the ropes off the tree, I and two others lifted the log onto a pile. It was as I was heading back to fell another tree that had been marked for lumber, that I saw a wagon out of the corner of my eye. It was flanked by a number of girls, with a few children in the wagon itself that was being pulled by an ox. What I noticed first was that there was a water barrel in the wagon. What I noticed second was that all of their hair was down, meaning that they were unwed. Something that happened a lot, I was coming to notice.
"We have water! Fresh from a river, so it is cool!" One of the girls announced in Germanic. She seemed to be the age of my sister. I put that thought out of my mind to see that a lot of my warriors were looking at me for a translation.
"They have water for us," I spoke in Norse, and that perked a number of them up. Most of them dropped what they were doing to venture towards the wagon, where one of the children was scooping water up with a ladle.
"I love this country," I heard one of my warriors say in Norse, a wide smile on his face. "They pay us gold to fight and work, and when they deliver water, they deliver women," he said with a laugh that was shared by many others. He said such things because the Saxon girls couldn't speak a word of Norse, and they only understood two Germanic words -- No and Yes. Because I taught them myself.
"I don't see Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed! Where is he! You said he was here!" One of the children protested, shooting his sister a sour look as she was smiling at one of my warriors. He went completely ignored, though some perked up, recognizing my name was said. "Hild! I wanna see him!"
The pleading tone earned him an annoyed look from his sister, "I don't know where he is. I was just told that he was here by one of the running boys. Find him yourself! He can't be that hard to miss," she snapped at him as her brother handed me the ladle filled with cool water. I took a small sip, looking at the boy. He was young, perhaps six or seven. Old enough to be expected to work, but too young to do any hard labor.
The water was cool and I found myself gulping it down to soothe my parched throat. "Another," I asked for in Germanic, making the boys eyes light up.
"I'm only supposed to give you one… but I'll give you another if you show me where the Wolf-Kissed is," he bargained, dipping the ladle into the barrel, but not handing it to me. What a shrewd kid.
I swallowed a sigh. "I'm Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed," I told him, a slight smirk tugging at my lips. It was promptly wiped away a second later.
I don't think I've ever seen an expression of such outright doubt before. I don't know if I was supposed to laugh or feel insulted.
"You're trying to trick me," The child decided, his tone one of naked suspicion. "You have red hair like he does, but the Wolf-Kissed is twelve feet tall and he uses weapons bigger than most men are tall. Oh- and he can breathe fire! Some people say that he's the son of a god!"
I swear, every village that we visit, I hear about a different version of myself. The breathing fire thing was unique at least. The rest… I was tall for my age, and I was still growing, but I wasn't larger than a fully grown man. I would be one day, but not this day. The son of a god bit was the one thing that remained consistent. People were starting to move away from the idea that I was favored by the gods, and some were claiming that I was the son of one. Thor, more often than not, because of my red hair.
I could only hope that the gods weren't taking offense. I had a father and his name was Erik.
"Well, then let me know if you see a twelve foot tall man that can breathe fire. I'd like to recruit him to my mercenary band," I replied, deciding that it wasn't worth convincing a child of my identity. Even if he did greedily withhold the water. Instead, I turned my attention to the girl that had been steering the wagon, who was staring at me and trying to hide it. "I was expecting a message from King Widukind. Did he send one with you?" I asked her, making her jaw snap shut with a click.
"Aye- uh, he did, my lord," She answered. "King Widukind requests your presence as soon as you're able." She answered, looking at me with awe shining in her eyes. Curious, I glanced at the child.
Incredible. I think he was more disappointed now. That was fair, I decided. I would be disappointed too if I expected someone twelve feet tall.
"The king has requested me. Finish up here. Try to not slack off too much," I told my men, earning cheers that told me that they would be slacking off the moment I wasn't in eyesight. So long as they got the job done, I suppose.
Turns out they didn't even wait until I reached the edge of the farm.
…
Throughout Saxony, there were dozens of bands like mine that were being sent to farms to do the work. There were some that were exclusively hunting parties as well. Most of us were within a days walk of the main army. It was kept together, consolidated, simply because if too many people left it, then the army would end up dissolving. It also served as a rallying point.
It was a sea of tents, for the most part. And people. Even before I saw the army, I heard it -- people talking, shouting in anger and joy, animals bleating and baying. The paths to the army were easily marked out with so many trails that were formed in the past few weeks. Ahead of me, I saw a small caravan of three wagons that were full goods being brought to a rough entrance to the camp. Sentries checked them -- King Widukind wanted to know everything that was coming into the camp down to the last crumb and piece of lint.
"Wolf-Kissed," the sentries greeted me as I strode past them, seated on a horse that I had borrowed. I nodded to them, passing the merchants by and ignoring the looks that I received. Heading into the camp, the dirt road was packed and flattened underneath so many feet and wagon wheels. King Widukind had the tents arranged by companies, with sectors for different laborers, camp followers, and so on. In a way, it was as if the Saxon King had created a mobile town.
Things were going to be chaotic with so many men in a single place, but there was a level of order to the chaos. Enough to keep the peace, at least.
Most people left me be, ignoring a lone rider as I made my way into the camp. So many people weaved around me, not bothering to look up. It made it an easy journey to the king's tent, which was located at the very heart of the camp with all the main 'roads' leading to it. Hopping off of my horse, I passed it to one of the thralls that led the horse to a stables. Even before I pushed the flap open, I heard the arguing within. Tempers were heated. That wasn't anything new, though.
"We must attack! We have the numbers! Let us sweep over Francia like the tide and wash their land away with seas of blood!" I heard a voice rage from within as I pushed the flap back to step inside. A long table was set within and seared at it were a number of men. Almost all of the Saxon Jarls. The few who knew me by sight met my gaze, but the newcomers ignored me, focusing on King Widukind.
He looked tired, I thought. The dark bags under his eyes seemed to be ever present now and his hair was graying almost visibly by the day. The crown he wore -- a thin band of gold -- seemed to carry an impossible weight. He sat in silence, just briefly meeting my gaze, before his attention turned to his Jarls.
"We will have battle. We will have vengeance and blood upon the Christians. A reckless charge, however, will be the death of us. Our way of life! And our gods!" King Widukind spoke, his voice passionate despite his visible exhaustion, proving that he still had strength.
The Jarl that spoke turned an angry red, veins bulging in his neck. "You doubt Woden?!" He thundered, slamming a meaty fist onto the table that I'm fairly certain had been stolen from Frankfurt. I swallowed a pang of annoyance at that -- they managed to get a table out, but we had been forced to fight our way out. Of the hundred that had made it out, only thirty were still fighting men. None of them had agreed to join my band.
"I won't underestimate the Christian God," King Widukind corrected. "He has power. King Charlemagne has power. You seem to think that he has been defeated, Jarl Aldmund. He has not. Each defeat we have given him would be disastrous for us if even one happened. He has endured several setbacks and he still has strength to spare. It is for that reason we must consider the offer that has been presented to us." King Widukind spoke at length while I idly crossed my arms and waited to be addressed.
My gaze caught Grimar, who was seated and pointedly not looking in my direction. Our agreement didn't make us friends. Just like in Frankfurt, we took great lengths to not be in the same room together, and the only exception was this -- when we both were summoned.
"What offer?" I spoke up, looking to King Widukind. The Jarls bristled, shooting me a sharp look for speaking out of turn. One even started to rise out of his seat, a hand raised to strike me for speaking without permission. It was a very different feeling now that King Widukind was surrounded by his Jarls. He had to appear more regal, as he explained it to me.
I didn't really get it, to be honest. He was king and he had been fighting the Franks this entire time. What more did he have to prove to these men?
"An offer from Holland, the land of Duke Ageric, Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed," King Widukind answered, using my full name and I saw all of the Jarls go still. I saw doubt in their eyes. It was amusing in a child, but I bristled at the disbelief in the eyes of men. The tales about me had grown exaggerated. Enough so that none believe that a fourteen years old boy had performed those feats. They all expected me to be a grown man. Or twelve feet tall. "King Charlemagne conquered the land some years ago and he has done what he did to Saxony -- he built churches, instilled leaders that swore to his God either by putting them there or forcing a conversion. However, many of the people still follow the old ways."
"The true ways," one of the Jarls corrected, earning a small nod from King Widukind, as all eyes were on me.
"They offer to join us?" I questioned, thinking it to be a good thing. This was what we wanted, wasn't it?
"They have offered to join the rebellion. However, it is Ageres, Ageric's brother, who has made the offer. He claims that while he was baptized and made Christian, he has secretly worshiped Woden this entire time. He also claims that he can convince the people to rise up against his brother and overthrow him. What he asks is for assistance in this task… and when the war is won, Holland shall become his kingdom." King Widukind explained, making my face pinch.
"Does he have any proof that he has worshiped in secret?" I asked, earning a series of shakes of the head.
"None. Only his word," King Widukind answered.
"Is that worth anything?" I asked, and the only thing I knew about Ageric's brother was that Ageric had one. That, and Ageric seemed convinced that his brother would avenge him. Wishful thinking or was it an empty threat? It was hard to believe when the offer was to overthrow him.
"If he was a Christian, then he wasn't a particularly good one," One of the Jarls spoke up, earning a few dirty looks. I think he also spoke out of turn. "He's a wastrel and a sop. Spends most of his days drinking and whoring. But, he's a charming bastard. People like him. More than they do his brother, if what I hear is true." I imagine the hefty ransoms I had extracted from him hadn't helped things. I didn't feel regret about that, but I did feel a little guilty about what it was leading to. "I say we agree -- we should let Charlemagne know that he may bathe us as much as he wants, but we are not Christians." As he uttered the words, there were a few mutters of agreement and people nodding along.
However, there was also opposition. "It's a trap! A blatant one at that! We'll weaken ourselves fighting for some boy's throne, and there is no telling that he intends to honor his word. There's nothing to suggest that the letter we received hadn't been penned by Charlemagne himself!" There were more sounds of agreement, I noticed that they were the louder of the two. Most were for ignoring the offer and attacking.
"Fool- how can we weaken ourselves when we would be fighting the Christians? For a boy king or Charlemagne -- all that matters is that blood will be spilled!"
"Even if it is an earnest offer, it'll take time that we don't have! Charlemagne is martialing his armies and the more time we give him, the more we shall face on the open field!"
"Coward! Are you afraid to fight?! We outnumber them already! Let them meet our great army and be stricken down!"
"I'm no coward! What I am is cautious -- our armies have never bested the Franks in an open battle. All of our successes in this rebellion have come from trickery, the gods favor, and the Wolf-Kissed!"
The entire tent quickly devolved into bickering and a shouting match. I lost the ability to even follow the conversation because there were a dozen and one conversations happening between a dozen people. It was a common enough scene to me now -- it happened every time that I had been summoned to King Widukind to discuss our next move or to coordinate. King Widukind himself simply sat in his chair, briefly rubbing his eyes and I saw him let out a small sigh.
Anger had won out over fear.
When we retreated into Saxony, King Widukind had messengers going to every hamlet, village, town, and city -- all to spread word of what transpired at the sacred grove and to spread word of our victories. Many Jarls -- most of whom sat in this tent -- who had been indecisive about joining the rebellion threw their lot in behind King Widukind. They promised men and supplies. However, the biggest contributors were volunteers.
Young men left their homes in droves when they heard about what happened in the sacred grove. Enough men left that if it wasn't for the army doing their chores, I doubt there would be anyone that could plant the harvest in Saxony. They left with farm tools for weapons, and the clothing on their backs, joining the army for the sole purpose of vengeance.
King Widukind said it best. "This war is no longer a war for Saxon freedom," King Widukind spoke up, making the Jarls quiet down. "This is a war between our ways and the Christian ways. King Charlemagne saw to that. In the past three months, ten thousand men have come to us, seeking to fight and repay blood with blood. More will come in time, but my Jarls, you mistake time for our ally. The more men we possess, the greater the strain on our food reserves. Already, we have been stretched thin. Waiting longer will only tax ourselves more. We will collapse under our own weight."
I knew that was true. We had burnt through the reserves that we had for the siege, and with our numbers -- some fourteen thousand strong -- we were eating what would have been a week's worth of food back in Frankfurt almost every day. I was almost certain that every berry and nut for miles around the camp had been picked.
"We must take action. However, it is a question of what action shall it be. I do not trust this letter. At worst, it is as Jarl Hrypa claims -- an outright trap laid for us by Charlemagne, and at best, it is written by an opportunistic boy that intends to betray his kin. That being said -- we are short on allies in the war. Denmark has collapsed into a civil war. The rebels within Francia have proven gutless cowards that are so afraid of us that they hide behind Charlemagne's skirt. Can we truly afford to ignore such a hand?" King Widukind questioned, his tone brimming with authority as he asked the question.
I saw it on a number of faces. They wanted to say yes, but they didn't dare to. Not anymore. Not when the king had spoken.
"What say you Wolf-Kissed?" King Widukind questioned, looking at me.
I didn't fully agree with him. I think the Jarls were being optimistic about our victory, treating it as something that was certain, but I didn't think that they were wholly wrong. We had a mighty army. An army so great that it must be the largest on Midgard. We should use it -- strike into the heart of Franica. If Ageric's brother spoke truth, then the people of Holland would rebel on their own when we struck down Charlemagne.
"I say that it won't look good for King Charlemagne when one after another, his conquered lands rebel," I voiced my agreement with the plan. It was something that was expected of me.
King Widukind was using my reputation because even those that had sour looks on their faces started nodding in agreement. Influence was a strange thing, I decided. It was impossible to see, impossible to measure, yet it had tangible effects that could be felt. And as tempting as it was to voice my true opinion… it was not my decision to make.
"Then it is decided," King Widukind voiced. "We shall march on Holland."
"What of Charlemagne's army?" A jarl asked, the decision now made. "It numbers many thousands, and even if it's not a trap then they will surely respond."
"They number eight thousand, to our last count. Remnants from Frankfurt, the army that savaged our lands, and reinforcements. They are based in Cologne, to my knowledge," King Widukind spoke, nodding to himself. We almost doubled their army. "More are on the way, but it is a trickle. His Jarls may be cowards, but they aren't useless. Some are withholding men to secure their own lands from us." Meaning that after we crushed this army, then victory was within sight. "If they march on us, then we shall give battle. If they don't… then it means that King Charlemagne has a trick up his sleeve."
With the decisions made, the rest was hashing out logistics and the path that would be taken. Moving by ship was considered, but it would be far too risky because we could only transport a portion of our men at a time, and it would take a considerable amount of time. It was decided that we would construct several bridges and barges over the Rhine. A messenger was sent to Ageric's brother to inform him that the offer was accepted.
It was also decided that I would be amongst the first over with instructions to secure a foothold for the army. Me along with two thousand men, five hundred of which were my mercenary company. I would be independent of Jarl Aldmund, but I knew I would be expected to follow his lead. It was annoying to have to answer to someone other than the king, but I was just a mercenary. I couldn't expect them to allow me to lead two thousand men, even if I was a proven commander.
It was hours later before we were free to go, and I found myself more exhausted with the tedium than I was the hard labor. It was a welcome relief to push out of the tent to see that the sun was already making its way to the horizon. Meaning I would end up staying the night in camp. Not a terrible thing, I decided when I caught the eye of Thorkell and Hallstein, who were in a deep conversation of their own. They seemed to be waiting for me.
In the past three months, Thorkell's eye had healed. He claimed to have no trouble with it beyond having to get used to seeing through both eyes again. The injury did leave an impressive scar over his eye, bisecting his eyebrow and ending just past his cheekbone. It really was the gods favor that he didn't end up half blinded. Hallstein was the same as ever, though I did notice that he was putting on a noticeable amount of weight. He was a man that enjoyed his feasting and he found a reason to more often than not.
They were so deep in their conversation that they failed to notice my approach. "-lying, but why would he? S'not like he won't get found out-" I heard Thorkell say, his expression unusually solemn with a frown tugging at his lips. I frowned, wondering what exactly they were discussing.
Whatever it was, it would have to wait because the exact moment I was about to speak up, a single shout echoed ourlt. "Murderer!" I heard someone scream at the top of their lungs, and they were close. Which made a great deal of sense, I found, because the word was directed to me.
My gaze locked eyes with a young man, perhaps a handful of years older than me. His face was twisted into an expression of hate, his teeth barred, as he leveled a sword in my direction and went to run me through with it. Despite the sudden attack, I realized something.
He spoke Germanic. Not Frankish.
A hand went to the axe at my belt, shifting to a back foot to dodge the strike and bury my weapon in his head. As it would turn out, I wouldn't need to. No sooner had he started his desperate charge than someone lunged for him, tackling him to the ground, the sword clattering from his grip. I frowned at the scene, two men in their late teens struggling in the packed dirt for a few seconds before the one that tackled him looked up.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Seems like I came at an interesting time, little brother," Halfdan remarked, the would-be assassin in a headlock that I knew all too well. His auburn hair was longer than I remember, and the scruffy beard that he always had was starting to fill out. His clothing was dirty, but that was mostly from rolling in the dirt. They were finely stitched and well worn by him, telling me they were made for him.
Halfdan. My brother. One of the two that I had left. "Halfdan?!" I exclaimed, the would be assassin completely forgotten as he thrashed in his grip. I wasn't worried. Nor did I care, in all honesty. I couldn't believe it. My brother was here. There was a part of me that thought I'd never see them again, but he was here, in front of me. Hiding an assassin.
"Would love to chat, but would someone take this guy from me?" Halfdan questioned, making Thorkell and Hallstein rush over to grab hold of him. "He sounds angry. What you'd do to piss him off?" Halfdan questioned, not understanding a word of Germanic. I failed to answer, just looking at him with a stupified expression on my face. He seemed to notice and he reached out after riding to his full height, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. He wasn't as tall as I remembered. "You look well, Seig."
"You dog fucking bastard," the assassin howled, making me swallow down emotion because the attempt on my life didn't go unnoticed. "I'll kill you! By Woden's will, I'll kill you!" He raged at me, glaring up hatefully as he struggled to get out of Thorkell and Hallstein's grip.
Thorkell sent me a look, his gaze flickering to audience that conducted if the Jarls and King of Saxony. "I hate to break up the family reunion, Seigfried, but we need to deal with this guy. You know him?" He asked, and I took a breath before finally turning my attention to the assassin, who spat in my direction.
I narrowed my eyes for a moment… "No, I have no idea who this is," I admitted with a frown. "He called me a murderer, though. I've done no such thing," I stated, my friend deepening as anger started to take hold. I finally saw my brother again, and this fool attacks me with false accusations.
"What is the meaning of this?" King Widukind questioned, looking at me with a severe expression.
I pointed at the assassin, "He accused me of murder. I've never murdered anyone," I stated, crossing my arms and that drove the assassin wild.
"You liar!" He screamed at me, kicking in Thorkell's grip with such ferocity that he nearly managed to skip it. "I saw you do it! You murdered my father and brother!" He raged, glaring hatefully at me.
Ah. "That is war," I told him outright, realizing what this was. "I took no pleasure in their deaths, but you insult me by calling it murder." There was a huge gulf between killing a man and murdering one. I've killed a great many men, but I have never murdered one. Not by the laws of my people. It was those same laws that prevented me from killing Grimar. If I wasn't willing to ignore them to kill the son of my most hated enemy, then it was laughable to say that I would for someone I never met.
"You broke into our home!" He shouted, making my eyes narrow. What? "You killed my father! Then my brother! You… you…" the assassin heaved, exhausting himself with the force of his rage and…
"Ah," I started, realizing that I did recognize the man. This was the young man that attacked me during my first raid -- I tried to get them to leave, then he attacked. His father and brother attacked, and I was no where near the warrior then as I was now. I killed them in self defense before letting the rest of the family go. I still had the magic stone. It was in my pocket, even.
That raid… had been on Saxony, I distantly recalled, my gaze sliding to King Widukind. The King of the Saxons, who was flanked by most of the still loyal Jarls of Saxony. Whose brow furrowed deeply as he read my expression.
Well… this was certainly awkward.
...
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The war had already proven costly, and the menfolk were needed home to take care of their families and homesteads. Fields needed seeding and plowing, sheep and cows needed herding -- the hard labor of farming wasn't put on hold because of the war. No matter how much we might wish it so. With winter ending, the crop needed to be planted and with everything else, there was a very real concern that the army would simply disintegrate. Maybe not because they saw the war as unwinnable, but simply because the soldiers knew that if they didn't go home, their families could find themselves hungry in the coming year.
It was a concern that King Widukind was well aware of, so he made an unusual choice. Instead of marching into Francia, he chose to march into Saxony. The army was kept together, only instead of invading, we found ourselves acting as a massive workforce that swept across Saxony. We didn't pillage or raid -- we seeded crops, plowed fields, herded animals, and even did maintenance on every farmstead, village, and town we came across.
Which was how I found myself with a harness around my shoulders, the other end tied around a log that I dragged to a pile to be turned into lumber. Because an old Saxon farmer decided to take advantage of all the free labor and claimed that his son was going to build a larger fence for his animals. Just like another family claimed that their husband or father was going to dig a cellar, or expand a field.
"They should call you Siegfried the workhorse instead of Wolf-Kissed!" One of the men shouted, laughing as I kept pace with a workhorse that was being aided by two men. There was a slight smile on my face as I showed them up by pulling harder, earning shouts of protest. There were a good fifty men working on the farm -- all of them my warriors. And despite that number, the old man found a job to do for every single one of them on the modest farm.
I found that I didn't particularly mind. It wasn't an unwelcome feeling, I decided. For the past months, my work revolved around taking lives. It wasn't uncommon for people to call me a Crow-Feeder. Working on the farm was nostalgic. If I closed my eyes, I'm sure I could pretend that I was back home, on my family's farm, and the bickering I heard could be my brothers trying to show each other up.
With a heave, I brought the trunk to the mobile lumber yard that had been set up. A good thirty men worked on the logs -- sheering the bark off, then hammering in wedges before splitting the logs. Those logs were then split into planks that were being piled up. Some would be used here, on this farm, but others would be taken to the main camp that acted as a distribution center for materials and labor. What we didn't use would go to a stockpile, and when a job requested something to be built, the planks would go there.
It was a rather efficient system. King Widukind wanted things to be precise and efficient, and I was really starting to see a value in the way that he did things.
Taking the ropes off the tree, I and two others lifted the log onto a pile. It was as I was heading back to fell another tree that had been marked for lumber, that I saw a wagon out of the corner of my eye. It was flanked by a number of girls, with a few children in the wagon itself that was being pulled by an ox. What I noticed first was that there was a water barrel in the wagon. What I noticed second was that all of their hair was down, meaning that they were unwed. Something that happened a lot, I was coming to notice.
"We have water! Fresh from a river, so it is cool!" One of the girls announced in Germanic. She seemed to be the age of my sister. I put that thought out of my mind to see that a lot of my warriors were looking at me for a translation.
"They have water for us," I spoke in Norse, and that perked a number of them up. Most of them dropped what they were doing to venture towards the wagon, where one of the children was scooping water up with a ladle.
"I love this country," I heard one of my warriors say in Norse, a wide smile on his face. "They pay us gold to fight and work, and when they deliver water, they deliver women," he said with a laugh that was shared by many others. He said such things because the Saxon girls couldn't speak a word of Norse, and they only understood two Germanic words -- No and Yes. Because I taught them myself.
"I don't see Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed! Where is he! You said he was here!" One of the children protested, shooting his sister a sour look as she was smiling at one of my warriors. He went completely ignored, though some perked up, recognizing my name was said. "Hild! I wanna see him!"
The pleading tone earned him an annoyed look from his sister, "I don't know where he is. I was just told that he was here by one of the running boys. Find him yourself! He can't be that hard to miss," she snapped at him as her brother handed me the ladle filled with cool water. I took a small sip, looking at the boy. He was young, perhaps six or seven. Old enough to be expected to work, but too young to do any hard labor.
The water was cool and I found myself gulping it down to soothe my parched throat. "Another," I asked for in Germanic, making the boys eyes light up.
"I'm only supposed to give you one… but I'll give you another if you show me where the Wolf-Kissed is," he bargained, dipping the ladle into the barrel, but not handing it to me. What a shrewd kid.
I swallowed a sigh. "I'm Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed," I told him, a slight smirk tugging at my lips. It was promptly wiped away a second later.
I don't think I've ever seen an expression of such outright doubt before. I don't know if I was supposed to laugh or feel insulted.
"You're trying to trick me," The child decided, his tone one of naked suspicion. "You have red hair like he does, but the Wolf-Kissed is twelve feet tall and he uses weapons bigger than most men are tall. Oh- and he can breathe fire! Some people say that he's the son of a god!"
I swear, every village that we visit, I hear about a different version of myself. The breathing fire thing was unique at least. The rest… I was tall for my age, and I was still growing, but I wasn't larger than a fully grown man. I would be one day, but not this day. The son of a god bit was the one thing that remained consistent. People were starting to move away from the idea that I was favored by the gods, and some were claiming that I was the son of one. Thor, more often than not, because of my red hair.
I could only hope that the gods weren't taking offense. I had a father and his name was Erik.
"Well, then let me know if you see a twelve foot tall man that can breathe fire. I'd like to recruit him to my mercenary band," I replied, deciding that it wasn't worth convincing a child of my identity. Even if he did greedily withhold the water. Instead, I turned my attention to the girl that had been steering the wagon, who was staring at me and trying to hide it. "I was expecting a message from King Widukind. Did he send one with you?" I asked her, making her jaw snap shut with a click.
"Aye- uh, he did, my lord," She answered. "King Widukind requests your presence as soon as you're able." She answered, looking at me with awe shining in her eyes. Curious, I glanced at the child.
Incredible. I think he was more disappointed now. That was fair, I decided. I would be disappointed too if I expected someone twelve feet tall.
"The king has requested me. Finish up here. Try to not slack off too much," I told my men, earning cheers that told me that they would be slacking off the moment I wasn't in eyesight. So long as they got the job done, I suppose.
Turns out they didn't even wait until I reached the edge of the farm.
…
Throughout Saxony, there were dozens of bands like mine that were being sent to farms to do the work. There were some that were exclusively hunting parties as well. Most of us were within a days walk of the main army. It was kept together, consolidated, simply because if too many people left it, then the army would end up dissolving. It also served as a rallying point.
It was a sea of tents, for the most part. And people. Even before I saw the army, I heard it -- people talking, shouting in anger and joy, animals bleating and baying. The paths to the army were easily marked out with so many trails that were formed in the past few weeks. Ahead of me, I saw a small caravan of three wagons that were full goods being brought to a rough entrance to the camp. Sentries checked them -- King Widukind wanted to know everything that was coming into the camp down to the last crumb and piece of lint.
"Wolf-Kissed," the sentries greeted me as I strode past them, seated on a horse that I had borrowed. I nodded to them, passing the merchants by and ignoring the looks that I received. Heading into the camp, the dirt road was packed and flattened underneath so many feet and wagon wheels. King Widukind had the tents arranged by companies, with sectors for different laborers, camp followers, and so on. In a way, it was as if the Saxon King had created a mobile town.
Things were going to be chaotic with so many men in a single place, but there was a level of order to the chaos. Enough to keep the peace, at least.
Most people left me be, ignoring a lone rider as I made my way into the camp. So many people weaved around me, not bothering to look up. It made it an easy journey to the king's tent, which was located at the very heart of the camp with all the main 'roads' leading to it. Hopping off of my horse, I passed it to one of the thralls that led the horse to a stables. Even before I pushed the flap open, I heard the arguing within. Tempers were heated. That wasn't anything new, though.
"We must attack! We have the numbers! Let us sweep over Francia like the tide and wash their land away with seas of blood!" I heard a voice rage from within as I pushed the flap back to step inside. A long table was set within and seared at it were a number of men. Almost all of the Saxon Jarls. The few who knew me by sight met my gaze, but the newcomers ignored me, focusing on King Widukind.
He looked tired, I thought. The dark bags under his eyes seemed to be ever present now and his hair was graying almost visibly by the day. The crown he wore -- a thin band of gold -- seemed to carry an impossible weight. He sat in silence, just briefly meeting my gaze, before his attention turned to his Jarls.
"We will have battle. We will have vengeance and blood upon the Christians. A reckless charge, however, will be the death of us. Our way of life! And our gods!" King Widukind spoke, his voice passionate despite his visible exhaustion, proving that he still had strength.
The Jarl that spoke turned an angry red, veins bulging in his neck. "You doubt Woden?!" He thundered, slamming a meaty fist onto the table that I'm fairly certain had been stolen from Frankfurt. I swallowed a pang of annoyance at that -- they managed to get a table out, but we had been forced to fight our way out. Of the hundred that had made it out, only thirty were still fighting men. None of them had agreed to join my band.
"I won't underestimate the Christian God," King Widukind corrected. "He has power. King Charlemagne has power. You seem to think that he has been defeated, Jarl Aldmund. He has not. Each defeat we have given him would be disastrous for us if even one happened. He has endured several setbacks and he still has strength to spare. It is for that reason we must consider the offer that has been presented to us." King Widukind spoke at length while I idly crossed my arms and waited to be addressed.
My gaze caught Grimar, who was seated and pointedly not looking in my direction. Our agreement didn't make us friends. Just like in Frankfurt, we took great lengths to not be in the same room together, and the only exception was this -- when we both were summoned.
"What offer?" I spoke up, looking to King Widukind. The Jarls bristled, shooting me a sharp look for speaking out of turn. One even started to rise out of his seat, a hand raised to strike me for speaking without permission. It was a very different feeling now that King Widukind was surrounded by his Jarls. He had to appear more regal, as he explained it to me.
I didn't really get it, to be honest. He was king and he had been fighting the Franks this entire time. What more did he have to prove to these men?
