Legends Never Die (Ahistorical/CKIII Gamer)
- Thread starter Ideas-Guy
- Start date
- Pronouns
- She/Her
This might be a case where the battle is won but the war is lost. If Widukind fails to control casualties in this battle, he could lose a truly incredible amount of his adult male population, causing a further food crisis down the line. The massacre in the sacred grove drew in a lot of people who would normally be non-combatants, and they are now here to join this battle. Charlemagne, on the other hand, could reasonably lean on his much larger reserves of manpower and food to force the his opponents into helplessness over the coming years, even if he is forced to retreat with heavy casualties. If he can't decapitate Widukind's forces or cause a break in morale, he might be better served by just bleeding them as heavily as possible before retreating.
- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
France is also much more arable, in general, than Britain. Part of it is soil composition, but part of it is the difference in seasons between latitudes.
However, the lack of men isn't as big an issue in farming as many might think. Farming with beasts of burden (oxen, cattle, horses, etc) does not particularly require elevated testosterone and/or the naturally occuring upper body strength inherent to male homosapiens (nor does it require a penis (if you are farming with your dick, you are definitely doing it wrong on so many levels)).
The problem removing a majority of men could cause is inbreeding. Without a diverse male population, a lot more kids will be closely related to each other and on a generational timescale that will start to cause mutations. Not nearly as bad as, for example, the Hapsbergs or the Ptolemys, but it isn't a good thing for the population. Increased cancer incidences, compromised immune systems, lower birth rates (in general), hormonal imbalances, mental health issues, and increased incidences of physical deformity, to name the most well-known and likely things.
However, the lack of men isn't as big an issue in farming as many might think. Farming with beasts of burden (oxen, cattle, horses, etc) does not particularly require elevated testosterone and/or the naturally occuring upper body strength inherent to male homosapiens (nor does it require a penis (if you are farming with your dick, you are definitely doing it wrong on so many levels)).
The problem removing a majority of men could cause is inbreeding. Without a diverse male population, a lot more kids will be closely related to each other and on a generational timescale that will start to cause mutations. Not nearly as bad as, for example, the Hapsbergs or the Ptolemys, but it isn't a good thing for the population. Increased cancer incidences, compromised immune systems, lower birth rates (in general), hormonal imbalances, mental health issues, and increased incidences of physical deformity, to name the most well-known and likely things.
- Location
- Edmonton, Alberta
Siegfried has an unspent prowess perk - could that be enough to give him the edge over two paladins?
I really hope that the Saxons win the war. Otherwise the entire arc would feel pretty pointless.
The battle should be a pyrric victory, the war would be won but at a high personal cost for the main characters. Maybe Widukind loses an hand or Halfdan dies.
The battle should be a pyrric victory, the war would be won but at a high personal cost for the main characters. Maybe Widukind loses an hand or Halfdan dies.
The Weight of the Many
- Location
- USA
The first day of the battle, I didn't fight. I sat on top of the hill with the reserves, my men seated on horseback as we waited for movement from the Paladins. However, on the first day, they didn't leave their king's side, leaving us to watch the two armies clash against each other. I watched with awe as the ground seemed to tremble underneath the many feet that charged across the field. It was almost like seeing a wall move, the air filled with war cries and defiant shouting from the Franks who held firm in what must have been a daunting sight.
Then, seconds later, the two armies slammed into one another with a thunderous strike -- almost as if they were two shields striking against each other. It was nothing like I had ever heard before. Soon after, the sounds of metal striking wood and the sounds of dying began to echo into the air, the wind carrying the sounds to my ears. It was the second battle that I had seen but didn't participate in. Despite the fact that the sheer scale of it couldn't be compared to the one back then, how the battle seemed to take shape seemed similar.
From my vantage point, I saw that a clear line between the armies had been established. The sheer numbers on our side worked to our advantage, slowly pushing the Franks back, but there wasn't a breakthrough point. The two sides were grinding away at each other, looking for a point of weakness and fighting for every inch that was given or taken. I gripped my reins a little tighter, feeling a familiar itch to rush down there and carve a line through the Frank's battle lines. Time and time again, it proved to me that it could change the tides of battle.
The action wasn't missed by Halfdan. "They're keeping their Paladins in reserve because you're in reserve," he stated. "They fear you, little brother. I doubt they'll do anything less than throw all the Paladins they have at you the moment you step onto the field."
It was annoying to hear, but I didn't think Halfdan was wrong. Meaning that I was stuck watching the battle. Worse, there was a possibility that I wouldn't be fighting in it at all. But, it was undeniably better for the Saxons if none of the Paladins fought in this battle than it would be if I helped them. We had the numbers and the terrain was to our advantage. Without either of our interference, the Saxons would win. Something that I suspected King Charlemagne knew as well.
"Then I guess we wait until they're desperate enough," I returned, swallowing my eagerness to join the battle. My gaze slid to the Dutch, who had the King and the Count behind them. They were in command of that flank, and I was keeping an eye out for this signal that Ageres was told to expect. I also wondered what King Widukind intended to do about the betrayal.
The battle continued and it seemed to drag on now that I wasn't in the thick of it. I watched the two sides oppose one another. The initial charge had lost its momentum, and the Franks found their footing, refusing to be pushed back any further. The river ended up helping the Franks because it protected that flank, leaving only one side for them to worry about the Saxons trying to spill out around. Such a thing was prevented by the Frank's cavalry, who charged into the Saxons and pinned them in place.
The sun above began to make its arc across the sky -- Sòl being chased by the wolf Sköll. Hours went by without any significant amount of progress on either side. The Saxons continued their attack and the Franks continued to hold strong. They ground away at each other, but it was as the sky began to darken that I heard a horn blast, telling everyone that the battle was done for the day. It still continued on for some minutes as the Saxons withdrew from the battle, heading back to the hill. Their withdrawal was harried by the Frankish archers, who shot at their fleeing backs.
Seeing the dead on the field, I saw that not many had died. There were piles of corpses, but compared to how many men had fought… there weren't many. I watched as the Franks collected their dead, counting their slain. In a battle of tens of thousands, barely more than a hundred had fallen. Likewise, our own losses were similar.
The wounded were treated, and I at least made myself useful there. My people knew my methods -- boiling knives and clamps in water, using clean bandages and honey to close wounds, and so on. We would have lost another fifteen, but with our treatment, they all could be expected to continue fighting.
The second day of battle began early in the morning. The Franks drew up their battle lines while the dew was still fresh on the ground. The ones that fought the day before were put in the reserves, leaving fresh faces to fight the Franks. And, when the Franks refused to charge, again, King Widukind sounded the horn to charge. Our mighty army trampled across the field, which I noticed was visibly more muddy after thousands of feet tearing up the grass. But, as the hours went by, the mud hardened under the sun.
The battle continued much the same as it did on the first day. The battle lines were quickly set, and it was hours of grinding away at each other. One thing I did notice was that King Charlemagne's forces were tired. It was evident in how they fought. While we had a great many in reserve, the Frankish King had far less simply because he needed to field more men to prevent himself from being overrun.
King Widukind decided to take advantage of this fact. When the sun reached noon, he sent another wave of reserves and recalled the ones that had been fighting for hours. Our men were kept fresh and those that were exhausted were given rest. The Franks were forced to fight until dusk that day, the horn only blowing once the sun began to dip below the horizon.
The death toll was higher that day. On both sides a grand total of three hundred people had died, though I noticed that the number favored the Franks. We had lost more men that day, but it was well worth it in King Widukind's eyes.
Again, night turned into day and the Franks drew up their battle lines, as did the Saxons on the third day of battle. And, again, the two mighty armies clashed in the field. The morning dew turned it into a thick muck as the grass was thoroughly trampled and ripped up. The fighting lasted the day, and again, the Saxons retreated back to our position and the dead were collected. A hundred and fifty Franks and a hundred Saxons.
It was on the fourth day that I took up my position, feeling restless due to my inaction. The losses were mounting on both sides, but the Franks were by far feeling the worst of it I saw, peering through a low hanging fog at them. They looked exhausted and spent. For three long days, they had spent fighting with little hope in the way of respite. It had taken a toll on them physically and mentally. Before, they shouted at us, challenging us to attack them, but this morning, with the sun barely peeking above the horizon, they were almost silent.
"It will be today," King Widukind decided, looking at me as we readied ourselves for another long day of battle.
I glanced at him, surprised by how certain of it he sounded. "Today?"
"The fog," King Widukind answered, gesturing around us. It was a dense fog that hung low to the ground, obscuring everything in a gaze, but it wasn't so thick that we couldn't see through it. "King Charlemagne is clever, but I am determined to not underestimate him. Four days of fighting have turned the terrain into mud, which will slow our charge. The fog obscures the terrain around us. We know that he desires inaction from the Dutch, which leads me to believe it shall come from the river. And, after three days of fighting, he lulled us into a false sense of security," he elaborated.
I gazed out at the field, and the words made a worrying amount of sense to me. "We are ready for it. The Dutch will take action, I will see to it," I reassured King Widukind, who nodded. He did seem reassured.
"Today may not be the final battle, but what happens this morning shall decide the victor," King Widukind ventured, inclining his head to me. As if to say it would be decided by me. I returned the gesture with a shallow nod, feeling a jolt of anticipation rush through me, realizing that I would finally be participating in the battle. As well as feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders, knowing that it really did come down to my actions.
"I'll prepare my men," I told him, passing the word to Thorkell, Halstien, and Halfdan. The three of them welcomed a change in scenery, as we took up a different position in the army, standing closer to the Dutch. Something that seemed to make King Ageres nervous. I couldn't hear what he said to the Count, who was subtly eying me, but I could guess he was demanding to know why I was suddenly so close to him.
On the fourth day, the battle began with a long blast from the Saxon horn. Our men charged across the field, and true to King Widukind's words, with the field turning into such a thick muck, our advance was slowed. The Franks unleashed volleys of arrows, hundreds of them to feather our warriors as they pushed through the slog. More than once, I saw men being forced to leave a boot behind that was quickly claimed by the mud. With the slowed advance, we were exposed to the archers for far longer. Enough so that King Widukind gave the order for our reserves to advance to support our own archers.
King Widukind was proven right once again because today's battle was already different in nature. As the Frankish archers fell behind the warriors, the Saxons drawing close, the Franks unleashed a war cry that was drowned out by a horn blasting. The Frankish warriors surged forward, along with their cavalry, and it was their horsemen that smashed into our warriors first.
The only time I had ever seen a cavalry charge was back in Frankfurt, and the one that I saw now was no less devastating. The horsemen slammed into the Saxons, trampling through the disorganized and slowed charge. The Saxons recoiled from it, offering little resistance to it, and from where I sat I could see the Saxon army buckling under the deadly blow. The mud slowed down the charge as much as it slowed our army, meaning the momentum was quickly lost but the effects of it had a rippling effect.
Not long after, the Franks met the Saxon charge, providing cover for the cavalry to pull back and get ready for another charge.
"Fuck me," Thorkell muttered under his breath, seeing how the single charge seemed to affect the army. The Saxons were still fighting, and still pushing forward, but it was halted and stilted. I could hear their confusion and fear. And I was forced to consider something.
"All those men were prepared to kill… how many of them were prepared to die?" I wondered aloud, seeing how badly morale suddenly became. Something that worsened significantly when the horsemen surged forward for another charge. It wasn't as bad as the first one, but I could see the toll that it took on the wing. It was starting to buckle. The Frankish cavalry was everything my father had said they were and a great deal more.
Overconfidence had made their morale fragile. They felt victory was at hand, that they were winning, and so a single devastating charge had far more effect than it might otherwise have. They went from certain victory to possible defeat in an instant.
"Reserves, charge!" King Widukind shouted, sending in some of the reserves to reinforce the crumbling flank. I saw Grimar and more Saxons start to surge forward, crossing the field and were being feathered by arrows the entire time. My grip tightened on the reins to my horse, waiting for the signal that I knew was coming. I searched for it as the reinforcements cleared the muddy field, and almost as soon as they were committed, I saw King Charlemagne give it. He raised a hand, then let it fall.
A split second later, an arrow with a burning rag attached to it was shot through the air.
I took in a deep breath, knowing that was the signal. I didn't know what the signal meant, but I had to trust King Widukind's gut. "Brave warriors of Holland!" I shouted out, urging my horse forward as my men followed me. "Charge!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, having my men charge with me.
I spoke the words in Dutch.
I knew how people acted in battle. I saw plenty of it over the past few years. When people saw others fleeing, they would flee. When they saw others standing strong, they would take heart and fight. And when they saw someone charging, who gave the command in their own tongue?
It was only natural that they would follow.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Ageres screaming at the top of his lungs to stop the charge, but his words were completely drowned out by the thunderous roar of the Dutch, who were as restless as I was. Ageres had gathered up as many pagans in his 'kingdom' as he could. They were here to fight for their freedom. Meaning that Ageres' betrayal was on behalf of himself, not the Dutch as a whole. A smirk found its way onto my face as I took the Dutch army, leading near four thousand men to the river.
King Widukind knew King Charlemagne well, it seemed, because before I saw them, I heard the thunderous charge of cavalry. My heart picked up, "Spears! Spears!" I shouted out, the mud delaying my men, but we still arrived just in time to see the arrival of the Frankish cavalry that came rushing toward the river. I didn't need True Sight to know who led the charge -- members of King Charlemagne's Paladins.
Three of them. Roland. Olivier. And one other that I didn't know.
Three against one. This was going to be a challenge unlike anything I had ever experienced before, but I was undaunted. My grip tightened on my dane axe as I arrived at the crossing, the Dutchmen layering their spears to block off the point they were trying to enter. The river was deep and it would slow them greatly in the crossing, something that they must know, but Roland simply unsheathed a sword and pointed it forward. At me. The Franks continued their reckless charge, heading directly towards us while my men hastily readied themselves.
"Archers! Loose!" I shouted, and my archers began to fire as soon as they could. Roland smacked an arrow away with his blade and I saw it earnestly for the first time. It was a long sword with oddly dark gray metal, with a crossguard seemingly made out of gold with an inlay. It was the single most beautiful weapon that I had ever seen. Roland only seemed to have eyes for me. While the Paladins continued to surge forward, other horsemen fell as their horses suddenly fell underneath them. They reached the river not long after, and I realized that either the river wasn't nearly as deep as I was told it was… or the Franks had prepared this strategy well in advance.