"An offer from Holland, the land of Duke Ageric, Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed," King Widukind answered, using my full name and I saw all of the Jarls go still. I saw doubt in their eyes. It was amusing in a child, but I bristled at the disbelief in the eyes of men. The tales about me had grown exaggerated. Enough so that none believe that a fourteen years old boy had performed those feats. They all expected me to be a grown man. Or twelve feet tall. "King Charlemagne conquered the land some years ago and he has done what he did to Saxony -- he built churches, instilled leaders that swore to his God either by putting them there or forcing a conversion. However, many of the people still follow the old ways."
"The true ways," one of the Jarls corrected, earning a small nod from King Widukind, as all eyes were on me.
"They offer to join us?" I questioned, thinking it to be a good thing. This was what we wanted, wasn't it?
"They have offered to join the rebellion. However, it is Ageres, Ageric's brother, who has made the offer. He claims that while he was baptized and made Christian, he has secretly worshiped Woden this entire time. He also claims that he can convince the people to rise up against his brother and overthrow him. What he asks is for assistance in this task… and when the war is won, Holland shall become his kingdom." King Widukind explained, making my face pinch.
"Does he have any proof that he has worshiped in secret?" I asked, earning a series of shakes of the head.
"None. Only his word," King Widukind answered.
"Is that worth anything?" I asked, and the only thing I knew about Ageric's brother was that Ageric had one. That, and Ageric seemed convinced that his brother would avenge him. Wishful thinking or was it an empty threat? It was hard to believe when the offer was to overthrow him.
"If he was a Christian, then he wasn't a particularly good one," One of the Jarls spoke up, earning a few dirty looks. I think he also spoke out of turn. "He's a wastrel and a sop. Spends most of his days drinking and whoring. But, he's a charming bastard. People like him. More than they do his brother, if what I hear is true." I imagine the hefty ransoms I had extracted from him hadn't helped things. I didn't feel regret about that, but I did feel a little guilty about what it was leading to. "I say we agree -- we should let Charlemagne know that he may bathe us as much as he wants, but we are not Christians." As he uttered the words, there were a few mutters of agreement and people nodding along.
However, there was also opposition. "It's a trap! A blatant one at that! We'll weaken ourselves fighting for some boy's throne, and there is no telling that he intends to honor his word. There's nothing to suggest that the letter we received hadn't been penned by Charlemagne himself!" There were more sounds of agreement, I noticed that they were the louder of the two. Most were for ignoring the offer and attacking.
"Fool- how can we weaken ourselves when we would be fighting the Christians? For a boy king or Charlemagne -- all that matters is that blood will be spilled!"
"Even if it is an earnest offer, it'll take time that we don't have! Charlemagne is martialing his armies and the more time we give him, the more we shall face on the open field!"
"Coward! Are you afraid to fight?! We outnumber them already! Let them meet our great army and be stricken down!"
"I'm no coward! What I am is cautious -- our armies have never bested the Franks in an open battle. All of our successes in this rebellion have come from trickery, the gods favor, and the Wolf-Kissed!"
The entire tent quickly devolved into bickering and a shouting match. I lost the ability to even follow the conversation because there were a dozen and one conversations happening between a dozen people. It was a common enough scene to me now -- it happened every time that I had been summoned to King Widukind to discuss our next move or to coordinate. King Widukind himself simply sat in his chair, briefly rubbing his eyes and I saw him let out a small sigh.
Anger had won out over fear.
When we retreated into Saxony, King Widukind had messengers going to every hamlet, village, town, and city -- all to spread word of what transpired at the sacred grove and to spread word of our victories. Many Jarls -- most of whom sat in this tent -- who had been indecisive about joining the rebellion threw their lot in behind King Widukind. They promised men and supplies. However, the biggest contributors were volunteers.
Young men left their homes in droves when they heard about what happened in the sacred grove. Enough men left that if it wasn't for the army doing their chores, I doubt there would be anyone that could plant the harvest in Saxony. They left with farm tools for weapons, and the clothing on their backs, joining the army for the sole purpose of vengeance.
King Widukind said it best. "This war is no longer a war for Saxon freedom," King Widukind spoke up, making the Jarls quiet down. "This is a war between our ways and the Christian ways. King Charlemagne saw to that. In the past three months, ten thousand men have come to us, seeking to fight and repay blood with blood. More will come in time, but my Jarls, you mistake time for our ally. The more men we possess, the greater the strain on our food reserves. Already, we have been stretched thin. Waiting longer will only tax ourselves more. We will collapse under our own weight."
I knew that was true. We had burnt through the reserves that we had for the siege, and with our numbers -- some fourteen thousand strong -- we were eating what would have been a week's worth of food back in Frankfurt almost every day. I was almost certain that every berry and nut for miles around the camp had been picked.
"We must take action. However, it is a question of what action shall it be. I do not trust this letter. At worst, it is as Jarl Hrypa claims -- an outright trap laid for us by Charlemagne, and at best, it is written by an opportunistic boy that intends to betray his kin. That being said -- we are short on allies in the war. Denmark has collapsed into a civil war. The rebels within Francia have proven gutless cowards that are so afraid of us that they hide behind Charlemagne's skirt. Can we truly afford to ignore such a hand?" King Widukind questioned, his tone brimming with authority as he asked the question.
I saw it on a number of faces. They wanted to say yes, but they didn't dare to. Not anymore. Not when the king had spoken.
"What say you Wolf-Kissed?" King Widukind questioned, looking at me.
I didn't fully agree with him. I think the Jarls were being optimistic about our victory, treating it as something that was certain, but I didn't think that they were wholly wrong. We had a mighty army. An army so great that it must be the largest on Midgard. We should use it -- strike into the heart of Franica. If Ageric's brother spoke truth, then the people of Holland would rebel on their own when we struck down Charlemagne.
"I say that it won't look good for King Charlemagne when one after another, his conquered lands rebel," I voiced my agreement with the plan. It was something that was expected of me.
King Widukind was using my reputation because even those that had sour looks on their faces started nodding in agreement. Influence was a strange thing, I decided. It was impossible to see, impossible to measure, yet it had tangible effects that could be felt. And as tempting as it was to voice my true opinion… it was not my decision to make.
"Then it is decided," King Widukind voiced. "We shall march on Holland."
"What of Charlemagne's army?" A jarl asked, the decision now made. "It numbers many thousands, and even if it's not a trap then they will surely respond."
"They number eight thousand, to our last count. Remnants from Frankfurt, the army that savaged our lands, and reinforcements. They are based in Cologne, to my knowledge," King Widukind spoke, nodding to himself. We almost doubled their army. "More are on the way, but it is a trickle. His Jarls may be cowards, but they aren't useless. Some are withholding men to secure their own lands from us." Meaning that after we crushed this army, then victory was within sight. "If they march on us, then we shall give battle. If they don't… then it means that King Charlemagne has a trick up his sleeve."
With the decisions made, the rest was hashing out logistics and the path that would be taken. Moving by ship was considered, but it would be far too risky because we could only transport a portion of our men at a time, and it would take a considerable amount of time. It was decided that we would construct several bridges and barges over the Rhine. A messenger was sent to Ageric's brother to inform him that the offer was accepted.
It was also decided that I would be amongst the first over with instructions to secure a foothold for the army. Me along with two thousand men, five hundred of which were my mercenary company. I would be independent of Jarl Aldmund, but I knew I would be expected to follow his lead. It was annoying to have to answer to someone other than the king, but I was just a mercenary. I couldn't expect them to allow me to lead two thousand men, even if I was a proven commander.
It was hours later before we were free to go, and I found myself more exhausted with the tedium than I was the hard labor. It was a welcome relief to push out of the tent to see that the sun was already making its way to the horizon. Meaning I would end up staying the night in camp. Not a terrible thing, I decided when I caught the eye of Thorkell and Hallstein, who were in a deep conversation of their own. They seemed to be waiting for me.
In the past three months, Thorkell's eye had healed. He claimed to have no trouble with it beyond having to get used to seeing through both eyes again. The injury did leave an impressive scar over his eye, bisecting his eyebrow and ending just past his cheekbone. It really was the gods favor that he didn't end up half blinded. Hallstein was the same as ever, though I did notice that he was putting on a noticeable amount of weight. He was a man that enjoyed his feasting and he found a reason to more often than not.
They were so deep in their conversation that they failed to notice my approach. "-lying, but why would he? S'not like he won't get found out-" I heard Thorkell say, his expression unusually solemn with a frown tugging at his lips. I frowned, wondering what exactly they were discussing.
Whatever it was, it would have to wait because the exact moment I was about to speak up, a single shout echoed ourlt. "Murderer!" I heard someone scream at the top of their lungs, and they were close. Which made a great deal of sense, I found, because the word was directed to me.
My gaze locked eyes with a young man, perhaps a handful of years older than me. His face was twisted into an expression of hate, his teeth barred, as he leveled a sword in my direction and went to run me through with it. Despite the sudden attack, I realized something.
He spoke Germanic. Not Frankish.
A hand went to the axe at my belt, shifting to a back foot to dodge the strike and bury my weapon in his head. As it would turn out, I wouldn't need to. No sooner had he started his desperate charge than someone lunged for him, tackling him to the ground, the sword clattering from his grip. I frowned at the scene, two men in their late teens struggling in the packed dirt for a few seconds before the one that tackled him looked up.
My breath caught in my throat.
"Seems like I came at an interesting time, little brother," Halfdan remarked, the would-be assassin in a headlock that I knew all too well. His auburn hair was longer than I remember, and the scruffy beard that he always had was starting to fill out. His clothing was dirty, but that was mostly from rolling in the dirt. They were finely stitched and well worn by him, telling me they were made for him.
Halfdan. My brother. One of the two that I had left. "Halfdan?!" I exclaimed, the would be assassin completely forgotten as he thrashed in his grip. I wasn't worried. Nor did I care, in all honesty. I couldn't believe it. My brother was here. There was a part of me that thought I'd never see them again, but he was here, in front of me. Hiding an assassin.
"Would love to chat, but would someone take this guy from me?" Halfdan questioned, making Thorkell and Hallstein rush over to grab hold of him. "He sounds angry. What you'd do to piss him off?" Halfdan questioned, not understanding a word of Germanic. I failed to answer, just looking at him with a stupified expression on my face. He seemed to notice and he reached out after riding to his full height, placing a hand on my shoulder and squeezed. He wasn't as tall as I remembered. "You look well, Seig."
"You dog fucking bastard," the assassin howled, making me swallow down emotion because the attempt on my life didn't go unnoticed. "I'll kill you! By Woden's will, I'll kill you!" He raged at me, glaring up hatefully as he struggled to get out of Thorkell and Hallstein's grip.
Thorkell sent me a look, his gaze flickering to audience that conducted if the Jarls and King of Saxony. "I hate to break up the family reunion, Seigfried, but we need to deal with this guy. You know him?" He asked, and I took a breath before finally turning my attention to the assassin, who spat in my direction.
I narrowed my eyes for a moment… "No, I have no idea who this is," I admitted with a frown. "He called me a murderer, though. I've done no such thing," I stated, my friend deepening as anger started to take hold. I finally saw my brother again, and this fool attacks me with false accusations.
"What is the meaning of this?" King Widukind questioned, looking at me with a severe expression.
I pointed at the assassin, "He accused me of murder. I've never murdered anyone," I stated, crossing my arms and that drove the assassin wild.
"You liar!" He screamed at me, kicking in Thorkell's grip with such ferocity that he nearly managed to skip it. "I saw you do it! You murdered my father and brother!" He raged, glaring hatefully at me.
Ah. "That is war," I told him outright, realizing what this was. "I took no pleasure in their deaths, but you insult me by calling it murder." There was a huge gulf between killing a man and murdering one. I've killed a great many men, but I have never murdered one. Not by the laws of my people. It was those same laws that prevented me from killing Grimar. If I wasn't willing to ignore them to kill the son of my most hated enemy, then it was laughable to say that I would for someone I never met.
"You broke into our home!" He shouted, making my eyes narrow. What? "You killed my father! Then my brother! You… you…" the assassin heaved, exhausting himself with the force of his rage and…
"Ah," I started, realizing that I did recognize the man. This was the young man that attacked me during my first raid -- I tried to get them to leave, then he attacked. His father and brother attacked, and I was no where near the warrior then as I was now. I killed them in self defense before letting the rest of the family go. I still had the magic stone. It was in my pocket, even.
That raid… had been on Saxony, I distantly recalled, my gaze sliding to King Widukind. The King of the Saxons, who was flanked by most of the still loyal Jarls of Saxony. Whose brow furrowed deeply as he read my expression.
Well… this was certainly awkward.
...
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Oh shit
A raid under the command of his Jarl. Awkward but unless king Widukind wants to break it off with both his Danish allies, there's nothing to be done about it. Its not like the Saxons didn't raid as well so I don't see this really amounting to much.
To Be A Man
- Location
- USA
I had completely forgotten about that raid. No, that wasn't true. It was impossible to forget the raid itself. That had been the raid that had made Horrik honor me, where I was engaged to Jill, and the norns started to weave far more interesting events into my life. However, I had completely forgotten about that family that I let go. That I tried to let go.
I don't think it was entirely my fault that I hadn't been able to recognize him. He looked very different after… nearly two years. He was older, for one. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his clothing was ragged and cheap instead of the fine stitching that I saw on him and his family before. It was clear that he had fallen on hard times, and I recalled seeing what was left of the village when we sailed upstream to join the war. It had been left to ruin.
"Is this true, Seigfried?" King Widukind looked at me, his lips pressed together in a thin line, also feeling how thick the tension became between myself and the Jarls. There was almost a pleading look in his eyes, trying to convey a silent message.
'Lie.' That's what his eyes told me.
I looked down at the young man -- who was now a man fully grown. It was hard to think of him like that. He had proven hot headed years ago, and it seemed like he had learned nothing since. "It is true, King Widukind. I was with Jarl Horrik at the time. My first raid," I confessed and I could feel the tension stirring at that. People traded looks and frowns while grumbling filled the air. People weren't angry, I was relieved to see. They were just confused. "I came across his home to find the door barricade. I knocked it down, and tried to get them to flee but I didn't know the language at the time. This man attacked me -- rightly so, for I was attacking his home, which caused his father and brother to attack."
"You murdered them," the man spat at me, hate shining in his eyes. Veins bulged in his neck, his entire body trembling with rage. Not anger. Rage. I had felt it's like twice before now. Enough to recognize it in another. I didnt know his name but the man before me hated me. He hated me as much as I hated Thorfinn and Horrik. "You came into our home in the dead of night and you murdered my family! I demand justice!"
"Silence!" King Widukind snapped at him, going red in the face. "Seigfried, continue."
"There is not much else to say, King Widukind. It was no murder. I slew his father and brother -- that much is true. I was weak then. I had little hope of sparing three opponents that wanted to kill me. After they were dead, I gestured for the rest to flee again and they did. I never saw them again until he tried to assassinate me," I concluded. As I spoke, people were coming around to my side of the story.
It wasn't murder. Some were clearly unhappy that I had participated in a raid against Saxony at all, but that issue carried little weight considering Saxons raided Saxons. Just as Danes raided Danes. But, even those that were unhappy couldn't claim that what I did was murder. It was a raid. Had they struck me down, it wouldn't have been a murder either.
"You -- your name. Speak it and your side of the story. I shall give verdict on this accusation," King Widukind stated, looking at the man with an even gaze.
"Alef, My King. My name is Alef. I was the son of Stefan the Lucky -- a merchant I'm sure you've all met, my lords." That name got a stirring of recognition. "And he speaks lies, my King! He broke down the door, ignoring our warnings that we would strike him down if he entered. Once he was inside he growled a challenge to us, gesturing to himself. I took him up on it! He bested me, but my father and brother rushed to my aid and he killed them for it." Calling him a liar was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the words.
He didn't understand Norse and I hadn't understood Germanic. All he had to go off of were the gestures -- had I gestured to myself? I don't think so. I recalled gesturing to the door… but… at the same time, could I expect them to think clearly when there was a raid and I broke down their door? I wasn't entirely certain that I could. Meaning that Alef might not have been lying so much as he was mistaken.
"He allowed us to live. He spoke the truth in that, but it was a cruelty. My sister… her husband was killed during the raid, and her babe died of sickness not long after. My sister… her heart broke, my lords. She walked into a lake in her grief. I provided for my mother the best I could, but the war made it impossible. Her body is weakened… and I fear she too is not long for this world. All of this happened because of him. My father is dead. My brother, dead. My sister and nephew, all dead. Because of him." The hate that was in his voice was something that resonated with me.
My lips thinned and I had to fight to not look away from his gaze. Shame. I felt it, but I had no reason to. I was within my rights. I didn't intend for them to die. I offered what mercy that I could. It wasn't my fault. I knew that. Yet, I still felt shamed by his words.
Because I imagine Horrik and Thorfinn thought much the same. And I didn't at all care to have my own thoughts about them directed at me.
"I understand your grief, Alef. Your father was a good man. One with many friends," King Widukind stated, his gaze flickering to me as he said the words. Meaning that I made enemies by killing him. "But your accusations of murder ring false. This was no murder. The deaths of your sister and nephew… It is regrettable, but it was the will of the gods." King Widukind decreed, earning a series of nods all around. The people agreed with the decision. "Siegfried was thirteen when he underwent his first raid. It is not he who is at fault but Jarl Horrik for the deaths of your father and brother."
I could see that Alef disagreed venomously with the verdict. His face peeled back into a snarl, trembling, but he kept himself in check. Perhaps he wasn't as hot headed as I thought he was. I… if Horrik or Thorfinn were in front of me, just passing me by… would I have acted any differently?
"Now, it is you that have broken our laws, Alef. You attacked Siegfried with the intent to kill. The charges were not levied against him before the attack, nor did you issue a challenge. This, Alef… was an attempt of murder," King Widukind stated in no uncertain terms, and the words got a visible reaction from the Jarls. Their expressions tightened, one outright sputtering in denial. That made me uneasy because King Widukind was right. It was an attempt of murder, one with several dozen witnesses. I'm not sure what there was to be shocked about.
It was Jarl Aldmund, the Jarl that I would soon be fighting with in Holland, that spoke, "My King, surely that is… excessive?" He voiced, not looking at me in favor of fixing his gaze on his King. Pointedly ignoring me. Thankfully, King Widukind had the same reaction I did -- his eyebrows climbing high as he understood the statement.
"Excessive?" King Widukind stressed the word, demanding an explanation.
"If Wolf-Kissed was an ordinary man, I'd say it would be a fair judgment, My King. He's young -- that is certain, but his deeds speak for themselves. He's a Raven-Feeder. Wolf-Kissed, do you even know how many men you have killed?" He asked me, stroking a graying beard.
I frowned at him, "I don't." I admitted, having long since lost count. I had guesses. "It is likely less than a thousand. I think," I added lamely, and that got a far greater reaction from the Jarls. The admission earned a ripple of alarm through the Saxons and Jarl Aldmund's face pinched. Almost as if he regretted speaking. Or that I proved his point.
"If he were a normal man, then this would be an attempt of murder. But he clearly is not. Alef… Alef is a single man. How could he have hoped to kill the Wolf-Kissed? I'd say that challenging him with anything less than a dozen men can't be considered an attempt on his life because it's clearly a form of suicide," he continued.
There was a rippling of agreement and another Jarl spoke up, Jarl Hrypa. The Jarl that had been fiercely arguing with Jarl Aldmund not an hour before. "He makes a point, King Widukind. The laws of men are for men. Wolf-Kissed is more than just a man. Even if Alef had challenged Wolf-Kissed to a duel, what would have been the result? A single man against one that has carved his way through armies? Can that really be called justice?" He asked, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.
What was happening right now?
"You're claiming that people should be free to attack me? As if I were a Skalgamore?" I questioned, a sharp edge in my tone that made Jarl Hrypa wince.
"I mean no offense, Wolf-Kissed. And no, they should not be free to. Nor should you be expected to not defend yourself or your property. What I mean is… you are more than a man. Some are calling you a god and I'm not entirely certain that they are wrong. It would be foolish to apply our laws to you because they were made with the idea that men would be fighting men. Not men fighting a god." He did sound apologetic, but that did little to quell my annoyance.
"I'm no god," I stated firmly, and loudly.
"You're more of a god than any of us," Jarl Hrypa returned.
"Enough," King Widukind interjected before an argument began. His gaze swept across everyone in the clearing, all who were watching the trial progress. Some were voicing agreement with what Jarl Hrypa said. And… I saw the argument, annoyingly enough. I was confident that I could kill any man in a duel. I could see how I could abuse that fact to make myself just.
My gaze flickered to Grimar, who was listening quietly. I had tried the very same thing with him. Hurling terrible insults at him to provoke him into a duel so I could kill him without becoming a murderer.
"This is not the time for this discussion. Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed committed no murder. As the victim in this attack, I call upon Siegfried to voice what he believes to be a fair punishment," King Widukind spoke, sending another look at me. I knew what he wanted.
But what he wanted made it… perhaps not justified, but not strictly illegal to attack me like Alef did. And that seemed like a very dangerous road to tread. I would effectively become an outlaw to society without actually being banished, simply because I was so much stronger than everyone else. I hadn't anticipated that.
I looked to Alef and saw him glaring at me with eyes full of hate. He would come for me. Success wouldn't matter. He would come for me. Simply because he couldn't stop himself from doing anything less. I was innocent in the eyes of the law and nobility, but I could see it that he held me responsible. He believed me to be guilty. Even if the blame really resided on his shoulders for attacking in the first place.
Mercy would be wasted on him.
This wasn't like it was with that girl in Cologne or in Worms. They had the willingness to fight, but they lacked the means to -- attacking me with a wood log or bare hands while others, those that should have been fighting, cowered. I respected that. Alef had the means to fight me. He challenged me without fear. He had my respect for that and a warrior's death should be delivered to him.
That was my opinion but I could feel King Widukind's gaze boring a hole into the side of my head. "No harm was done to me, so the punishment should be light. Next time you face me, issue a challenge like a man instead of trying to stab me in the back," I told him, making Alef's eyes narrowed into slits, a muscle spasming in his jaw before he offered a curt nod.
That wasn't going to be the end of it, but I found myself uncaring. My gaze slid to Halfdan, my brother… and the entire trial fell to the back of my mind.
"That looked like a real mess. Come on, little brother. I think we should talk."
…
We relocated to my tent, one that had been given to me. It was located in the mercenary portion of the camp, on the fringe. It was a large one, a clear mark of status according to Thorkell, but I hardly used it. I spent most of my time out with groups working the land and hardly more than a day in camp.
"I-" I started, looking at Halfdan as we entered, but as soon as the tent flap had closed, he swept me up in a hug, squeezing hard enough that I thought I might bust a rib.
"You look well, Seig. Hardly recognized you when I first saw ya'. And look at you, talking with kings and Jarls," Halfdan said with a laugh and tension flowed out of me as I embraced my brother. "When word traveled about you, I wasn't sure if it was you or not. You should hear about some of the things people are saying about you."
"I have," I admitted, breaking the embrace with reluctance. "Is that how you found me? I-" I started, my throat clogging up with emotion that I tried to swallow down. "What- Is everyone okay?" Questions tumbled across my tongue, all of them trying to leap off at once, but I chose the most important one.
Halfdan met my gaze for a moment, the easy smile falling and a sigh escaped him. My heart leapt to my throat, but he spoke. "Everyone is fine, Seig. We were more worried about you," he admitted and a sigh of relief escaped me. "Your Witch, Morrigan, told us about the attack on your farmstead about two or three weeks after the army left. Given the raid prior, it was pretty clear that our family was being targeted. Mother decided that it would be best to go into hiding -- said that the whole plan that the enemy had hinged on the fact that you and our father wouldn't be covering themselves in glory."
That mirrored my own thoughts. If I was a normal man, without the deeds that I had performed, then I would have been disgraced by the destruction of the farm. Possibly ruined by it. It would have been enough for Horrik to break the engagement. Maybe even take the land back because I couldn't protect my property.
"Brandr… he stayed behind," I voiced, earning a nod from Halfdan as he led me to a chair to sit down in. He sat heavily in the one next to me. If it wasn't for the lack of red hair, I would have said that he looked like father in that moment.
"Aye. Abandoning the farm would have been worse than it being destroyed, he said. Would have disgraced us as cowards when Jarl Horrik came back. So, he chose to stay behind. The rest of us fled down to Hedeby since we figured that we might catch the army there, and there were so many people there, it would be easy to blend in. Things were going well -- ended up finding Haldur there and told him what was going on. Ha -- he was green with envy when he heard about you." Halfdan chuckled with a shake of his head.
I wasn't surprised, to be honest. After I gained the farmstead and the betrothal to Jill, Haldur left the family to seek his own fortune. We used to be close, I reflected. But when I started to win the spars against my brothers, Haldur started to drift away. Even before my first raid and all this started, I don't think Haldur and I had held a conversation lasting more than five sentences in years.
"When we returned to Alabu, I was poisoned," I started, answering an unspoken question. How did our father and brothers die? "But before that, we were being targeted. Kirk… he was murdered on the battlefield. His throat slit from behind early into the war," I told him and Halfdan cursed. "But when we returned to Alabu, Thorfinn and Horrik realized that they were out of time. I would soon learn about my farm and Brandr could have told us everything that happened while we were away. I didn't see it myself, but after I collapsed, my warband got me to safety while Father and Havi died confronting Horrik and Thorfinn. They sent the same band that attacked my farm to the family farm, killing Brandr there."
"So it was Horrik," Halfdan muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"I don't know how much of the plan he was actively involved in," I admitted after a moment. "I think, at first, Thorfinn was acting alone. I think he just wanted our farmland, but… I ended up becoming a threat to him. Horrik must have learned about what Thorfinn was doing at some point. Maybe after Kirk's murder because he had been so angry with Thorfinn then. But instead of confessing to what Thorfinn did, he covered it up and sought to put me against King Sigfred."
Halfdan grunted, "It sounds like you hate him more than Thorfinn."
I did. "I trusted Horrik," I admitted. I looked up to him, even. "I didn't trust Thorfinn."
"Aye, makes sense to me. That all lines up with what I know," Halfdan remarked. "After we heard about Alabu, your mother said that she felt Brandr's spirit leave Midgard. We were torn on what to do, but with a civil war on the horizon, we decided that we had to leave Denmark. We decided to head to Norway, where my mother's family was in hopes that we could find kin there. We were lucky and her parents were still alive and they took us in," Halfdan explained and I let the news wash over me.
Norway. What was left of my family was in Norway. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," I told him, regret dripping from my words. "I- there was no trace where you went. I thought that it would be easier for you to find me," I confessed.
"It was," Halfdan admitted, thumping me in the shoulder. "We settled in Norway. Wasn't really easy at the start. We wanted to lay low and avoid any settlements, but that ended up convincing some that we were outlaws. If it wasn't for Mother, we wouldn't have made it," he confessed. Ida, my father's concubine. "We ended up getting taken to Jarl Hoffer Hofferson and luckily enough, he hates Horrik as much as we do."
"Things are going well?" I asked, not sure if I dared to be hopeful.
"Very well," Halfdan admitted, and my stomach clenched.
Halfdan just lied to me.
"Sisters got married. Both of them," Halfdan stated, and that was true. "Helga is obnoxiously in love. I'm glad for the journey here because if I had to hear the words 'my husband' again, I was going to deafen myself. Solveig married the nephew of Jarl Hoffer and their first baby is on the way." My second nephew or niece. "They seem to get on fine enough. He treats her well." That seemed to be true.
I swallowed thickly, "And the others?" I questioned, making Halfdan scratch at his cheek.
"My mother is doing well. Things were awkward with her parents -- my grandparents -- because they didn't care for us one bit at the start. Things are easier now. They're happy that she was happy. Mother had been taken when she was your age. They feared the worst," Halfdan admitted. Was it the circumstances that he lied about? Were things good, just not very good? "They welcomed me into the family. Helga too. Mother is happier than I've ever seen. She never admitted it, but I knew she missed her home. Oh -- and we have some uncles and cousins, by the way." Halfdan added, sending me a smirk.
"And Mother?" I asked, asking for my mother.
"Misses you something fierce," Halfdan reassured. "I think she was the only one that wasn't surprised to hear what you had been getting up to. Haldur is fine too -- he found some work with Jarl Hoffer. He's turned out to be a pretty solid warrior. Favors a dane-axe now that he has the build for it." They were okay. The worry and concern that gripped my heart in an iron vice unclenched, allowing me to breathe a little easier. Mother was okay.
"How did she… is she okay?" I questioned, and I saw that Halfdan understood the question. I wasn't speaking of physical maladies. Our family had lost much. Too much. I used to have near three times as many brothers as I did sisters, and now I have two brothers and two sisters. Mother had lost much.
"... She wasn't," Halfdan confessed after a long minute. "She was grief stricken. We all were, but… she had it the worst. We had to keep an eye on her at all times, Seig, because we were afraid that she'd walk into the forest." My hands curled into fists. "I don't think she said a word since we learned about Alabu. She cried a lot… but, around Yule -- I don't know. She said that you visited her in a dream and all of a sudden, she was back to her old self. Almost."
My breath got caught in my throat. The gods. The gods heard my prayer. "I have to sacrifice something," I breathed. Something that would convey my thanks. Halfdan looked surprised, cocking an eyebrow, and I told him the truth. "I made an offering to the gods during Yule. To tell you all that I am fine and what I planned. The gods must have carried my words to my mother in her dream." That is what I wished for when I threw my carvings into the flame.
Halfdan pursed her lips, "So… you intend to become king of Denmark?" He questioned, proving that my message had been delivered.
"I do," I admitted. "It's everything that Horrik wanted. It's what he's worked for his entire life toward. I want him to have it, Halfdan. That's the only way I can take it from him." I explained, anger leaking into my words as my hands clenched into right fists. "That's why I didn't attack him immediately. Or join with King Godfrey."
"Huh. That's what your mother said," Halfdan seemed surprised, as if he had doubted the message from the gods. "I… I'd rather it be done with and pay the blood back with blood, but… I see it. You've made a name for yourself, little brother. We heard tales of you as far as Norway. I bet Horrik is shitting himself as we speak," Halfdan chuckled.
I hoped so. Let him live in fear of the day that I would come for him.
"Your mother sent me here to deliver a message about it," Halfdan said, catching my attention. "She says that you should do what you think you must and that we will be waiting in Norway making our own preparations for the day you return. Solveig… and Helga… they were married to secure ties in Norway. And, well, I'm to be wed soon enough for the same end." Halfdan told me, surprising me.
"... Congratulations?" I tried, because Halfdan didn't sound particularly happy about it.
"Eh, she's a fine enough woman. Her name is Sevig. I met her once and we seemed to get on well enough," Halfdan shrugged, dismissing his lack of excitement. "Just figured that getting married off was for women. Her clan is a large and wealthy one, so it will bring warriors to our banner."
Mother was making alliances. Part of me had been afraid, I realized. Terrified. Terrified that Halfdan would be here to deliver terrible news about the fate of my family. That they hated me for not finding them. For not striking down Horrik the moment that I could. Instead, they were fine. And they were helping me. Mother was finding allies in Norway that would aid me in my quest to take the crown of Denmark. The relief that I felt was more than words could hope to describe.
I didn't feel alone anymore.
"Haldur is up next," Halfdan continued, missing my relief. "I think he's going to fight it tooth and nail. He already has a girl that he's sweet on, but she's a thrall. Arne is a little too young to be betrothed to anyone, but your mother is already looking for matches. If she wasn't past the age for it, I think she'd be looking for another husband herself."
I didn't even want to think of that. "Arne? Is he well? Asta?" I questioned and that's when Halfdan looked away. I swallowed a lump in my throat. "What happened?"
Halfdan looked like he didn't want to answer. "Arne is fine, but Asta… Asta hated it in Norway. It's a harsh land, brother. I won't lie about that. She was distraught when she learned Brandr died, and she wanted to go back home with her own kin. Asta only agreed to come with us because of Arne. But… I don't know. She got it in her head that because we hadn't seen anyone looking for us, it meant that they weren't looking. She tried to take Arne with her back to Denmark… but… Seig, she knew where we were."
The lump returned. "She's dead?" I asked, not sure what I felt. I liked Asta. She was kind. Far too good for Brandr. And I knew how he loved her.
Halfdan offered a slow nod. "It was an accident," Halfdan confessed, sounding as sad about it as I felt. "She stole Arne in the dead of night and tried to sneak onboard a ship. We had been arguing with her that we couldn't risk her going back, and I guess she felt like she had to sneak away. I-"
"Halfdan," I interrupted, looking at him. "What really happened?" I asked him directly because… because Tell-Spotter triggered. Even if it didn't, I knew my brother. I knew that he couldn't look you in the eyes when he told a lie.
Halfdan started to protest, but he fell silent the moment that he met my gaze. Shame filled his expression as he looked away. "We… killed her," he confessed. My heart went still. "We almost got caught once. In Norway. It was- I-... It was just me and Asta in the forest when they came. It wasn't long after we arrived in Norway. Asta broke her leg from a long fall, and she was almost captured. She thought that they were going to kill her, so… so she gave us up. I killed her before she could," Halfdan confessed, looking away from me and we fell into a long silence.
I decided to not ask what they were doing alone in the forest.
"You did what you had to do to protect the family, Halfdan. It couldn't have been easy, and I'm sorry that you had to do it, but you protected the family." I echoed the words that mother told me when I killed my first me. The words helped me. I saw that they helped Halfdan less.
A sigh escaped him, "I know." Then he looked at me, "Are you alright, little brother? We had each other. You had to go through this alone." There was concern in his voice as he glanced at me, suddenly looking a great deal more tired.
Was I? "I'm fine," I decided, not entirely certain if the words were a lie. "I'll be better when the blood debt is settled," I added, believing that to be true. "Right now, my focus is on the war. As important as vengeance is… King Charlemagne must be stopped."
"Hm. Heard about that," Halfdan said, and from the sound of it, he didn't care for the war. "I wish I could fight with you, Seig. But our family needs me," he said, and I felt a rush of burning shame run through me. "I have to be there because you can't be, Seig. That's not your fault. I trust you and the gods that this is where you're supposed to be." He reassured me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close.
If he asked me… I would have gone with him back home.
"I can still help," I decided. I would still help. "When must you return?" I questioned, earning a shrug.
"I'm not on a deadline, but the sooner the better would be true in this case. I trust Haldur to take care of things, but he's restless. And I'm to be married when I return. I don't want to give them too much time to reconsider," Halfdan remarked, trying to lift my spirits.
"I'm going to be fighting in Holland shortly -- it is near the coast. Come with me, and I can provide you with some ships and men. And gold. I have a hoard that I was forced to bury in Francia. I can use the opportunity to dig some of it up and send it with you," I decided. Halfdan just smiled, not surprised by the offer. I… got the impression that he was going to ask and he was glad that he didn't have to. Because… it didn't really make sense, did it?
That Halfdan would come all this way to just deliver news?
"I'll never say no to free gold," Halfdan returned. "And… ah… well, you may… want to pack some away. For a bride price." He wanted me to pay for his bride price? That was… a little shameful, to be honest, but I was happy to do it. Haldur's too. Or the dowries for my sister's, if I still could. "Your bride price."
I blinked, "I'm getting married?" I questioned, caught a little flat footed.
"It was mentioned just before I set sail. Enough stories have reached us to make it clear you're a great warrior. When the rest of the tales make their way to Norway, I imagine that Jarl Hoffer will be willing to pay you to marry his daughter." Halfdan explained, rubbing his neck. "Your mother has been angling for it. Jarl Hoffer is a well respected Jarl in Norway, just far to the north." I would need to speak to Thorkell since he knew Norway far better than I did."
"Do you know her name?" I asked him, mulling over the idea. I…
"Astrid. Astrid Hoffersdotter," Halfdan answered.
I took in a breath, and let it out. I was currently unwed and at fourteen, I needed to start looking for a match. Well, I would be back on the farm. No one wanted to be in their twenties and not married. I didn't really know how I felt about the idea of being promised to someone that I had never met, but… my feelings didn't really play any part of it.
I nodded. "If Mother thinks it best," I decided.
I couldn't be there for them but no matter what, I would protect my family.
...
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I don't think it was entirely my fault that I hadn't been able to recognize him. He looked very different after… nearly two years. He was older, for one. His hair was shaggy and unkempt, his clothing was ragged and cheap instead of the fine stitching that I saw on him and his family before. It was clear that he had fallen on hard times, and I recalled seeing what was left of the village when we sailed upstream to join the war. It had been left to ruin.
"Is this true, Seigfried?" King Widukind looked at me, his lips pressed together in a thin line, also feeling how thick the tension became between myself and the Jarls. There was almost a pleading look in his eyes, trying to convey a silent message.
'Lie.' That's what his eyes told me.
I looked down at the young man -- who was now a man fully grown. It was hard to think of him like that. He had proven hot headed years ago, and it seemed like he had learned nothing since. "It is true, King Widukind. I was with Jarl Horrik at the time. My first raid," I confessed and I could feel the tension stirring at that. People traded looks and frowns while grumbling filled the air. People weren't angry, I was relieved to see. They were just confused. "I came across his home to find the door barricade. I knocked it down, and tried to get them to flee but I didn't know the language at the time. This man attacked me -- rightly so, for I was attacking his home, which caused his father and brother to attack."
"You murdered them," the man spat at me, hate shining in his eyes. Veins bulged in his neck, his entire body trembling with rage. Not anger. Rage. I had felt it's like twice before now. Enough to recognize it in another. I didnt know his name but the man before me hated me. He hated me as much as I hated Thorfinn and Horrik. "You came into our home in the dead of night and you murdered my family! I demand justice!"
"Silence!" King Widukind snapped at him, going red in the face. "Seigfried, continue."
"There is not much else to say, King Widukind. It was no murder. I slew his father and brother -- that much is true. I was weak then. I had little hope of sparing three opponents that wanted to kill me. After they were dead, I gestured for the rest to flee again and they did. I never saw them again until he tried to assassinate me," I concluded. As I spoke, people were coming around to my side of the story.
It wasn't murder. Some were clearly unhappy that I had participated in a raid against Saxony at all, but that issue carried little weight considering Saxons raided Saxons. Just as Danes raided Danes. But, even those that were unhappy couldn't claim that what I did was murder. It was a raid. Had they struck me down, it wouldn't have been a murder either.
"You -- your name. Speak it and your side of the story. I shall give verdict on this accusation," King Widukind stated, looking at the man with an even gaze.
"Alef, My King. My name is Alef. I was the son of Stefan the Lucky -- a merchant I'm sure you've all met, my lords." That name got a stirring of recognition. "And he speaks lies, my King! He broke down the door, ignoring our warnings that we would strike him down if he entered. Once he was inside he growled a challenge to us, gesturing to himself. I took him up on it! He bested me, but my father and brother rushed to my aid and he killed them for it." Calling him a liar was on the tip of my tongue, but I swallowed the words.
He didn't understand Norse and I hadn't understood Germanic. All he had to go off of were the gestures -- had I gestured to myself? I don't think so. I recalled gesturing to the door… but… at the same time, could I expect them to think clearly when there was a raid and I broke down their door? I wasn't entirely certain that I could. Meaning that Alef might not have been lying so much as he was mistaken.
"He allowed us to live. He spoke the truth in that, but it was a cruelty. My sister… her husband was killed during the raid, and her babe died of sickness not long after. My sister… her heart broke, my lords. She walked into a lake in her grief. I provided for my mother the best I could, but the war made it impossible. Her body is weakened… and I fear she too is not long for this world. All of this happened because of him. My father is dead. My brother, dead. My sister and nephew, all dead. Because of him." The hate that was in his voice was something that resonated with me.
My lips thinned and I had to fight to not look away from his gaze. Shame. I felt it, but I had no reason to. I was within my rights. I didn't intend for them to die. I offered what mercy that I could. It wasn't my fault. I knew that. Yet, I still felt shamed by his words.
Because I imagine Horrik and Thorfinn thought much the same. And I didn't at all care to have my own thoughts about them directed at me.
"I understand your grief, Alef. Your father was a good man. One with many friends," King Widukind stated, his gaze flickering to me as he said the words. Meaning that I made enemies by killing him. "But your accusations of murder ring false. This was no murder. The deaths of your sister and nephew… It is regrettable, but it was the will of the gods." King Widukind decreed, earning a series of nods all around. The people agreed with the decision. "Siegfried was thirteen when he underwent his first raid. It is not he who is at fault but Jarl Horrik for the deaths of your father and brother."
I could see that Alef disagreed venomously with the verdict. His face peeled back into a snarl, trembling, but he kept himself in check. Perhaps he wasn't as hot headed as I thought he was. I… if Horrik or Thorfinn were in front of me, just passing me by… would I have acted any differently?
"Now, it is you that have broken our laws, Alef. You attacked Siegfried with the intent to kill. The charges were not levied against him before the attack, nor did you issue a challenge. This, Alef… was an attempt of murder," King Widukind stated in no uncertain terms, and the words got a visible reaction from the Jarls. Their expressions tightened, one outright sputtering in denial. That made me uneasy because King Widukind was right. It was an attempt of murder, one with several dozen witnesses. I'm not sure what there was to be shocked about.
It was Jarl Aldmund, the Jarl that I would soon be fighting with in Holland, that spoke, "My King, surely that is… excessive?" He voiced, not looking at me in favor of fixing his gaze on his King. Pointedly ignoring me. Thankfully, King Widukind had the same reaction I did -- his eyebrows climbing high as he understood the statement.
"Excessive?" King Widukind stressed the word, demanding an explanation.
"If Wolf-Kissed was an ordinary man, I'd say it would be a fair judgment, My King. He's young -- that is certain, but his deeds speak for themselves. He's a Raven-Feeder. Wolf-Kissed, do you even know how many men you have killed?" He asked me, stroking a graying beard.
I frowned at him, "I don't." I admitted, having long since lost count. I had guesses. "It is likely less than a thousand. I think," I added lamely, and that got a far greater reaction from the Jarls. The admission earned a ripple of alarm through the Saxons and Jarl Aldmund's face pinched. Almost as if he regretted speaking. Or that I proved his point.
"If he were a normal man, then this would be an attempt of murder. But he clearly is not. Alef… Alef is a single man. How could he have hoped to kill the Wolf-Kissed? I'd say that challenging him with anything less than a dozen men can't be considered an attempt on his life because it's clearly a form of suicide," he continued.
There was a rippling of agreement and another Jarl spoke up, Jarl Hrypa. The Jarl that had been fiercely arguing with Jarl Aldmund not an hour before. "He makes a point, King Widukind. The laws of men are for men. Wolf-Kissed is more than just a man. Even if Alef had challenged Wolf-Kissed to a duel, what would have been the result? A single man against one that has carved his way through armies? Can that really be called justice?" He asked, crossing his thick arms over his broad chest.
What was happening right now?
"You're claiming that people should be free to attack me? As if I were a Skalgamore?" I questioned, a sharp edge in my tone that made Jarl Hrypa wince.
"I mean no offense, Wolf-Kissed. And no, they should not be free to. Nor should you be expected to not defend yourself or your property. What I mean is… you are more than a man. Some are calling you a god and I'm not entirely certain that they are wrong. It would be foolish to apply our laws to you because they were made with the idea that men would be fighting men. Not men fighting a god." He did sound apologetic, but that did little to quell my annoyance.
"I'm no god," I stated firmly, and loudly.
"You're more of a god than any of us," Jarl Hrypa returned.
"Enough," King Widukind interjected before an argument began. His gaze swept across everyone in the clearing, all who were watching the trial progress. Some were voicing agreement with what Jarl Hrypa said. And… I saw the argument, annoyingly enough. I was confident that I could kill any man in a duel. I could see how I could abuse that fact to make myself just.
My gaze flickered to Grimar, who was listening quietly. I had tried the very same thing with him. Hurling terrible insults at him to provoke him into a duel so I could kill him without becoming a murderer.
"This is not the time for this discussion. Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed committed no murder. As the victim in this attack, I call upon Siegfried to voice what he believes to be a fair punishment," King Widukind spoke, sending another look at me. I knew what he wanted.
But what he wanted made it… perhaps not justified, but not strictly illegal to attack me like Alef did. And that seemed like a very dangerous road to tread. I would effectively become an outlaw to society without actually being banished, simply because I was so much stronger than everyone else. I hadn't anticipated that.
I looked to Alef and saw him glaring at me with eyes full of hate. He would come for me. Success wouldn't matter. He would come for me. Simply because he couldn't stop himself from doing anything less. I was innocent in the eyes of the law and nobility, but I could see it that he held me responsible. He believed me to be guilty. Even if the blame really resided on his shoulders for attacking in the first place.
Mercy would be wasted on him.
This wasn't like it was with that girl in Cologne or in Worms. They had the willingness to fight, but they lacked the means to -- attacking me with a wood log or bare hands while others, those that should have been fighting, cowered. I respected that. Alef had the means to fight me. He challenged me without fear. He had my respect for that and a warrior's death should be delivered to him.
That was my opinion but I could feel King Widukind's gaze boring a hole into the side of my head. "No harm was done to me, so the punishment should be light. Next time you face me, issue a challenge like a man instead of trying to stab me in the back," I told him, making Alef's eyes narrowed into slits, a muscle spasming in his jaw before he offered a curt nod.
That wasn't going to be the end of it, but I found myself uncaring. My gaze slid to Halfdan, my brother… and the entire trial fell to the back of my mind.
"That looked like a real mess. Come on, little brother. I think we should talk."
…
We relocated to my tent, one that had been given to me. It was located in the mercenary portion of the camp, on the fringe. It was a large one, a clear mark of status according to Thorkell, but I hardly used it. I spent most of my time out with groups working the land and hardly more than a day in camp.
"I-" I started, looking at Halfdan as we entered, but as soon as the tent flap had closed, he swept me up in a hug, squeezing hard enough that I thought I might bust a rib.
"You look well, Seig. Hardly recognized you when I first saw ya'. And look at you, talking with kings and Jarls," Halfdan said with a laugh and tension flowed out of me as I embraced my brother. "When word traveled about you, I wasn't sure if it was you or not. You should hear about some of the things people are saying about you."
"I have," I admitted, breaking the embrace with reluctance. "Is that how you found me? I-" I started, my throat clogging up with emotion that I tried to swallow down. "What- Is everyone okay?" Questions tumbled across my tongue, all of them trying to leap off at once, but I chose the most important one.
Halfdan met my gaze for a moment, the easy smile falling and a sigh escaped him. My heart leapt to my throat, but he spoke. "Everyone is fine, Seig. We were more worried about you," he admitted and a sigh of relief escaped me. "Your Witch, Morrigan, told us about the attack on your farmstead about two or three weeks after the army left. Given the raid prior, it was pretty clear that our family was being targeted. Mother decided that it would be best to go into hiding -- said that the whole plan that the enemy had hinged on the fact that you and our father wouldn't be covering themselves in glory."
That mirrored my own thoughts. If I was a normal man, without the deeds that I had performed, then I would have been disgraced by the destruction of the farm. Possibly ruined by it. It would have been enough for Horrik to break the engagement. Maybe even take the land back because I couldn't protect my property.
"Brandr… he stayed behind," I voiced, earning a nod from Halfdan as he led me to a chair to sit down in. He sat heavily in the one next to me. If it wasn't for the lack of red hair, I would have said that he looked like father in that moment.
"Aye. Abandoning the farm would have been worse than it being destroyed, he said. Would have disgraced us as cowards when Jarl Horrik came back. So, he chose to stay behind. The rest of us fled down to Hedeby since we figured that we might catch the army there, and there were so many people there, it would be easy to blend in. Things were going well -- ended up finding Haldur there and told him what was going on. Ha -- he was green with envy when he heard about you." Halfdan chuckled with a shake of his head.
I wasn't surprised, to be honest. After I gained the farmstead and the betrothal to Jill, Haldur left the family to seek his own fortune. We used to be close, I reflected. But when I started to win the spars against my brothers, Haldur started to drift away. Even before my first raid and all this started, I don't think Haldur and I had held a conversation lasting more than five sentences in years.
"When we returned to Alabu, I was poisoned," I started, answering an unspoken question. How did our father and brothers die? "But before that, we were being targeted. Kirk… he was murdered on the battlefield. His throat slit from behind early into the war," I told him and Halfdan cursed. "But when we returned to Alabu, Thorfinn and Horrik realized that they were out of time. I would soon learn about my farm and Brandr could have told us everything that happened while we were away. I didn't see it myself, but after I collapsed, my warband got me to safety while Father and Havi died confronting Horrik and Thorfinn. They sent the same band that attacked my farm to the family farm, killing Brandr there."
"So it was Horrik," Halfdan muttered, his lips pressed into a thin line.
"I don't know how much of the plan he was actively involved in," I admitted after a moment. "I think, at first, Thorfinn was acting alone. I think he just wanted our farmland, but… I ended up becoming a threat to him. Horrik must have learned about what Thorfinn was doing at some point. Maybe after Kirk's murder because he had been so angry with Thorfinn then. But instead of confessing to what Thorfinn did, he covered it up and sought to put me against King Sigfred."
Halfdan grunted, "It sounds like you hate him more than Thorfinn."
I did. "I trusted Horrik," I admitted. I looked up to him, even. "I didn't trust Thorfinn."
"Aye, makes sense to me. That all lines up with what I know," Halfdan remarked. "After we heard about Alabu, your mother said that she felt Brandr's spirit leave Midgard. We were torn on what to do, but with a civil war on the horizon, we decided that we had to leave Denmark. We decided to head to Norway, where my mother's family was in hopes that we could find kin there. We were lucky and her parents were still alive and they took us in," Halfdan explained and I let the news wash over me.
Norway. What was left of my family was in Norway. "I'm sorry I wasn't there," I told him, regret dripping from my words. "I- there was no trace where you went. I thought that it would be easier for you to find me," I confessed.
"It was," Halfdan admitted, thumping me in the shoulder. "We settled in Norway. Wasn't really easy at the start. We wanted to lay low and avoid any settlements, but that ended up convincing some that we were outlaws. If it wasn't for Mother, we wouldn't have made it," he confessed. Ida, my father's concubine. "We ended up getting taken to Jarl Hoffer Hofferson and luckily enough, he hates Horrik as much as we do."
"Things are going well?" I asked, not sure if I dared to be hopeful.
"Very well," Halfdan admitted, and my stomach clenched.
Halfdan just lied to me.
"Sisters got married. Both of them," Halfdan stated, and that was true. "Helga is obnoxiously in love. I'm glad for the journey here because if I had to hear the words 'my husband' again, I was going to deafen myself. Solveig married the nephew of Jarl Hoffer and their first baby is on the way." My second nephew or niece. "They seem to get on fine enough. He treats her well." That seemed to be true.
I swallowed thickly, "And the others?" I questioned, making Halfdan scratch at his cheek.
"My mother is doing well. Things were awkward with her parents -- my grandparents -- because they didn't care for us one bit at the start. Things are easier now. They're happy that she was happy. Mother had been taken when she was your age. They feared the worst," Halfdan admitted. Was it the circumstances that he lied about? Were things good, just not very good? "They welcomed me into the family. Helga too. Mother is happier than I've ever seen. She never admitted it, but I knew she missed her home. Oh -- and we have some uncles and cousins, by the way." Halfdan added, sending me a smirk.
"And Mother?" I asked, asking for my mother.
"Misses you something fierce," Halfdan reassured. "I think she was the only one that wasn't surprised to hear what you had been getting up to. Haldur is fine too -- he found some work with Jarl Hoffer. He's turned out to be a pretty solid warrior. Favors a dane-axe now that he has the build for it." They were okay. The worry and concern that gripped my heart in an iron vice unclenched, allowing me to breathe a little easier. Mother was okay.
"How did she… is she okay?" I questioned, and I saw that Halfdan understood the question. I wasn't speaking of physical maladies. Our family had lost much. Too much. I used to have near three times as many brothers as I did sisters, and now I have two brothers and two sisters. Mother had lost much.
"... She wasn't," Halfdan confessed after a long minute. "She was grief stricken. We all were, but… she had it the worst. We had to keep an eye on her at all times, Seig, because we were afraid that she'd walk into the forest." My hands curled into fists. "I don't think she said a word since we learned about Alabu. She cried a lot… but, around Yule -- I don't know. She said that you visited her in a dream and all of a sudden, she was back to her old self. Almost."
My breath got caught in my throat. The gods. The gods heard my prayer. "I have to sacrifice something," I breathed. Something that would convey my thanks. Halfdan looked surprised, cocking an eyebrow, and I told him the truth. "I made an offering to the gods during Yule. To tell you all that I am fine and what I planned. The gods must have carried my words to my mother in her dream." That is what I wished for when I threw my carvings into the flame.
Halfdan pursed her lips, "So… you intend to become king of Denmark?" He questioned, proving that my message had been delivered.
"I do," I admitted. "It's everything that Horrik wanted. It's what he's worked for his entire life toward. I want him to have it, Halfdan. That's the only way I can take it from him." I explained, anger leaking into my words as my hands clenched into right fists. "That's why I didn't attack him immediately. Or join with King Godfrey."
"Huh. That's what your mother said," Halfdan seemed surprised, as if he had doubted the message from the gods. "I… I'd rather it be done with and pay the blood back with blood, but… I see it. You've made a name for yourself, little brother. We heard tales of you as far as Norway. I bet Horrik is shitting himself as we speak," Halfdan chuckled.
I hoped so. Let him live in fear of the day that I would come for him.
"Your mother sent me here to deliver a message about it," Halfdan said, catching my attention. "She says that you should do what you think you must and that we will be waiting in Norway making our own preparations for the day you return. Solveig… and Helga… they were married to secure ties in Norway. And, well, I'm to be wed soon enough for the same end." Halfdan told me, surprising me.
"... Congratulations?" I tried, because Halfdan didn't sound particularly happy about it.
"Eh, she's a fine enough woman. Her name is Sevig. I met her once and we seemed to get on well enough," Halfdan shrugged, dismissing his lack of excitement. "Just figured that getting married off was for women. Her clan is a large and wealthy one, so it will bring warriors to our banner."
Mother was making alliances. Part of me had been afraid, I realized. Terrified. Terrified that Halfdan would be here to deliver terrible news about the fate of my family. That they hated me for not finding them. For not striking down Horrik the moment that I could. Instead, they were fine. And they were helping me. Mother was finding allies in Norway that would aid me in my quest to take the crown of Denmark. The relief that I felt was more than words could hope to describe.
I didn't feel alone anymore.
"Haldur is up next," Halfdan continued, missing my relief. "I think he's going to fight it tooth and nail. He already has a girl that he's sweet on, but she's a thrall. Arne is a little too young to be betrothed to anyone, but your mother is already looking for matches. If she wasn't past the age for it, I think she'd be looking for another husband herself."
I didn't even want to think of that. "Arne? Is he well? Asta?" I questioned and that's when Halfdan looked away. I swallowed a lump in my throat. "What happened?"
Halfdan looked like he didn't want to answer. "Arne is fine, but Asta… Asta hated it in Norway. It's a harsh land, brother. I won't lie about that. She was distraught when she learned Brandr died, and she wanted to go back home with her own kin. Asta only agreed to come with us because of Arne. But… I don't know. She got it in her head that because we hadn't seen anyone looking for us, it meant that they weren't looking. She tried to take Arne with her back to Denmark… but… Seig, she knew where we were."
The lump returned. "She's dead?" I asked, not sure what I felt. I liked Asta. She was kind. Far too good for Brandr. And I knew how he loved her.
Halfdan offered a slow nod. "It was an accident," Halfdan confessed, sounding as sad about it as I felt. "She stole Arne in the dead of night and tried to sneak onboard a ship. We had been arguing with her that we couldn't risk her going back, and I guess she felt like she had to sneak away. I-"
"Halfdan," I interrupted, looking at him. "What really happened?" I asked him directly because… because Tell-Spotter triggered. Even if it didn't, I knew my brother. I knew that he couldn't look you in the eyes when he told a lie.
Halfdan started to protest, but he fell silent the moment that he met my gaze. Shame filled his expression as he looked away. "We… killed her," he confessed. My heart went still. "We almost got caught once. In Norway. It was- I-... It was just me and Asta in the forest when they came. It wasn't long after we arrived in Norway. Asta broke her leg from a long fall, and she was almost captured. She thought that they were going to kill her, so… so she gave us up. I killed her before she could," Halfdan confessed, looking away from me and we fell into a long silence.
I decided to not ask what they were doing alone in the forest.
"You did what you had to do to protect the family, Halfdan. It couldn't have been easy, and I'm sorry that you had to do it, but you protected the family." I echoed the words that mother told me when I killed my first me. The words helped me. I saw that they helped Halfdan less.
A sigh escaped him, "I know." Then he looked at me, "Are you alright, little brother? We had each other. You had to go through this alone." There was concern in his voice as he glanced at me, suddenly looking a great deal more tired.
Was I? "I'm fine," I decided, not entirely certain if the words were a lie. "I'll be better when the blood debt is settled," I added, believing that to be true. "Right now, my focus is on the war. As important as vengeance is… King Charlemagne must be stopped."
"Hm. Heard about that," Halfdan said, and from the sound of it, he didn't care for the war. "I wish I could fight with you, Seig. But our family needs me," he said, and I felt a rush of burning shame run through me. "I have to be there because you can't be, Seig. That's not your fault. I trust you and the gods that this is where you're supposed to be." He reassured me, throwing an arm over my shoulder and pulling me close.
If he asked me… I would have gone with him back home.
"I can still help," I decided. I would still help. "When must you return?" I questioned, earning a shrug.
"I'm not on a deadline, but the sooner the better would be true in this case. I trust Haldur to take care of things, but he's restless. And I'm to be married when I return. I don't want to give them too much time to reconsider," Halfdan remarked, trying to lift my spirits.
"I'm going to be fighting in Holland shortly -- it is near the coast. Come with me, and I can provide you with some ships and men. And gold. I have a hoard that I was forced to bury in Francia. I can use the opportunity to dig some of it up and send it with you," I decided. Halfdan just smiled, not surprised by the offer. I… got the impression that he was going to ask and he was glad that he didn't have to. Because… it didn't really make sense, did it?
That Halfdan would come all this way to just deliver news?
"I'll never say no to free gold," Halfdan returned. "And… ah… well, you may… want to pack some away. For a bride price." He wanted me to pay for his bride price? That was… a little shameful, to be honest, but I was happy to do it. Haldur's too. Or the dowries for my sister's, if I still could. "Your bride price."
I blinked, "I'm getting married?" I questioned, caught a little flat footed.
"It was mentioned just before I set sail. Enough stories have reached us to make it clear you're a great warrior. When the rest of the tales make their way to Norway, I imagine that Jarl Hoffer will be willing to pay you to marry his daughter." Halfdan explained, rubbing his neck. "Your mother has been angling for it. Jarl Hoffer is a well respected Jarl in Norway, just far to the north." I would need to speak to Thorkell since he knew Norway far better than I did."
"Do you know her name?" I asked him, mulling over the idea. I…
"Astrid. Astrid Hoffersdotter," Halfdan answered.
I took in a breath, and let it out. I was currently unwed and at fourteen, I needed to start looking for a match. Well, I would be back on the farm. No one wanted to be in their twenties and not married. I didn't really know how I felt about the idea of being promised to someone that I had never met, but… my feelings didn't really play any part of it.
I nodded. "If Mother thinks it best," I decided.
I couldn't be there for them but no matter what, I would protect my family.
...
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- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
So Jill is just SOL?
Exactly what I was thinking
- Location
- Somalia
- Pronouns
- He/They
its good that he's finally looking at the things he's wrought and that they may not be the best things ever
The Jarls reactions to Siegfried are amazing.
This is both the most hilarious and badass thing I've ever read.
This is both the most hilarious and badass thing I've ever read.