Still, wading through chest deep water on a horse slowed the charge a great deal, and my archers felled a number of their horses, sweeping away their riders in the flowing river. Between these two things, the charge was massively blunted by the time it reached us. However, it simply didn't matter in the face of Roland and his two supporting paladins.
I saw Roland effortlessly hack a man in half, cutting through his ribs and spine, and chainmail with a single swipe. The other two lashed out with their spears, cutting a line through the Dutch as easily as I did Franks. It was a daunting thing to see, I could admit, steeling myself for the battle to come. However, because I knew the effect I had on the battlefield, I wasn't so keen on letting the Paladins have the same effect on us. "Charge!"
I screamed the words in Dutch, sending the Dutchmen forward to close the gap that the Paladins had formed while I raced forward to meet them. The Cavalry's charge was blunted and then stalled entirely, making them perfect targets for my archers.
I set my sights on Roland. We clashed in the center of the army, the Paladins finding themselves cut off from most of their support. He swung his blade and I rushed to meet it with my dane axe, only to discover how terrible of a decision that was when the edge of his blade bit into my axe and cut right through the steel and wood. And he nearly took my head off with that same stroke.
We passed each other, and I glanced at my axe, finding that the blade was cut in half. The cut wasn't clean, though. It was more like it was ripped in two rather than cut. I circled around, the Dutchmen giving us space even as the battle was waged.
"That's some sword you have there," I remarked, my gaze flickering to the other two.
"It is the holy blade Durandal. A blade given to me by King Charlemagne, who in turn was bequeathed the blade from an angel from heaven," Roland stated, evident pride in his voice. He should be proud of it. That blade didn't have so much as a scratch on it after ripping through my axe.
I was tempted to think it could simply cut through anything, but something Astolfo said led me to believe otherwise. "It's indestructible, but it's your own strength that cuts through everything."
To that, Roland offered a thin smile and inclined his head to me. "Exactly so," he confirmed before he seemed to settle on his horse. "I will not ask for your surrender. There would be no point in it. And as much as I would like for this to be settled in an honorable duel, my king has tasked me with the defeat of your army and the taking of your head. A task that means more to me than my honor," Roland stated while the other two Paladins flanked out. All three of them were coming at once. "For that, you have my apologies, Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed, but you shall die on this field. May God have mercy on your soul."
"May the Valkyries find you and Odin welcome you to his hall," I returned, expecting nothing less. The battle was going well in our favor. I saw it all around me. The Franks had relied on the element of surprise, and without it, their gambit failed. However, I knew that could all too easily change if the Paladins got involved. It was best if all three of them were focused on me. They could single handedly turn the tide of the battle.
With that, I flung what was left of my axe at Roland's horse before I urged mine forward to Olivier. Even as he hacked at the axe, cutting through the wooden shaft, it still stabbed into the horse's chest, making it rear back. Roland fought to keep his horse steady as it kept trying to buck him off, but I focused on the other two for the moment. Olivier leveled a spear at me as I galloped to him, but he was ill prepared for me to jump from my horse and throw myself at the third Paladin, slamming into him and bringing him to the ground.
"No quarter given!" I shouted in Dutch, the Paladin and I struggling in the mud. A hand went to one of my seaxes, trying to stab it into the unarmed Paladin's neck. His white cloak was covered in mud as he struggled to prevent me from overpowering him. Olivier rushed to his aid, but he was beset by Dutchmen that were trying to rip him off of his horse. He stabbed down with a spear, only for his horse to buck when it was stabbed. The back of his cloak was grabbed but he released it, ripping out his sword before he fell to the ground.
"God… damn you!" The Paladin cursed at me, swinging up to catch me in the side of the head with a mailed fist. The blow hurt, and I felt blood dripping down my face, but all I could think of was how the action cost him. Because of it, he didn't notice my hand snaking back to draw the other seaxe on my belt and drive it under his armpit. He cried out in pain, cringing in agony, and he took another swing at my face despite the injury. I stabbed him again at a different angle, but before I could hope for a third time, I saw Roland appear out of the corner of my eye as he chopped a man in half along with his weapon.
His expression was one of sheer fury, splattered with blood and mud, his gaze affixed to me. "Rinaldo!" He exclaimed while I rose to my feet, going to face Roland while Olivier was fending off Dutchmen that threw themselves at him, despite how many of them he killed. He wielded an oddly thin sword that struck out quick as lightning, seemingly able to be everywhere at once and ruthlessly killing with but a swipe of the blade.
While they were preoccupied, I rushed to Roland, hoping to break them apart. Kill one, then another, then the last one. It was the only hope I had of defeating all three of them. Unlike Olivier, the Dutchmen feared Roland, letting him stomp toward me and taking a slash at me. The very first thing that I noticed was that he was fast for his size. Not as fast as Astolfo, but I knew that blocking his attacks wasn't in the cards. Leaving me to dodge in thick mud with poor footing.
I leaned out of the way of the strike, darting forward, but I found a large metal shield in my face and it was only then that I realized how large it was. It was about four feet long and two feet wide, and with how he used it, I only just barely saw his eyes over the edge. I looked at Roland in that moment and my heart started pounding.
He seemed more like a fortress than any castle I had encountered so far. I had absolutely no idea how to attack him. His footing? He was wearing heavier armor than me. I only had my chainmail on, but he seemed more surefooted than I was as he ruthlessly advanced towards me.
My hesitation cost me. A split second later, I felt a cut on my arm as Olivier joined the fight and Rinaldo was covering their backs with his own sword, driving the Dutch away as much as he could. I dodged under his next attack, then narrowly kept my leg when Roland took a swipe at me, the two working in sync. Olivier wasn't as fast as Astolfo, but he was faster than Roland. Between the two, I didn't have any opportunity to attack, pushed completely on the defensive. Unbreakable Guard helped me survive despite Olivier's relentless attacks, but I had no choice but to dodge Roland's.
I was losing, I realized, feeling the sharp sting of a cut just above my knee. My blood was soaking into my clothes, and my arms were starting to burn with effort. Sweat stung at my wounds, making them an irritation.
The two before me were showing signs of their own tiredness, but they still seemed strong. Enough so that no Dutchman would dare to attack them, even from behind.
It was then that I heard it. A sharp whistle that rang out three times.
Just in time.
Expanded vision.
The user's vision expands in scope. The 90 degrees of vision becomes the full 190.
Uncanny Dodge
The user always knows just how to avoid a blow if it is possible to dodge it at all.
The reward for defeating Astolfo. Despite the fact that Uncanny Dodge might seem more useful at the moment, what I chose was Expanded Vision. And, in response, my vision grew. The things that I could only see at the fringes of my eyes suddenly appeared as if I was looking directly at them. It was for that reason I could see everything in position. Thorkell, Halstien, and even Halfdan.
Just as I could see Rinaldo rushing me from behind, a sword leveled at my back as he intended to run me through.
I took in a deep breath and let it out, regaining my stamina from Second Wind.
The real battle began now.
...
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Then, seconds later, the two armies slammed into one another with a thunderous strike -- almost as if they were two shields striking against each other. It was nothing like I had ever heard before. Soon after, the sounds of metal striking wood and the sounds of dying began to echo into the air, the wind carrying the sounds to my ears. It was the second battle that I had seen but didn't participate in. Despite the fact that the sheer scale of it couldn't be compared to the one back then, how the battle seemed to take shape seemed similar.
From my vantage point, I saw that a clear line between the armies had been established. The sheer numbers on our side worked to our advantage, slowly pushing the Franks back, but there wasn't a breakthrough point. The two sides were grinding away at each other, looking for a point of weakness and fighting for every inch that was given or taken. I gripped my reins a little tighter, feeling a familiar itch to rush down there and carve a line through the Frank's battle lines. Time and time again, it proved to me that it could change the tides of battle.
The action wasn't missed by Halfdan. "They're keeping their Paladins in reserve because you're in reserve," he stated. "They fear you, little brother. I doubt they'll do anything less than throw all the Paladins they have at you the moment you step onto the field."
It was annoying to hear, but I didn't think Halfdan was wrong. Meaning that I was stuck watching the battle. Worse, there was a possibility that I wouldn't be fighting in it at all. But, it was undeniably better for the Saxons if none of the Paladins fought in this battle than it would be if I helped them. We had the numbers and the terrain was to our advantage. Without either of our interference, the Saxons would win. Something that I suspected King Charlemagne knew as well.
"Then I guess we wait until they're desperate enough," I returned, swallowing my eagerness to join the battle. My gaze slid to the Dutch, who had the King and the Count behind them. They were in command of that flank, and I was keeping an eye out for this signal that Ageres was told to expect. I also wondered what King Widukind intended to do about the betrayal.
The battle continued and it seemed to drag on now that I wasn't in the thick of it. I watched the two sides oppose one another. The initial charge had lost its momentum, and the Franks found their footing, refusing to be pushed back any further. The river ended up helping the Franks because it protected that flank, leaving only one side for them to worry about the Saxons trying to spill out around. Such a thing was prevented by the Frank's cavalry, who charged into the Saxons and pinned them in place.
The sun above began to make its arc across the sky -- Sòl being chased by the wolf Sköll. Hours went by without any significant amount of progress on either side. The Saxons continued their attack and the Franks continued to hold strong. They ground away at each other, but it was as the sky began to darken that I heard a horn blast, telling everyone that the battle was done for the day. It still continued on for some minutes as the Saxons withdrew from the battle, heading back to the hill. Their withdrawal was harried by the Frankish archers, who shot at their fleeing backs.
Seeing the dead on the field, I saw that not many had died. There were piles of corpses, but compared to how many men had fought… there weren't many. I watched as the Franks collected their dead, counting their slain. In a battle of tens of thousands, barely more than a hundred had fallen. Likewise, our own losses were similar.
The wounded were treated, and I at least made myself useful there. My people knew my methods -- boiling knives and clamps in water, using clean bandages and honey to close wounds, and so on. We would have lost another fifteen, but with our treatment, they all could be expected to continue fighting.
The second day of battle began early in the morning. The Franks drew up their battle lines while the dew was still fresh on the ground. The ones that fought the day before were put in the reserves, leaving fresh faces to fight the Franks. And, when the Franks refused to charge, again, King Widukind sounded the horn to charge. Our mighty army trampled across the field, which I noticed was visibly more muddy after thousands of feet tearing up the grass. But, as the hours went by, the mud hardened under the sun.
The battle continued much the same as it did on the first day. The battle lines were quickly set, and it was hours of grinding away at each other. One thing I did notice was that King Charlemagne's forces were tired. It was evident in how they fought. While we had a great many in reserve, the Frankish King had far less simply because he needed to field more men to prevent himself from being overrun.
King Widukind decided to take advantage of this fact. When the sun reached noon, he sent another wave of reserves and recalled the ones that had been fighting for hours. Our men were kept fresh and those that were exhausted were given rest. The Franks were forced to fight until dusk that day, the horn only blowing once the sun began to dip below the horizon.
The death toll was higher that day. On both sides a grand total of three hundred people had died, though I noticed that the number favored the Franks. We had lost more men that day, but it was well worth it in King Widukind's eyes.
Again, night turned into day and the Franks drew up their battle lines, as did the Saxons on the third day of battle. And, again, the two mighty armies clashed in the field. The morning dew turned it into a thick muck as the grass was thoroughly trampled and ripped up. The fighting lasted the day, and again, the Saxons retreated back to our position and the dead were collected. A hundred and fifty Franks and a hundred Saxons.
It was on the fourth day that I took up my position, feeling restless due to my inaction. The losses were mounting on both sides, but the Franks were by far feeling the worst of it I saw, peering through a low hanging fog at them. They looked exhausted and spent. For three long days, they had spent fighting with little hope in the way of respite. It had taken a toll on them physically and mentally. Before, they shouted at us, challenging us to attack them, but this morning, with the sun barely peeking above the horizon, they were almost silent.
"It will be today," King Widukind decided, looking at me as we readied ourselves for another long day of battle.
I glanced at him, surprised by how certain of it he sounded. "Today?"
"The fog," King Widukind answered, gesturing around us. It was a dense fog that hung low to the ground, obscuring everything in a gaze, but it wasn't so thick that we couldn't see through it. "King Charlemagne is clever, but I am determined to not underestimate him. Four days of fighting have turned the terrain into mud, which will slow our charge. The fog obscures the terrain around us. We know that he desires inaction from the Dutch, which leads me to believe it shall come from the river. And, after three days of fighting, he lulled us into a false sense of security," he elaborated.
I gazed out at the field, and the words made a worrying amount of sense to me. "We are ready for it. The Dutch will take action, I will see to it," I reassured King Widukind, who nodded. He did seem reassured.
"Today may not be the final battle, but what happens this morning shall decide the victor," King Widukind ventured, inclining his head to me. As if to say it would be decided by me. I returned the gesture with a shallow nod, feeling a jolt of anticipation rush through me, realizing that I would finally be participating in the battle. As well as feeling a heavy weight on my shoulders, knowing that it really did come down to my actions.
"I'll prepare my men," I told him, passing the word to Thorkell, Halstien, and Halfdan. The three of them welcomed a change in scenery, as we took up a different position in the army, standing closer to the Dutch. Something that seemed to make King Ageres nervous. I couldn't hear what he said to the Count, who was subtly eying me, but I could guess he was demanding to know why I was suddenly so close to him.
On the fourth day, the battle began with a long blast from the Saxon horn. Our men charged across the field, and true to King Widukind's words, with the field turning into such a thick muck, our advance was slowed. The Franks unleashed volleys of arrows, hundreds of them to feather our warriors as they pushed through the slog. More than once, I saw men being forced to leave a boot behind that was quickly claimed by the mud. With the slowed advance, we were exposed to the archers for far longer. Enough so that King Widukind gave the order for our reserves to advance to support our own archers.
King Widukind was proven right once again because today's battle was already different in nature. As the Frankish archers fell behind the warriors, the Saxons drawing close, the Franks unleashed a war cry that was drowned out by a horn blasting. The Frankish warriors surged forward, along with their cavalry, and it was their horsemen that smashed into our warriors first.