Kingmaker
- Location
- USA
"He was a popular guy," Thorkell confirmed my worst suspicions as we rode toward our destination after crossing the Rhine and heading into the land of Holland. My mercenary company took point while two thousand Saxons trailed behind us. Crossing the river had been the worst part, mostly because there was no easy way to get back across if we were attacked, making us vulnerable. But we managed the crossing in about a half day.
Thorkell rode along side me, Halfdan on my left while Halstien rode behind both Jill and Morrigan. Jill held the reins to their shared horse because Morrigan didn't know how to ride, and it was obvious enough that she felt anything but at ease on top of the horse. I think it was the one time I saw her look genuinely frightened. Didn't last long, though. Mostly because she started glaring when I laughed.
"How popular is popular?" I asked, a sigh in my voice. Alef had been released after a whipping -- a mere ten lashes for an attempt of murder -- and he was telling everyone under the sun that I couldn't be trusted. That I was a vile murderer. He got more than a few smacks from it from the Saxons, but that didn't persuade him to stop. Most, nearly everyone, completely dismissed what he said out of hand. My own reputation as a warrior prevented people from believing it, and the fact that King Widukind gave the verdict that it wasn't murder didn't help his case.
Still, I noticed that I had gotten some odd looks from Saxons. It was enough to make me ask the question -- who was Stefan the Lucky?
"You won't be seeing any blood debts called over it. He didn't have any kin left -- that's how he got his nickname originally. Sickness killed his family, leaving only him to survive. Growing up, he acted as a runner and barker for merchants, and I suppose that taught him the trade because when he was barely a man, he went out with some goods. Then he became known as the Lucky, because fortune always seemed to smile on him. Whenever he would deliver food, he would arrive at a starving town that had suffered a bad harvest. Or he would bring hides when a cold snap brought winter early." Thorkell explained what he knew and I narrowed my eyes at the dirt road.
That sounded like a gift I had. I hadn't used it much, simply because I fell into the roll of a mercenary, but that sounded a great deal like Opportunity Spotter.
"Did he have something to do with those lucky occurrences?" I questioned, earning a shrug from Thorkell.
"If he did, he knew how to get away with it. His luck as a merchant was damn near reliable, though. Some based what they were buying off of what he was and where he was going. What made everyone like him, though, was the fact that he always gave a good deal. He pocketed profits, I'm sure, but everyone knew that he could have charged three times as much but he chose not to. Everyone remembers the man that doesn't charge a silver for bread when everyone else is. He saved a number of people from starving," Thorkell remarked, casting me a look.
And I had killed him.
"I tried to spare them," I muttered, finding my heart heavy. It was a sad thing that the norns chose then to end Stephan's life. Sadder still that I was the shears that cut the thread of his life. I didn't feel guilty for his death, but I did feel remorse. I wish it hadn't happened. I wished that he had listened to me. I wish that they hadn't attacked after I knocked down his hot headed son. His death was regrettable.
"I believe you, Wolf-Kissed. Most people do. As much as Alef is trying to drag your name through the mud, he's not claiming that you forced yourself on his sister or mother. And the fact that he got away… everyone knows what a warrior you are. They don't believe that he could've lived unless you let him," Thorkell offered. "But, well… a lot of people liked Stephan. Lot of people like you, though. It just leaves a bad taste in their mouths -- nothing that a victory can't wash out." I heard him and understood, nodding along but my attention drifted.
I hadn't known at the time, I reflected, my eyes drifting up to see our first true destination. A town that was located on the edge of the sea, the place where we would be meeting Ageres. My scouts were spread out ahead of us, determined to find out if it was a trap before we walked into it. I could only fall into so many before I could no longer blame my clever enemies and not accept some of the blame myself.
During that raid, I hadn't known that I was killing a good man. A generous one. I just thought it was a bit odd that his house had been on the edge of the city and noted the wealth that he possessed. I don't really remember what he looked like either. I'm guessing like Alef, but his actual face was lost to me. He wasn't the first man that I had killed, and since him, I had killed many more. Near a thousand at this point. Possibly even more.
I wonder… how many more good men had I killed in my ignorance?
Almost as if the norns could sense my thoughts, the path took us through a village. A burnt out one. It wasn't a particularly large village -- just some buildings that were built around a fork in the road. The damage didn't look that old as we passed through it, I noticed, but I also knew that there were plenty of mercenaries and bandits that roamed Francia. It might not have been us, but I would put odds on it.
My gaze drifted to a graveyard that was dug just outside the village. A good two dozen graves with rudimentary crosses marking them. My lips thinned and I forced myself to look away
"You are thinking a foolish thought right now, aren't you?" Morrigan spoke up, making me glance back at her. She sat sideways on the horse, along with Jill, because of their skirts. Morrigan was trying to hold onto Jill, but at the same time, touch her as little as possible. Her golden eyes bore into mine as if she could read my thoughts. "Being kind means nothing. What people miss are the convenient meals, not the person himself. They shall forget about him soon enough."
Halfdan snorted, then choked on a laugh when Morrigan snapped her gaze in his direction. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender -- a wise choice. "She's not wrong, little brother. People might have liked him, and he sounded like a decent enough fellow, but you're worrying about enemies that aren't there. I doubt many would have liked him enough to spill blood over. Much less against the savior of Saxony." He had a point there.
"Grimar talked to him," I pointed out, and that earned a pensive look from Halfdan. Alef was weak and flailing. He didn't have the influence or the strength to challenge me. Still, my enemies were joining forces against me and I didn't care for it. I cared for it far less now because my place within the laws of men was being called into question. It gave them room to maneuver. "I don't know about what, but Alef didn't leave the conversation happy."
"Should we have that discussion with the present company?" Halfdan asked, his gaze sliding to Jill. I half expected her to wilt under the look but she instead thrust out her chin, meeting his gaze defiantly. I wasn't sure when it happened exactly, but Jill had found her confidence. She was still shier than most, but she didn't bend to pressure. I'm guessing that was a result of exposure to Morrigan.
"I trust Jill," I stated, my tone making it clear that it wasn't up for debate. I saw Jill smile, and as if to reassure myself, blinked.
True Vision was a gift from the Gods that took some getting used to, mostly because of how it affected my senses. The world seemed to darken, as if the sun itself was extinguished. Color and detail faded away while the sounds of an army marching became muffled and distant. All of it made the things that I could see stand out that much more.
Jill was marked with a brilliant shining shade of blue. I couldn't really see her face when I used True Vision, but I could see enough detail to know that it was her. Likewise, Morrigan was marked in blue. Yet, the horse that they rode on was as gray as smoke and completely featureless.
Blue, as far as I could tell, marked someone that was an ally to me. Someone loyal. I was still learning what made someone be marked in blue, because while a fair number of my mercenaries were marked with the color, not all of them were. A fair number of them were marked with gray, the same shade of the horse. Likewise, I saw people that I never met before marked in blue -- the same shade that Jill and Morrigan were. What the color blue meant, I was still uncertain, but it undoubtedly meant good things -- Jill and Morrigan were marked with the color, and so were Thorkell and Halstien. All people that I trusted.
My gaze flickered to Halfdan, seeing him nodding. He was marked with a different color -- he was filled with the color gold that seemed to shimmer. I really had no idea what gold meant. I thought it could mean people and things of importance to me, but by that logic, Jill and Morrigan should also be marked with gold. Perhaps it marked those that were members of my family? A way to see my kin?
"And I have hardly saved Saxony," I continued, blinking, True Vision fading to let color and light return. It was disorienting.
To that, Thorkell grunted. "You've given them a chance. It's more than what Saxony would have had without you," he voiced. "It's going to come down to this. Holland. Saxony can't afford another year of constant fighting and I can't imagine that the Franks can take any more losses." He sounded confident in his statement, which led me to believe him. Since the war started, Saxony had been on the verge of losing.
"You believe that the Franks are nearly defeated?" Halfdan asked, earning a shake of Thorkell's head.
"Wouldn't say that. From what I've seen, Saxony doesn't have the strength to beat Francia. It is a vast and rich nation. But, I do think that after this, Francia will be weakened enough to start talking about peace. If King Widukind is smart -- and he is -- he'll take whatever Charlemagne offers. Even after all of this, Saxony isn't in a position to demand payment. What he needs is time to build up for the next war. And I'm sure Charlemagne thinks Saxony is more trouble than it's worth by now."
I looked ahead, pursing my lips. "It's a strange thought," I decided, "To think that the war might be over soon." So much had happened during it. It felt like an entire lifetime ago that I came to Saxony as a talented warrior under Horrik.
"All wars end sooner or later, but I wouldn't say it would be over exactly. I'd give it a few years -- ten at most -- before Charlemagne decides to return to Saxony. He's a great conqueror," he voiced, offering a shrug. That was also disheartening to hear. The idea that all the blood that had been spilled was only for a brief pause before Francia tried again to conquer the nation… it was almost insulting. But it was also true. How many wars had been fought between King Sigfred and Horrik over thirty years?
I said nothing in favor of looking ahead, seeing one of my scouts heading back directly towards us. I recognized him -- Authun, and he was marked with blue when I last saw him with True Vision.
"Lord Siegfried," he started, pulling back on his horse's reins, his expression telling me he had news before he spoke it. "We found traces of an army -- an old camp site. Two weeks old at most."
Hm. "Numbers?" I asked, suddenly finding myself far more suspicious of this invitation.
"Hard to say, but the camp's size was comparable to ours," Authun said, making my lips thin. An army of two thousand had been in the area in the last two weeks -- worse, they could outnumber us. That didn't bode well. I wasn't convinced that this was a blatant trap that was set for us, but I did think that Charlemagne wasn't as unaware of our actions as anyone would prefer.
I worked my jaw for a moment, my mind racing. "Inform Jarl Aldmund what you found. At the very least, they're not in the immediate area, or we would have found them." From my experience with the Saxons, it could be difficult finding an army, but scouts were our eyes and ears. My time being hunted across Francia taught me that lesson very well. Two weeks was a long time, but I could guess why two thousand men were here. Meaning that the army couldn't be far.
Authun nodded before continuing down the line. Jarl Aldmund allowed my company to take point. A position of honor, but I think he wanted us to secure the way for him if there was any trouble. I glanced at Thorkell to see that he had the same thought that I had, "They're pacifying the region."
"Charlemagne's clever. He'd know we'd have allies in the area," I agreed. "Did he split up his army again? He has a large border," I ventured as we rapidly neared what was our ultimate destination. I didn't know what the city was called, just that it was settled at the opening of a river that led further inland. There were a bunch of rivers in this land and some were far more easily traversed than others.
"Can't say at this point, but I'd put money on it. We ran amok in his kingdom and his people would need to feel protected, or they'd stop trusting his protection. It'd be a risk, but two thousand men, behind a set of strong walls, could hold fast for months. Enough time to recall his army." Thorkell offered, scratching at his scar. "But… that's how'd it be for a Jarl. Francia is a vast kingdom. It's entirely possible that this is just another army that he's gathered up."
He wasn't wrong there, but I don't think that it truly mattered in this case. If it was part of a larger army, then it must be defeated to secure an advantage and prevent reinforcements. If it wasn't, then it needed to be defeated for the same reasons. Best to beat them now while we had the chance before they could link up and become a greater threat.
"Francia really does seem to have an endless source of men," I remarked, deciding that the latter was just as likely, if not moreso, than the former. "Let us speak to Ageres and see if we shall be fighting alone in this battle."
As we marched on, what Thorkell said rang in my head like a bell.
The fate of the war would be decided in the coming days, here in Holland. And I couldn't help but feel that victory or defeat would be decided by my hands.
…
"Could you take it?" Halfdan leaned over and whispered to me as we looked up at the sturdy walls of the keep. It reminded me of the first in Saxony -- strong walls of cut stone that were stacked high. They weren't particularly tall -- two and a half men at most -- but they were lined with archers, who were trying to look as non-threatening as possible while also being ready to feather us like chickens if we tried anything.
I looked ahead, at the large double doors that had iron studs layered into the wood. Reinforcing it so it was wood, iron, then wood. Much harder to break through.
"Probably," I returned in a stage whisper, earning a chuckle from Halfdan. There was a town around the keep, and the keep itself was located at the heart of the town, atop of a hill. However, it had been abandoned upon our approach, the people fleeing within the walls. A prudent measure considering that we were still an invading army. Our army stopped at the edge of the town while a small group of us continued forward to have an audience.
"My name is Jarl Aldmund! I am here to speak with Ageres," Jarl Aldmund called out, making Halfdan's chuckles die down. Thorkell and Halstien were with the army, ready to take advantage of me being inside the keep if this was a betrayal. Halfdan only came with me because he wouldn't take no for an answer, just pinching my cheek and saying, 'I expect you to protect me, little brother.' And I hadn't the strength to argue.
In response, a man wearing fine armor and a nasal helm stepped up, looking down at us. I could see that he wasn't particularly happy to see us. "Duke Ageres has accepted your presence and extends a hand in friendship to you Norsemen. You are to be welcomed into his hall, but we require your word that there shall be no violence." He wasn't asking for our weapons. Good. He was at least smart enough to understand that we weren't so desperate to walk into such a blatant trap.
I rested a hand on the sword on my belt. I didn't wear it often, but seeing as it was a mark of status, and I would be meeting a Frankish Duke -- one that I hadn't captured, even -- it seemed important to bring. I even wore my feasting clothes. The warden of the castle looked at all of us, his gaze lingering on me, but it was Jarl Aldmund that spoke.
"We give our word," Jarl Aldmund agreed. And not a minute later, after a thump, the large double doors began to swing open to reveal a courtyard that was full of people. The people of the town. They had cleared a path to a second, if smaller, set of double doors that led to the keep itself. Soldiers were watching us -- me specifically -- as we trotted through the courtyard on our horses. Everyone's eyes were on us and I heard a general muttering in a language that I didn't know. That caught my interest.
I assumed they would be speaking Frankish.
Jarl Aldmund swung a leg over his horse, dismounting and approaching the door. I followed just behind him and Halfdan walked along side me with an easy going smile on his face. I saw him wink at one of the girls that were watching us, and that sent her running to her mother to hide behind her skirts. An innocent reaction, but… if they followed the old ways, would they really be so afraid of us?
My attention was stolen by the doors swinging open, revealing a portly looking man with gray hair. He bowed and spoke in that same language that I heard around us, but even if I couldn't understand a word of it, I saw that he was welcoming us into the keep. Jarl Aldmund strode forward, paying no attention to the man, and forced him to scamper after us to lead us to Ageric's brother. The halls were long and winding, but they were interesting.
On occasion, there would be statues of people. Men and women, whose faces sat on pedestals. It was as if someone had turned them to stone and mounted their heads on display. It was a disquieting feeling, I decided, because that very well could be the case. Some were cracked, or had pieces broken off, showing me that what turn these people into stone wasn't a thin layer. It had turned them into stone completely. I shot a look at Halfdan, who seemed equally disquieted by the heads.
"Christian magic?" He muttered, stepping away from the heads. Jarl Aldmund glanced at him, narrowing his eyes at my brother before we approached a final set of doors that were flanked by a handful of men. They were tense and watched us carefully -- because it was their duty or because they were planning a trap? I resisted the urge to grab hold of my axes, thinking that it would give me a way.
The doors opened revealing a large room. On the far side of it, seated in front of stained glass windows, was the man we were meeting. Even with a passing glance, he was clearly Ageric's brother. The resemblance was very strong, even if he was a few years younger. Still older than me, but younger than Halfdan. Upon his brow was a thin band of gold, his clothing fine, and his expression blank. There were a handful of guards in the large room, all evenly spaced under a window that marked the walls. A dozen and a half. Presentation, or men to close the trap around us.
I blinked and brought forth True Vision, my gaze affixed on the would be Duke. The one that was betraying his kin.
To my immense surprise, he was completely grayed out.
My lips thinned, seeing that the rest were similarly gray. Gray, as far as I could tell, marked someone or something that was neutral or unimportant. Or perhaps not loyal. Would that change once we made a deal? Or would he only turn red when his deception was revealed?
We marched forward, coming to a stop a polite distance away and the man standing next to Ageres spine up, his hands clasped behind his back. "Before you sits King Ageres, of the Agress line. The true King of Holland and the Netherlands," he introduced Ageres in accented Germanic. He, like everyone else, was gray, so I let True Vision fade away. He was handsome, I noticed. He trimmed his beard, but he had a long mustache and his hair was cut short. I would have thought him to be a thrall, but his fine clothing marked him as someone wealthy.
"Well met… King Ageres," Jarl Aldmund offered, hesitating to say the stated title. "We are here in response to your request for aid. To liberate our fellows from the Christian yolk and secure your kingdom for you." I didn't know Jarl Aldmund well. He was a private man, but he struck me as reasonable. At least when he wasn't supporting an argument that I should exist outside of the laws because I was too powerful for them. Still, I could hear it in his voice that he didn't respect Ageres. Or his claim to a title that he hadn't won yet.
I heard the words being translated into Ageres's ear but he gave no reaction to them. I would need to learn this language. There were so many of them and while my physical prowess was growing, my Learning stats had stagnated. When the words were translated, Ageres said something, and then the man that spoke before translated the words.
"You honor us with your presence. My King poses a question -- you," he said, looking at me. "Are you the one known as Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed? The one that captured the false Duke Ageric, my king's brother?" He questioned, and I couldn't say I particularly cared for his tone.
Before I could answer, Jarl Aldmund spoke for me. "He is," he said, his tone as flat as the man's. He spoke the words as if they were a warning, and based on how the well dressed man reacted, he took it as one. It was fascinating to see, in a way. I saw everyone in the room growing tense, tales about me having reached them. I could see it in their eyes now -- the understanding that if this was a trap… it wouldn't be enough to stop me. For they had invited the wolf into their home.
"King Ageres greets the famed Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed. His brother, a Christian he might be, has spoken well of the treatment that he received as a captive," the well dressed man uttered, despite the fact that Ageres had said nothing. Ageres's gaze flickered to him, his brow creasing for a moment before he smoothed it out. It seemed that Ageres didn't speak any Germanic. Or he was puzzled by what he was saying.
I wasn't really sure how to respond for a couple of reasons. Ageres was plotting to overthrow his brother. To betray his kin. I already didn't care for him because of that fact. Was he expressing genuine gratitude? Was it even coming from Ageres at all? More than that, what should I even say? 'You're welcome that I didn't treat your brother badly after extorting exorbitant amounts of gold and silver from him? Twice?' Actually, if he was claiming the kingdom of Holland, then I imagine he was rather sore that I had emptied out his coffers.
"King Ageres," Jarl Aldmund spoke up, as if realizing that I had no idea what to say after a brief pause, "Now that the introductions are out of the way -- Wolf-Kissed and I are here to discuss the agreement. We noticed several burnt out villages on our way here, as well as traces of an army."
Ageress' face pinched when the words were translated to him. He spoke, and his tone sounded… dismissive. Annoyed. I couldn't tell exactly because I had no idea what he was saying, but it did make the well dressed man close his eyes for a brief second. Then he spoke, "With the coming of Spring, King Charlemagne left an army of three thousand men within the borders of Holland. For our protection, he claimed. However, this army under the leadership of the false Duke Ageric, has been oppressing our people. The villages you found were destroyed for heresy."
Ageric was leading the army? I suppose his leg healed well then. Still, the well dressed man didn't seem to be lying.
"It was for this reason that my most noble King reached out to the bold King Widukind, requesting aid in the liberation of our own lands just as he fights for Saxony. Together, our forces shall be undefeatable -- protected by the gods, and we shall surely rebuff King Charlemagne's armies and influences." Flowery words, I decided, but there was passion leaking into his voice. My face flickered to Ageres to see that his gaze was starting to wander.
Bored. He looked bored.
"Do you know where this army currently is?" I spoke up, earning a sharp look from Jarl Aldmund but a broad smile from the man who spoke. Ageres vaguely looked interested when I spoke, and he tugged a sleeve on his translator's sleeve.
"Of course, Wolf-Kissed. We know exactly where they are. As well as the fact that they are accompanied by two of King Charlemagne's paladins," he continued and my mind was made up with those words. Deal or no deal…
We needed to crush that army.
...
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Thorkell rode along side me, Halfdan on my left while Halstien rode behind both Jill and Morrigan. Jill held the reins to their shared horse because Morrigan didn't know how to ride, and it was obvious enough that she felt anything but at ease on top of the horse. I think it was the one time I saw her look genuinely frightened. Didn't last long, though. Mostly because she started glaring when I laughed.
"How popular is popular?" I asked, a sigh in my voice. Alef had been released after a whipping -- a mere ten lashes for an attempt of murder -- and he was telling everyone under the sun that I couldn't be trusted. That I was a vile murderer. He got more than a few smacks from it from the Saxons, but that didn't persuade him to stop. Most, nearly everyone, completely dismissed what he said out of hand. My own reputation as a warrior prevented people from believing it, and the fact that King Widukind gave the verdict that it wasn't murder didn't help his case.
Still, I noticed that I had gotten some odd looks from Saxons. It was enough to make me ask the question -- who was Stefan the Lucky?
"You won't be seeing any blood debts called over it. He didn't have any kin left -- that's how he got his nickname originally. Sickness killed his family, leaving only him to survive. Growing up, he acted as a runner and barker for merchants, and I suppose that taught him the trade because when he was barely a man, he went out with some goods. Then he became known as the Lucky, because fortune always seemed to smile on him. Whenever he would deliver food, he would arrive at a starving town that had suffered a bad harvest. Or he would bring hides when a cold snap brought winter early." Thorkell explained what he knew and I narrowed my eyes at the dirt road.
That sounded like a gift I had. I hadn't used it much, simply because I fell into the roll of a mercenary, but that sounded a great deal like Opportunity Spotter.
"Did he have something to do with those lucky occurrences?" I questioned, earning a shrug from Thorkell.
"If he did, he knew how to get away with it. His luck as a merchant was damn near reliable, though. Some based what they were buying off of what he was and where he was going. What made everyone like him, though, was the fact that he always gave a good deal. He pocketed profits, I'm sure, but everyone knew that he could have charged three times as much but he chose not to. Everyone remembers the man that doesn't charge a silver for bread when everyone else is. He saved a number of people from starving," Thorkell remarked, casting me a look.
And I had killed him.
"I tried to spare them," I muttered, finding my heart heavy. It was a sad thing that the norns chose then to end Stephan's life. Sadder still that I was the shears that cut the thread of his life. I didn't feel guilty for his death, but I did feel remorse. I wish it hadn't happened. I wished that he had listened to me. I wish that they hadn't attacked after I knocked down his hot headed son. His death was regrettable.
"I believe you, Wolf-Kissed. Most people do. As much as Alef is trying to drag your name through the mud, he's not claiming that you forced yourself on his sister or mother. And the fact that he got away… everyone knows what a warrior you are. They don't believe that he could've lived unless you let him," Thorkell offered. "But, well… a lot of people liked Stephan. Lot of people like you, though. It just leaves a bad taste in their mouths -- nothing that a victory can't wash out." I heard him and understood, nodding along but my attention drifted.
I hadn't known at the time, I reflected, my eyes drifting up to see our first true destination. A town that was located on the edge of the sea, the place where we would be meeting Ageres. My scouts were spread out ahead of us, determined to find out if it was a trap before we walked into it. I could only fall into so many before I could no longer blame my clever enemies and not accept some of the blame myself.
During that raid, I hadn't known that I was killing a good man. A generous one. I just thought it was a bit odd that his house had been on the edge of the city and noted the wealth that he possessed. I don't really remember what he looked like either. I'm guessing like Alef, but his actual face was lost to me. He wasn't the first man that I had killed, and since him, I had killed many more. Near a thousand at this point. Possibly even more.
I wonder… how many more good men had I killed in my ignorance?
Almost as if the norns could sense my thoughts, the path took us through a village. A burnt out one. It wasn't a particularly large village -- just some buildings that were built around a fork in the road. The damage didn't look that old as we passed through it, I noticed, but I also knew that there were plenty of mercenaries and bandits that roamed Francia. It might not have been us, but I would put odds on it.
My gaze drifted to a graveyard that was dug just outside the village. A good two dozen graves with rudimentary crosses marking them. My lips thinned and I forced myself to look away
"You are thinking a foolish thought right now, aren't you?" Morrigan spoke up, making me glance back at her. She sat sideways on the horse, along with Jill, because of their skirts. Morrigan was trying to hold onto Jill, but at the same time, touch her as little as possible. Her golden eyes bore into mine as if she could read my thoughts. "Being kind means nothing. What people miss are the convenient meals, not the person himself. They shall forget about him soon enough."
Halfdan snorted, then choked on a laugh when Morrigan snapped her gaze in his direction. He held up his hands in a gesture of surrender -- a wise choice. "She's not wrong, little brother. People might have liked him, and he sounded like a decent enough fellow, but you're worrying about enemies that aren't there. I doubt many would have liked him enough to spill blood over. Much less against the savior of Saxony." He had a point there.
"Grimar talked to him," I pointed out, and that earned a pensive look from Halfdan. Alef was weak and flailing. He didn't have the influence or the strength to challenge me. Still, my enemies were joining forces against me and I didn't care for it. I cared for it far less now because my place within the laws of men was being called into question. It gave them room to maneuver. "I don't know about what, but Alef didn't leave the conversation happy."
"Should we have that discussion with the present company?" Halfdan asked, his gaze sliding to Jill. I half expected her to wilt under the look but she instead thrust out her chin, meeting his gaze defiantly. I wasn't sure when it happened exactly, but Jill had found her confidence. She was still shier than most, but she didn't bend to pressure. I'm guessing that was a result of exposure to Morrigan.
"I trust Jill," I stated, my tone making it clear that it wasn't up for debate. I saw Jill smile, and as if to reassure myself, blinked.
True Vision was a gift from the Gods that took some getting used to, mostly because of how it affected my senses. The world seemed to darken, as if the sun itself was extinguished. Color and detail faded away while the sounds of an army marching became muffled and distant. All of it made the things that I could see stand out that much more.
Jill was marked with a brilliant shining shade of blue. I couldn't really see her face when I used True Vision, but I could see enough detail to know that it was her. Likewise, Morrigan was marked in blue. Yet, the horse that they rode on was as gray as smoke and completely featureless.
Blue, as far as I could tell, marked someone that was an ally to me. Someone loyal. I was still learning what made someone be marked in blue, because while a fair number of my mercenaries were marked with the color, not all of them were. A fair number of them were marked with gray, the same shade of the horse. Likewise, I saw people that I never met before marked in blue -- the same shade that Jill and Morrigan were. What the color blue meant, I was still uncertain, but it undoubtedly meant good things -- Jill and Morrigan were marked with the color, and so were Thorkell and Halstien. All people that I trusted.
My gaze flickered to Halfdan, seeing him nodding. He was marked with a different color -- he was filled with the color gold that seemed to shimmer. I really had no idea what gold meant. I thought it could mean people and things of importance to me, but by that logic, Jill and Morrigan should also be marked with gold. Perhaps it marked those that were members of my family? A way to see my kin?
"And I have hardly saved Saxony," I continued, blinking, True Vision fading to let color and light return. It was disorienting.
To that, Thorkell grunted. "You've given them a chance. It's more than what Saxony would have had without you," he voiced. "It's going to come down to this. Holland. Saxony can't afford another year of constant fighting and I can't imagine that the Franks can take any more losses." He sounded confident in his statement, which led me to believe him. Since the war started, Saxony had been on the verge of losing.
"You believe that the Franks are nearly defeated?" Halfdan asked, earning a shake of Thorkell's head.
"Wouldn't say that. From what I've seen, Saxony doesn't have the strength to beat Francia. It is a vast and rich nation. But, I do think that after this, Francia will be weakened enough to start talking about peace. If King Widukind is smart -- and he is -- he'll take whatever Charlemagne offers. Even after all of this, Saxony isn't in a position to demand payment. What he needs is time to build up for the next war. And I'm sure Charlemagne thinks Saxony is more trouble than it's worth by now."
I looked ahead, pursing my lips. "It's a strange thought," I decided, "To think that the war might be over soon." So much had happened during it. It felt like an entire lifetime ago that I came to Saxony as a talented warrior under Horrik.
"All wars end sooner or later, but I wouldn't say it would be over exactly. I'd give it a few years -- ten at most -- before Charlemagne decides to return to Saxony. He's a great conqueror," he voiced, offering a shrug. That was also disheartening to hear. The idea that all the blood that had been spilled was only for a brief pause before Francia tried again to conquer the nation… it was almost insulting. But it was also true. How many wars had been fought between King Sigfred and Horrik over thirty years?
I said nothing in favor of looking ahead, seeing one of my scouts heading back directly towards us. I recognized him -- Authun, and he was marked with blue when I last saw him with True Vision.
"Lord Siegfried," he started, pulling back on his horse's reins, his expression telling me he had news before he spoke it. "We found traces of an army -- an old camp site. Two weeks old at most."
Hm. "Numbers?" I asked, suddenly finding myself far more suspicious of this invitation.
"Hard to say, but the camp's size was comparable to ours," Authun said, making my lips thin. An army of two thousand had been in the area in the last two weeks -- worse, they could outnumber us. That didn't bode well. I wasn't convinced that this was a blatant trap that was set for us, but I did think that Charlemagne wasn't as unaware of our actions as anyone would prefer.
I worked my jaw for a moment, my mind racing. "Inform Jarl Aldmund what you found. At the very least, they're not in the immediate area, or we would have found them." From my experience with the Saxons, it could be difficult finding an army, but scouts were our eyes and ears. My time being hunted across Francia taught me that lesson very well. Two weeks was a long time, but I could guess why two thousand men were here. Meaning that the army couldn't be far.
Authun nodded before continuing down the line. Jarl Aldmund allowed my company to take point. A position of honor, but I think he wanted us to secure the way for him if there was any trouble. I glanced at Thorkell to see that he had the same thought that I had, "They're pacifying the region."
"Charlemagne's clever. He'd know we'd have allies in the area," I agreed. "Did he split up his army again? He has a large border," I ventured as we rapidly neared what was our ultimate destination. I didn't know what the city was called, just that it was settled at the opening of a river that led further inland. There were a bunch of rivers in this land and some were far more easily traversed than others.
"Can't say at this point, but I'd put money on it. We ran amok in his kingdom and his people would need to feel protected, or they'd stop trusting his protection. It'd be a risk, but two thousand men, behind a set of strong walls, could hold fast for months. Enough time to recall his army." Thorkell offered, scratching at his scar. "But… that's how'd it be for a Jarl. Francia is a vast kingdom. It's entirely possible that this is just another army that he's gathered up."
He wasn't wrong there, but I don't think that it truly mattered in this case. If it was part of a larger army, then it must be defeated to secure an advantage and prevent reinforcements. If it wasn't, then it needed to be defeated for the same reasons. Best to beat them now while we had the chance before they could link up and become a greater threat.
"Francia really does seem to have an endless source of men," I remarked, deciding that the latter was just as likely, if not moreso, than the former. "Let us speak to Ageres and see if we shall be fighting alone in this battle."
As we marched on, what Thorkell said rang in my head like a bell.
The fate of the war would be decided in the coming days, here in Holland. And I couldn't help but feel that victory or defeat would be decided by my hands.
…
"Could you take it?" Halfdan leaned over and whispered to me as we looked up at the sturdy walls of the keep. It reminded me of the first in Saxony -- strong walls of cut stone that were stacked high. They weren't particularly tall -- two and a half men at most -- but they were lined with archers, who were trying to look as non-threatening as possible while also being ready to feather us like chickens if we tried anything.
I looked ahead, at the large double doors that had iron studs layered into the wood. Reinforcing it so it was wood, iron, then wood. Much harder to break through.
"Probably," I returned in a stage whisper, earning a chuckle from Halfdan. There was a town around the keep, and the keep itself was located at the heart of the town, atop of a hill. However, it had been abandoned upon our approach, the people fleeing within the walls. A prudent measure considering that we were still an invading army. Our army stopped at the edge of the town while a small group of us continued forward to have an audience.
"My name is Jarl Aldmund! I am here to speak with Ageres," Jarl Aldmund called out, making Halfdan's chuckles die down. Thorkell and Halstien were with the army, ready to take advantage of me being inside the keep if this was a betrayal. Halfdan only came with me because he wouldn't take no for an answer, just pinching my cheek and saying, 'I expect you to protect me, little brother.' And I hadn't the strength to argue.
In response, a man wearing fine armor and a nasal helm stepped up, looking down at us. I could see that he wasn't particularly happy to see us. "Duke Ageres has accepted your presence and extends a hand in friendship to you Norsemen. You are to be welcomed into his hall, but we require your word that there shall be no violence." He wasn't asking for our weapons. Good. He was at least smart enough to understand that we weren't so desperate to walk into such a blatant trap.
I rested a hand on the sword on my belt. I didn't wear it often, but seeing as it was a mark of status, and I would be meeting a Frankish Duke -- one that I hadn't captured, even -- it seemed important to bring. I even wore my feasting clothes. The warden of the castle looked at all of us, his gaze lingering on me, but it was Jarl Aldmund that spoke.
"We give our word," Jarl Aldmund agreed. And not a minute later, after a thump, the large double doors began to swing open to reveal a courtyard that was full of people. The people of the town. They had cleared a path to a second, if smaller, set of double doors that led to the keep itself. Soldiers were watching us -- me specifically -- as we trotted through the courtyard on our horses. Everyone's eyes were on us and I heard a general muttering in a language that I didn't know. That caught my interest.
I assumed they would be speaking Frankish.
Jarl Aldmund swung a leg over his horse, dismounting and approaching the door. I followed just behind him and Halfdan walked along side me with an easy going smile on his face. I saw him wink at one of the girls that were watching us, and that sent her running to her mother to hide behind her skirts. An innocent reaction, but… if they followed the old ways, would they really be so afraid of us?
My attention was stolen by the doors swinging open, revealing a portly looking man with gray hair. He bowed and spoke in that same language that I heard around us, but even if I couldn't understand a word of it, I saw that he was welcoming us into the keep. Jarl Aldmund strode forward, paying no attention to the man, and forced him to scamper after us to lead us to Ageric's brother. The halls were long and winding, but they were interesting.
On occasion, there would be statues of people. Men and women, whose faces sat on pedestals. It was as if someone had turned them to stone and mounted their heads on display. It was a disquieting feeling, I decided, because that very well could be the case. Some were cracked, or had pieces broken off, showing me that what turn these people into stone wasn't a thin layer. It had turned them into stone completely. I shot a look at Halfdan, who seemed equally disquieted by the heads.
"Christian magic?" He muttered, stepping away from the heads. Jarl Aldmund glanced at him, narrowing his eyes at my brother before we approached a final set of doors that were flanked by a handful of men. They were tense and watched us carefully -- because it was their duty or because they were planning a trap? I resisted the urge to grab hold of my axes, thinking that it would give me a way.
The doors opened revealing a large room. On the far side of it, seated in front of stained glass windows, was the man we were meeting. Even with a passing glance, he was clearly Ageric's brother. The resemblance was very strong, even if he was a few years younger. Still older than me, but younger than Halfdan. Upon his brow was a thin band of gold, his clothing fine, and his expression blank. There were a handful of guards in the large room, all evenly spaced under a window that marked the walls. A dozen and a half. Presentation, or men to close the trap around us.
I blinked and brought forth True Vision, my gaze affixed on the would be Duke. The one that was betraying his kin.
To my immense surprise, he was completely grayed out.
My lips thinned, seeing that the rest were similarly gray. Gray, as far as I could tell, marked someone or something that was neutral or unimportant. Or perhaps not loyal. Would that change once we made a deal? Or would he only turn red when his deception was revealed?
We marched forward, coming to a stop a polite distance away and the man standing next to Ageres spine up, his hands clasped behind his back. "Before you sits King Ageres, of the Agress line. The true King of Holland and the Netherlands," he introduced Ageres in accented Germanic. He, like everyone else, was gray, so I let True Vision fade away. He was handsome, I noticed. He trimmed his beard, but he had a long mustache and his hair was cut short. I would have thought him to be a thrall, but his fine clothing marked him as someone wealthy.
"Well met… King Ageres," Jarl Aldmund offered, hesitating to say the stated title. "We are here in response to your request for aid. To liberate our fellows from the Christian yolk and secure your kingdom for you." I didn't know Jarl Aldmund well. He was a private man, but he struck me as reasonable. At least when he wasn't supporting an argument that I should exist outside of the laws because I was too powerful for them. Still, I could hear it in his voice that he didn't respect Ageres. Or his claim to a title that he hadn't won yet.
I heard the words being translated into Ageres's ear but he gave no reaction to them. I would need to learn this language. There were so many of them and while my physical prowess was growing, my Learning stats had stagnated. When the words were translated, Ageres said something, and then the man that spoke before translated the words.
"You honor us with your presence. My King poses a question -- you," he said, looking at me. "Are you the one known as Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed? The one that captured the false Duke Ageric, my king's brother?" He questioned, and I couldn't say I particularly cared for his tone.
Before I could answer, Jarl Aldmund spoke for me. "He is," he said, his tone as flat as the man's. He spoke the words as if they were a warning, and based on how the well dressed man reacted, he took it as one. It was fascinating to see, in a way. I saw everyone in the room growing tense, tales about me having reached them. I could see it in their eyes now -- the understanding that if this was a trap… it wouldn't be enough to stop me. For they had invited the wolf into their home.
"King Ageres greets the famed Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed. His brother, a Christian he might be, has spoken well of the treatment that he received as a captive," the well dressed man uttered, despite the fact that Ageres had said nothing. Ageres's gaze flickered to him, his brow creasing for a moment before he smoothed it out. It seemed that Ageres didn't speak any Germanic. Or he was puzzled by what he was saying.
I wasn't really sure how to respond for a couple of reasons. Ageres was plotting to overthrow his brother. To betray his kin. I already didn't care for him because of that fact. Was he expressing genuine gratitude? Was it even coming from Ageres at all? More than that, what should I even say? 'You're welcome that I didn't treat your brother badly after extorting exorbitant amounts of gold and silver from him? Twice?' Actually, if he was claiming the kingdom of Holland, then I imagine he was rather sore that I had emptied out his coffers.
"King Ageres," Jarl Aldmund spoke up, as if realizing that I had no idea what to say after a brief pause, "Now that the introductions are out of the way -- Wolf-Kissed and I are here to discuss the agreement. We noticed several burnt out villages on our way here, as well as traces of an army."
Ageress' face pinched when the words were translated to him. He spoke, and his tone sounded… dismissive. Annoyed. I couldn't tell exactly because I had no idea what he was saying, but it did make the well dressed man close his eyes for a brief second. Then he spoke, "With the coming of Spring, King Charlemagne left an army of three thousand men within the borders of Holland. For our protection, he claimed. However, this army under the leadership of the false Duke Ageric, has been oppressing our people. The villages you found were destroyed for heresy."
Ageric was leading the army? I suppose his leg healed well then. Still, the well dressed man didn't seem to be lying.
"It was for this reason that my most noble King reached out to the bold King Widukind, requesting aid in the liberation of our own lands just as he fights for Saxony. Together, our forces shall be undefeatable -- protected by the gods, and we shall surely rebuff King Charlemagne's armies and influences." Flowery words, I decided, but there was passion leaking into his voice. My face flickered to Ageres to see that his gaze was starting to wander.
Bored. He looked bored.
"Do you know where this army currently is?" I spoke up, earning a sharp look from Jarl Aldmund but a broad smile from the man who spoke. Ageres vaguely looked interested when I spoke, and he tugged a sleeve on his translator's sleeve.
"Of course, Wolf-Kissed. We know exactly where they are. As well as the fact that they are accompanied by two of King Charlemagne's paladins," he continued and my mind was made up with those words. Deal or no deal…
We needed to crush that army.
...
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Choosing the Battlefield
- Location
- USA
"The boy isn't King," Jarl Aldmund voiced as soon as we left the city, a deep frown in his voice. "He couldn't be more of a puppet if he had strings attached to him and a hand up his arse." I nodded along at that, having noticed much the same. It could be that we didn't share a common tongue, but it seemed that the man took the liberty of answering questions for the king. But, more than that, my impression of Authun was that he was bored.
The only thing he seemed to have any interest in was me.
"Does it change anything?" I questioned, following behind him.
To that, Jarl Aldmund huffed in annoyance. "No, not really. What happens to Holland after the war is of no concern to us. It's troubling to be brought in under false pretenses, but I find it more reassuring. If this was the boy king's idea, then I would have less faith. He has a poor reputation for seeing things through and he is betraying his kin. The plan of an ambitious thegn, however, is easier to swallow. Especially if he's remotely competent."
That's about what I expected to hear. "We need to deal with that army. Or Charlemagne's paladins at the very least. Astolfo was a match for me when we last fought. I'm not fond of the idea of facing several at once, but better two than all twelve," I voiced my opinion and I could see the effect that my words had. Jarl Aldmund glanced back at me, his brow furrowed and a deep frown pulling at his lips. There was a glimmer of fear in his dark eyes.
"That is poor news, Wolf-Kissed… but aye, it makes sense. We must offer battle, but it cannot be in a field of their choosing. We know where they are, so we must march to them. Send your scouts to find a proper field -- we want hills and woods. I heard tales of their calvary and I'm not keen on testing them," he instructed, earning a nod from me.
"I'll go myself," I decided. "I wish to see these Paladins. With a little luck, I might be able to kill one before the battle starts." I could tell that Jarl Aldmund wanted to argue the decision. However, he swallowed the words down. He was in command of me -- of this army, he was the leader. However, I was not someone whose decisions he could ignore or rule against and we both knew it. We both knew that the battle would hinge on my actions. It was why I was sent here with him in the first place.
"Do as you will, Wolf-Kissed," Jarl Aldmund agreed with a curt nod. "The Hollanders will send out runners to gather up a fighting force. I wouldn't expect much from them, but we could have the edge in numbers. For what it might be worth." He sounded uncertain of it.
"Should we delay the battle, then?" I asked, thinking that it would be best to attack now. While we knew their numbers and location. It seemed prudent. Yet, Jarl Aldmund fell silent as we neared our camp outside of the city without walls.
Finally, he spoke after a long minute of thought. "If this were to be a trap… then they would have no better time to spring it. We have no proof of whether they follow our gods, or if the villages that were burned belonged to those that follow the true ways. We have nothing but their word, in a language none of us understand. If they mean to betray us, the smart thing to do would be to say they are siding with us. Position themselves in a place of importance on the field and when the battle begins, attack us instead of the Christians," Jarl Aldmund said, painting a terrible picture.
True Vision could be the answer to this issue, but I didn't know enough about what marked someone as an enemy or a friend or important. What did know was that the well dressed man had been gray. As was the king and his guard. "I agree. The two strike me as opportunistic. If they feel that we are losing the battle, I expect we'd find a knife in our backs while they claimed it was the plan all along." To that, Jarl Aldmund grunted. "They are raiding pagans… instead of trusting their word that their followers follow our ways, we could recruit them ourselves."
"Raid the raiders? Aye, that could work. Thin their numbers a bit before the battle, and men will fight harder for someone that saved them. Would have to explain it to that boy king and his puppeteer, but I can handle that. Don't take a small group -- a hundred men, at least. I'll give you the horses for speed. If nothing else, this should provoke them to attack us."
I traded a nod with the Jarl before heading into camp with Halfdan in tow. "Halfdan," I spoke up, catching his attention. "I need to learn how to speak these people's language. Can you find me someone that does and can teach me? And who knows how to keep a secret?" I requested, earning a cocky smile in response.
"Can do, little brother," Halfdan agreed, splitting off from me. It wasn't just for the sake of learning another language. I had met Authun and the well dressed man and they knew I couldn't speak their tongue. However, if I could learn even some of it in the coming days before the battle? I imagine that when we next saw each other, they might let something slip in my presence.
Intrigue experience gained: 100
I smirked at the message from the gods, taking it as approval from Loki himself.
…
Halfdan had managed to find me a man that spoke the language called Dutch. But, because of the circumstances, we were forced to take him with us as we set out to raid throughout Holland. We were provided a rough map of the area, marked with settlements and where the Frank army currently was. What the map didn't convey was how marshy the entire land was. It seemed to be nothing more than rivers and marshes or swamps.
As promised, we were given horses and I decided to divide my band into three parts -- one led by me, one by Thorkell, and one by Halstien. Morrigan and Jill -- much to their chagrin -- were forced to remain behind in the main encampment. The odd hundred and fifty man bands were then sent out into the country to rally it to our cause.
The first day of learning Dutch was an uneventful one. The second, I could hold a stilted conversation. On the third day, however? I spoke Dutch as if I had been born speaking it.
And it wasn't a day too soon, because as we approached a small town, I saw that we weren't the only ones that had had this idea.
It only made sense. Why send two thousand men to root out pagans from small villages when a band of fifty would be more than enough?
"They haven't noticed us yet," I remarked to Authun, my archer scout. Despite his relative youth, I found that he was quickly finding my faith in his abilities. True Vision revealed him to be a warm blue, making him a loyal ally. Just as it marked the Frankish soldiers that were riding into a village in a dark red. They too had horses, but I saw something of note on them. The color gold.
The foot rests that they used on their horses. It might make riding more comfortable, but it felt very odd that the gods would mark such a simple thing as a footrest as important. Still, I had faith in their wisdom. Wisdom I would understand once I acquired the foot rests.
"Shall we attack?" Authun questioned, looking to me for direction as True Vision faded.
Quest: Save the Village
Reward: 35 recruits. 150 Tactics exp.
"We shall. I'll be the main thrust. Flank around to make sure none escape," I accepted the quest from the gods with a nod. Authun nodded before grabbing a horn that hung from his waist and giving it a sharp note. The signal to attack. Before the signal had even finished, I galloped forward toward the village as sounds of combat started to echo out from within. We arrived too late to circumvent the battle, but not too late to help. Something that couldn't be said for a good dozen villages that we had come by in the past several days.
My men and I thundered across the fields around the village, kicking up mounds of dirt in our wake before we arrived at the back of the raiders. The sound of our hooves alerted those in the back ranks of our arrival, I noticed, catching the eye of a scrambling Frank. Rushing forward, I swung my dane-axe at him, catching him in the shoulder and cutting all the way down to his sternum.
"To arms! To arms!" I heard a man shot in Frankish, all the while people were screaming out in Dutch from within their homes. Some dared to peek out when the clash began in earnest. The raiders were spread out, and over the cries of the Dutch men and women, the calls to arms were missed by more than a few of them as they ran down villagers.
Rushing forward, I threw myself into the thick of the raiders, galloping forward with my Dane-axe raised high. I struck down the man that was trying to rally his men while the rest of mine started to pour into the village. The only obvious escape point was directly across from me. Even before his head hit the ground, I moved on, hacking at the man next to him as I tried to get the Franks to route.
As I did so, one of the Franks met me in battle, urging his horse to cut me off. I reared back on the reins, only for it to be too late. My horse crashed into his, knocking me free of my horse and sending me tumbling through the air. But the Frank in question managed to stay seated. As I fell, my eyes darted to the footrests on the horse that were pulled taunt.
Ah. I see.
That's why the Franks didn't go flying like I did when they charged into our rear.
I slammed into the ground with a thump, but I quickly found my feet. The Frank that unhorsed me calling out, "The Wolf-Kissed is unhorsed! Kill him! Kill him in the name of our Lord!" He shouted, urging his horse forward as he leveled a spear at my throat. I batted it away with a hand as I struck out with my Dane-axe, hacking off the front leg of his horse and sending it into the ground. The horse cried out in agony, making my stomach clench.
Killing men was far easier than killing animals, I decided. The Frank scrambled to his feet, drawing a dirk before lunging at me with it. His eyes were crazed -- he was terrified. I saw it. With the expression he wore, I'd have thought he would be running away from me at full speed, but instead he threw himself at me like a man possessed by a spirit. I was taken aback by his fervor, but I didn't hesitate. With the advantage of my speed and reach, I caught him in the leg, carving through it before I beheaded him with the backswing. Despite the bravery that he showed, the other Franks didn't answer his calls.
The one near me shifted and ran, fleeing through the only obvious exit. More than half of them were cut down, and a few more perished in their attempts to flee. However, as they left the outer edge of the village, pouring through the only open path, I watched at they were feathered with arrows. Three to a man, punch into their necks or eyes. All of them died before they even realized they were under attack.
I smiled to myself. I had just tried out an idea that I had while watching my first battle -- offering the enemy a point of escape and letting them run into a trap. Shouldering my axe, I looked over at the meager village. There were a number of bodies on the streets, and those who weren't killed by the raiders were fleeing indoors. I could feel their eyes on me, watching with bated breath as they were uncertain if we were here to help or pick up where the Franks left off.
"Friends!" I called out in Dutch, letting my voice echo out. "We are friends!" I continued, throwing on a heavy accent onto my words. My men began to calm and claim the horses, looting the corpses of the raiders with well practiced ease. As my words rang out, I caught a glimpse of a family peering through a window. They exchanged nervous glances, the father speaking lowly to his family. It seemed they didn't know what to make of me.
However, a door swung open and the single oldest looking man I had ever seen in my life stepped out from a small house. His back was hunched, no longer able to stand up straight after what seemed to be at least several centuries of bending over to sow and reap the harvest. His hair was white and thin, while his face was covered in wrinkles. Flemeth was the oldest person I had ever seen, but she seemed young in comparison to the man that walked towards me with the help of a walking stick.
Despite his age, his eyes were sharp as he approached. "You are the Wolf-Kissed, hm? You're a little short, hm?" He spoke to me in near flawless Norse, catching me by surprise.
I narrowed my eyes, "I'm still taller than you, greybeard." I retorted, earning a breathless chuckle from him.
"Ha! You'll be lucky to stand this tall when you reach my age. Ah. My tongue got away from me. You have our thanks for your timely aid," he said, bowing his head to me. "We heard word that Duke Ageric was cracking down on our ways, but we believed ourselves safe from it."
I wanted to ask why, but I held my tongue. "It was the will of the gods. We shall be giving battle to Duke Ageric in the coming weeks. As much as I am to put an end to their raiding, I am here for men willing to fight against the Christians. Are there any such men in this village?" I asked, earning a small nod from the greybeard.
"Aye, I reckon you'd find plenty here. We were already mustering up to answer the call of King Ageres," the old man returned, sounding proud of that fact. I frowned, my gaze going to the corpse of the brave frank.
"When did you give your answer?" I asked him, curious. It very well could be the will of the gods, and failing that, pure dumb luck. Which amounted to the same thing.
The greybeard scratched at his cheek, "Couldn't be more than two days ago. Day and a half," He answered. We could ride back to the city within half a day if we rode hard. With the Frankish army's last location, it would be closer to three quarters of a day.
Hm.
"The timing is too close for this to be a coincidence," I quickly decided. I hadn't known the village answered the call to arms. The fact that a Norseman was speaking to me made me inclined to believe that the village did worship our gods. But, in answering the call to arms, they painted a target on themselves for the raiders. Ageric was rooting out the pagans that lived in his territory, while at the same time, preventing us from gaining any reinforcements. It was a clever play. And it meant one thing for certain.
Someone was feeding Ageric information -- which villages were answering the call to arms, and they were close enough to retaliate before the reinforcements could mobilize. They were picking them apart while their numbers were small. Just as I was hoping to do with the Franks. I couldn't say I particularly cared for the Franks using my tactics against me. Not one bit.
Still, this was useful information. Extremely useful.
Because now I knew where the raiders would appear.
And I knew someone was feeding the Franks information.
It was time to lay a trap of my own, I decided.
…
Over the course of three more days, we clashed against the Frankish raiders four more times. Each time, we wiped out the parties down to a man. The Franks had what seemed to be a good dozen raiding parties throughout the area and receiving information from the Dutch about which villages were answering the call to arms led us right to them. However, after our fifth victory, the Franks seemed to realize that we knew where they would be. Their pattern changed abruptly on the second day, leaving us to collect the Dutch warriors without issue.
I sent out my messengers to Duke Aldmund, letting him know the plan. He was agreeable to it. Jill and Morrigan, far less so.
"Maybe they do have a point," I muttered under my breath, gazing out to the village that we were tasked to recruit from. This one was far removed from the area that we had patrolled and recruited from in the past week. "Using myself as bait like this…" I signed, knowing that I was in for a talking to when we got back to camp. I had learned a harsh lesson in Frankfurt. The tunnel collapsed because too many people had sprinted through it. We ended up trapped in that city because I agreed to be the rear guard. The position that would be fighting the longest.
And now I was doing it again, I realized. Morrigan wouldn't be happy. Still, I thought it was worth doing. Especially when I saw Authun galloping toward me, his expression terse. "It's as you suspected. They marched their army against you," Authun told me, and I didn't have it in me to be happy about that. I gazed into the surrounding terrain -- perfect for hiding an army that was two thousand strong. The terrain had some rolling hills that were covered in a dense forest while the village itself was located in a sleepy valley.
"Someone is definitely working with the Franks within the Dutch city," I voiced, not surprised by the outcome. I suspected it the moment I was tasked with safeguarding fifty warriors on the edge of Holland. It was an ambush arranged just for me. "I suppose I should be flattered," I continued, searching the forest for any obvious hint that they were in there. They hid themselves well.
Ageric was clever. More so than I gave him credit for.
"They know you are the greatest threat to them, Lord Seigfried. Attacking you now, without the support of the army, is too good of a chance to pass up," Authun agreed. That was the plan. To be so tempting that the Franks would have to jump on the opportunity.
They were being led by Ageric. A man who knew me. Who witnessed first hand what I was capable of. Twice, I had captured him, and twice he had seen the effects that I had on a battlefield or siege. More than that, after ransoming him twice and now I was working with his brother to overthrow him… well, I imagine Ageric had more than just political reasons to want me dead. And with his knowledge of my prowess, he knew he'd be a fool to attack me with anything less than his full army.
But I had walked into enough traps.
"We're retreating," I told Authun. "Let them give pace. Jarl Aldmund should be in position already. We just need to lead them to the field of our choosing," I told him. We would be the bait that led them right into the jaws of the beast.
Authun nodded, brining the horn to his lips and sounding the retreat. The army saw us, and they would see us leave. At this close, they would become convinced-
A red trajectory mark lined itself up with my forehead coming from the forest across from me. Thousands of feet, over the village, and the mark hardly showed any signs of a drop. I reacted instantly, jerking my head out of the way just in time to avoid the arrow that I felt tickling my ear with its feathers. It struck a man behind me, and I saw it punched through his chainmail and through him as well.
My attention jerked back to the forest to see another red trajectory mark lined itself up with my chest. This time, I saw the arrow racing towards me and I shifted my dane axe in its path, catching the arrow with the broadside of my axe. My arms jerked from the sudden force, the arrow head carving a long groove into the surface before the arrow shaft was reduced to splinters. That really was an incredible shot, but now I was looking at who was trying to kill me. I wasn't all that surprised by who it was.
"Good," I decided, seeing a familiar face. She stood out now that she revealed herself -- a shock of red hair not too different from my own, dark green eyes. I never learned her name, but I recognized her even without the nun garb. She was the archer woman that tried to kill me back in Worms. I gave a small taunting wave with my axe before I urged my horse back.
I didn't kill her last time because she possessed the heart of a warrior but was dreadfully out of position to fight me. She swore revenge, and now she was here to take it. I didn't really expect much from her -- I thought she would be just another archer in the Frankish armies.
Instead, she was something special. There was too much power behind the arrows. It wasn't normal. Her range with it was too long, and too accurate. It was early to say if she was like me, but at the very least, she wasn't a normal archer.
She was a warrior. And this time, I would give her the warrior death worthy of her courage.
"Full retreat! Follow my lead! And keep an eye behind you or you'll find yourself with a feathered arse!" I called out, breaking into a flat gallop away from the army. My mercenaries were quick to follow me, and I would have known that the Franks gave chase even without being told. Thousands of sprinting people or horses shook the ground ever so slightly and made a chaotic mess of noise.
The Franks abandoned their position in favor of chasing us down, their cavalry leading the charge since they were the only ones that could hope to keep up. I could guess Ageric's plan -- lock us down with his horsemen, letting the footmen catch up, and then we would be brought down by sheer weight of numbers. But, that plan hinged on the idea that they could keep up with us. They couldn't, but I slowed us intentionally. Letting the horsemen think we were just within their grasp.
As we galloped toward our ultimate destination, one figure took the lead of the Frankish army. Clad in the odd plate armor with a white cloak billowing out behind her. She was unmistakable. Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's Paladins. It looked like we would get to have our rematch. Hopefully, this one wouldn't end in a draw.
Despite the danger, a smile found its way onto my face as I saw our destination. A trap laid out for the Franks.
And they were rushing headlong right into it.
...
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The only thing he seemed to have any interest in was me.
"Does it change anything?" I questioned, following behind him.
To that, Jarl Aldmund huffed in annoyance. "No, not really. What happens to Holland after the war is of no concern to us. It's troubling to be brought in under false pretenses, but I find it more reassuring. If this was the boy king's idea, then I would have less faith. He has a poor reputation for seeing things through and he is betraying his kin. The plan of an ambitious thegn, however, is easier to swallow. Especially if he's remotely competent."
That's about what I expected to hear. "We need to deal with that army. Or Charlemagne's paladins at the very least. Astolfo was a match for me when we last fought. I'm not fond of the idea of facing several at once, but better two than all twelve," I voiced my opinion and I could see the effect that my words had. Jarl Aldmund glanced back at me, his brow furrowed and a deep frown pulling at his lips. There was a glimmer of fear in his dark eyes.
"That is poor news, Wolf-Kissed… but aye, it makes sense. We must offer battle, but it cannot be in a field of their choosing. We know where they are, so we must march to them. Send your scouts to find a proper field -- we want hills and woods. I heard tales of their calvary and I'm not keen on testing them," he instructed, earning a nod from me.
"I'll go myself," I decided. "I wish to see these Paladins. With a little luck, I might be able to kill one before the battle starts." I could tell that Jarl Aldmund wanted to argue the decision. However, he swallowed the words down. He was in command of me -- of this army, he was the leader. However, I was not someone whose decisions he could ignore or rule against and we both knew it. We both knew that the battle would hinge on my actions. It was why I was sent here with him in the first place.
"Do as you will, Wolf-Kissed," Jarl Aldmund agreed with a curt nod. "The Hollanders will send out runners to gather up a fighting force. I wouldn't expect much from them, but we could have the edge in numbers. For what it might be worth." He sounded uncertain of it.
"Should we delay the battle, then?" I asked, thinking that it would be best to attack now. While we knew their numbers and location. It seemed prudent. Yet, Jarl Aldmund fell silent as we neared our camp outside of the city without walls.
Finally, he spoke after a long minute of thought. "If this were to be a trap… then they would have no better time to spring it. We have no proof of whether they follow our gods, or if the villages that were burned belonged to those that follow the true ways. We have nothing but their word, in a language none of us understand. If they mean to betray us, the smart thing to do would be to say they are siding with us. Position themselves in a place of importance on the field and when the battle begins, attack us instead of the Christians," Jarl Aldmund said, painting a terrible picture.
True Vision could be the answer to this issue, but I didn't know enough about what marked someone as an enemy or a friend or important. What did know was that the well dressed man had been gray. As was the king and his guard. "I agree. The two strike me as opportunistic. If they feel that we are losing the battle, I expect we'd find a knife in our backs while they claimed it was the plan all along." To that, Jarl Aldmund grunted. "They are raiding pagans… instead of trusting their word that their followers follow our ways, we could recruit them ourselves."
"Raid the raiders? Aye, that could work. Thin their numbers a bit before the battle, and men will fight harder for someone that saved them. Would have to explain it to that boy king and his puppeteer, but I can handle that. Don't take a small group -- a hundred men, at least. I'll give you the horses for speed. If nothing else, this should provoke them to attack us."