The only time I had ever seen a cavalry charge was back in Frankfurt, and the one that I saw now was no less devastating. The horsemen slammed into the Saxons, trampling through the disorganized and slowed charge. The Saxons recoiled from it, offering little resistance to it, and from where I sat I could see the Saxon army buckling under the deadly blow. The mud slowed down the charge as much as it slowed our army, meaning the momentum was quickly lost but the effects of it had a rippling effect.
Not long after, the Franks met the Saxon charge, providing cover for the cavalry to pull back and get ready for another charge.
"Fuck me," Thorkell muttered under his breath, seeing how the single charge seemed to affect the army. The Saxons were still fighting, and still pushing forward, but it was halted and stilted. I could hear their confusion and fear. And I was forced to consider something.
"All those men were prepared to kill… how many of them were prepared to die?" I wondered aloud, seeing how badly morale suddenly became. Something that worsened significantly when the horsemen surged forward for another charge. It wasn't as bad as the first one, but I could see the toll that it took on the wing. It was starting to buckle. The Frankish cavalry was everything my father had said they were and a great deal more.
Overconfidence had made their morale fragile. They felt victory was at hand, that they were winning, and so a single devastating charge had far more effect than it might otherwise have. They went from certain victory to possible defeat in an instant.
"Reserves, charge!" King Widukind shouted, sending in some of the reserves to reinforce the crumbling flank. I saw Grimar and more Saxons start to surge forward, crossing the field and were being feathered by arrows the entire time. My grip tightened on the reins to my horse, waiting for the signal that I knew was coming. I searched for it as the reinforcements cleared the muddy field, and almost as soon as they were committed, I saw King Charlemagne give it. He raised a hand, then let it fall.
A split second later, an arrow with a burning rag attached to it was shot through the air.
I took in a deep breath, knowing that was the signal. I didn't know what the signal meant, but I had to trust King Widukind's gut. "Brave warriors of Holland!" I shouted out, urging my horse forward as my men followed me. "Charge!" I shouted at the top of my lungs, having my men charge with me.
I spoke the words in Dutch.
I knew how people acted in battle. I saw plenty of it over the past few years. When people saw others fleeing, they would flee. When they saw others standing strong, they would take heart and fight. And when they saw someone charging, who gave the command in their own tongue?
It was only natural that they would follow.
I glanced over my shoulder to see Ageres screaming at the top of his lungs to stop the charge, but his words were completely drowned out by the thunderous roar of the Dutch, who were as restless as I was. Ageres had gathered up as many pagans in his 'kingdom' as he could. They were here to fight for their freedom. Meaning that Ageres' betrayal was on behalf of himself, not the Dutch as a whole. A smirk found its way onto my face as I took the Dutch army, leading near four thousand men to the river.
King Widukind knew King Charlemagne well, it seemed, because before I saw them, I heard the thunderous charge of cavalry. My heart picked up, "Spears! Spears!" I shouted out, the mud delaying my men, but we still arrived just in time to see the arrival of the Frankish cavalry that came rushing toward the river. I didn't need True Sight to know who led the charge -- members of King Charlemagne's Paladins.
Three of them. Roland. Olivier. And one other that I didn't know.
Three against one. This was going to be a challenge unlike anything I had ever experienced before, but I was undaunted. My grip tightened on my dane axe as I arrived at the crossing, the Dutchmen layering their spears to block off the point they were trying to enter. The river was deep and it would slow them greatly in the crossing, something that they must know, but Roland simply unsheathed a sword and pointed it forward. At me. The Franks continued their reckless charge, heading directly towards us while my men hastily readied themselves.
"Archers! Loose!" I shouted, and my archers began to fire as soon as they could. Roland smacked an arrow away with his blade and I saw it earnestly for the first time. It was a long sword with oddly dark gray metal, with a crossguard seemingly made out of gold with an inlay. It was the single most beautiful weapon that I had ever seen. Roland only seemed to have eyes for me. While the Paladins continued to surge forward, other horsemen fell as their horses suddenly fell underneath them. They reached the river not long after, and I realized that either the river wasn't nearly as deep as I was told it was… or the Franks had prepared this strategy well in advance.
Still, wading through chest deep water on a horse slowed the charge a great deal, and my archers felled a number of their horses, sweeping away their riders in the flowing river. Between these two things, the charge was massively blunted by the time it reached us. However, it simply didn't matter in the face of Roland and his two supporting paladins.
I saw Roland effortlessly hack a man in half, cutting through his ribs and spine, and chainmail with a single swipe. The other two lashed out with their spears, cutting a line through the Dutch as easily as I did Franks. It was a daunting thing to see, I could admit, steeling myself for the battle to come. However, because I knew the effect I had on the battlefield, I wasn't so keen on letting the Paladins have the same effect on us. "Charge!"
I screamed the words in Dutch, sending the Dutchmen forward to close the gap that the Paladins had formed while I raced forward to meet them. The Cavalry's charge was blunted and then stalled entirely, making them perfect targets for my archers.
I set my sights on Roland. We clashed in the center of the army, the Paladins finding themselves cut off from most of their support. He swung his blade and I rushed to meet it with my dane axe, only to discover how terrible of a decision that was when the edge of his blade bit into my axe and cut right through the steel and wood. And he nearly took my head off with that same stroke.
We passed each other, and I glanced at my axe, finding that the blade was cut in half. The cut wasn't clean, though. It was more like it was ripped in two rather than cut. I circled around, the Dutchmen giving us space even as the battle was waged.
"That's some sword you have there," I remarked, my gaze flickering to the other two.
"It is the holy blade Durandal. A blade given to me by King Charlemagne, who in turn was bequeathed the blade from an angel from heaven," Roland stated, evident pride in his voice. He should be proud of it. That blade didn't have so much as a scratch on it after ripping through my axe.
I was tempted to think it could simply cut through anything, but something Astolfo said led me to believe otherwise. "It's indestructible, but it's your own strength that cuts through everything."
To that, Roland offered a thin smile and inclined his head to me. "Exactly so," he confirmed before he seemed to settle on his horse. "I will not ask for your surrender. There would be no point in it. And as much as I would like for this to be settled in an honorable duel, my king has tasked me with the defeat of your army and the taking of your head. A task that means more to me than my honor," Roland stated while the other two Paladins flanked out. All three of them were coming at once. "For that, you have my apologies, Seigfried the Wolf-Kissed, but you shall die on this field. May God have mercy on your soul."
"May the Valkyries find you and Odin welcome you to his hall," I returned, expecting nothing less. The battle was going well in our favor. I saw it all around me. The Franks had relied on the element of surprise, and without it, their gambit failed. However, I knew that could all too easily change if the Paladins got involved. It was best if all three of them were focused on me. They could single handedly turn the tide of the battle.
With that, I flung what was left of my axe at Roland's horse before I urged mine forward to Olivier. Even as he hacked at the axe, cutting through the wooden shaft, it still stabbed into the horse's chest, making it rear back. Roland fought to keep his horse steady as it kept trying to buck him off, but I focused on the other two for the moment. Olivier leveled a spear at me as I galloped to him, but he was ill prepared for me to jump from my horse and throw myself at the third Paladin, slamming into him and bringing him to the ground.
"No quarter given!" I shouted in Dutch, the Paladin and I struggling in the mud. A hand went to one of my seaxes, trying to stab it into the unarmed Paladin's neck. His white cloak was covered in mud as he struggled to prevent me from overpowering him. Olivier rushed to his aid, but he was beset by Dutchmen that were trying to rip him off of his horse. He stabbed down with a spear, only for his horse to buck when it was stabbed. The back of his cloak was grabbed but he released it, ripping out his sword before he fell to the ground.
"God… damn you!" The Paladin cursed at me, swinging up to catch me in the side of the head with a mailed fist. The blow hurt, and I felt blood dripping down my face, but all I could think of was how the action cost him. Because of it, he didn't notice my hand snaking back to draw the other seaxe on my belt and drive it under his armpit. He cried out in pain, cringing in agony, and he took another swing at my face despite the injury. I stabbed him again at a different angle, but before I could hope for a third time, I saw Roland appear out of the corner of my eye as he chopped a man in half along with his weapon.
His expression was one of sheer fury, splattered with blood and mud, his gaze affixed to me. "Rinaldo!" He exclaimed while I rose to my feet, going to face Roland while Olivier was fending off Dutchmen that threw themselves at him, despite how many of them he killed. He wielded an oddly thin sword that struck out quick as lightning, seemingly able to be everywhere at once and ruthlessly killing with but a swipe of the blade.
While they were preoccupied, I rushed to Roland, hoping to break them apart. Kill one, then another, then the last one. It was the only hope I had of defeating all three of them. Unlike Olivier, the Dutchmen feared Roland, letting him stomp toward me and taking a slash at me. The very first thing that I noticed was that he was fast for his size. Not as fast as Astolfo, but I knew that blocking his attacks wasn't in the cards. Leaving me to dodge in thick mud with poor footing.
I leaned out of the way of the strike, darting forward, but I found a large metal shield in my face and it was only then that I realized how large it was. It was about four feet long and two feet wide, and with how he used it, I only just barely saw his eyes over the edge. I looked at Roland in that moment and my heart started pounding.
He seemed more like a fortress than any castle I had encountered so far. I had absolutely no idea how to attack him. His footing? He was wearing heavier armor than me. I only had my chainmail on, but he seemed more surefooted than I was as he ruthlessly advanced towards me.
My hesitation cost me. A split second later, I felt a cut on my arm as Olivier joined the fight and Rinaldo was covering their backs with his own sword, driving the Dutch away as much as he could. I dodged under his next attack, then narrowly kept my leg when Roland took a swipe at me, the two working in sync. Olivier wasn't as fast as Astolfo, but he was faster than Roland. Between the two, I didn't have any opportunity to attack, pushed completely on the defensive. Unbreakable Guard helped me survive despite Olivier's relentless attacks, but I had no choice but to dodge Roland's.
I was losing, I realized, feeling the sharp sting of a cut just above my knee. My blood was soaking into my clothes, and my arms were starting to burn with effort. Sweat stung at my wounds, making them an irritation.
The two before me were showing signs of their own tiredness, but they still seemed strong. Enough so that no Dutchman would dare to attack them, even from behind.
It was then that I heard it. A sharp whistle that rang out three times.
Just in time.
Expanded vision.
The user's vision expands in scope. The 90 degrees of vision becomes the full 190.
Uncanny Dodge
The user always knows just how to avoid a blow if it is possible to dodge it at all.
The reward for defeating Astolfo. Despite the fact that Uncanny Dodge might seem more useful at the moment, what I chose was Expanded Vision. And, in response, my vision grew. The things that I could only see at the fringes of my eyes suddenly appeared as if I was looking directly at them. It was for that reason I could see everything in position. Thorkell, Halstien, and even Halfdan.
Just as I could see Rinaldo rushing me from behind, a sword leveled at my back as he intended to run me through.
I took in a deep breath and let it out, regaining my stamina from Second Wind.
The real battle began now.
...
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180 or 360?
- Location
- New Zealand
The human field of vision is about 190 degrees horizontally, but most of that only has limited detail. The Macula in the center of your retina is responsible for the high-resolution vision you use when looking directly at things.
What I assume this perk does is somehow enhance his entire retina to have the same resolution as his macula, as well as the visual processing of his brain to handle the extra information.
This also means he is mostly-immune to visual distractions and sleight-of-hand as long as he doesn't turn his head away.
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Huh, you learn something new everyday
I liked most of the battles of the last chapters, because they gave the main character good development. But i agree that the story needs to take some time to breath.
Hopefully after the end of the war between Franks and Saxons the pacing will slow down, and we will see Siegfried work on crafting and learning new things for a bit.
Shining Stars
- Location
- USA
Strength surged in my limbs, the edge of exhaustion I had felt fading away to be replaced with power. The injuries that I had suffered seemed to close, or at the very least, they stopped bleeding. It didn't go unnoticed by the Paladins, who narrowed their eyes in response, but they said nothing of it. Roland leveled his blade at me while Rinaldo tried to hide the wound under his armpit that leaked blood down his chainmail and armor.
It was Thorkell that broke the brief standoff, throwing out the weighted net that spread out in an attempt to tangle Roland. In the center of the Dutch army, we almost had a small clearing to ourselves simply because no one wanted to come close to the Paladins. The vigor and bravery they showed was nowhere to be seen. They were content to leave them to us, and I suppose I should be grateful that they hadn't run. Regardless, despite the limited amount of space, Roland seemed to sense the action from behind and raised his shield up to catch the net.
In that same moment, I surged forward, my seaxes in hand as I focused on Rinaldo. Kill the wounded one first, then deal with Olivier. Roland would have to come last. Rinaldo seemed well prepared for me, and despite his injury, I saw that it didn't hinder him in the slightest. His thin blade lashed out while Olivier flanked me from the side, his spear darting out, but I was able to dodge it thanks to my expanded vision. It was odd, but I quickly got used to it.
Something that Rinaldo didn't seem to expect, because I saw surprise flicker across his face when one of my seaxes struck out at his throat as the other parried his blade. He leaned out of the way, avoiding the deadly wound, and took a half step back while I pressed onward. Halstien threw out a net of his own, roping the Paladin when his focus was on me. "Honorless dog!" He snarled at me, his sword caught in the net as I pressed the attack.
He wasn't wrong. Not in this case. This was trickery that even Loki would find distasteful. I doubt this stain on my honor would ever truly be washed away, regardless of the circumstances, but there was so much more at stake then my honor. Our very way of life -- our gods -- were under threat. I had racked my brain for weeks, thinking how I could possibly hope to defeat the remaining Paladins. Or how I could hope to defeat even two at the same time.
I trained. I took my boons from the gods. I prayed for wisdom and I sought advice. There was no way I could win and keep my honor intact. And I absolutely must win. I couldn't be so deluded that I would emerge victorious because it was the will of the gods. They threw challenges my way so that I could surmount them with my own will. They might wish me to be victorious, but I knew by now that I couldn't expect their guiding hand on my shoulder.
Morrigan would be quite proud of me if she could see me now.