I traded a nod with the Jarl before heading into camp with Halfdan in tow. "Halfdan," I spoke up, catching his attention. "I need to learn how to speak these people's language. Can you find me someone that does and can teach me? And who knows how to keep a secret?" I requested, earning a cocky smile in response.
"Can do, little brother," Halfdan agreed, splitting off from me. It wasn't just for the sake of learning another language. I had met Authun and the well dressed man and they knew I couldn't speak their tongue. However, if I could learn even some of it in the coming days before the battle? I imagine that when we next saw each other, they might let something slip in my presence.
Intrigue experience gained: 100
I smirked at the message from the gods, taking it as approval from Loki himself.
…
Halfdan had managed to find me a man that spoke the language called Dutch. But, because of the circumstances, we were forced to take him with us as we set out to raid throughout Holland. We were provided a rough map of the area, marked with settlements and where the Frank army currently was. What the map didn't convey was how marshy the entire land was. It seemed to be nothing more than rivers and marshes or swamps.
As promised, we were given horses and I decided to divide my band into three parts -- one led by me, one by Thorkell, and one by Halstien. Morrigan and Jill -- much to their chagrin -- were forced to remain behind in the main encampment. The odd hundred and fifty man bands were then sent out into the country to rally it to our cause.
The first day of learning Dutch was an uneventful one. The second, I could hold a stilted conversation. On the third day, however? I spoke Dutch as if I had been born speaking it.
And it wasn't a day too soon, because as we approached a small town, I saw that we weren't the only ones that had had this idea.
It only made sense. Why send two thousand men to root out pagans from small villages when a band of fifty would be more than enough?
"They haven't noticed us yet," I remarked to Authun, my archer scout. Despite his relative youth, I found that he was quickly finding my faith in his abilities. True Vision revealed him to be a warm blue, making him a loyal ally. Just as it marked the Frankish soldiers that were riding into a village in a dark red. They too had horses, but I saw something of note on them. The color gold.
The foot rests that they used on their horses. It might make riding more comfortable, but it felt very odd that the gods would mark such a simple thing as a footrest as important. Still, I had faith in their wisdom. Wisdom I would understand once I acquired the foot rests.
"Shall we attack?" Authun questioned, looking to me for direction as True Vision faded.
Quest: Save the Village
Reward: 35 recruits. 150 Tactics exp.
"We shall. I'll be the main thrust. Flank around to make sure none escape," I accepted the quest from the gods with a nod. Authun nodded before grabbing a horn that hung from his waist and giving it a sharp note. The signal to attack. Before the signal had even finished, I galloped forward toward the village as sounds of combat started to echo out from within. We arrived too late to circumvent the battle, but not too late to help. Something that couldn't be said for a good dozen villages that we had come by in the past several days.
My men and I thundered across the fields around the village, kicking up mounds of dirt in our wake before we arrived at the back of the raiders. The sound of our hooves alerted those in the back ranks of our arrival, I noticed, catching the eye of a scrambling Frank. Rushing forward, I swung my dane-axe at him, catching him in the shoulder and cutting all the way down to his sternum.
"To arms! To arms!" I heard a man shot in Frankish, all the while people were screaming out in Dutch from within their homes. Some dared to peek out when the clash began in earnest. The raiders were spread out, and over the cries of the Dutch men and women, the calls to arms were missed by more than a few of them as they ran down villagers.
Rushing forward, I threw myself into the thick of the raiders, galloping forward with my Dane-axe raised high. I struck down the man that was trying to rally his men while the rest of mine started to pour into the village. The only obvious escape point was directly across from me. Even before his head hit the ground, I moved on, hacking at the man next to him as I tried to get the Franks to route.
As I did so, one of the Franks met me in battle, urging his horse to cut me off. I reared back on the reins, only for it to be too late. My horse crashed into his, knocking me free of my horse and sending me tumbling through the air. But the Frank in question managed to stay seated. As I fell, my eyes darted to the footrests on the horse that were pulled taunt.
Ah. I see.
That's why the Franks didn't go flying like I did when they charged into our rear.
I slammed into the ground with a thump, but I quickly found my feet. The Frank that unhorsed me calling out, "The Wolf-Kissed is unhorsed! Kill him! Kill him in the name of our Lord!" He shouted, urging his horse forward as he leveled a spear at my throat. I batted it away with a hand as I struck out with my Dane-axe, hacking off the front leg of his horse and sending it into the ground. The horse cried out in agony, making my stomach clench.
Killing men was far easier than killing animals, I decided. The Frank scrambled to his feet, drawing a dirk before lunging at me with it. His eyes were crazed -- he was terrified. I saw it. With the expression he wore, I'd have thought he would be running away from me at full speed, but instead he threw himself at me like a man possessed by a spirit. I was taken aback by his fervor, but I didn't hesitate. With the advantage of my speed and reach, I caught him in the leg, carving through it before I beheaded him with the backswing. Despite the bravery that he showed, the other Franks didn't answer his calls.
The one near me shifted and ran, fleeing through the only obvious exit. More than half of them were cut down, and a few more perished in their attempts to flee. However, as they left the outer edge of the village, pouring through the only open path, I watched at they were feathered with arrows. Three to a man, punch into their necks or eyes. All of them died before they even realized they were under attack.
I smiled to myself. I had just tried out an idea that I had while watching my first battle -- offering the enemy a point of escape and letting them run into a trap. Shouldering my axe, I looked over at the meager village. There were a number of bodies on the streets, and those who weren't killed by the raiders were fleeing indoors. I could feel their eyes on me, watching with bated breath as they were uncertain if we were here to help or pick up where the Franks left off.
"Friends!" I called out in Dutch, letting my voice echo out. "We are friends!" I continued, throwing on a heavy accent onto my words. My men began to calm and claim the horses, looting the corpses of the raiders with well practiced ease. As my words rang out, I caught a glimpse of a family peering through a window. They exchanged nervous glances, the father speaking lowly to his family. It seemed they didn't know what to make of me.
However, a door swung open and the single oldest looking man I had ever seen in my life stepped out from a small house. His back was hunched, no longer able to stand up straight after what seemed to be at least several centuries of bending over to sow and reap the harvest. His hair was white and thin, while his face was covered in wrinkles. Flemeth was the oldest person I had ever seen, but she seemed young in comparison to the man that walked towards me with the help of a walking stick.
Despite his age, his eyes were sharp as he approached. "You are the Wolf-Kissed, hm? You're a little short, hm?" He spoke to me in near flawless Norse, catching me by surprise.
I narrowed my eyes, "I'm still taller than you, greybeard." I retorted, earning a breathless chuckle from him.
"Ha! You'll be lucky to stand this tall when you reach my age. Ah. My tongue got away from me. You have our thanks for your timely aid," he said, bowing his head to me. "We heard word that Duke Ageric was cracking down on our ways, but we believed ourselves safe from it."
I wanted to ask why, but I held my tongue. "It was the will of the gods. We shall be giving battle to Duke Ageric in the coming weeks. As much as I am to put an end to their raiding, I am here for men willing to fight against the Christians. Are there any such men in this village?" I asked, earning a small nod from the greybeard.
"Aye, I reckon you'd find plenty here. We were already mustering up to answer the call of King Ageres," the old man returned, sounding proud of that fact. I frowned, my gaze going to the corpse of the brave frank.
"When did you give your answer?" I asked him, curious. It very well could be the will of the gods, and failing that, pure dumb luck. Which amounted to the same thing.
The greybeard scratched at his cheek, "Couldn't be more than two days ago. Day and a half," He answered. We could ride back to the city within half a day if we rode hard. With the Frankish army's last location, it would be closer to three quarters of a day.
Hm.
"The timing is too close for this to be a coincidence," I quickly decided. I hadn't known the village answered the call to arms. The fact that a Norseman was speaking to me made me inclined to believe that the village did worship our gods. But, in answering the call to arms, they painted a target on themselves for the raiders. Ageric was rooting out the pagans that lived in his territory, while at the same time, preventing us from gaining any reinforcements. It was a clever play. And it meant one thing for certain.
Someone was feeding Ageric information -- which villages were answering the call to arms, and they were close enough to retaliate before the reinforcements could mobilize. They were picking them apart while their numbers were small. Just as I was hoping to do with the Franks. I couldn't say I particularly cared for the Franks using my tactics against me. Not one bit.
Still, this was useful information. Extremely useful.
Because now I knew where the raiders would appear.
And I knew someone was feeding the Franks information.
It was time to lay a trap of my own, I decided.
…
Over the course of three more days, we clashed against the Frankish raiders four more times. Each time, we wiped out the parties down to a man. The Franks had what seemed to be a good dozen raiding parties throughout the area and receiving information from the Dutch about which villages were answering the call to arms led us right to them. However, after our fifth victory, the Franks seemed to realize that we knew where they would be. Their pattern changed abruptly on the second day, leaving us to collect the Dutch warriors without issue.
I sent out my messengers to Duke Aldmund, letting him know the plan. He was agreeable to it. Jill and Morrigan, far less so.
"Maybe they do have a point," I muttered under my breath, gazing out to the village that we were tasked to recruit from. This one was far removed from the area that we had patrolled and recruited from in the past week. "Using myself as bait like this…" I signed, knowing that I was in for a talking to when we got back to camp. I had learned a harsh lesson in Frankfurt. The tunnel collapsed because too many people had sprinted through it. We ended up trapped in that city because I agreed to be the rear guard. The position that would be fighting the longest.
And now I was doing it again, I realized. Morrigan wouldn't be happy. Still, I thought it was worth doing. Especially when I saw Authun galloping toward me, his expression terse. "It's as you suspected. They marched their army against you," Authun told me, and I didn't have it in me to be happy about that. I gazed into the surrounding terrain -- perfect for hiding an army that was two thousand strong. The terrain had some rolling hills that were covered in a dense forest while the village itself was located in a sleepy valley.
"Someone is definitely working with the Franks within the Dutch city," I voiced, not surprised by the outcome. I suspected it the moment I was tasked with safeguarding fifty warriors on the edge of Holland. It was an ambush arranged just for me. "I suppose I should be flattered," I continued, searching the forest for any obvious hint that they were in there. They hid themselves well.
Ageric was clever. More so than I gave him credit for.
"They know you are the greatest threat to them, Lord Seigfried. Attacking you now, without the support of the army, is too good of a chance to pass up," Authun agreed. That was the plan. To be so tempting that the Franks would have to jump on the opportunity.
They were being led by Ageric. A man who knew me. Who witnessed first hand what I was capable of. Twice, I had captured him, and twice he had seen the effects that I had on a battlefield or siege. More than that, after ransoming him twice and now I was working with his brother to overthrow him… well, I imagine Ageric had more than just political reasons to want me dead. And with his knowledge of my prowess, he knew he'd be a fool to attack me with anything less than his full army.
But I had walked into enough traps.
"We're retreating," I told Authun. "Let them give pace. Jarl Aldmund should be in position already. We just need to lead them to the field of our choosing," I told him. We would be the bait that led them right into the jaws of the beast.
Authun nodded, brining the horn to his lips and sounding the retreat. The army saw us, and they would see us leave. At this close, they would become convinced-
A red trajectory mark lined itself up with my forehead coming from the forest across from me. Thousands of feet, over the village, and the mark hardly showed any signs of a drop. I reacted instantly, jerking my head out of the way just in time to avoid the arrow that I felt tickling my ear with its feathers. It struck a man behind me, and I saw it punched through his chainmail and through him as well.
My attention jerked back to the forest to see another red trajectory mark lined itself up with my chest. This time, I saw the arrow racing towards me and I shifted my dane axe in its path, catching the arrow with the broadside of my axe. My arms jerked from the sudden force, the arrow head carving a long groove into the surface before the arrow shaft was reduced to splinters. That really was an incredible shot, but now I was looking at who was trying to kill me. I wasn't all that surprised by who it was.
"Good," I decided, seeing a familiar face. She stood out now that she revealed herself -- a shock of red hair not too different from my own, dark green eyes. I never learned her name, but I recognized her even without the nun garb. She was the archer woman that tried to kill me back in Worms. I gave a small taunting wave with my axe before I urged my horse back.
I didn't kill her last time because she possessed the heart of a warrior but was dreadfully out of position to fight me. She swore revenge, and now she was here to take it. I didn't really expect much from her -- I thought she would be just another archer in the Frankish armies.
Instead, she was something special. There was too much power behind the arrows. It wasn't normal. Her range with it was too long, and too accurate. It was early to say if she was like me, but at the very least, she wasn't a normal archer.
She was a warrior. And this time, I would give her the warrior death worthy of her courage.
"Full retreat! Follow my lead! And keep an eye behind you or you'll find yourself with a feathered arse!" I called out, breaking into a flat gallop away from the army. My mercenaries were quick to follow me, and I would have known that the Franks gave chase even without being told. Thousands of sprinting people or horses shook the ground ever so slightly and made a chaotic mess of noise.
The Franks abandoned their position in favor of chasing us down, their cavalry leading the charge since they were the only ones that could hope to keep up. I could guess Ageric's plan -- lock us down with his horsemen, letting the footmen catch up, and then we would be brought down by sheer weight of numbers. But, that plan hinged on the idea that they could keep up with us. They couldn't, but I slowed us intentionally. Letting the horsemen think we were just within their grasp.
As we galloped toward our ultimate destination, one figure took the lead of the Frankish army. Clad in the odd plate armor with a white cloak billowing out behind her. She was unmistakable. Astolfo, one of Charlemagne's Paladins. It looked like we would get to have our rematch. Hopefully, this one wouldn't end in a draw.
Despite the danger, a smile found its way onto my face as I saw our destination. A trap laid out for the Franks.
And they were rushing headlong right into it.
...
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Setting the Stage
- Location
- USA
Jarl Aldmund hadn't quite managed to get everything into position within the time that we gave him, but it didn't matter. With such obvious bait before the Frank's eyes, even if they suspected a trap, they were compelled to still try to kill me. And because of that fact, they fell head first into it, completely missing the somewhat obvious Norse and Dutch soldiers until it was far too late. The ambush was announced with arrows being let loose from the trees that covered the small valley that we traversed, a small river running through it.
I heard the exact moment that the ambush was sprung because the sound of several hundred galloping horses was intermingled with the sudden sounds of screaming. Both of men crying out as they were feathered by arrows, their horses collapsing as they were struck and sending their riders flying forward to be trembled by those behind… as well as the sound of war cries from the Norse warriors that rushed down to attack the Franks. The river would protect the archers -- at least somewhat. It would make it difficult to attack them, but it wouldn't stop a dedicated force. I just had to hope that they could take care of themselves as I wheeled my horse around, changing directions.
My gaze caught Astolfo's, her face hidden behind a helm, but I saw her eyes narrow at my challenge. She sped forward, my men following behind me for the clash against the Franks, and I met Astolfo in the middle. Her golden gilded spear flickered out, jabbing at my throat, only to be batted away with my Dane-axe. I choked up on the shaft, thinking that it was a poor weapon to keep up with her quick speeds, but it was the only way I could reach her. The first bout was a quick clash as we narrowly avoided crashing into each other, both of us wheeling our horses around to clash again.
"You trapped our trap!" Astolfo accused, mirth on her voice despite their poor positioning. Her spear flickered out, becoming little more than a blur and forcing me on the defensive. I noticed that the shaft of her spear was covered in reinforced metal -- the neck of the spearhead extending far longer than it previously did. She noticed that I had been attacking her spear. Inconvenient. However, it also explained why her strokes seemed so much slower. Before, I needed two weapons to keep up.
The extra weight to the long neck slowed her considerably. Astolfo was still firmly well beyond the realm of men, but she couldn't completely overwhelm me with her speed anymore.
"Of course we did. Ageric isn't as clever as he thinks he is," I remarked, our weapons clashing between us with such speeds no other dared to interder. For every one slash I managed to throw at her, I was forced to block ten more. Astolfo was just as good at defense as she was at offense, able to deftly counter my attacks and avoid the full force behind them.
"Hehe… is there something going on between you two? Ageric thinks you're obsessed with him or something. You kidnapped him twice, and now you're invading his homeland…" she trailed off, and I narrowed my eyes at the insinuation. She was trying to make me angry. She was trying to make me slip up.
"You Christians have been slaughtering our people in Holland. It is only natural that we would arrive here," I snapped at her, overextending dangerously to force her to block a blow that bucked her horse back. The white steed found his feet, and Astolfo surged forward to meet me again. "Was he there for it? The massacre of Verdan? Were you?" I questioned, blocking a thrust at my heart and liver and urging my horse forward. With a spear, she still had the advantage of reach, but the closer I got, the favor tilted my way.
Behind her helm, I saw her eyes narrow. "We weren't, but would it matter if we had? You people have been slaughtering your way across Francia, killing thousands and displacing more. I thought better of you, Seig. Did you really think vengeance cuts only one way?" She snapped back at me, the speed of her thrusts picking up, forcing me to relent the attack and remain on the defensive. "My king hasn't repaid this so called blood price even half way yet. The only difference is that the ones he killed all died in one place."
I snarled at her, urging my horse forward despite the flurry of attacks. Both of us were pushing harder -- when we last fought, I had been overjoyed to find another one like myself. Her gift from her God was different than mine, but I finally found a warrior that I could call a peer. Now, however, the battle was personal. "He slaughtered children. Babies," I spat at her.
"You're a damned fool if you think you rebels haven't butchered children. You just didn't see it Seig. It doesn't make them any less dead," Astolfo replied, making me grit my teeth in response. That was a point I couldn't argue. At least not in good faith. How many burned out villages had we come across? How many people died in the sacks that I paved the way for? I knew it happened. I saw it happen with my own eyes. And I still did it again and again because I had a reason to.
The right of the victorious. That is what my father called it. And when I found myself in charge of a mercenary band, I accepted it. Simply because scaling back, limiting myself… would have been counterproductive. It would have made things more complicated, it took longer, and it could mean less wealth. Above all else, it seemed difficult. It was why I never seriously tried to impose any kind of discipline over my mercenaries. So long as they obeyed my orders, I was fine.
But now that fact was being thrown in the face of my righteous anger over the butchery that took place in Verdan, and I was less sure if I really had the right to call it righteous anger.
My guard slipped and I felt the sharp sting of her spear cutting my arm at the shoulder. It was a shallow wound, but it would prove troublesome since it was my sword arm. "It wasn't right," I returned, ignoring the wound.
"Was slaughtering people cowering in a church?" Astolfo shot back at me, her spear darting around. Now she took jabs at my legs, and gut, forcing me to move the arm and worsen the wound. "What was done to your people was cruel. I won't deny you that. However, you are looking for compassion and fairness in war. We did to you what your people have done to us. There is your fairness."
I blocked a last jab at my throat before backing off a half step. Blood quickly soaked through my sleeve and I focused my awareness to the odd hundred feet around me. Astolfo was left unsupported. The rest of the cavalry was in pitched combat and slowly being whittled away while the rest of the Frankish army was slowly advancing. That, I saw from horseback. The battle lines would be messy, but with their cavalry committed and losing, and our position, I felt good about our chances of winning.
Taking in a deep breath… "Aye, you're right," I told Astolfo, making her lower her spear a fraction. "I apologize for my words, Paladin Astolfo. They were misplaced and undeserved."
It was a point that was slowly being hammered home ever since I swore vengeance. Something that was crystalized when Alef attacked me in the Saxon camp. Astolfo said it best -- vengeance cut both ways. As much as I could claim it upon others, it could be claimed upon me. Calling the massacre of Verdan unjust and vile completely ignored our own actions. It was hypocritical and that wasn't something I could deny.
"Ah?! Well, I wasn't really expecting an apology. I accept it, though. Arda was right about you. You do have a strange sense of honor. S'not too late to be friends?" Astolfo offered, but I shook my head. I wouldn't just abandon my oath. No, I wouldn't just cling to the idea that the Franks were morally unjust for what they did. I wouldn't use it as a justification for everything that would come next.
"I will not fight for King Charlemagne. I gave my word to King Widukind, and above all else, I will not fight for a God I do not worship," I refused outright. I would not become a Christian. How could I be when I had never even spoke to this God, and while my own gods acknowledged me? Astolfo seemed unsurprised, but a tad disappointed. "However, I shall accept your offer of friendship. So long as you understand it shall change nothing about this battle."
"Eh?! Not going to hold back on your buddy?!" Astolfo asked, spinning her spear. She reached up and shrugged off her helmet, revealing a grinning face. I liked her, I decided. Despite being led head first into a trap, locked in combat without hope of support, she smiled and laughed without any traces of fear.
"Of course not. You are a worthy warrior. You deserve a warrior's death," I told her.
And my gods agreed.
Quest: Defeat Astolfo
Reward: 1 Prowess perk.
Bonus Objective: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.
Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.
That was a first, I noticed, dismissing the quest from the gods with a thought. A clue would be my reward? For a legendary item? What could it mean? My thoughts started to jump to possible answers -- perhaps a legendary sword? Or perhaps a magical ring or necklace? I felt an eager thrill at the mere thought of it. But I was forced to shove those thoughts away as Astolfo urged her horse forward. Before I should think of rewards, I should earn them first.
With renewed vigor, the two of us clashed once again. Sparks flared where our weapons clashed between us, our weapons moving in blurs to the men around us that couldn't help but to look on us with awe. The battle around us was taking shape -- the rest of the Franks having arrived. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was left of the cavalry break off to start crossing the river, either intending to attack our archers or flee, but they became targets. Astolfo's smile never wavered, no matter what, despite my suspicion that she was just as aware of the battle as I was.
The cavalry was done for, leaving a pitched battle in the valley. The river secured one flank, but as far as I could tell, it was half fought in the forest and half fought in the valley flats. It made it next to impossible to really tell what was going on around us. Thorkell had a good head on his shoulders. Halstien too. The only one that I was worried about was Halfdan. I would be damned if I lost another brother on the battlefield.
Only Astolfo was keeping me here. She punished my stray thoughts -- tagging me again in the thigh -- but I managed to respond with a power attack that I forced her to block. Her horse cried out as the two of them were forced to shuffle back, Astolfo's eyes widening. "Oh, I cannot let you and Roland meet!" She announced, visibly shivering at the idea before urging her horse forward once again. Our third bout.
Despite taking two wounds, I felt as if I was winning the fight. It was slow, hardly noticeable, but Astolfo's thrusts weren't as fast as they had been. The added weight from her spear head was firing her out. It couldn't be more than two or three pounds at most, but even an extra pound of weight could be exhausting with repetitive tasks. Especially if you weren't used to the weight. It was something that she wasn't unaware of either. Her expression became a little more strained and sweat building on her brow.
If I couldn't break her spear, I would have to wear her down. It would mean I couldn't help much with the battle itself, but we had enough of an advantage that it should be fine.
Urging my horse deeper into her guard, blood flicked off of my arms with each movement, trailing down my forearm. Astolfo's smile became fragile, sensing that I was winning, and she desperately tried to ward me off. She gave ground, edging closer to the river and picked up the speed of her attacks to keep me on the defensive. However, slowly, for every one attack I managed to throw out she managed to send nine… then eight… then seven. Each blow I delivered, all blocked by her, rattled her. The last Power Attack I delivered to her guard nearly unhorsed her and it might have if her horse hadn't shuffled back to the edge of the river.
I saw her considering her options, keenly aware of the archers that were now at her back, but she had no choice but to keep them there. I could see her thinking about fleeing, or commiting to a suicidal charge to take me out with her. The archers would feather her before she could cross, and she knew it was just as deadly to turn her back to me.
She was trapped, and she knew it-
Almost as if to save her, I saw a red trajectory line up with my chest. My gaze snapped to the source of it, throwing up my Dane-axe just in time to block the blade. The arrow impacted with thunderous force, the flat of the blade slamming against my chest while the arrow itself seemed to explode on contact. My horse shuffled back, neighing while I locked eyes with the person that shot me.
"That archer. I never learned her name," I remarked, inspecting my axe to see that the second deep groove made an X. She was soaking wet, telling me that she swam across the river and now she was hiding on the other side and firing deadly accurate arrows. That… that wasn't something that I could leave alone. She had to be taken out.
"She's Arda. A paladin of Charlemagne. She's determined to kill you," Astolfo admitted, taking advantage of the lull to catch her breath. "She arrived not long after you attacked Worms and she impressed King Charlemagne with her resolve. He granted her his blessing and she was acknowledged by God." She elaborated, and that caught my attention.
"Could she shoot like that before her blessing?" I asked, making Astolfo tilt her head.
"Dunno?" She said, playing dumb, seemingly realizing that she said too much. That all but confirmed it for me.
Charlemagne. He was the source of the Paladin's strength. It was different than how my favor worked. I was uncertain if Charlemagne spoke directly to his God, like I did, but it seemed he had the ability to empower those that he acknowledged. There had to be some kind of requirement or limiting factor. Otherwise, every single Frank we fought would be as strong as I was. It was valuable information.
"You asked me if I spoke to God when we last met," Astolfo voiced, her own tone suspicious. "Do you speak to your gods?"
"Who knows?" I didn't answer. Astolfo didn't seem surprised. However, we both knew this was the end of our duel, so she reached down and put her helmet back on. I threw myself forward, dodging another arrow aimed at my eye. I had to defeat Astolfo first and quickly because I wouldn't be able to handle them both for long. Or even briefly when I felt the feathers of another arrow tickle my ear as I leaned my head out of the way while I tried to shift Astolfo between us, only she seemed keenly aware of her positioning. Which made her hard to dislodge.
However, refusing to move worked against her as much as it helped her. She had nowhere left to go, and as I pressed the attack, I drew blood for the first time with the edge of my axe cutting her forearm. A shallow wound, but a clear sign that the tide of the battle turned against her. With Astolfo's face hidden behind a helm, I couldn't see her expression, but her gaze was serious. Mine was as well when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and a horn blowing. One of our horns.
The sound of victory.
The battle was too short for it to be a massacre, which probably meant Ageric had called the retreat. They committed to the battle to save the cavalry, but they were already lost. Not to mention, it was a poor battlefield for them. The army started to surge forward, intent on giving chase to the Franks, but that wasn't what I noticed.
A group of horsemen were crossing the river. A dozen of them.
Directly to Arda. Their bravery was commendable, but what terrified me was the fact that Halfdan was leading that charge.
Gritting my teeth, I swallowed a command for them to hold. I couldn't shame my brother like that. I just had to pray to the Norns that today wasn't his chosen day.
Astolfo tried to seize my momentary lapse in focus, her spear going for my throat, but I batted it away with a forearm, a deep gash splitting the skin. Even her spear wasn't normal. Flipping my axe, I reversed my grip and swung at her head. Her spear almost managed to make it back, and it would have if I hadn't grabbed hold of the shaft, nearly costing me the flesh on my palm. The slight delay in her guard was all the time I needed, the back of my axe striking her at the temple and with enough force that Astolfo was unhorsed. She crashed to the ground, the spear falling from her grasp, and she didn't move.
Quest Completed: Defeat Astolfo
Reward: 1 Prowess perk.
Bonus Objective Completed: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.
Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.
Bonus Reward: In the long shadow of the throat of the world.
I didn't pay the reward or the single stanza any mind in favor of looking out to Arda. I urged my horse forward, throwing my hands out wide and tossing my axe to the ground.
Shoot me. Please shoot at me instead of Halfdan.
Despite the distance between us, our eyes seemed to lock. I saw the fury in her gaze and how her lips thinned. Arda's eyes flickered down to the horsemen that were galloping before her before her gaze went back to mine. I tried not to swallow thickly, waiting for her to make her decision… but I knew the instant that she did. She abandoned all thoughts of stealth and took aim with her bow, the arrow lining up directly at my chest. The projectile prediction lined the arrow up at my heart that pounded in anticipation.
I saw the second that it flew free from her bow, just as Halfdan arrived. His axe struck out, catching her in the neck, killing her. She chose to die for the opportunity to kill me.
As soon as the arrow left her bow, I reacted, slamming a hand into the path of the arrow and feeling it land in my grip. Despite catching the arrow, it still continued on, pushing forward through my gambeson and chainmail. All the way until I felt a small prick over my heart before the arrow went still.
Arda, huh?
I'm glad that I didn't kill her at Worms. She got the warrior's death that she richly deserved.
…
We won the battle handily, I learned after it was done. The dead were counted and we lost less than ten on our side. The Franks, however, lost closer to three hundred. They were still a fighting force to be reckoned with, but Jarl Aldmund decided to call it a victory seeing as most of the dead belonged to the Frankish cavalry. Ageric wasn't keen on pressing the battle and quickly retreated out of Holland altogether and we soon learned where they were going.
The Franks were marching into Holland. The armies that they had sprinkled throughout the kingdom were condensing at a city called Antwerp. Our scouts were practically tripping over one another since both sides were cautiously watching the other -- King Widukind gave the order to march across the river, using the foothold that we secured. It took more than a week to march twelve thousand warriors across the river since so many feet turned the dirt into an untamable muck.
That time, for me, was spent preparing for the battle to come. You could almost feel the tension in the air as everyone knew that the coming battle would be the one that decided the war. This was the last of the Saxon's strength, and if we crushed this army, then King Charlemagne would be a fool to do anything but sue for peace. Otherwise, the Saxons would sweep across Francia like a tide. Likewise, should the Saxons lose the battle, then that would be it. There was no hope of continuing the war.
Astolfo was taken prisoner by me. As a Paladin, she had a unique value to Charlemagne that I was hoping would be paid in gold when it came time to ransom the prisoners taken on both sides. Regardless, it would mean we would face one less paladin in the coming battle. Likewise, Halfdan had been honored for his kill of Arda. He took her bow as a trophy -- a metal one that had gilded gold adorning on it. He couldn't draw it, despite all of his efforts.
Neither could I, for that matter. A true testament to Arda's strength as an archer.
While the battle in Holland had been small, with the loss of two paladins, much had changed. Our efforts were praised and we all waited for the moment that we all knew was coming. The moment when King Charlemagne decided to march.