"None of us have the right to talk about honor on this field," I snapped back at him, and in my expanded vision, I saw Roland move. The net was tangled in his armor, the hooks catching on his chainmail, but it just didn't seem to matter to the Paladin. He reached out and heaved, grabbing the net that a half dozen men and Thorkell were holding onto, and pulled. My stomach clenched when I saw that the dozen men were yanked forward, collapsing, and the only thing stopping them from being dragged through the mud was the fact that the rope snapped.
Roland's strength was monstrous, I realized, pressing the attack on Rinaldo, who deftly fended me off while Olivier was trying to put me back on the defensive. As Rinaldo took another step back, Halstien saw enough. He charged forward, tackling Rinaldo to the ground, and for the action, he found a dirk in his gut, but he didn't seem to mind. I leapt on Rinaldo, plunging one of my seaxes down into him. It found purchase between one of his ribs with a power attack, sliding all the way into the hilt, but I was forced to leave it there when Roland approached.
I grabbed Halstein and threw us both to the side, narrowly avoiding death as his blade lashed out at us. I rolled to my feet but Halstien seemed to just now notice the dirk in his gut, collapsing to a knee. Roland was on us a split second later, his shield gone as he lashed out with a gauntlet clad fist. I started to dodge, only to find my feet grabbed by Rinaldo, pinning me in place.
A split second later, I felt my bones snap and my ribs break when I tried to block the blow from Roland. My feet were ripped from my boots and I only realized I hit the ground when I came to a stop, pure blinding agony radiating from my side. I didn't have anything to compare it to, I realized, gasping for air that seemed to refuse to enter my lungs. I had been struck plenty of times in my life -- by my father, my brothers, by the many enemies that I had faced. I had even seen a man get kicked by a horse, once.
Those comparisons fell dreadfully short as I tried to get my feet underneath me. For the rest of my life, however long or short it might be, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt that I would compare every other blow I experienced to that punch.
Somehow, I managed to rise to my feet, but my arm was a lost cause. It was bent backwards and I could see a bone straining against the skin. Oak flesh was probably the only reason it didn't pierce through. With my one hand, I gripped my seaxes, seeing Roland approach. Oliver and Rinaldo were fending off desperate attacks, and I guess you could say that Roland was as well. Arrows punched into him from my archers, impacting his sides, back, and chest, but he hardly seemed to notice them as he strode forward, an expression of fury on his face. In that moment, I had no doubt in my mind. This was what people felt like when they encountered me.
Only a great deal stronger.
"You're standing. Good. You deserve to die on your feet," he told me, hacking through a handful of my men that tried to slow him down. They died in a splash of blood, Roland hardly noticing their presence. He killed them like they were just ants that he had stepped on a leisurely walk.
Swallowing thickly, I prepared myself to fight. I thought I would have to kill the others to hope to stand a chance against Roland, but it seemed like it was the opposite. I should have focused on Roland to try to kill him first. Comparatively, the others would have been easy pickings. My ribs throbbed with pain and they felt worse than any wound I had ever experienced. The only reason I was able to move at all was the certainty that I would die if I didn't.
When he neared, the pain seemed to vanish entirely as pure death raced for my neck. I threw myself to the side, rolling to my feet, and just narrowly avoided a downward slash. Lunging forward, I went for the throat, only to be forced back when Roland nearly took my head off. Olivier was approaching from behind and I couldn't see Halstien any more. Stumbling a step back, I threw myself to the side when Olivier lunged from behind, rolling past him and managing to drive my seaxes into the back of his leg. He cried out in pain before collapsing, and despite Roland baring down on me, I went to finish him off.
I went for his throat, but Olivier blocked it with a hand. The opportunity was lost, but Roland was there a split second later, lashing out with his blade. I couldn't dodge it, so I reacted on instinct. I caught the blade with my seaxes as I threw myself forward, planting a foot on Roland's chest and kicking off of him. He didn't so much as stumble. The action saved my life, the force of his swing throwing me to the side, but I was whole. Barely.
I was wounding them, but I wasn't able to kill them. Roland stayed near Olivier, who struggled to stand. Despite his weakness, none dared to approach because of Roland. My side was starting to scream in agony, and looking down, I saw that my seaxes was done for. The blades weren't cut in half, but they were bent almost in half. While I looked at the two Paladins, I searched the field for a weapon to use.
My heart fell when I saw Halstien on the field, cut from his shoulder to his gut. The dirk was still sticking out of him. Thorkell was approaching my side, but I held up a hand. "Thorkell. Tell King Widukind that we need to win the battle today," I told him. If I didn't die on this field, then there was no hope that I could fight in the battle tomorrow. King Charlemagne would smell blood in the water and unleash his Paladins upon the army. I'm not certain we would lose because of it, but the losses would be devastating, to say the least.
I could see Thorkell wanted to refuse the order, but he nodded all the same. Behind Roland and Olivier, I saw Halfdan with a bow and arrow, ready to fire at Olivier. Where was Rinaldo? I couldn't see him. I didn't dare hope that he had been killed, but he was sporting two wounds that would have killed anyone else.
"God has willed that we shall win this day," Roland told me with a sense of finality. He sounded so certain of it too.
"If you managed to get the charge off, then maybe," I refuted. I couldn't see the vast battlefield, but I knew that the Franks were exhausted. The Paladins were a terror on the battlefield, and they could thumb the scales in the Franks favor, but just like me, they couldn't single handedly hold back thousands of warriors. The Frank army was reaching the end of their rope. Break them here, run them off… and I would love to see the rest of the Paladins fend off near twenty thousand men.
Roland's eyes narrowed at me, and I saw that I had struck a nerve. He glanced at Olivier, who was gingerly keeping his weight off of one foot. Seeing that his compatriot was fine, Roland marched forward. As soon as he did, Halfdan released the arrow at Olivier, who whipped around to block it. At the same moment, I dove for Halstien's corpse, ripping the dirk from his stomach and flipping it in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I flung it at Olivier. Roland swiped at it in the air, tearing through it, but it didn't matter.
He wasn't used to things being thrown with my strength. The two halves still sailed to Olivier, who whipped around to block one. The other continued forward, the blade of the dirk punching through his eye and into his skull with enough force that his head snapped back. Roland glanced back at Olivier, as if realizing his mistake, leaving me enough time to grab hold of Halstien's Dane-axe.
I saw a muscle clench in his jaw and fury in his eyes as he whipped his gaze back to me. I lunged with my Dane-axe, using a Power Attack and our blades met. The swipe through the axe was far cleaner this time, more so than Roland was expecting, letting me jab upwards with what was left of the axe. I hoped to slash his throat, but I only managed a small nick on his cheekbone. I was forced to throw myself to the ground when he came back with the back swing, sending nothing but pure agony through me. Halfdan saved my life with another shot from his bow, impacting against Roland's wrist as he swung down.
I scrambled to my feet, narrowly dodging another attack. A swipe from Roland took the head of my axe completely off, leaving me with just the haft. His attacks were coming faster and I was getting slower despite my attempts to keep pace. The fury in his eyes only seemed to grow with each narrow miss, his lips pulling into a thin line as blood slowly dripped down his face.
Then I heard the sound of horsemen and in my expanded vision, I saw the source.
Norsemen rode through the Dutch army, letting loose a war cry, and they charged directly at Roland. Two hundred horsemen, I realized. They weren't here for the Franks that were trying to cross. They were here exclusively for the Paladins.
And when I saw Roland turn to them, cutting through a man and his horse with a single swing, I didn't think it would be enough.
"Wolf-Kissed!" I heard Grimar of all people shout out, looking down at me as his men charged Roland. The Dutch learned quickly to fear Roland, but the Norsemen didn't know that they should yet. But they were swiftly learning, because their charge broke on Roland like a wave against a stone. He planted his feet, swung his blade, radiating an aura of terror so fierce that the animals took notice of it. The warhorses treated Roland as if he were a wall of spearmen, bucking at the idea of charging straight into him.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to feel any relief for his arrival. I was injured and unarmed. If Grimar ever had a hope of killing me, then it would be now. I could see him considering it as he looked down at me, his gaze flickering to my injuries.
"Saving you, it would seem," he remarked, not sounding particularly happy about it either. He closed his eyes briefly, seemingly coming to a decision, "I gave you my word that I wouldn't try to kill you until the war is over. I intend to keep it. For better or for worse, we need you to win the battle." He told me, shifting away from me to look at Roland, his lips thinning. Only then did I let my relief bleed through.
Grimar… was a more honorable man than I gave him credit for. And that shamed me.
"I can't deny the might of their God's champion," Grimar remarked, seeing the body of a horse slam into Roland after he beheaded it, only for him to shrug it off. He seemed genuinely unstoppable.
"... Every time I thought I'd never come closer to death, he took another swing at me," I admitted, forcing myself to stand. "I managed to kill one, and the other is severely injured, but him…" it made so much more sense to me now, for better or for worse. I had had no idea what I looked like from the outside looking in. Before, the only one that could compare to me was Astolfo, and when we fought, we were evenly matched.
Now I understood why people could look upon me and mistake me for a god.
"King Widukind received your message. His orders are to hold Roland back. It seems that you were bait, Wolf-Kissed," he told me. Meaning that King Widukind had another plan in place? I hadn't known that. However, by now, I had learned to expect it. Both that King Widukind had another plan and that he was using me as bait. It did seem to be his go-to strategy.
"How much longer?" I asked him, the pain in my arm slowly getting worse. I grit my teeth against it but it was a terrible and sharp pain that I couldn't ignore now that I wasn't fighting for my life.
"Whenever we hear the Frank's signal to retreat, I suppose," Grimar answered, his tone aloof, though his expression was grim. Roland was splattered with blood, his white cloak dyed completely red to the point that it was soaking wet. The Norsemen had well learned the lesson that they should fear him as he stood on top of a small mountain of corpses. Above us, he looked down, his gaze finding mine as if he knew exactly where to find me in the crowd of people.
The Franks signal to retreat? I could only hope that it came soon.
Halfdan appeared from behind me, his gaze lingering on Grimar but he passed me a hand axe. We had to hold out. But that seemed like an increasingly impossible task when Roland began to descend from his mountain of corpses that seeped rivers of blood. The Norsemen that charged him with such bravery were every bit as skittish as the Dutch now. They circled around him as he descended, idly breaking off arrows that were in his armor as he did, tossing them aside without so much as a twitch in expression.
Keeping him here was without a doubt the single most difficult order King Widukind had ever given me.
It was Grimar that spoke, "Do you fear death, men? Do you not welcome the chance to prove your valor before the gods?! How can the Valkyries notice you on this great battlefield if you whimper like kittens? Charge!" Grimar roared, jumping off of his horse and holding his Dane-axe high. His war cry was met with many others that copied the action, the fear fading away as many realized what a chance this was.
The Valkyries would surely be watching such a man. Normally, it would be a great offense to interfere with such a battle. It could steal the gaze of a Valkyrie from a warrior, but against such an enemy, even dying at his blade would be a glorious death. Grimar had decided how we would survive the battle. Burying Roland in so many men that he was crushed under their numbers.
And I think we both knew that it wasn't going to kill him.
"I'll occupy Rinaldo," I decided, trading a glance at Grimar, who met my gaze for a brief moment. We shared a nod before parting.
Rinaldo wasn't faring as well as Roland was. The wounds that I gave him slowed him immensely, but even as blood poured down from under his armpits, he still wielded his blade with deft grace and slaughtered anyone that dared to come near. His expression was bloodless, sweat dripping down his face with every movement, mixing with the mud. His breathing was ragged and through the sounds of war, it sounded wet. He was badly injured. Then again, so was I.
His gaze seemed to find mine as Halfdan took up a position behind me, drawing his bow and aiming an arrow at Rinaldo. The Paladin of Charlemagne simply flicked blood off of his blade and strode toward me. My arm and ribs throbbed with agony. Enough so that I wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cradle my injured arm. It hurt. Would I be able to fight with the injuries that Rinaldo sustained? Maybe? I think it entirely depended on if I felt them or not.
Honor demanded that I face him in single combat. He had no Olivier or Roland to support him now. I didn't see any more Frank cavalry, but I did still hear sounds of fighting. Reaching up, I lowered Halfdan's bow with an axe, earning a sharp look from my brother.
"There's a time and a place for honor, little brother. It's not worth your life," he told me and there was a part of me that agreed with him. A part of me that wanted to sound a war cry, have the men charge, let Halfdan shoot him and leave him to die. At the start of the battle, Roland said I deserved a bible death but he couldn't deliver me one because winning mattered more. I agreed with him then because I was outnumbered.
But this was different. "People look up to me," I told him, striding forward as the Dutch parted for us. "If I don't uphold our ways, then for what reason would they?" I asked Halfdan, and I could tell that he was annoyed that I was right. It was something that I had thought about since the Jarls began to question my place in the law. The death of Alef's family made me question my actions and the implications of them. King Widukind calling me out on how I carried myself…
I wasn't a normal man. Not anymore. Gone were the days that I was a boy on a farm with a bit of renown to my name. I was something more than that. Not a god, but more than a man. A symbol. And I must be aware of that fact at all times.
The last Dutchman vanished between us, leaving Rinaldo and I to face one another. His breathing was heavy as he met my gaze. "My apologies," he said, placing a hand to his chest and making a small bow. "My words before were ill spoken. You are a man of honor, Seigfried. It is a shame that you shall die here," he said, brandishing his blade.
I inclined my head, accepting the words and readying myself.
The duel began.
My duels with Astolfo were something of speed and grace. Both of us light on our feet, dodging and blocking countless blows. My duel with Rinaldo was a brawl between two drunks in the mud in comparison. Our attacks were sluggish and slow, our injuries apparent to anyone that watched. I couldn't use an entire side, my dodging was stilted and clumsy because of the pain and the mud. Rinaldo was no better, his attacks were faster and stronger than a normal man, but to me, I saw how dreadful they were. Blood streamed down his armor, his footing shaky and uncertain. More than once he stumbled from a blow.
And more than once I nearly fell flat into the mud when I overextended.
It was nothing like what the legends told, I thought to myself, nearly losing my nose when my feet refused to leave the mud that enveloped them. I swung up with my axe, forcing Rinaldo into an awkward block that made a pained grimace pass over his face. Yet, the men around us couldn't seem to tell the difference as we traded blows. The pain from our injuries growing and throbbing until it stole our breath away. Our duel continued to devolve as the minutes went by, going from blows that regular men couldn't hope to copy to attacks and blocks that wouldn't be out of place from a drunkard.
Still, men cheered. They would go home and their children and wives to tell them of this great battle between two legends that they witnessed with their own eyes. The story would be so twisted and grand that I doubt I would be able to recognize myself in it, if I didn't die here. The thought managed to startle a laugh out of me as I swung at Rinaldo.
His eyes narrowed at me and despite it all, I had to share the jest. "They think we're gods among men. If only they knew the truth," I told him, my chuckles making my ribs ache. I think I might have been mistaken thinking that they were broken, but I did feel a very sharp pain every time they moved.
Rinaldo blinked, a small laugh blurting out of him, something that seemed to catch him by surprise. A smile fought its way onto his face as his chuckles grew, both of us keenly aware of the state we were in. He couldn't help it either, I saw, when he began to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.
Even as we continued to fight, we were laughing. He laughed because I laughed, and now I was laughing because he was laughing. It certainly didn't help our fight -- that was for certain, because it only got clumsier and clumsier.
It was over the sounds of our breathless chuckles that we both heard it.
The sound of a horn.
I didn't recognize it…
But Rinaldo certainly did.
...
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It was Thorkell that broke the brief standoff, throwing out the weighted net that spread out in an attempt to tangle Roland. In the center of the Dutch army, we almost had a small clearing to ourselves simply because no one wanted to come close to the Paladins. The vigor and bravery they showed was nowhere to be seen. They were content to leave them to us, and I suppose I should be grateful that they hadn't run. Regardless, despite the limited amount of space, Roland seemed to sense the action from behind and raised his shield up to catch the net.
In that same moment, I surged forward, my seaxes in hand as I focused on Rinaldo. Kill the wounded one first, then deal with Olivier. Roland would have to come last. Rinaldo seemed well prepared for me, and despite his injury, I saw that it didn't hinder him in the slightest. His thin blade lashed out while Olivier flanked me from the side, his spear darting out, but I was able to dodge it thanks to my expanded vision. It was odd, but I quickly got used to it.
Something that Rinaldo didn't seem to expect, because I saw surprise flicker across his face when one of my seaxes struck out at his throat as the other parried his blade. He leaned out of the way, avoiding the deadly wound, and took a half step back while I pressed onward. Halstien threw out a net of his own, roping the Paladin when his focus was on me. "Honorless dog!" He snarled at me, his sword caught in the net as I pressed the attack.
He wasn't wrong. Not in this case. This was trickery that even Loki would find distasteful. I doubt this stain on my honor would ever truly be washed away, regardless of the circumstances, but there was so much more at stake then my honor. Our very way of life -- our gods -- were under threat. I had racked my brain for weeks, thinking how I could possibly hope to defeat the remaining Paladins. Or how I could hope to defeat even two at the same time.
I trained. I took my boons from the gods. I prayed for wisdom and I sought advice. There was no way I could win and keep my honor intact. And I absolutely must win. I couldn't be so deluded that I would emerge victorious because it was the will of the gods. They threw challenges my way so that I could surmount them with my own will. They might wish me to be victorious, but I knew by now that I couldn't expect their guiding hand on my shoulder.
Morrigan would be quite proud of me if she could see me now.
"None of us have the right to talk about honor on this field," I snapped back at him, and in my expanded vision, I saw Roland move. The net was tangled in his armor, the hooks catching on his chainmail, but it just didn't seem to matter to the Paladin. He reached out and heaved, grabbing the net that a half dozen men and Thorkell were holding onto, and pulled. My stomach clenched when I saw that the dozen men were yanked forward, collapsing, and the only thing stopping them from being dragged through the mud was the fact that the rope snapped.
Roland's strength was monstrous, I realized, pressing the attack on Rinaldo, who deftly fended me off while Olivier was trying to put me back on the defensive. As Rinaldo took another step back, Halstien saw enough. He charged forward, tackling Rinaldo to the ground, and for the action, he found a dirk in his gut, but he didn't seem to mind. I leapt on Rinaldo, plunging one of my seaxes down into him. It found purchase between one of his ribs with a power attack, sliding all the way into the hilt, but I was forced to leave it there when Roland approached.
I grabbed Halstein and threw us both to the side, narrowly avoiding death as his blade lashed out at us. I rolled to my feet but Halstien seemed to just now notice the dirk in his gut, collapsing to a knee. Roland was on us a split second later, his shield gone as he lashed out with a gauntlet clad fist. I started to dodge, only to find my feet grabbed by Rinaldo, pinning me in place.
A split second later, I felt my bones snap and my ribs break when I tried to block the blow from Roland. My feet were ripped from my boots and I only realized I hit the ground when I came to a stop, pure blinding agony radiating from my side. I didn't have anything to compare it to, I realized, gasping for air that seemed to refuse to enter my lungs. I had been struck plenty of times in my life -- by my father, my brothers, by the many enemies that I had faced. I had even seen a man get kicked by a horse, once.
Those comparisons fell dreadfully short as I tried to get my feet underneath me. For the rest of my life, however long or short it might be, I knew that without a shadow of a doubt that I would compare every other blow I experienced to that punch.
Somehow, I managed to rise to my feet, but my arm was a lost cause. It was bent backwards and I could see a bone straining against the skin. Oak flesh was probably the only reason it didn't pierce through. With my one hand, I gripped my seaxes, seeing Roland approach. Oliver and Rinaldo were fending off desperate attacks, and I guess you could say that Roland was as well. Arrows punched into him from my archers, impacting his sides, back, and chest, but he hardly seemed to notice them as he strode forward, an expression of fury on his face. In that moment, I had no doubt in my mind. This was what people felt like when they encountered me.
Only a great deal stronger.
"You're standing. Good. You deserve to die on your feet," he told me, hacking through a handful of my men that tried to slow him down. They died in a splash of blood, Roland hardly noticing their presence. He killed them like they were just ants that he had stepped on a leisurely walk.
Swallowing thickly, I prepared myself to fight. I thought I would have to kill the others to hope to stand a chance against Roland, but it seemed like it was the opposite. I should have focused on Roland to try to kill him first. Comparatively, the others would have been easy pickings. My ribs throbbed with pain and they felt worse than any wound I had ever experienced. The only reason I was able to move at all was the certainty that I would die if I didn't.
When he neared, the pain seemed to vanish entirely as pure death raced for my neck. I threw myself to the side, rolling to my feet, and just narrowly avoided a downward slash. Lunging forward, I went for the throat, only to be forced back when Roland nearly took my head off. Olivier was approaching from behind and I couldn't see Halstien any more. Stumbling a step back, I threw myself to the side when Olivier lunged from behind, rolling past him and managing to drive my seaxes into the back of his leg. He cried out in pain before collapsing, and despite Roland baring down on me, I went to finish him off.
I went for his throat, but Olivier blocked it with a hand. The opportunity was lost, but Roland was there a split second later, lashing out with his blade. I couldn't dodge it, so I reacted on instinct. I caught the blade with my seaxes as I threw myself forward, planting a foot on Roland's chest and kicking off of him. He didn't so much as stumble. The action saved my life, the force of his swing throwing me to the side, but I was whole. Barely.
I was wounding them, but I wasn't able to kill them. Roland stayed near Olivier, who struggled to stand. Despite his weakness, none dared to approach because of Roland. My side was starting to scream in agony, and looking down, I saw that my seaxes was done for. The blades weren't cut in half, but they were bent almost in half. While I looked at the two Paladins, I searched the field for a weapon to use.
My heart fell when I saw Halstien on the field, cut from his shoulder to his gut. The dirk was still sticking out of him. Thorkell was approaching my side, but I held up a hand. "Thorkell. Tell King Widukind that we need to win the battle today," I told him. If I didn't die on this field, then there was no hope that I could fight in the battle tomorrow. King Charlemagne would smell blood in the water and unleash his Paladins upon the army. I'm not certain we would lose because of it, but the losses would be devastating, to say the least.
I could see Thorkell wanted to refuse the order, but he nodded all the same. Behind Roland and Olivier, I saw Halfdan with a bow and arrow, ready to fire at Olivier. Where was Rinaldo? I couldn't see him. I didn't dare hope that he had been killed, but he was sporting two wounds that would have killed anyone else.
"God has willed that we shall win this day," Roland told me with a sense of finality. He sounded so certain of it too.
"If you managed to get the charge off, then maybe," I refuted. I couldn't see the vast battlefield, but I knew that the Franks were exhausted. The Paladins were a terror on the battlefield, and they could thumb the scales in the Franks favor, but just like me, they couldn't single handedly hold back thousands of warriors. The Frank army was reaching the end of their rope. Break them here, run them off… and I would love to see the rest of the Paladins fend off near twenty thousand men.
Roland's eyes narrowed at me, and I saw that I had struck a nerve. He glanced at Olivier, who was gingerly keeping his weight off of one foot. Seeing that his compatriot was fine, Roland marched forward. As soon as he did, Halfdan released the arrow at Olivier, who whipped around to block it. At the same moment, I dove for Halstien's corpse, ripping the dirk from his stomach and flipping it in my hand. With a flick of my wrist, I flung it at Olivier. Roland swiped at it in the air, tearing through it, but it didn't matter.
He wasn't used to things being thrown with my strength. The two halves still sailed to Olivier, who whipped around to block one. The other continued forward, the blade of the dirk punching through his eye and into his skull with enough force that his head snapped back. Roland glanced back at Olivier, as if realizing his mistake, leaving me enough time to grab hold of Halstien's Dane-axe.
I saw a muscle clench in his jaw and fury in his eyes as he whipped his gaze back to me. I lunged with my Dane-axe, using a Power Attack and our blades met. The swipe through the axe was far cleaner this time, more so than Roland was expecting, letting me jab upwards with what was left of the axe. I hoped to slash his throat, but I only managed a small nick on his cheekbone. I was forced to throw myself to the ground when he came back with the back swing, sending nothing but pure agony through me. Halfdan saved my life with another shot from his bow, impacting against Roland's wrist as he swung down.
I scrambled to my feet, narrowly dodging another attack. A swipe from Roland took the head of my axe completely off, leaving me with just the haft. His attacks were coming faster and I was getting slower despite my attempts to keep pace. The fury in his eyes only seemed to grow with each narrow miss, his lips pulling into a thin line as blood slowly dripped down his face.
Then I heard the sound of horsemen and in my expanded vision, I saw the source.
Norsemen rode through the Dutch army, letting loose a war cry, and they charged directly at Roland. Two hundred horsemen, I realized. They weren't here for the Franks that were trying to cross. They were here exclusively for the Paladins.
And when I saw Roland turn to them, cutting through a man and his horse with a single swing, I didn't think it would be enough.
"Wolf-Kissed!" I heard Grimar of all people shout out, looking down at me as his men charged Roland. The Dutch learned quickly to fear Roland, but the Norsemen didn't know that they should yet. But they were swiftly learning, because their charge broke on Roland like a wave against a stone. He planted his feet, swung his blade, radiating an aura of terror so fierce that the animals took notice of it. The warhorses treated Roland as if he were a wall of spearmen, bucking at the idea of charging straight into him.
"What are you doing here?" I asked, unable to feel any relief for his arrival. I was injured and unarmed. If Grimar ever had a hope of killing me, then it would be now. I could see him considering it as he looked down at me, his gaze flickering to my injuries.
"Saving you, it would seem," he remarked, not sounding particularly happy about it either. He closed his eyes briefly, seemingly coming to a decision, "I gave you my word that I wouldn't try to kill you until the war is over. I intend to keep it. For better or for worse, we need you to win the battle." He told me, shifting away from me to look at Roland, his lips thinning. Only then did I let my relief bleed through.
Grimar… was a more honorable man than I gave him credit for. And that shamed me.
"I can't deny the might of their God's champion," Grimar remarked, seeing the body of a horse slam into Roland after he beheaded it, only for him to shrug it off. He seemed genuinely unstoppable.
"... Every time I thought I'd never come closer to death, he took another swing at me," I admitted, forcing myself to stand. "I managed to kill one, and the other is severely injured, but him…" it made so much more sense to me now, for better or for worse. I had had no idea what I looked like from the outside looking in. Before, the only one that could compare to me was Astolfo, and when we fought, we were evenly matched.
Now I understood why people could look upon me and mistake me for a god.
"King Widukind received your message. His orders are to hold Roland back. It seems that you were bait, Wolf-Kissed," he told me. Meaning that King Widukind had another plan in place? I hadn't known that. However, by now, I had learned to expect it. Both that King Widukind had another plan and that he was using me as bait. It did seem to be his go-to strategy.
"How much longer?" I asked him, the pain in my arm slowly getting worse. I grit my teeth against it but it was a terrible and sharp pain that I couldn't ignore now that I wasn't fighting for my life.
"Whenever we hear the Frank's signal to retreat, I suppose," Grimar answered, his tone aloof, though his expression was grim. Roland was splattered with blood, his white cloak dyed completely red to the point that it was soaking wet. The Norsemen had well learned the lesson that they should fear him as he stood on top of a small mountain of corpses. Above us, he looked down, his gaze finding mine as if he knew exactly where to find me in the crowd of people.
The Franks signal to retreat? I could only hope that it came soon.
Halfdan appeared from behind me, his gaze lingering on Grimar but he passed me a hand axe. We had to hold out. But that seemed like an increasingly impossible task when Roland began to descend from his mountain of corpses that seeped rivers of blood. The Norsemen that charged him with such bravery were every bit as skittish as the Dutch now. They circled around him as he descended, idly breaking off arrows that were in his armor as he did, tossing them aside without so much as a twitch in expression.
Keeping him here was without a doubt the single most difficult order King Widukind had ever given me.
It was Grimar that spoke, "Do you fear death, men? Do you not welcome the chance to prove your valor before the gods?! How can the Valkyries notice you on this great battlefield if you whimper like kittens? Charge!" Grimar roared, jumping off of his horse and holding his Dane-axe high. His war cry was met with many others that copied the action, the fear fading away as many realized what a chance this was.