"We have chosen our battlefield," King Widukind voiced in the Dutch city, standing at the opposite end of a long table that had King Ageres on the other end of it. The nameless count -- who I was starting to think he didn't possess a name at all because everyone simply knew him as the Count -- stood next to him, gazing upon the large model of the chosen terrain on the table. "Despite our number advantage, King Charlemagne will be forced on the offensive. Time works against him here."
The terrain was vaguely familiar to me. Mostly because I recognized the burnt twigs that represented the scorched forest that I had set alight to cover my horde. On the other side of the scorched forest was a wide and long hill with a slight incline, with a river to one side that protected a flank. It wasn't what I imagined when I pictured the battle, and King Widukind continued. "Between our numbers and a great advantage in terrain? King Charlemagne would be a fool to attack when defeat is certain. However, with a slight advantage? We can tempt him into attacking. Do you agree, King Ageres?" He asked, looking at the boy king.
He glanced at the Count, who spoke. "The Saxon King requires your approval of his plan. He says that the battle cannot be won without our brave soldiers."
In the past day that I had been here, I heard a great many things when no one knew I spoke their language. They spoke rather freely when they thought I couldn't understand, and didn't know I had learned their tongue in a mere three days. That had landed me a nice amount of Intrigue experience. I think Loki would approve. Above all else, I had learned that King Ageres didn't receive a single true translation. Something I told King Widukind.
"The barbarian king has it. I hope to see my brother on the battlefield. This entire plan of yours will be quite pointless if he survives," King Ageres remarked, sounding bored and uninterested. I tried not to look interested at what they were saying -- such a thing would give me a way. When they felt comfortable speaking their own tongue, certain no one knew it, they dropped hints here and there. However, they never went into specifics.
As far as I had learned -- Ageres just wanted his brother dead to secure his claim.
The Count didn't reply, "King Ageres conedes to your plan, King Widukind. However, he requests that the Dutch warriors shall be placed on the left flank." He said in Germanic. The Dutch offered three thousand warriors in total -- a considerable amount, but a small fraction of our army.
King Widukind glanced down at the table, "Very well then." He agreed easily enough. Too easily. He had his own plan and he had remarked more than once that he could put no faith in the Dutch. Not after learning that someone was relaying information to Ageric on where to target our people. However, I said nothing and merely waited for the decision to be made. "Grimar shall be in the right wing, along with the rest of the Norse warriors. I and my people shall comprise the center."
The right wing was protected by the river. I would have expected to be placed in the center.
"These Paladins are of great concern to me, but there is little we can do but anticipate their disruption in our formations. Wolf-Kissed, you and your mercenaries have freedom of movement. You are tasked with blunting whatever damage they can do," he instructed, earning a nod from me.
There was too much unknown. Too much to calculate… and too much depending on this battle.
But, all the same, we agreed to the plan, knowing that the future of our ways depended on 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 heard the exact moment that the ambush was sprung because the sound of several hundred galloping horses was intermingled with the sudden sounds of screaming. Both of men crying out as they were feathered by arrows, their horses collapsing as they were struck and sending their riders flying forward to be trembled by those behind… as well as the sound of war cries from the Norse warriors that rushed down to attack the Franks. The river would protect the archers -- at least somewhat. It would make it difficult to attack them, but it wouldn't stop a dedicated force. I just had to hope that they could take care of themselves as I wheeled my horse around, changing directions.
My gaze caught Astolfo's, her face hidden behind a helm, but I saw her eyes narrow at my challenge. She sped forward, my men following behind me for the clash against the Franks, and I met Astolfo in the middle. Her golden gilded spear flickered out, jabbing at my throat, only to be batted away with my Dane-axe. I choked up on the shaft, thinking that it was a poor weapon to keep up with her quick speeds, but it was the only way I could reach her. The first bout was a quick clash as we narrowly avoided crashing into each other, both of us wheeling our horses around to clash again.
"You trapped our trap!" Astolfo accused, mirth on her voice despite their poor positioning. Her spear flickered out, becoming little more than a blur and forcing me on the defensive. I noticed that the shaft of her spear was covered in reinforced metal -- the neck of the spearhead extending far longer than it previously did. She noticed that I had been attacking her spear. Inconvenient. However, it also explained why her strokes seemed so much slower. Before, I needed two weapons to keep up.
The extra weight to the long neck slowed her considerably. Astolfo was still firmly well beyond the realm of men, but she couldn't completely overwhelm me with her speed anymore.
"Of course we did. Ageric isn't as clever as he thinks he is," I remarked, our weapons clashing between us with such speeds no other dared to interder. For every one slash I managed to throw at her, I was forced to block ten more. Astolfo was just as good at defense as she was at offense, able to deftly counter my attacks and avoid the full force behind them.
"Hehe… is there something going on between you two? Ageric thinks you're obsessed with him or something. You kidnapped him twice, and now you're invading his homeland…" she trailed off, and I narrowed my eyes at the insinuation. She was trying to make me angry. She was trying to make me slip up.
"You Christians have been slaughtering our people in Holland. It is only natural that we would arrive here," I snapped at her, overextending dangerously to force her to block a blow that bucked her horse back. The white steed found his feet, and Astolfo surged forward to meet me again. "Was he there for it? The massacre of Verdan? Were you?" I questioned, blocking a thrust at my heart and liver and urging my horse forward. With a spear, she still had the advantage of reach, but the closer I got, the favor tilted my way.
Behind her helm, I saw her eyes narrow. "We weren't, but would it matter if we had? You people have been slaughtering your way across Francia, killing thousands and displacing more. I thought better of you, Seig. Did you really think vengeance cuts only one way?" She snapped back at me, the speed of her thrusts picking up, forcing me to relent the attack and remain on the defensive. "My king hasn't repaid this so called blood price even half way yet. The only difference is that the ones he killed all died in one place."
I snarled at her, urging my horse forward despite the flurry of attacks. Both of us were pushing harder -- when we last fought, I had been overjoyed to find another one like myself. Her gift from her God was different than mine, but I finally found a warrior that I could call a peer. Now, however, the battle was personal. "He slaughtered children. Babies," I spat at her.
"You're a damned fool if you think you rebels haven't butchered children. You just didn't see it Seig. It doesn't make them any less dead," Astolfo replied, making me grit my teeth in response. That was a point I couldn't argue. At least not in good faith. How many burned out villages had we come across? How many people died in the sacks that I paved the way for? I knew it happened. I saw it happen with my own eyes. And I still did it again and again because I had a reason to.
The right of the victorious. That is what my father called it. And when I found myself in charge of a mercenary band, I accepted it. Simply because scaling back, limiting myself… would have been counterproductive. It would have made things more complicated, it took longer, and it could mean less wealth. Above all else, it seemed difficult. It was why I never seriously tried to impose any kind of discipline over my mercenaries. So long as they obeyed my orders, I was fine.
But now that fact was being thrown in the face of my righteous anger over the butchery that took place in Verdan, and I was less sure if I really had the right to call it righteous anger.
My guard slipped and I felt the sharp sting of her spear cutting my arm at the shoulder. It was a shallow wound, but it would prove troublesome since it was my sword arm. "It wasn't right," I returned, ignoring the wound.
"Was slaughtering people cowering in a church?" Astolfo shot back at me, her spear darting around. Now she took jabs at my legs, and gut, forcing me to move the arm and worsen the wound. "What was done to your people was cruel. I won't deny you that. However, you are looking for compassion and fairness in war. We did to you what your people have done to us. There is your fairness."
I blocked a last jab at my throat before backing off a half step. Blood quickly soaked through my sleeve and I focused my awareness to the odd hundred feet around me. Astolfo was left unsupported. The rest of the cavalry was in pitched combat and slowly being whittled away while the rest of the Frankish army was slowly advancing. That, I saw from horseback. The battle lines would be messy, but with their cavalry committed and losing, and our position, I felt good about our chances of winning.
Taking in a deep breath… "Aye, you're right," I told Astolfo, making her lower her spear a fraction. "I apologize for my words, Paladin Astolfo. They were misplaced and undeserved."
It was a point that was slowly being hammered home ever since I swore vengeance. Something that was crystalized when Alef attacked me in the Saxon camp. Astolfo said it best -- vengeance cut both ways. As much as I could claim it upon others, it could be claimed upon me. Calling the massacre of Verdan unjust and vile completely ignored our own actions. It was hypocritical and that wasn't something I could deny.
"Ah?! Well, I wasn't really expecting an apology. I accept it, though. Arda was right about you. You do have a strange sense of honor. S'not too late to be friends?" Astolfo offered, but I shook my head. I wouldn't just abandon my oath. No, I wouldn't just cling to the idea that the Franks were morally unjust for what they did. I wouldn't use it as a justification for everything that would come next.
"I will not fight for King Charlemagne. I gave my word to King Widukind, and above all else, I will not fight for a God I do not worship," I refused outright. I would not become a Christian. How could I be when I had never even spoke to this God, and while my own gods acknowledged me? Astolfo seemed unsurprised, but a tad disappointed. "However, I shall accept your offer of friendship. So long as you understand it shall change nothing about this battle."
"Eh?! Not going to hold back on your buddy?!" Astolfo asked, spinning her spear. She reached up and shrugged off her helmet, revealing a grinning face. I liked her, I decided. Despite being led head first into a trap, locked in combat without hope of support, she smiled and laughed without any traces of fear.
"Of course not. You are a worthy warrior. You deserve a warrior's death," I told her.
And my gods agreed.
Quest: Defeat Astolfo
Reward: 1 Prowess perk.
Bonus Objective: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.
Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.
That was a first, I noticed, dismissing the quest from the gods with a thought. A clue would be my reward? For a legendary item? What could it mean? My thoughts started to jump to possible answers -- perhaps a legendary sword? Or perhaps a magical ring or necklace? I felt an eager thrill at the mere thought of it. But I was forced to shove those thoughts away as Astolfo urged her horse forward. Before I should think of rewards, I should earn them first.
With renewed vigor, the two of us clashed once again. Sparks flared where our weapons clashed between us, our weapons moving in blurs to the men around us that couldn't help but to look on us with awe. The battle around us was taking shape -- the rest of the Franks having arrived. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was left of the cavalry break off to start crossing the river, either intending to attack our archers or flee, but they became targets. Astolfo's smile never wavered, no matter what, despite my suspicion that she was just as aware of the battle as I was.
The cavalry was done for, leaving a pitched battle in the valley. The river secured one flank, but as far as I could tell, it was half fought in the forest and half fought in the valley flats. It made it next to impossible to really tell what was going on around us. Thorkell had a good head on his shoulders. Halstien too. The only one that I was worried about was Halfdan. I would be damned if I lost another brother on the battlefield.
Only Astolfo was keeping me here. She punished my stray thoughts -- tagging me again in the thigh -- but I managed to respond with a power attack that I forced her to block. Her horse cried out as the two of them were forced to shuffle back, Astolfo's eyes widening. "Oh, I cannot let you and Roland meet!" She announced, visibly shivering at the idea before urging her horse forward once again. Our third bout.
Despite taking two wounds, I felt as if I was winning the fight. It was slow, hardly noticeable, but Astolfo's thrusts weren't as fast as they had been. The added weight from her spear head was firing her out. It couldn't be more than two or three pounds at most, but even an extra pound of weight could be exhausting with repetitive tasks. Especially if you weren't used to the weight. It was something that she wasn't unaware of either. Her expression became a little more strained and sweat building on her brow.
If I couldn't break her spear, I would have to wear her down. It would mean I couldn't help much with the battle itself, but we had enough of an advantage that it should be fine.
Urging my horse deeper into her guard, blood flicked off of my arms with each movement, trailing down my forearm. Astolfo's smile became fragile, sensing that I was winning, and she desperately tried to ward me off. She gave ground, edging closer to the river and picked up the speed of her attacks to keep me on the defensive. However, slowly, for every one attack I managed to throw out she managed to send nine… then eight… then seven. Each blow I delivered, all blocked by her, rattled her. The last Power Attack I delivered to her guard nearly unhorsed her and it might have if her horse hadn't shuffled back to the edge of the river.
I saw her considering her options, keenly aware of the archers that were now at her back, but she had no choice but to keep them there. I could see her thinking about fleeing, or commiting to a suicidal charge to take me out with her. The archers would feather her before she could cross, and she knew it was just as deadly to turn her back to me.
She was trapped, and she knew it-
Almost as if to save her, I saw a red trajectory line up with my chest. My gaze snapped to the source of it, throwing up my Dane-axe just in time to block the blade. The arrow impacted with thunderous force, the flat of the blade slamming against my chest while the arrow itself seemed to explode on contact. My horse shuffled back, neighing while I locked eyes with the person that shot me.
"That archer. I never learned her name," I remarked, inspecting my axe to see that the second deep groove made an X. She was soaking wet, telling me that she swam across the river and now she was hiding on the other side and firing deadly accurate arrows. That… that wasn't something that I could leave alone. She had to be taken out.
"She's Arda. A paladin of Charlemagne. She's determined to kill you," Astolfo admitted, taking advantage of the lull to catch her breath. "She arrived not long after you attacked Worms and she impressed King Charlemagne with her resolve. He granted her his blessing and she was acknowledged by God." She elaborated, and that caught my attention.
"Could she shoot like that before her blessing?" I asked, making Astolfo tilt her head.
"Dunno?" She said, playing dumb, seemingly realizing that she said too much. That all but confirmed it for me.
Charlemagne. He was the source of the Paladin's strength. It was different than how my favor worked. I was uncertain if Charlemagne spoke directly to his God, like I did, but it seemed he had the ability to empower those that he acknowledged. There had to be some kind of requirement or limiting factor. Otherwise, every single Frank we fought would be as strong as I was. It was valuable information.
"You asked me if I spoke to God when we last met," Astolfo voiced, her own tone suspicious. "Do you speak to your gods?"
"Who knows?" I didn't answer. Astolfo didn't seem surprised. However, we both knew this was the end of our duel, so she reached down and put her helmet back on. I threw myself forward, dodging another arrow aimed at my eye. I had to defeat Astolfo first and quickly because I wouldn't be able to handle them both for long. Or even briefly when I felt the feathers of another arrow tickle my ear as I leaned my head out of the way while I tried to shift Astolfo between us, only she seemed keenly aware of her positioning. Which made her hard to dislodge.
However, refusing to move worked against her as much as it helped her. She had nowhere left to go, and as I pressed the attack, I drew blood for the first time with the edge of my axe cutting her forearm. A shallow wound, but a clear sign that the tide of the battle turned against her. With Astolfo's face hidden behind a helm, I couldn't see her expression, but her gaze was serious. Mine was as well when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and a horn blowing. One of our horns.
The sound of victory.
The battle was too short for it to be a massacre, which probably meant Ageric had called the retreat. They committed to the battle to save the cavalry, but they were already lost. Not to mention, it was a poor battlefield for them. The army started to surge forward, intent on giving chase to the Franks, but that wasn't what I noticed.
A group of horsemen were crossing the river. A dozen of them.
Directly to Arda. Their bravery was commendable, but what terrified me was the fact that Halfdan was leading that charge.
Gritting my teeth, I swallowed a command for them to hold. I couldn't shame my brother like that. I just had to pray to the Norns that today wasn't his chosen day.
Astolfo tried to seize my momentary lapse in focus, her spear going for my throat, but I batted it away with a forearm, a deep gash splitting the skin. Even her spear wasn't normal. Flipping my axe, I reversed my grip and swung at her head. Her spear almost managed to make it back, and it would have if I hadn't grabbed hold of the shaft, nearly costing me the flesh on my palm. The slight delay in her guard was all the time I needed, the back of my axe striking her at the temple and with enough force that Astolfo was unhorsed. She crashed to the ground, the spear falling from her grasp, and she didn't move.
Quest Completed: Defeat Astolfo
Reward: 1 Prowess perk.
Bonus Objective Completed: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.
Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.
Bonus Reward: In the long shadow of the throat of the world.
I didn't pay the reward or the single stanza any mind in favor of looking out to Arda. I urged my horse forward, throwing my hands out wide and tossing my axe to the ground.
Shoot me. Please shoot at me instead of Halfdan.
Despite the distance between us, our eyes seemed to lock. I saw the fury in her gaze and how her lips thinned. Arda's eyes flickered down to the horsemen that were galloping before her before her gaze went back to mine. I tried not to swallow thickly, waiting for her to make her decision… but I knew the instant that she did. She abandoned all thoughts of stealth and took aim with her bow, the arrow lining up directly at my chest. The projectile prediction lined the arrow up at my heart that pounded in anticipation.
I saw the second that it flew free from her bow, just as Halfdan arrived. His axe struck out, catching her in the neck, killing her. She chose to die for the opportunity to kill me.
As soon as the arrow left her bow, I reacted, slamming a hand into the path of the arrow and feeling it land in my grip. Despite catching the arrow, it still continued on, pushing forward through my gambeson and chainmail. All the way until I felt a small prick over my heart before the arrow went still.
Arda, huh?
I'm glad that I didn't kill her at Worms. She got the warrior's death that she richly deserved.
…
We won the battle handily, I learned after it was done. The dead were counted and we lost less than ten on our side. The Franks, however, lost closer to three hundred. They were still a fighting force to be reckoned with, but Jarl Aldmund decided to call it a victory seeing as most of the dead belonged to the Frankish cavalry. Ageric wasn't keen on pressing the battle and quickly retreated out of Holland altogether and we soon learned where they were going.
The Franks were marching into Holland. The armies that they had sprinkled throughout the kingdom were condensing at a city called Antwerp. Our scouts were practically tripping over one another since both sides were cautiously watching the other -- King Widukind gave the order to march across the river, using the foothold that we secured. It took more than a week to march twelve thousand warriors across the river since so many feet turned the dirt into an untamable muck.
That time, for me, was spent preparing for the battle to come. You could almost feel the tension in the air as everyone knew that the coming battle would be the one that decided the war. This was the last of the Saxon's strength, and if we crushed this army, then King Charlemagne would be a fool to do anything but sue for peace. Otherwise, the Saxons would sweep across Francia like a tide. Likewise, should the Saxons lose the battle, then that would be it. There was no hope of continuing the war.
Astolfo was taken prisoner by me. As a Paladin, she had a unique value to Charlemagne that I was hoping would be paid in gold when it came time to ransom the prisoners taken on both sides. Regardless, it would mean we would face one less paladin in the coming battle. Likewise, Halfdan had been honored for his kill of Arda. He took her bow as a trophy -- a metal one that had gilded gold adorning on it. He couldn't draw it, despite all of his efforts.
Neither could I, for that matter. A true testament to Arda's strength as an archer.
While the battle in Holland had been small, with the loss of two paladins, much had changed. Our efforts were praised and we all waited for the moment that we all knew was coming. The moment when King Charlemagne decided to march.
"We have chosen our battlefield," King Widukind voiced in the Dutch city, standing at the opposite end of a long table that had King Ageres on the other end of it. The nameless count -- who I was starting to think he didn't possess a name at all because everyone simply knew him as the Count -- stood next to him, gazing upon the large model of the chosen terrain on the table. "Despite our number advantage, King Charlemagne will be forced on the offensive. Time works against him here."
The terrain was vaguely familiar to me. Mostly because I recognized the burnt twigs that represented the scorched forest that I had set alight to cover my horde. On the other side of the scorched forest was a wide and long hill with a slight incline, with a river to one side that protected a flank. It wasn't what I imagined when I pictured the battle, and King Widukind continued. "Between our numbers and a great advantage in terrain? King Charlemagne would be a fool to attack when defeat is certain. However, with a slight advantage? We can tempt him into attacking. Do you agree, King Ageres?" He asked, looking at the boy king.
He glanced at the Count, who spoke. "The Saxon King requires your approval of his plan. He says that the battle cannot be won without our brave soldiers."
In the past day that I had been here, I heard a great many things when no one knew I spoke their language. They spoke rather freely when they thought I couldn't understand, and didn't know I had learned their tongue in a mere three days. That had landed me a nice amount of Intrigue experience. I think Loki would approve. Above all else, I had learned that King Ageres didn't receive a single true translation. Something I told King Widukind.
"The barbarian king has it. I hope to see my brother on the battlefield. This entire plan of yours will be quite pointless if he survives," King Ageres remarked, sounding bored and uninterested. I tried not to look interested at what they were saying -- such a thing would give me a way. When they felt comfortable speaking their own tongue, certain no one knew it, they dropped hints here and there. However, they never went into specifics.
As far as I had learned -- Ageres just wanted his brother dead to secure his claim.
The Count didn't reply, "King Ageres conedes to your plan, King Widukind. However, he requests that the Dutch warriors shall be placed on the left flank." He said in Germanic. The Dutch offered three thousand warriors in total -- a considerable amount, but a small fraction of our army.
King Widukind glanced down at the table, "Very well then." He agreed easily enough. Too easily. He had his own plan and he had remarked more than once that he could put no faith in the Dutch. Not after learning that someone was relaying information to Ageric on where to target our people. However, I said nothing and merely waited for the decision to be made. "Grimar shall be in the right wing, along with the rest of the Norse warriors. I and my people shall comprise the center."
The right wing was protected by the river. I would have expected to be placed in the center.
"These Paladins are of great concern to me, but there is little we can do but anticipate their disruption in our formations. Wolf-Kissed, you and your mercenaries have freedom of movement. You are tasked with blunting whatever damage they can do," he instructed, earning a nod from me.
There was too much unknown. Too much to calculate… and too much depending on this battle.
But, all the same, we agreed to the plan, knowing that the future of our ways depended on 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!
Not really, the story is written from Siegfried's perspective, and he can't say for certain whether Astolfo is a boy or a girl. Also, the Gamer System has proven to be biased by his perceptions. Such as when the system encouraged Siegfried to kill King Sigfred for revenge even though the true culprit was Thorfinn.
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Just read the story. It's really good and I look forward to seeing it continue
I loved this chapter especialy because of Siegfried character development.
He can't ignore the hypocrisy and contradictions araound him anymore, he can't rationalize and justify everything forever. Now he has to face the harsh reality of his actions and their consequences, and he must choose what type of man he wants to be.
Will he accept the cruelty of the world and become a ruthless and callous man like the others he has met during his journey? A man like Thorkell and his Father, who lack the power to change the world and so blindly accept it has it is? Or like Horrik and Charlemagne, who have the power to bring change but don't care enough to use it?
Or will he choose to change the world himself? To raise above the petty cruelty of others and become something more? To become the change he wants to see in the world?
I hope he chooses to change. I would find really interesting seeing Siegfried try to teach discipline to his mercenaries and trasform them from savage raiders to professional soilders.
He can't ignore the hypocrisy and contradictions araound him anymore, he can't rationalize and justify everything forever. Now he has to face the harsh reality of his actions and their consequences, and he must choose what type of man he wants to be.
Will he accept the cruelty of the world and become a ruthless and callous man like the others he has met during his journey? A man like Thorkell and his Father, who lack the power to change the world and so blindly accept it has it is? Or like Horrik and Charlemagne, who have the power to bring change but don't care enough to use it?
Or will he choose to change the world himself? To raise above the petty cruelty of others and become something more? To become the change he wants to see in the world?
I hope he chooses to change. I would find really interesting seeing Siegfried try to teach discipline to his mercenaries and trasform them from savage raiders to professional soilders.
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The Last Act
- Location
- USA
I had never seen so many people in one place before, I thought, seated on top of a horse at the crest of the hill that would serve as the final battlefield of the war. It looked exactly as King Widukind, who was next to me, had built it. Directly before us were thousands upon thousands of people -- a shield wall that felt like it could stretch on for miles and miles and at no less than twenty men thick at its thinnest. Fourteen thousand Saxons and Norsemen, in addition to three thousand Dutchmen. Almost twenty thousand men in total.
Had the world ever seen such a fighting force? It didn't seem like it was possible. Since I began fighting this war, it felt like the battles only grew in scale, and this was the ultimate culmination of it. Because, across from us, were the Franks. They lined themselves up across from us, further than most of our bows could reach. Their formation was just as long as ours, but not as thick.
"They number ten thousand," I voiced, after using the longest use of Fast Counter that I had ever experienced. Which put the Franks at what we expected for their numbers. Ten thousand against our twenty thousand. I felt confident. We outnumbered them nearly two to one, counting the Dutch.
"The Paladins?" King Widukind asked, his voice low and serene. In response to that, the color of the world faded away. Most of the men were gray, but more than a few of them were red. However, eight of them were outlined in gold.
King Charlemagne and seven of his paladins. We had captured Astolfo and killed Arda, meaning that he should still have eleven left, seeing as Arda was a recent addition. I didn't see them on the field. Was he holding them in reserve? "There. He's guarded by seven of them," I said, pointing to the King some distance away. He was easy to mark out even without True Sight. He sat on top of a white horse, wearing armor with a helm that had a gold crown hammered into it.
He looked no less impressive than the first time I saw him, which felt nothing less than an entire lifetime ago.
"They have less cavalry than expected," King Widukind muttered, fretting before the battle began. "We were told to expect three thousand, and I see a thousand at most." That was a discrepancy, but one that was easily explained.
"He might have unhorsed them. Do horses fight well on hills?" I asked, because I didn't know. I just knew that during the early battles of the war, the Franks hadn't dared to charge up a hill with their cavalry. Though, was that because they didn't want to attack a fortified position?
"You underestimate King Charlemagne," King Widukind continued, glancing at the boy king at his side. It was what everyone called him. I genuinely didn't think he knew. "Everyone does. They forget that he is in the position he is for good reason. By the grace of his God and his own cunning. No, we must be vigilant." King Widukind's attitude was against the grain of the warriors.
Many were jeering across the field and laughing. Confident in our victory.
Perhaps overconfident?
"If he has any unexpected surprises, that is what my men are for," I pointed out, and I saw the words did have a soothing effect on the Saxon King. His grip on the reins of his horse lessened, though his jaw still clenched. He was feeling the pressure, more than anyone else in the army. With how tense he was, you would think we were the ones outnumbered. Though, it would be a lie to say that I wasn't a little nervous myself. The Paladins of Charlemagne would be a challenge. I fought Astolfo evenly, but fighting two-on-one? I'd quickly find myself overwhelmed.
That was something that bode ill for the entire army. More than that, I knew that the battle hinged on my ability to keep the paladins occupied. To defeat them. It was an incredible weight on my shoulders, and I was feeling it keenly as I gazed out at their assembled army, the sun overhead in the early afternoon with a sky full of clouds.
"Aye," King Widukind decided to respond, a frown in his voice. "That's what you are here for," he agreed. "The sacrifices have been made. The omens are good. We shall win on this field and continue onward to Brussels and Antwerp. Sacking them will solidify our victory and position when we offer him terms. This… this shall work," he continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of it. The sacking of the two cities, I knew, would be revenge for Verdan.
Of course it relied on us crushing the army before us, but that seemed more likely than not. King Charlemagne must know that he couldn't afford to lose this battle any more than we could.
That was perhaps why the Frankish King urged his horse forward, accompanied by a handful of men and one of which raised a white flag. King Widukind narrowed his eyes at the action, and I saw him digging a fingernail underneath the nail of his thumb. A habit I noticed he was developing. The group was pushing through the army, approaching the space between us. "They wish to speak," King Widukind voiced, sounding suspicious of the move.
"It's an opportunity to kill him," Grimar remarked, seated nearby.
"Not with two of the paladins there," I refuted, looking out at them. Only two of the seven paladins marched forward with the group of Frankish nobles -- King Charlemagne, I saw Ageric, as well as a man that I didn't recognize. The paladins were marked by their odd armor. Both of them men, but they couldn't be more different from each other. One was a large man, likely standing taller than my own father, with broad shoulders. He carried a shield in one hand and strapped at his hip was a sword -- a poor weapon for fighting, but I saw no others on him. The second paladin was a clean shaven man with shaggy black hair, also tall but on the lean side.
I would be fighting them both before this battle ended, I knew that much.
"We'll take them on their offer," King Widukind decided, urging his horse forward. "If nothing else, I'll see how confident he finds himself." As he marched forward, I followed him along with King Ageres, Grimar, Jarl Aldmund and Halfdan. My brother rode beside me,his trophy bow hanging off the side of his horse. For that alone, I suspected that this wouldn't be a friendly conversation.
Our two groups met in the middle, though we both remained some distance away from each other. Just in case it did come to a fight. King Charlemagne appeared regal seated upon his horse, his gaze flickering across all of us. Ageric only had eyes for his brother, Ageres, who met his glare with an expression of disinterest. I found myself meeting the eyes of the large man, who frowned down at me while the other paladin took notice of my brother. A profound silence blossomed between us, neither side speaking of making the first move.
"Widukind… it's not often that I regret giving a man mercy, but you have tested the very depths of my patience," King Charlemagne began before his gaze flickered to me. "And you, Siegfried. Forgive me for saying it, but I really do wish I had killed you when I had the chance."
"No need for forgiveness, King Charlemagne. The feeling is mutual," I told him, making the large man scowl in my direction, a hand falling onto his sword. I cocked my head at him, shifting my grip back on my Dane-axe, giving me more reach. I would need it fighting him, I suspected.
King Charlemagne seemed to find that funny based on his chuckle. "You have the luck of the Devil, Widukind. I imagine without him, this second rebellion would have died a dog's death outside of Frankfurt. I do wonder what the histories shall write? That you led this rebellion or that it was won by the Wolf-Kissed?" He questioned, making my name sound like an insult. But, the insult was for King Widukind. King Charlemagne was ignoring his titles and questioning his valor.
"I suppose that would depend on who wins on this field, Charles," King Widukind returned, making the Franks bristle at the blatant disrespect more than the insinuation. "History shall remember the victors and you… for all that you have accomplished, you will only be remembered for your defeat."
King Charlemagne was the only one that didn't seem angered by the remark. "A sharp tongue you have. Good. I would expect nothing less. Regardless of who you truly owe your victories to, I will acknowledge what you have accomplished. Your victories are numerous, and you've caused a great deal of trouble. Truly, you are a test from God for me and my kingdom." He spoke the words as if they were praise rather than with anger.