The Valkyries would surely be watching such a man. Normally, it would be a great offense to interfere with such a battle. It could steal the gaze of a Valkyrie from a warrior, but against such an enemy, even dying at his blade would be a glorious death. Grimar had decided how we would survive the battle. Burying Roland in so many men that he was crushed under their numbers.
And I think we both knew that it wasn't going to kill him.
"I'll occupy Rinaldo," I decided, trading a glance at Grimar, who met my gaze for a brief moment. We shared a nod before parting.
Rinaldo wasn't faring as well as Roland was. The wounds that I gave him slowed him immensely, but even as blood poured down from under his armpits, he still wielded his blade with deft grace and slaughtered anyone that dared to come near. His expression was bloodless, sweat dripping down his face with every movement, mixing with the mud. His breathing was ragged and through the sounds of war, it sounded wet. He was badly injured. Then again, so was I.
His gaze seemed to find mine as Halfdan took up a position behind me, drawing his bow and aiming an arrow at Rinaldo. The Paladin of Charlemagne simply flicked blood off of his blade and strode toward me. My arm and ribs throbbed with agony. Enough so that I wanted nothing more than to drop to the ground and cradle my injured arm. It hurt. Would I be able to fight with the injuries that Rinaldo sustained? Maybe? I think it entirely depended on if I felt them or not.
Honor demanded that I face him in single combat. He had no Olivier or Roland to support him now. I didn't see any more Frank cavalry, but I did still hear sounds of fighting. Reaching up, I lowered Halfdan's bow with an axe, earning a sharp look from my brother.
"There's a time and a place for honor, little brother. It's not worth your life," he told me and there was a part of me that agreed with him. A part of me that wanted to sound a war cry, have the men charge, let Halfdan shoot him and leave him to die. At the start of the battle, Roland said I deserved a bible death but he couldn't deliver me one because winning mattered more. I agreed with him then because I was outnumbered.
But this was different. "People look up to me," I told him, striding forward as the Dutch parted for us. "If I don't uphold our ways, then for what reason would they?" I asked Halfdan, and I could tell that he was annoyed that I was right. It was something that I had thought about since the Jarls began to question my place in the law. The death of Alef's family made me question my actions and the implications of them. King Widukind calling me out on how I carried myself…
I wasn't a normal man. Not anymore. Gone were the days that I was a boy on a farm with a bit of renown to my name. I was something more than that. Not a god, but more than a man. A symbol. And I must be aware of that fact at all times.
The last Dutchman vanished between us, leaving Rinaldo and I to face one another. His breathing was heavy as he met my gaze. "My apologies," he said, placing a hand to his chest and making a small bow. "My words before were ill spoken. You are a man of honor, Seigfried. It is a shame that you shall die here," he said, brandishing his blade.
I inclined my head, accepting the words and readying myself.
The duel began.
My duels with Astolfo were something of speed and grace. Both of us light on our feet, dodging and blocking countless blows. My duel with Rinaldo was a brawl between two drunks in the mud in comparison. Our attacks were sluggish and slow, our injuries apparent to anyone that watched. I couldn't use an entire side, my dodging was stilted and clumsy because of the pain and the mud. Rinaldo was no better, his attacks were faster and stronger than a normal man, but to me, I saw how dreadful they were. Blood streamed down his armor, his footing shaky and uncertain. More than once he stumbled from a blow.
And more than once I nearly fell flat into the mud when I overextended.
It was nothing like what the legends told, I thought to myself, nearly losing my nose when my feet refused to leave the mud that enveloped them. I swung up with my axe, forcing Rinaldo into an awkward block that made a pained grimace pass over his face. Yet, the men around us couldn't seem to tell the difference as we traded blows. The pain from our injuries growing and throbbing until it stole our breath away. Our duel continued to devolve as the minutes went by, going from blows that regular men couldn't hope to copy to attacks and blocks that wouldn't be out of place from a drunkard.
Still, men cheered. They would go home and their children and wives to tell them of this great battle between two legends that they witnessed with their own eyes. The story would be so twisted and grand that I doubt I would be able to recognize myself in it, if I didn't die here. The thought managed to startle a laugh out of me as I swung at Rinaldo.
His eyes narrowed at me and despite it all, I had to share the jest. "They think we're gods among men. If only they knew the truth," I told him, my chuckles making my ribs ache. I think I might have been mistaken thinking that they were broken, but I did feel a very sharp pain every time they moved.
Rinaldo blinked, a small laugh blurting out of him, something that seemed to catch him by surprise. A smile fought its way onto his face as his chuckles grew, both of us keenly aware of the state we were in. He couldn't help it either, I saw, when he began to laugh at the sheer ridiculousness of the idea.
Even as we continued to fight, we were laughing. He laughed because I laughed, and now I was laughing because he was laughing. It certainly didn't help our fight -- that was for certain, because it only got clumsier and clumsier.
It was over the sounds of our breathless chuckles that we both heard it.
The sound of a horn.
I didn't recognize it…
But Rinaldo certainly did.
...
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!
This battle was absolutely leggendary.
I love how overpowered Siegfried and the Paladins are compared to everyone else. Is like they are anime characters while everyone else araound them is a normal human from the real world.
And yet for all their power, they are still just men. And have their limits and their flaws.
I love how overpowered Siegfried and the Paladins are compared to everyone else. Is like they are anime characters while everyone else araound them is a normal human from the real world.
And yet for all their power, they are still just men. And have their limits and their flaws.
- Location
- Lucknow, UP, India.
Didn't he already have Spatial Awareness (During a battle, you become aware of everything within a hundred paces around you.) Why was Expanded vision needed? And I don't think Spatial Awareness has been used till now in any battle.
He used it during the siegie of Frankfurt i think.
Well Earned Rewards
- Location
- USA
I had absolutely no idea what happened, I realized, utterly exhausted and completely spent. I managed to block the charge that would have cost us the battle, but I had no idea what King Widukind did to win the battle itself. However, I knew that we had won, because Rinaldo's expression crumpled to one of pure horror, as if the very worst case scenario had transpired. He looked at me, panic shining in his eyes as his grip tightened on his sword. I was on a knee, trying to get my breathing under control, and each breath made the pain in my ribs worse.
Roland was there not a minute later, covered in blood and gore, his cloak gone and his armor was already stained with it. Blood dripped in a river from his sword as he reunited with Rinaldo, grabbing his fellow Paladin by the shoulder. "The battle has been lost," Roland stated, a cold fury in his voice. "We must withdraw," he continued, his gaze meeting mine. Around us, I saw the cavalry was withdrawing already, and the Paladins would be entirely without support.
We could try to bury them in bodies, like Grimar tried to do. But the fact of the matter was that Roland was standing here after Grimar sent near two hundred men at him. I genuinely had no idea how many men it would take to kill him and the only true wound he seemed to sustain was the small cut I had given him on the cheek. It would be a cold, ruthless action -- trading hundreds of lives for two.
"Siegfried -- allow us to withdraw in peace, and I shall spare your life," Roland told me, his tone blunt. It was an incredible threat to utter when you were half surrounded by an army. And it was a very telling sign that I believed him. I'm uncertain if the rest of the army could kill him after he killed me, because there was precious little doubt in my mind that he would be able to kill me.
Was it worth the risk? I took a quick moment to consider it. The Dutch and the Norsemen were looking upon Roland with fear. If they saw me die at his hands, I think it could be a route. Which would open up the pass that we blocked, allowing them to continue their charge. Something that could swing the battle back into the favor of the Franks.
Slowly, I nodded my head, "Go with peace, Roland and Rinaldo." I told them, forcing myself to stand. The words might sound like I was letting them live, but the three of us knew who had been spared on this battlefield.
"We shall meet again," Roland swore, the words sounding like a threat and turning away with Rinaldo. The army parted for him, none daring to attack Roland. He cowed them completely. It was humbling. There was no other word to describe it. I thought I might be angry at my defeat at his hands, because he had certainly bested me in battle even if we did win the war. And there was anger, and even humiliation, but above all else was… the realization that the road ahead was a lot longer than I had imagined it to be.
When they were gone, the Frank cavalry withdrawing completely, I collapsed to my knees and cradled my broken arm.
The road was long indeed.
…
The battle didn't truly end there. It was late noon when the Franks gave the call to retreat and until morning of the next day, our army chased them. In comparison to the deaths and injuries that both sides gave each other during the actual battle, the losses the Franks sustained were far greater when they were retreating back to Antwerp. Men fled into the forests and marshy terrain, and there they were either captured or killed. Given the blood debt that was established, most were killed.
In the half day that passed, the Franks lost near three thousand men, leaving them closer to six thousand men than not when they arrived at Antwerp. An unwalled city. Of those three thousand, a thousand were prisoners.
And it was only when our army arrived at Antwerp did King Widukind find a moment to speak to me. "You've earned some scars, Wolf-Kissed," King Widukind remarked, as light as a feather when he entered my tent. Morrigan was changing my bandages and making sure my arm was bound tightly. She set the bone, and it was a clean break according to her. Though, it would be weeks before I could use the arm.
"Aye, I did," I agreed. My ribs hadn't been broken by the punch, but they nearly did. Morrigan said that they were cracked and it was nothing short of the will of the gods that they hadn't finished breaking. In truth, for the past day, I had been completely out of it. To the point that I didn't know what was going on beyond the fact that we were chasing down the Frank army. "Do you need me, King Widukind?"
"King Charlemagne has offered terms for peace," King Widukind said, and it was as if a decades worth of exhaustion was washed away. He seemed so light he could fly away. "I would have you there, if you're able." I could tell that he wasn't used to seeing me injured. I glanced at Morrigan, who was glaring up at the king with open anger.
"Intent on using him one last time?" Morrigan spat, her tone curt and furious.
King Widukind weathered the anger well, "It was strategy. Everyone expected Wolf-Kissed to be the one that decided the battle -- and he did -- just not in the way anyone expected. All eyes were on him, watching his every move… which is why they never noticed Jarl Aldmund and Hrypa charging from behind. Each day I had a thousand men break off from the army in the dead of night, making a wide trek to get behind the Frankish army. They arrived just in time to see King Charlemagne's gambit, and when they were committed, I gave my own signal." King Widukind explained and I tried to recall seeing either Jarl Aldmund or Hrypa after the first day.
I also couldn't recall counting our number after the first day either.
King Widukind had used me until the very end, I realized. I also thought it would be my actions that would end the war. And that assumption wasn't wholly wrong, it just wasn't what I envisioned. My lips thinned and my brow furrowed in thought, emotions warring in my chest. I…
"I ask that you attend because the discussions concern you. Astolfo remains your prisoner, and the body of Olivier remains in your custody," he said, inclining his head to me. The peace talks were happening, meaning that it was time for ransoms. I took Olivier's body from the battlefield to prevent it from being desecrated like many of the other bodies of Franks were.
Swallowing a sigh, I nodded, "I shall attend the talks." I decided, rising to my feet.
"My thanks, Wolf-Kissed. Once the talks are over, I suspect you and I have many things to discuss." He offered, leaving my tent, and before he was out of earshot, Morrigan immediately started to bad mouth him.
"T'is maddening that you hold that man in such regard," Morrigan muttered, shooting me a sharp look as she helped me dress. My tunic was put on and with a small wince, I put my arm in the sling. My ribs were bandaged, but it was only confirmable standing straight.
"He is a good king," I decided. "He used me well," I admitted. Every step of the way, King Widukind had played me. He knew I was special and he used my abilities, reputation, influence, and presence to win the war. I didn't truly mind since I wanted to win as much as he did, but now that the war was over… it was extremely glaring how much I was used. "If I was in his position, I would have done the same. As would you," I pointed out.
Morrigan scowled at me, "You aren't in his position." She pointed out, rather aptly.
I offered her a tired smile, "Yet." I reminded her, pushing my hair out of my face. I looked at a piece of polished brass to see my reflection -- my beard was still very thin and very wispy, and only in spots. I couldn't wait for the day that I had a full beard like my father.
The reminder instantly soothed her irritation and I found her smirking back at me, "Lessons from a master, then?" She questioned, and that was a rather odd way to put it, but it wasn't wholly wrong. King Widukind taught me a great deal over the course of the war, both in words and in deeds. And this battle, the one that won the war, was the greatest lesson of them all. I was a cornerstone to winning the battle, but not the one that delivered the final blow, and he used that expectation to deceive anyone.
King Widukind truly had the cunning of a fox and wits that the All-father himself would approve of.
"Have everyone gather up. It could be a battle. And if it's not, then we still have business to attend to in Francia," I told her, earning a curt nod. The treasure that we buried. "Where is Jill?"
"Off to speak to her brother. She intends to convince him to flee if he doesn't intend to ask you for mercy. T'is a hopeless endeavor and she knows it. However, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she didn't at least make the attempt," Morrigan informed, her tone telling me not to be cross. I inclined my head to her, knowing that I should let her make the attempt.
Grimar… I had very conflicted feelings about Grimar. When I first met him, I wasn't really anything different than what he called me -- a child barking like a dog and pretending to be a man. I was so angry and hurt that I lashed out, trying to provoke a challenge so I could kill him legally. We managed to come to an accord after the massacre of Verdun, and since then, we had been in a terse peace. That changed when he rode to my rescue, regardless of his feelings for me.
I almost hoped that Jill convinced him to flee. It would make what happened next far easier to bear.
Once I was dressed and armed, I sat on a horse. I winced when it moved into a trot, each step sending a flash of pain in my side, but it was manageable. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to a fight. As I marched through the army, I saw many wide eyed stares following me. Despite me not single handily winning the battle, the story of my battle with Roland and Rinaldo had traveled. Predictably, it was already virtually unrecognizable from the truth based on the snippets I heard on the way.
Meeting up with King Widukind and his Jarls, we set out to Antwerp. It was a small city or a big town. It didn't have any walls to speak of, but the buildings were made out of stone rather than wood. In front of the main road, just outside the edge of the city, was King Charlemagne and three nobles. There was a single Paladin with them, but I didn't know them at a glance.
We met in the middle of our two armies once again, and I quickly noticed that King Charlemagne carried himself with barely contained fury. I saw it in his face as we approached. His expression was tight, his eyes narrowed, and there was a muscle spasming in his jaw as he regarded us. He was furious. It was evident when you compared him to how he was before the battle started. I was actually a little impressed with his composure.
"King Charlemagne," King Widukind greeted, his voice cool.
"King Widukind," he returned, his gaze flickering to me for but a moment. "You proved to be a greater threat than I anticipated."
King Widukind wore a slight smile, "High praise coming from you."
"Quite," King Charlemagne agreed however begrudgingly. "I shall be brief with you -- I see little point in continuing hostilities with you and your nation. I am here to discuss terms for peace." The words were curt and direct, displeasure radiating from everyone on the Frank side of the line. I searched their expressions -- Ageric was neutral, but I knew him well enough to know that he was seething. The other nobles I didn't recognize. The Paladin wore a helmet that obscured their face, but when I looked to them, I saw blue eyes that were boring a hole into me.
King Widukind inclined his head, "Before Verdun, what I desired was peace and liberation. For Saxony to be free and for us to practice our ways without fear of your god. Now, however, a simple ceasefire will not suffice. My people have suffered greatly under your brief rule and many were slaughtered. I will see that repaid," he began. "For peace, you must make an oath on your life and to your god that you shall never attempt to invade Saxony in your life time. Your priests are not allowed within our lands. We shall take payment for pain and suffering in the form of ten thousand pounds of gold and silver."
It said a great deal about the wealth that King Charlemagne had because he didn't so much as blink at the number. "For your withdrawal back to your lands, I am willing to make such an oath. However, despite what you might believe, there are good Christians within your lands. I will see them have a shepherd. Either by welcoming them to my lands or having priests grant them spiritual guidance." He didn't mention the cost of gold and silver. That told me that King Widukind could have asked for more.
King Widukind narrowed his eyes a fraction, "Should they wish to leave our lands, then they are welcome to it. Better to leave willingly than to be lynched." There was a hard edge to the words, a clear threat that went heard by everyone.
"That is acceptable," King Charlemagne decided. "I understand you possess a number of prisoners. You desire ten thousand pounds of gold and silver -- I offer this. Eleven thousand pounds for both your blood money and a ransom for my soldiers." His gaze flickered to me, "I shall pay five hundred pounds for the return of Astolfo. Provided that he is unharmed."
He? I had heard that Franks were reluctant for their women folk to fight, but to deny that Astolfo was a woman entirely?
"The Wolf-Kissed can make his own negotiation for his prisoner," King Widukind stated, granting me permission. He was making a statement. Using me again. By commanding me, he increased his own standing.
I slowly nodded at the offer, "I shall accept the ransom. I possess Olivier's body and arms. They shall be returned to you with her," I told the Frankish King, who blinked in surprise. The rest seemed moderately surprised. I'm not sure why. Olivier was a warrior worthy of respect. Regardless of his gods, being pagan or Christian,
King Charlemagne nodded, "The offer does you credit, Siegfried. The bargain is struck. And for the rest of my men?" He questioned, looking to King Widukind.
"Their release is nonnegotiable," King Widukind replied, his tone cold. I fought the confusion off of my face while the Frank's narrowed their eyes. "The prisoners that we captured have been marked as sacrifices for the gods. As I said, King Charlemagne, a simple ceasefire would not be enough. My people require blood for the temple you so callously descreated with the blood of the innocent."
Ageric snarled, "You savage!" He snapped at King Widukind. "What of the innocent blood that you have shed in this war? How many cities were sacked? How many homes ravaged by your bands of barbarians?!" He raged, a hand going to the sword at his belt. Instantly, the tension between both parties swelled to the point of breaking. The Paladin urged their horse forward, intent on cutting me down first. Thankfully, King Charlemagne raised a hand to calm them.
"The difference is that we have won, Duke Ageric," King Widukind replied, his tone indifferent to the tension. "If this is unacceptable to you, then the war shall continue. We will attack this city and we shall slaughter everyone within it. To the last man, woman, and child. Not even a dog, cat, or a mouse shall escape our wrath. On this, I give you my word. Accept the peace that you have been given, my lords. The offer will only come once."
Unease filled me at the declaration. I could hear the truth in King Widukind's words. He meant them. I gazed out at Antwerp, trying to guess how many people would be inside of the city. Two thousand? Three? In addition to the six thousand soldiers? We would win, if only because we had sheer overwhelming numbers at this point. More than three to one. We would win. And it would be an absolute slaughter.
More importantly, King Charlemagne believed him too. "God damn you."
"Do we have an accord? Ten thousand pounds of gold and silver, the Christian yolk will be allowed to leave my kingdom, and an oath sworn that you will never lead an invasion into my lands for the remainder of your life." They weren't questions. They were demands. I saw King Charlemagne work his jaw for a moment, clearly irritated and his composure cracking despite all of his efforts.
"What of my citizens that your people have taken as slaves?" He questioned, and he was met with a quick reply.
"Spoils of war," King Widukind replied.
King Charlemagne's nostrils flared in response, but he restrained himself. He was silent for a long moment, gazing hard at the Saxon king. I saw it in his eyes that this wouldn't be the end of it. There might be a ceasefire, but there wouldn't be peace. Not after this. His grip tightened on his reigns before he closed his eyes, taking in a slow breath as if he were swallowing his first, second, third and forth response. When he settled on a fifth, he opened his eyes, "Very well. The accord is struck."
Ageric glanced at King Charlemagne, his expression one of absolute betrayal. He swallowed it down, "And of my brother? This would be king of Holland?"
To that, King Widukind offered a slight smile. "The open rebellion of Holland is not of my concern. You may discuss terms with your brother. If you can find him," he remarked before turning his horse away. The peace talks were over, it would seem. They were short and to the point. Or, rather, they were a point well made.
Saxony had won the war.
I had no idea what was going to happen to Holland. As far as I was aware, Ageres had fled when I charged with the Dutch. I was uncertain if he was even still alive, or where he could be. However, I strongly suspected that King Widukind knew exactly where he was. It wouldn't be like him to leave a thread like that untied.
A small breath escaped me as we marched back to the army. "Wolf-Kissed, you didn't strike the final blow, but we won this war thanks to your efforts. I don't deny it. Woden smiled upon us when he sent you our way, regardless of the circumstances of your departure of King Horrik's service. I ask of you what you intend to do now?" King Widukind asked me on the way. From where I sat, I could see my mercenary band gathering.
The death of Halstien had been unexpected, and it was keenly felt because I only realized how much I relied on him once he was gone. Still, he was burned with honors. Our casualties were light, all things considered. The Dutch took the brunt of the losses.
To answer his question… "I need to dig up my horde that I buried in Francia. Then I shall sail to Norway. My mother arranged for me to be wed," I answered after a moment. I would meet this Astrid. Though our union would be brief before I would set sail again.
"After that?" King Widukind prompted, glancing at me. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to stay. To swear to him. For all his flattery and promises, he still sought to use me. I didn't blame him for it -- I told as much to Morrigan. I understood his reasonings. However, I had little interest in a future where I remained his right hand and lackey. It was an arrogant thought, I knew. Many men would kill to recieve such an honor that I felt beneath me.
But I was not a normal man. It was not a mundane fate that waited for me.
"Will you invade Denmark?" King Widukind continued, "You have found an ally in me for your efforts." He offered it too easily, but I suppose that was expected.
Did I intend to return to Denmark after this? I still hadn't slain that wolf. And I was still too young, even if I did have the reputation. With the wealth that I had gained from this war, I could easily hire an army of warriors. Yet…
I was hesitating.
"I don't know," I admitted after a moment. "You are a welcome ally when I do return to Denmark. However, I am uncertain if it is wise for me to return yet." To that, King Widukind's eyebrows rose a fraction.
"You still intend to sail to Miklagard?" He asked me, and that was something else that weighed heavily on my mind. The war had expanded in scope and responsibility. I thought it would be a handful of months of effort, then we could move on to the supposed greatest city in Midgard.
"I am considering it," I said, my mind turning over the idea. I gazed out to my army -- just over five hundred men at this point. The number had fluctuated over the course of the war, but it had settled at around that point. A rather large mercenary band. This war had taught me much. Far more than I had expected -- it taught me my strengths, and it made me aware of my weaknesses. I had experienced great growth as many times as I was humbled.
How I was right now… it wasn't enough. I was deceived many times. I failed to understand my own influence. My army, while brave, would have broken upon Roland and his Paladins like water against stone. My prowess in battle was significant, but the rest of the domains of the gods had fallen to the wayside in the past year and a half. And as Roland proved, I couldn't even claim to be the greatest warrior.
I needed to be better.
"This is surprising," King Widukind remarked. "I thought you would return right away. I would offer you a place in my court if I thought you would accept such an offer." At the very least, he knew that I wouldn't accept. Despite how much he would like me to. "We never discussed proper terms for your contract. In truth, I feared what you would ask of me. You could have asked for my crown if you wished. But, now that the war is over, and in no small part thanks to you, I ask what you desire as compensation?"
I knew what I wanted. "Ships," I decided. "Fifty of them. Fighting men to sail them, and each ship loaded with goods to trade."
King Widukind threw back his head an laughed at my price. Which wasn't an inconsiderable amount. "Still set on being a trader, then? Ha! People will never believe it, but, aye. I agree to this price." King Widukind said, offering a forearm for me to clasp. With my good hand, I accepted, sealing the deal.
Secret Quest has been completed: Help Saxony secure its independence.
Objective: Rebuff Francia's advances into Saxony (Success)
Bonus objective: Defeat a Paladin of Charlemagne in single combat. (Success)
Bonus objective reward: 500 prestige, 250 xp for all Martial abilities
Bonus objective: Defeat Roland (Failed)
Bonus objective: Loot 250 pounds of wealth (Success)
Bonus objective reward: Trait Raider.
Bonus objective: Win (20/15) battles (Success)
Bonus objective reward: One perk.
Quest Reward: Grant Blessing
Grant Blessing: Just as King Charlemagne has his twelve Paladins, the user of this ability can invest in others to empower them beyond what mere mortals can hope to achieve. The blessing is uncontrolled and unguided by the user, nor is it able to be revoked once given. The blessing empowers based on character type; ie, Martial characters will gain physical abilities, or Learning characters will be able to consume or create knowledge at enhanced rates.
Oh. Ohhhhh… Oh.
That... changed everything.
...
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Roland was there not a minute later, covered in blood and gore, his cloak gone and his armor was already stained with it. Blood dripped in a river from his sword as he reunited with Rinaldo, grabbing his fellow Paladin by the shoulder. "The battle has been lost," Roland stated, a cold fury in his voice. "We must withdraw," he continued, his gaze meeting mine. Around us, I saw the cavalry was withdrawing already, and the Paladins would be entirely without support.
We could try to bury them in bodies, like Grimar tried to do. But the fact of the matter was that Roland was standing here after Grimar sent near two hundred men at him. I genuinely had no idea how many men it would take to kill him and the only true wound he seemed to sustain was the small cut I had given him on the cheek. It would be a cold, ruthless action -- trading hundreds of lives for two.
"Siegfried -- allow us to withdraw in peace, and I shall spare your life," Roland told me, his tone blunt. It was an incredible threat to utter when you were half surrounded by an army. And it was a very telling sign that I believed him. I'm uncertain if the rest of the army could kill him after he killed me, because there was precious little doubt in my mind that he would be able to kill me.
Was it worth the risk? I took a quick moment to consider it. The Dutch and the Norsemen were looking upon Roland with fear. If they saw me die at his hands, I think it could be a route. Which would open up the pass that we blocked, allowing them to continue their charge. Something that could swing the battle back into the favor of the Franks.
Slowly, I nodded my head, "Go with peace, Roland and Rinaldo." I told them, forcing myself to stand. The words might sound like I was letting them live, but the three of us knew who had been spared on this battlefield.
"We shall meet again," Roland swore, the words sounding like a threat and turning away with Rinaldo. The army parted for him, none daring to attack Roland. He cowed them completely. It was humbling. There was no other word to describe it. I thought I might be angry at my defeat at his hands, because he had certainly bested me in battle even if we did win the war. And there was anger, and even humiliation, but above all else was… the realization that the road ahead was a lot longer than I had imagined it to be.
When they were gone, the Frank cavalry withdrawing completely, I collapsed to my knees and cradled my broken arm.
The road was long indeed.
…
The battle didn't truly end there. It was late noon when the Franks gave the call to retreat and until morning of the next day, our army chased them. In comparison to the deaths and injuries that both sides gave each other during the actual battle, the losses the Franks sustained were far greater when they were retreating back to Antwerp. Men fled into the forests and marshy terrain, and there they were either captured or killed. Given the blood debt that was established, most were killed.
In the half day that passed, the Franks lost near three thousand men, leaving them closer to six thousand men than not when they arrived at Antwerp. An unwalled city. Of those three thousand, a thousand were prisoners.
And it was only when our army arrived at Antwerp did King Widukind find a moment to speak to me. "You've earned some scars, Wolf-Kissed," King Widukind remarked, as light as a feather when he entered my tent. Morrigan was changing my bandages and making sure my arm was bound tightly. She set the bone, and it was a clean break according to her. Though, it would be weeks before I could use the arm.
"Aye, I did," I agreed. My ribs hadn't been broken by the punch, but they nearly did. Morrigan said that they were cracked and it was nothing short of the will of the gods that they hadn't finished breaking. In truth, for the past day, I had been completely out of it. To the point that I didn't know what was going on beyond the fact that we were chasing down the Frank army. "Do you need me, King Widukind?"
"King Charlemagne has offered terms for peace," King Widukind said, and it was as if a decades worth of exhaustion was washed away. He seemed so light he could fly away. "I would have you there, if you're able." I could tell that he wasn't used to seeing me injured. I glanced at Morrigan, who was glaring up at the king with open anger.
"Intent on using him one last time?" Morrigan spat, her tone curt and furious.