"My gods demand vengeance and blood for Verdan. You made this war one between our gods, King Widukind. Even if you wish to surrender, I can't allow it. Offer yourself to me, and I give you my word that you shall be the only one that dies on this day." King Widukind stated. I glanced at him, trying to read his expression. It was the large paladin that responded first, urging his horse forward to protect King Charlemagne while I did the same for King Widukind.
"Roland, there is no need," King Charlemagne said, naming the paladin for me.
Roland looked down at me, his hair a dark brown and there was a close beard on his cheeks. His dark blue eyes narrowed at me. "Astolfo and Arda. Which one of them died?" He asked me, his voice low and threatening.
"Arda," I answered. "She died well and she is surely feasting with your God. Astolfo is my prisoner, but she has been treated well." I told her, making his eyes narrow into slits.
"She-" Roland started, but King Charlemagne interjected.
"Roland. You need not fret, Otto has vouched for the young pagan," he voiced, bringing my attention to him. He inclined his head to me, but his eyes were hard.
Otto has found his way back then? And he found favor with the Frankish King? Good. Unless, "He's not here, is he?" I asked, retreating back when Roland did the same.
"No. Otto is with my children. There are few men of such faith and conviction, and I hope that he imparts some of it onto them," he admitted, and that was good to hear. I didn't need to worry about him during the battle. "As for your offer, King Widukind -- I'm afraid that I must refuse. If I harbored doubts about our victory on this field, then I would consider it -- but God has laid out my destiny for me. I shall crush you here, and reconquer your lands. Perhaps beyond them as you pagans have proven to be especially stubborn."
No one was surprised by the refusal, but I certainly was by what he said next, "I shall extend to you the same offer, King Widukind. Offer yourself to me -- as well as you, Ageres -- and I shall grant you a quick death. You'll be beheaded. No torture or humiliation. A clean noble death, in addition you shall save these men on this field." I realized that King Widukind was speaking the truth. King Charlemagne was confident. I thought that it was him hiding his doubts, but if he was extending an offer like that…
If I couldn't see him right now, I would have called it a desperate gambit. Bluster and bravado to avoid a fight… but that wasn't it. King Charlemagne looked like he thought he was extending a kindness. Like he sincerely thought that King Widukind should take the offer, for his own sake. It was unnerving.
"I'm afraid that I too shall reject your offer," King Widukind returned, his voice decidedly even. Then, in Germanic, he spoke to the Count. "I cannot speak for your king. This is a decision he shall make."
The Count nodded, relaying the words to Ageres in Dutch. And I realized that Ageres didn't speak Frankish either. He only spoke Dutch. Which shouldn't be too surprising, in hindsight -- most people only spoke one language, but I thought that the nobility of Francia would at least share a language.
"Do you think we shall win?" Ageres asked in Dutch, looking to the Count while keeping an eye on his brother. Ageric simply stared at him, his expression so blank that it expressed his simmering fury perfectly.
"King Charlemagne is confident," the Count admitted. "We should stick to the plan-"
"No. No, this was a foolish idea," Ageres decided, looking at King Charlemagne, then at his brother. He was getting cold feet, I realized. The point of no return had arrived, and he was looking back to reconsider the course of action. "Brother -- this is a trick. I was the one telling you where to find the pagans." He confessed in Dutch, speaking freely because no other person spoke it. Or so they thought.
The Count's expression pinched, clearly displeased but he swallowed his words.
Ageric narrowed his eyes, "Twice the traitor then, brother?" He asked with a snarl in his voice. The others realized that a conversation was taking place with King Widukind sliding his gaze to me. I didn't visibly react beyond doing what the others were doing, watching the exchange but pretending I had no idea what was being said. "Father would be ashamed of your stupidity and cowardice. First, you betray me and our King, and now you switch sides in the final hour?"
"I was never on the side of the Pagans!" Ageres protested, starting to seem a little panicked now that he saw it wasn't that easy to switch sides. "That's why I gave you information!"
"You gave it to leave a back door open to your treachery," Ageric refuted, not believing it in the slightest. "It means nothing."
"Then what must I do, brother? How must I prove my loyalty?" Ageres all but begged, sounding afraid. Terrified.
Ageric clenched his jaw, and I could see him visibly swallowing down what he wanted to say initially. "I see our people on the left wing, by the river. When the time comes, you shall do nothing. That is how you can prove your loyalty." He sounded angry that he even had to give this chance.
"It shall be done, brother!" Ageres agreed easily and without thought. He only cared for his own skin and it took a great deal of effort to not scowl at how easily he intended to betray us. Ageric was simply doing what he should -- ensuring that he won the battle. It was his brother that was the traitor. The twice traitor.
"Well?" King Widukind questioned, looking at the Count. The Count swallowed thickly before responding.
"My king has decided to stand with you, King Widukind," he informed with a bow.
King Widukind nodded, and then in stilted Frankish, he spoke to King Charlemagne. "Your offer has been refused twice over," he informed. The Frankish King didn't at all appear surprised.
"You wouldn't have made it this far without guile," King Charlemagne acknowledged. "Very well. If you shall not surrender, then we shall simply settle this with blood and steel. May God have mercy on your souls, pagans, for you shall find none from me." He decided, inclining his head to King Widukind and myself before he turned his horse around and began to march away. I watched his back for a long moment before I found myself meeting the gaze of the two paladins that lingered.
"Siegfried Eirkson," I introduced myself to both of them. They shared a glance at that, and it was the smaller one that spoke first.
"Olivier de Vienne," Olivier introduced himself with a nod, placing a fist on his breastplate. A sign of acknowledgement.
Roland paused for a moment, his nostrils flaring as he released a sigh. "Roland, leader of Charlemagne's Paladins. I would give thought to accepting my King's offer. Abandon your false gods and seek absolution -- I have no wish to kill a boy," Roland stated. I got the impression it was a genuine offer, but we both knew the answer.
"I cannot abandon my gods anymore than King Charlemagne could abandon his," I told him, making his eyes narrow. "I shall see you both soon, I suspect," I said, turning my horse around and following the others that already began to depart. They seemed strong, I decided, meeting Halfdan's questioning look. It would be a challenge to defeat them. But, it was a task I must accomplish all the same.
"Halfdan," I began, speaking slowly in Norse, my gaze sliding to Ageres, who seemed nervous despite his best efforts to hide it. The Count was looking at King Widukind, as if he were trying to catch his eye. Halfdan leaned in to hear me, "Ageres means to betray us. The Dutch shall be awaiting a signal from the Franks -- but they won't attack. He said that the Dutch would do nothing."
Halfdan pursed his lips, "Sounds like we can expect an attack from the river, then." To that, I nodded in agreement. The Dutch had asked to be placed on the left flank, by the river. Despite what Ageres made it sound, I think this betrayal wasn't as sudden as it appeared. He and the Count -- they had been planning this for some time. Perhaps not out of ill intent from the start, but out of a desire to keep their options open should the Saxons be defeated. "What do you want to do about it? Kill him?"
That was the question. "It is King Widukind's decision," I decided, but I thought we should do exactly that -- kill him for his betrayal. The Dutch that fought with us were our people, those that chose to rise up against the Franks. They would be punished alongside the Saxons should we be defeated. Ageres would betray us for nothing more than his own safety. I didn't respect him before, but I actively disliked him now. He was a traitor of the worst sort. "The Count will be watching me. You need to slip him the message," I told Halfdan.
"Will do, little brother," Halfdan said, tossing a wink my way before he rode up to Jarl Aldmund, passing the message to him. Who would then pass it to King Widukind as we rejoined the army, coming to a stop in front of it.
Kind Widukind didn't react to the news in the slightest. I could only imagine what was going on in his head, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. Instead, he addressed the army before him. "My warriors!" King Widukind shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to address the entire army at once. There was a shocking amount of strength in his voice that his fretting and exhaustion had hidden before, and I had little doubt that every Saxon on the field could hear him. "Long have we awaited this day! The day that we shall finally be free of the Frankish rule! Our oppressors!"
The army roared in approval at the start of the speech, and King Widukind was forced to wait until they started to quiet down. "They have debased us! They extorted our harvests! They raped our women! They slaughtered our people and insulted our gods!" He continued, and I could see the anger in the army. Thousands of expressions twisting with mirrored expressions -- the same anger that brought them all here. The anger and fury that made them leave their homes in droves to fight. "We have suffered many defeats to reach this day. We have suffered losses so terrible I dare not speak of them. However, with our will and the favor of the gods, we are here!"
"We are here for vengeance!" King Widukind exclaimed, the army roaring in agreement. "We are here for blood! We aren't just here for our freedom from the Franks and their corpse god, but to appease the dead! Their spirits are restless and they demand retribution for what they suffered at the hands of the men before us! There shall be no quarter given! No surrender will be accepted! We shall turn this field red in an ocean of blood! For Blood and Verdan!" He finished his speech, and the army roared.
It seemed to shake the air itself, completely deafening me to anything else in the world at that moment. It was a single unified warcry of tens of thousands of people all dedicating themselves to a single cause. It was incredible to see. Awe inspiring. My horse shifted at the sound, overwhelmed by it, but I patted his neck to soothe him. The army was already in high spirits, but now they were chomping at the bit to get to the Franks. Enough so that I thought some of them were going to break ranks to run across the field, and if they did, they'd probably take the whole army with them.
King Widukind seemed pleased with the result before he continued onward, climbing the hill as the army continued to scream at the Franks, who shouted back with defiance. I could only hear myself once we were standing at the top of the hill, and only because all of the screaming was directed toward the Franks. The Saxon King leaned down to me as I took my place by his side, and though I heard it as if it were a whisper, King Widukind was shouting.
"You shamed me, Siegfried," he informed me, making me go very still. I whipped my head around to him to see that there was no anger in his face that the words had implied. I opened my mouth to deny the accusation, but he continued. "You spoke to King Charlemagne as an equal and spoke for me," he pointed out.
… I couldn't deny the accusation, as much as I would like to. I hadn't intended to be insolent. The opposite, really. I intended to defer to him, but when King Charlemagne acknowledged me… and insulted King Widukind…
"I apologize-"
"There is no need for an apology. Not to me. Another King might take great offense to what you did, but I am not that King. I'm just a man that happens to have a crown, Siegfried. Unlike King Charlemagne, who is a true King." King Widukind sounded faintly amused by that. "I only tell you this so you can learn from it. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, I suspect your story shall not end here. It is important that you know these things because you will find yourself in the presence of kings before and after you become one yourself."
I never told King Widukind of my plan to usurp Horrki's crown.
Slowly, I inclined my head to him, realizing the depth of my folly. I still had so much to learn, I decided, looking out at the battlefield. I was forced to reflect on everything that led me up until this point -- my betrayal at the hands of Horrik and his kin. The successes and failures that I experienced over the past year and a half. The lessons that I had learned, both from other people's mistakes as well as the hard and painful way.
It has been a long road until this point, and King Widukind was right -- the road was longer still. The only difference between then and now was, I understood how much I didn't understand.
I had set off on this quest of vengeance without really understanding what vengeance was. What it could mean. The costs that it had.
I understood my ignorance.
"Thank you, King Widukind," I told him, earning a small nod from the Saxon King who chose to impart one last lesson.
"No, Siegfried. Thank you," he told me before he drew his sword and pointed it at the sky. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air, and with a shout that echoed over the chaos, he gave the order.
"My warriors! CHARGE!"
...
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Had the world ever seen such a fighting force? It didn't seem like it was possible. Since I began fighting this war, it felt like the battles only grew in scale, and this was the ultimate culmination of it. Because, across from us, were the Franks. They lined themselves up across from us, further than most of our bows could reach. Their formation was just as long as ours, but not as thick.
"They number ten thousand," I voiced, after using the longest use of Fast Counter that I had ever experienced. Which put the Franks at what we expected for their numbers. Ten thousand against our twenty thousand. I felt confident. We outnumbered them nearly two to one, counting the Dutch.
"The Paladins?" King Widukind asked, his voice low and serene. In response to that, the color of the world faded away. Most of the men were gray, but more than a few of them were red. However, eight of them were outlined in gold.
King Charlemagne and seven of his paladins. We had captured Astolfo and killed Arda, meaning that he should still have eleven left, seeing as Arda was a recent addition. I didn't see them on the field. Was he holding them in reserve? "There. He's guarded by seven of them," I said, pointing to the King some distance away. He was easy to mark out even without True Sight. He sat on top of a white horse, wearing armor with a helm that had a gold crown hammered into it.
He looked no less impressive than the first time I saw him, which felt nothing less than an entire lifetime ago.
"They have less cavalry than expected," King Widukind muttered, fretting before the battle began. "We were told to expect three thousand, and I see a thousand at most." That was a discrepancy, but one that was easily explained.
"He might have unhorsed them. Do horses fight well on hills?" I asked, because I didn't know. I just knew that during the early battles of the war, the Franks hadn't dared to charge up a hill with their cavalry. Though, was that because they didn't want to attack a fortified position?
"You underestimate King Charlemagne," King Widukind continued, glancing at the boy king at his side. It was what everyone called him. I genuinely didn't think he knew. "Everyone does. They forget that he is in the position he is for good reason. By the grace of his God and his own cunning. No, we must be vigilant." King Widukind's attitude was against the grain of the warriors.
Many were jeering across the field and laughing. Confident in our victory.
Perhaps overconfident?
"If he has any unexpected surprises, that is what my men are for," I pointed out, and I saw the words did have a soothing effect on the Saxon King. His grip on the reins of his horse lessened, though his jaw still clenched. He was feeling the pressure, more than anyone else in the army. With how tense he was, you would think we were the ones outnumbered. Though, it would be a lie to say that I wasn't a little nervous myself. The Paladins of Charlemagne would be a challenge. I fought Astolfo evenly, but fighting two-on-one? I'd quickly find myself overwhelmed.
That was something that bode ill for the entire army. More than that, I knew that the battle hinged on my ability to keep the paladins occupied. To defeat them. It was an incredible weight on my shoulders, and I was feeling it keenly as I gazed out at their assembled army, the sun overhead in the early afternoon with a sky full of clouds.
"Aye," King Widukind decided to respond, a frown in his voice. "That's what you are here for," he agreed. "The sacrifices have been made. The omens are good. We shall win on this field and continue onward to Brussels and Antwerp. Sacking them will solidify our victory and position when we offer him terms. This… this shall work," he continued, sounding like he was trying to convince himself of it. The sacking of the two cities, I knew, would be revenge for Verdan.
Of course it relied on us crushing the army before us, but that seemed more likely than not. King Charlemagne must know that he couldn't afford to lose this battle any more than we could.
That was perhaps why the Frankish King urged his horse forward, accompanied by a handful of men and one of which raised a white flag. King Widukind narrowed his eyes at the action, and I saw him digging a fingernail underneath the nail of his thumb. A habit I noticed he was developing. The group was pushing through the army, approaching the space between us. "They wish to speak," King Widukind voiced, sounding suspicious of the move.
"It's an opportunity to kill him," Grimar remarked, seated nearby.
"Not with two of the paladins there," I refuted, looking out at them. Only two of the seven paladins marched forward with the group of Frankish nobles -- King Charlemagne, I saw Ageric, as well as a man that I didn't recognize. The paladins were marked by their odd armor. Both of them men, but they couldn't be more different from each other. One was a large man, likely standing taller than my own father, with broad shoulders. He carried a shield in one hand and strapped at his hip was a sword -- a poor weapon for fighting, but I saw no others on him. The second paladin was a clean shaven man with shaggy black hair, also tall but on the lean side.
I would be fighting them both before this battle ended, I knew that much.
"We'll take them on their offer," King Widukind decided, urging his horse forward. "If nothing else, I'll see how confident he finds himself." As he marched forward, I followed him along with King Ageres, Grimar, Jarl Aldmund and Halfdan. My brother rode beside me,his trophy bow hanging off the side of his horse. For that alone, I suspected that this wouldn't be a friendly conversation.
Our two groups met in the middle, though we both remained some distance away from each other. Just in case it did come to a fight. King Charlemagne appeared regal seated upon his horse, his gaze flickering across all of us. Ageric only had eyes for his brother, Ageres, who met his glare with an expression of disinterest. I found myself meeting the eyes of the large man, who frowned down at me while the other paladin took notice of my brother. A profound silence blossomed between us, neither side speaking of making the first move.
"Widukind… it's not often that I regret giving a man mercy, but you have tested the very depths of my patience," King Charlemagne began before his gaze flickered to me. "And you, Siegfried. Forgive me for saying it, but I really do wish I had killed you when I had the chance."
"No need for forgiveness, King Charlemagne. The feeling is mutual," I told him, making the large man scowl in my direction, a hand falling onto his sword. I cocked my head at him, shifting my grip back on my Dane-axe, giving me more reach. I would need it fighting him, I suspected.
King Charlemagne seemed to find that funny based on his chuckle. "You have the luck of the Devil, Widukind. I imagine without him, this second rebellion would have died a dog's death outside of Frankfurt. I do wonder what the histories shall write? That you led this rebellion or that it was won by the Wolf-Kissed?" He questioned, making my name sound like an insult. But, the insult was for King Widukind. King Charlemagne was ignoring his titles and questioning his valor.
"I suppose that would depend on who wins on this field, Charles," King Widukind returned, making the Franks bristle at the blatant disrespect more than the insinuation. "History shall remember the victors and you… for all that you have accomplished, you will only be remembered for your defeat."
King Charlemagne was the only one that didn't seem angered by the remark. "A sharp tongue you have. Good. I would expect nothing less. Regardless of who you truly owe your victories to, I will acknowledge what you have accomplished. Your victories are numerous, and you've caused a great deal of trouble. Truly, you are a test from God for me and my kingdom." He spoke the words as if they were praise rather than with anger.
"My gods demand vengeance and blood for Verdan. You made this war one between our gods, King Widukind. Even if you wish to surrender, I can't allow it. Offer yourself to me, and I give you my word that you shall be the only one that dies on this day." King Widukind stated. I glanced at him, trying to read his expression. It was the large paladin that responded first, urging his horse forward to protect King Charlemagne while I did the same for King Widukind.
"Roland, there is no need," King Charlemagne said, naming the paladin for me.
Roland looked down at me, his hair a dark brown and there was a close beard on his cheeks. His dark blue eyes narrowed at me. "Astolfo and Arda. Which one of them died?" He asked me, his voice low and threatening.
"Arda," I answered. "She died well and she is surely feasting with your God. Astolfo is my prisoner, but she has been treated well." I told her, making his eyes narrow into slits.
"She-" Roland started, but King Charlemagne interjected.
"Roland. You need not fret, Otto has vouched for the young pagan," he voiced, bringing my attention to him. He inclined his head to me, but his eyes were hard.
Otto has found his way back then? And he found favor with the Frankish King? Good. Unless, "He's not here, is he?" I asked, retreating back when Roland did the same.
"No. Otto is with my children. There are few men of such faith and conviction, and I hope that he imparts some of it onto them," he admitted, and that was good to hear. I didn't need to worry about him during the battle. "As for your offer, King Widukind -- I'm afraid that I must refuse. If I harbored doubts about our victory on this field, then I would consider it -- but God has laid out my destiny for me. I shall crush you here, and reconquer your lands. Perhaps beyond them as you pagans have proven to be especially stubborn."
No one was surprised by the refusal, but I certainly was by what he said next, "I shall extend to you the same offer, King Widukind. Offer yourself to me -- as well as you, Ageres -- and I shall grant you a quick death. You'll be beheaded. No torture or humiliation. A clean noble death, in addition you shall save these men on this field." I realized that King Widukind was speaking the truth. King Charlemagne was confident. I thought that it was him hiding his doubts, but if he was extending an offer like that…
If I couldn't see him right now, I would have called it a desperate gambit. Bluster and bravado to avoid a fight… but that wasn't it. King Charlemagne looked like he thought he was extending a kindness. Like he sincerely thought that King Widukind should take the offer, for his own sake. It was unnerving.
"I'm afraid that I too shall reject your offer," King Widukind returned, his voice decidedly even. Then, in Germanic, he spoke to the Count. "I cannot speak for your king. This is a decision he shall make."
The Count nodded, relaying the words to Ageres in Dutch. And I realized that Ageres didn't speak Frankish either. He only spoke Dutch. Which shouldn't be too surprising, in hindsight -- most people only spoke one language, but I thought that the nobility of Francia would at least share a language.
"Do you think we shall win?" Ageres asked in Dutch, looking to the Count while keeping an eye on his brother. Ageric simply stared at him, his expression so blank that it expressed his simmering fury perfectly.
"King Charlemagne is confident," the Count admitted. "We should stick to the plan-"
"No. No, this was a foolish idea," Ageres decided, looking at King Charlemagne, then at his brother. He was getting cold feet, I realized. The point of no return had arrived, and he was looking back to reconsider the course of action. "Brother -- this is a trick. I was the one telling you where to find the pagans." He confessed in Dutch, speaking freely because no other person spoke it. Or so they thought.
The Count's expression pinched, clearly displeased but he swallowed his words.
Ageric narrowed his eyes, "Twice the traitor then, brother?" He asked with a snarl in his voice. The others realized that a conversation was taking place with King Widukind sliding his gaze to me. I didn't visibly react beyond doing what the others were doing, watching the exchange but pretending I had no idea what was being said. "Father would be ashamed of your stupidity and cowardice. First, you betray me and our King, and now you switch sides in the final hour?"
"I was never on the side of the Pagans!" Ageres protested, starting to seem a little panicked now that he saw it wasn't that easy to switch sides. "That's why I gave you information!"
"You gave it to leave a back door open to your treachery," Ageric refuted, not believing it in the slightest. "It means nothing."
"Then what must I do, brother? How must I prove my loyalty?" Ageres all but begged, sounding afraid. Terrified.
Ageric clenched his jaw, and I could see him visibly swallowing down what he wanted to say initially. "I see our people on the left wing, by the river. When the time comes, you shall do nothing. That is how you can prove your loyalty." He sounded angry that he even had to give this chance.
"It shall be done, brother!" Ageres agreed easily and without thought. He only cared for his own skin and it took a great deal of effort to not scowl at how easily he intended to betray us. Ageric was simply doing what he should -- ensuring that he won the battle. It was his brother that was the traitor. The twice traitor.
"Well?" King Widukind questioned, looking at the Count. The Count swallowed thickly before responding.
"My king has decided to stand with you, King Widukind," he informed with a bow.
King Widukind nodded, and then in stilted Frankish, he spoke to King Charlemagne. "Your offer has been refused twice over," he informed. The Frankish King didn't at all appear surprised.
"You wouldn't have made it this far without guile," King Charlemagne acknowledged. "Very well. If you shall not surrender, then we shall simply settle this with blood and steel. May God have mercy on your souls, pagans, for you shall find none from me." He decided, inclining his head to King Widukind and myself before he turned his horse around and began to march away. I watched his back for a long moment before I found myself meeting the gaze of the two paladins that lingered.
"Siegfried Eirkson," I introduced myself to both of them. They shared a glance at that, and it was the smaller one that spoke first.
"Olivier de Vienne," Olivier introduced himself with a nod, placing a fist on his breastplate. A sign of acknowledgement.
Roland paused for a moment, his nostrils flaring as he released a sigh. "Roland, leader of Charlemagne's Paladins. I would give thought to accepting my King's offer. Abandon your false gods and seek absolution -- I have no wish to kill a boy," Roland stated. I got the impression it was a genuine offer, but we both knew the answer.
"I cannot abandon my gods anymore than King Charlemagne could abandon his," I told him, making his eyes narrow. "I shall see you both soon, I suspect," I said, turning my horse around and following the others that already began to depart. They seemed strong, I decided, meeting Halfdan's questioning look. It would be a challenge to defeat them. But, it was a task I must accomplish all the same.
"Halfdan," I began, speaking slowly in Norse, my gaze sliding to Ageres, who seemed nervous despite his best efforts to hide it. The Count was looking at King Widukind, as if he were trying to catch his eye. Halfdan leaned in to hear me, "Ageres means to betray us. The Dutch shall be awaiting a signal from the Franks -- but they won't attack. He said that the Dutch would do nothing."
Halfdan pursed his lips, "Sounds like we can expect an attack from the river, then." To that, I nodded in agreement. The Dutch had asked to be placed on the left flank, by the river. Despite what Ageres made it sound, I think this betrayal wasn't as sudden as it appeared. He and the Count -- they had been planning this for some time. Perhaps not out of ill intent from the start, but out of a desire to keep their options open should the Saxons be defeated. "What do you want to do about it? Kill him?"
That was the question. "It is King Widukind's decision," I decided, but I thought we should do exactly that -- kill him for his betrayal. The Dutch that fought with us were our people, those that chose to rise up against the Franks. They would be punished alongside the Saxons should we be defeated. Ageres would betray us for nothing more than his own safety. I didn't respect him before, but I actively disliked him now. He was a traitor of the worst sort. "The Count will be watching me. You need to slip him the message," I told Halfdan.
"Will do, little brother," Halfdan said, tossing a wink my way before he rode up to Jarl Aldmund, passing the message to him. Who would then pass it to King Widukind as we rejoined the army, coming to a stop in front of it.
Kind Widukind didn't react to the news in the slightest. I could only imagine what was going on in his head, but whatever it was, he kept it to himself. Instead, he addressed the army before him. "My warriors!" King Widukind shouted at the top of his lungs, trying to address the entire army at once. There was a shocking amount of strength in his voice that his fretting and exhaustion had hidden before, and I had little doubt that every Saxon on the field could hear him. "Long have we awaited this day! The day that we shall finally be free of the Frankish rule! Our oppressors!"
The army roared in approval at the start of the speech, and King Widukind was forced to wait until they started to quiet down. "They have debased us! They extorted our harvests! They raped our women! They slaughtered our people and insulted our gods!" He continued, and I could see the anger in the army. Thousands of expressions twisting with mirrored expressions -- the same anger that brought them all here. The anger and fury that made them leave their homes in droves to fight. "We have suffered many defeats to reach this day. We have suffered losses so terrible I dare not speak of them. However, with our will and the favor of the gods, we are here!"
"We are here for vengeance!" King Widukind exclaimed, the army roaring in agreement. "We are here for blood! We aren't just here for our freedom from the Franks and their corpse god, but to appease the dead! Their spirits are restless and they demand retribution for what they suffered at the hands of the men before us! There shall be no quarter given! No surrender will be accepted! We shall turn this field red in an ocean of blood! For Blood and Verdan!" He finished his speech, and the army roared.
It seemed to shake the air itself, completely deafening me to anything else in the world at that moment. It was a single unified warcry of tens of thousands of people all dedicating themselves to a single cause. It was incredible to see. Awe inspiring. My horse shifted at the sound, overwhelmed by it, but I patted his neck to soothe him. The army was already in high spirits, but now they were chomping at the bit to get to the Franks. Enough so that I thought some of them were going to break ranks to run across the field, and if they did, they'd probably take the whole army with them.
King Widukind seemed pleased with the result before he continued onward, climbing the hill as the army continued to scream at the Franks, who shouted back with defiance. I could only hear myself once we were standing at the top of the hill, and only because all of the screaming was directed toward the Franks. The Saxon King leaned down to me as I took my place by his side, and though I heard it as if it were a whisper, King Widukind was shouting.
"You shamed me, Siegfried," he informed me, making me go very still. I whipped my head around to him to see that there was no anger in his face that the words had implied. I opened my mouth to deny the accusation, but he continued. "You spoke to King Charlemagne as an equal and spoke for me," he pointed out.
… I couldn't deny the accusation, as much as I would like to. I hadn't intended to be insolent. The opposite, really. I intended to defer to him, but when King Charlemagne acknowledged me… and insulted King Widukind…
"I apologize-"
"There is no need for an apology. Not to me. Another King might take great offense to what you did, but I am not that King. I'm just a man that happens to have a crown, Siegfried. Unlike King Charlemagne, who is a true King." King Widukind sounded faintly amused by that. "I only tell you this so you can learn from it. Regardless of the outcome of this battle, I suspect your story shall not end here. It is important that you know these things because you will find yourself in the presence of kings before and after you become one yourself."
I never told King Widukind of my plan to usurp Horrki's crown.
Slowly, I inclined my head to him, realizing the depth of my folly. I still had so much to learn, I decided, looking out at the battlefield. I was forced to reflect on everything that led me up until this point -- my betrayal at the hands of Horrik and his kin. The successes and failures that I experienced over the past year and a half. The lessons that I had learned, both from other people's mistakes as well as the hard and painful way.
It has been a long road until this point, and King Widukind was right -- the road was longer still. The only difference between then and now was, I understood how much I didn't understand.
I had set off on this quest of vengeance without really understanding what vengeance was. What it could mean. The costs that it had.
I understood my ignorance.
"Thank you, King Widukind," I told him, earning a small nod from the Saxon King who chose to impart one last lesson.
"No, Siegfried. Thank you," he told me before he drew his sword and pointed it at the sky. He took a deep breath, filling his lungs with air, and with a shout that echoed over the chaos, he gave the order.
"My warriors! CHARGE!"
...
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- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Charlemagne is right to be confident. His army is comprised of professional soldiers who also happen to be religious zealots and fanatically loyal to him, personally. Widukind's army is comprised of warriors out for vengeance. Charlemagne knows the terrain and is a brilliant strategist surrounded by brilliant tacticians. Widukind has Siegfried Wolf-kissed.
It's not going to be a route, but it's going to be bloody and Widukind's army is going to lose. They might kill enough of Charlemagne's army that Charlemagne can't immediately retaliate or catch/kill/torture everyone the way Charlemagne might prefer, but I predict Widukind's army breaks first. I wager something happens to Widukind or something happens to Siegfried that causes the army's morale to faulter and Charlemagne capitalizes.
It's not going to be a route, but it's going to be bloody and Widukind's army is going to lose. They might kill enough of Charlemagne's army that Charlemagne can't immediately retaliate or catch/kill/torture everyone the way Charlemagne might prefer, but I predict Widukind's army breaks first. I wager something happens to Widukind or something happens to Siegfried that causes the army's morale to faulter and Charlemagne capitalizes.