King Widukind weathered the anger well, "It was strategy. Everyone expected Wolf-Kissed to be the one that decided the battle -- and he did -- just not in the way anyone expected. All eyes were on him, watching his every move… which is why they never noticed Jarl Aldmund and Hrypa charging from behind. Each day I had a thousand men break off from the army in the dead of night, making a wide trek to get behind the Frankish army. They arrived just in time to see King Charlemagne's gambit, and when they were committed, I gave my own signal." King Widukind explained and I tried to recall seeing either Jarl Aldmund or Hrypa after the first day.
I also couldn't recall counting our number after the first day either.
King Widukind had used me until the very end, I realized. I also thought it would be my actions that would end the war. And that assumption wasn't wholly wrong, it just wasn't what I envisioned. My lips thinned and my brow furrowed in thought, emotions warring in my chest. I…
"I ask that you attend because the discussions concern you. Astolfo remains your prisoner, and the body of Olivier remains in your custody," he said, inclining his head to me. The peace talks were happening, meaning that it was time for ransoms. I took Olivier's body from the battlefield to prevent it from being desecrated like many of the other bodies of Franks were.
Swallowing a sigh, I nodded, "I shall attend the talks." I decided, rising to my feet.
"My thanks, Wolf-Kissed. Once the talks are over, I suspect you and I have many things to discuss." He offered, leaving my tent, and before he was out of earshot, Morrigan immediately started to bad mouth him.
"T'is maddening that you hold that man in such regard," Morrigan muttered, shooting me a sharp look as she helped me dress. My tunic was put on and with a small wince, I put my arm in the sling. My ribs were bandaged, but it was only confirmable standing straight.
"He is a good king," I decided. "He used me well," I admitted. Every step of the way, King Widukind had played me. He knew I was special and he used my abilities, reputation, influence, and presence to win the war. I didn't truly mind since I wanted to win as much as he did, but now that the war was over… it was extremely glaring how much I was used. "If I was in his position, I would have done the same. As would you," I pointed out.
Morrigan scowled at me, "You aren't in his position." She pointed out, rather aptly.
I offered her a tired smile, "Yet." I reminded her, pushing my hair out of my face. I looked at a piece of polished brass to see my reflection -- my beard was still very thin and very wispy, and only in spots. I couldn't wait for the day that I had a full beard like my father.
The reminder instantly soothed her irritation and I found her smirking back at me, "Lessons from a master, then?" She questioned, and that was a rather odd way to put it, but it wasn't wholly wrong. King Widukind taught me a great deal over the course of the war, both in words and in deeds. And this battle, the one that won the war, was the greatest lesson of them all. I was a cornerstone to winning the battle, but not the one that delivered the final blow, and he used that expectation to deceive anyone.
King Widukind truly had the cunning of a fox and wits that the All-father himself would approve of.
"Have everyone gather up. It could be a battle. And if it's not, then we still have business to attend to in Francia," I told her, earning a curt nod. The treasure that we buried. "Where is Jill?"
"Off to speak to her brother. She intends to convince him to flee if he doesn't intend to ask you for mercy. T'is a hopeless endeavor and she knows it. However, she wouldn't be able to forgive herself if she didn't at least make the attempt," Morrigan informed, her tone telling me not to be cross. I inclined my head to her, knowing that I should let her make the attempt.
Grimar… I had very conflicted feelings about Grimar. When I first met him, I wasn't really anything different than what he called me -- a child barking like a dog and pretending to be a man. I was so angry and hurt that I lashed out, trying to provoke a challenge so I could kill him legally. We managed to come to an accord after the massacre of Verdun, and since then, we had been in a terse peace. That changed when he rode to my rescue, regardless of his feelings for me.
I almost hoped that Jill convinced him to flee. It would make what happened next far easier to bear.
Once I was dressed and armed, I sat on a horse. I winced when it moved into a trot, each step sending a flash of pain in my side, but it was manageable. Hopefully, it wouldn't come to a fight. As I marched through the army, I saw many wide eyed stares following me. Despite me not single handily winning the battle, the story of my battle with Roland and Rinaldo had traveled. Predictably, it was already virtually unrecognizable from the truth based on the snippets I heard on the way.
Meeting up with King Widukind and his Jarls, we set out to Antwerp. It was a small city or a big town. It didn't have any walls to speak of, but the buildings were made out of stone rather than wood. In front of the main road, just outside the edge of the city, was King Charlemagne and three nobles. There was a single Paladin with them, but I didn't know them at a glance.
We met in the middle of our two armies once again, and I quickly noticed that King Charlemagne carried himself with barely contained fury. I saw it in his face as we approached. His expression was tight, his eyes narrowed, and there was a muscle spasming in his jaw as he regarded us. He was furious. It was evident when you compared him to how he was before the battle started. I was actually a little impressed with his composure.
"King Charlemagne," King Widukind greeted, his voice cool.
"King Widukind," he returned, his gaze flickering to me for but a moment. "You proved to be a greater threat than I anticipated."
King Widukind wore a slight smile, "High praise coming from you."
"Quite," King Charlemagne agreed however begrudgingly. "I shall be brief with you -- I see little point in continuing hostilities with you and your nation. I am here to discuss terms for peace." The words were curt and direct, displeasure radiating from everyone on the Frank side of the line. I searched their expressions -- Ageric was neutral, but I knew him well enough to know that he was seething. The other nobles I didn't recognize. The Paladin wore a helmet that obscured their face, but when I looked to them, I saw blue eyes that were boring a hole into me.
King Widukind inclined his head, "Before Verdun, what I desired was peace and liberation. For Saxony to be free and for us to practice our ways without fear of your god. Now, however, a simple ceasefire will not suffice. My people have suffered greatly under your brief rule and many were slaughtered. I will see that repaid," he began. "For peace, you must make an oath on your life and to your god that you shall never attempt to invade Saxony in your life time. Your priests are not allowed within our lands. We shall take payment for pain and suffering in the form of ten thousand pounds of gold and silver."
It said a great deal about the wealth that King Charlemagne had because he didn't so much as blink at the number. "For your withdrawal back to your lands, I am willing to make such an oath. However, despite what you might believe, there are good Christians within your lands. I will see them have a shepherd. Either by welcoming them to my lands or having priests grant them spiritual guidance." He didn't mention the cost of gold and silver. That told me that King Widukind could have asked for more.
King Widukind narrowed his eyes a fraction, "Should they wish to leave our lands, then they are welcome to it. Better to leave willingly than to be lynched." There was a hard edge to the words, a clear threat that went heard by everyone.
"That is acceptable," King Charlemagne decided. "I understand you possess a number of prisoners. You desire ten thousand pounds of gold and silver -- I offer this. Eleven thousand pounds for both your blood money and a ransom for my soldiers." His gaze flickered to me, "I shall pay five hundred pounds for the return of Astolfo. Provided that he is unharmed."
He? I had heard that Franks were reluctant for their women folk to fight, but to deny that Astolfo was a woman entirely?
"The Wolf-Kissed can make his own negotiation for his prisoner," King Widukind stated, granting me permission. He was making a statement. Using me again. By commanding me, he increased his own standing.
I slowly nodded at the offer, "I shall accept the ransom. I possess Olivier's body and arms. They shall be returned to you with her," I told the Frankish King, who blinked in surprise. The rest seemed moderately surprised. I'm not sure why. Olivier was a warrior worthy of respect. Regardless of his gods, being pagan or Christian,
King Charlemagne nodded, "The offer does you credit, Siegfried. The bargain is struck. And for the rest of my men?" He questioned, looking to King Widukind.
"Their release is nonnegotiable," King Widukind replied, his tone cold. I fought the confusion off of my face while the Frank's narrowed their eyes. "The prisoners that we captured have been marked as sacrifices for the gods. As I said, King Charlemagne, a simple ceasefire would not be enough. My people require blood for the temple you so callously descreated with the blood of the innocent."
Ageric snarled, "You savage!" He snapped at King Widukind. "What of the innocent blood that you have shed in this war? How many cities were sacked? How many homes ravaged by your bands of barbarians?!" He raged, a hand going to the sword at his belt. Instantly, the tension between both parties swelled to the point of breaking. The Paladin urged their horse forward, intent on cutting me down first. Thankfully, King Charlemagne raised a hand to calm them.
"The difference is that we have won, Duke Ageric," King Widukind replied, his tone indifferent to the tension. "If this is unacceptable to you, then the war shall continue. We will attack this city and we shall slaughter everyone within it. To the last man, woman, and child. Not even a dog, cat, or a mouse shall escape our wrath. On this, I give you my word. Accept the peace that you have been given, my lords. The offer will only come once."
Unease filled me at the declaration. I could hear the truth in King Widukind's words. He meant them. I gazed out at Antwerp, trying to guess how many people would be inside of the city. Two thousand? Three? In addition to the six thousand soldiers? We would win, if only because we had sheer overwhelming numbers at this point. More than three to one. We would win. And it would be an absolute slaughter.
More importantly, King Charlemagne believed him too. "God damn you."
"Do we have an accord? Ten thousand pounds of gold and silver, the Christian yolk will be allowed to leave my kingdom, and an oath sworn that you will never lead an invasion into my lands for the remainder of your life." They weren't questions. They were demands. I saw King Charlemagne work his jaw for a moment, clearly irritated and his composure cracking despite all of his efforts.
"What of my citizens that your people have taken as slaves?" He questioned, and he was met with a quick reply.
"Spoils of war," King Widukind replied.
King Charlemagne's nostrils flared in response, but he restrained himself. He was silent for a long moment, gazing hard at the Saxon king. I saw it in his eyes that this wouldn't be the end of it. There might be a ceasefire, but there wouldn't be peace. Not after this. His grip tightened on his reigns before he closed his eyes, taking in a slow breath as if he were swallowing his first, second, third and forth response. When he settled on a fifth, he opened his eyes, "Very well. The accord is struck."
Ageric glanced at King Charlemagne, his expression one of absolute betrayal. He swallowed it down, "And of my brother? This would be king of Holland?"
To that, King Widukind offered a slight smile. "The open rebellion of Holland is not of my concern. You may discuss terms with your brother. If you can find him," he remarked before turning his horse away. The peace talks were over, it would seem. They were short and to the point. Or, rather, they were a point well made.
Saxony had won the war.
I had no idea what was going to happen to Holland. As far as I was aware, Ageres had fled when I charged with the Dutch. I was uncertain if he was even still alive, or where he could be. However, I strongly suspected that King Widukind knew exactly where he was. It wouldn't be like him to leave a thread like that untied.
A small breath escaped me as we marched back to the army. "Wolf-Kissed, you didn't strike the final blow, but we won this war thanks to your efforts. I don't deny it. Woden smiled upon us when he sent you our way, regardless of the circumstances of your departure of King Horrik's service. I ask of you what you intend to do now?" King Widukind asked me on the way. From where I sat, I could see my mercenary band gathering.
The death of Halstien had been unexpected, and it was keenly felt because I only realized how much I relied on him once he was gone. Still, he was burned with honors. Our casualties were light, all things considered. The Dutch took the brunt of the losses.
To answer his question… "I need to dig up my horde that I buried in Francia. Then I shall sail to Norway. My mother arranged for me to be wed," I answered after a moment. I would meet this Astrid. Though our union would be brief before I would set sail again.
"After that?" King Widukind prompted, glancing at me. I knew what he wanted. He wanted me to stay. To swear to him. For all his flattery and promises, he still sought to use me. I didn't blame him for it -- I told as much to Morrigan. I understood his reasonings. However, I had little interest in a future where I remained his right hand and lackey. It was an arrogant thought, I knew. Many men would kill to recieve such an honor that I felt beneath me.
But I was not a normal man. It was not a mundane fate that waited for me.
"Will you invade Denmark?" King Widukind continued, "You have found an ally in me for your efforts." He offered it too easily, but I suppose that was expected.
Did I intend to return to Denmark after this? I still hadn't slain that wolf. And I was still too young, even if I did have the reputation. With the wealth that I had gained from this war, I could easily hire an army of warriors. Yet…
I was hesitating.
"I don't know," I admitted after a moment. "You are a welcome ally when I do return to Denmark. However, I am uncertain if it is wise for me to return yet." To that, King Widukind's eyebrows rose a fraction.
"You still intend to sail to Miklagard?" He asked me, and that was something else that weighed heavily on my mind. The war had expanded in scope and responsibility. I thought it would be a handful of months of effort, then we could move on to the supposed greatest city in Midgard.
"I am considering it," I said, my mind turning over the idea. I gazed out to my army -- just over five hundred men at this point. The number had fluctuated over the course of the war, but it had settled at around that point. A rather large mercenary band. This war had taught me much. Far more than I had expected -- it taught me my strengths, and it made me aware of my weaknesses. I had experienced great growth as many times as I was humbled.
How I was right now… it wasn't enough. I was deceived many times. I failed to understand my own influence. My army, while brave, would have broken upon Roland and his Paladins like water against stone. My prowess in battle was significant, but the rest of the domains of the gods had fallen to the wayside in the past year and a half. And as Roland proved, I couldn't even claim to be the greatest warrior.
I needed to be better.
"This is surprising," King Widukind remarked. "I thought you would return right away. I would offer you a place in my court if I thought you would accept such an offer." At the very least, he knew that I wouldn't accept. Despite how much he would like me to. "We never discussed proper terms for your contract. In truth, I feared what you would ask of me. You could have asked for my crown if you wished. But, now that the war is over, and in no small part thanks to you, I ask what you desire as compensation?"
I knew what I wanted. "Ships," I decided. "Fifty of them. Fighting men to sail them, and each ship loaded with goods to trade."
King Widukind threw back his head an laughed at my price. Which wasn't an inconsiderable amount. "Still set on being a trader, then? Ha! People will never believe it, but, aye. I agree to this price." King Widukind said, offering a forearm for me to clasp. With my good hand, I accepted, sealing the deal.
Secret Quest has been completed: Help Saxony secure its independence.
Objective: Rebuff Francia's advances into Saxony (Success)
Bonus objective: Defeat a Paladin of Charlemagne in single combat. (Success)
Bonus objective reward: 500 prestige, 250 xp for all Martial abilities
Bonus objective: Defeat Roland (Failed)
Bonus objective: Loot 250 pounds of wealth (Success)
Bonus objective reward: Trait Raider.
Bonus objective: Win (20/15) battles (Success)
Bonus objective reward: One perk.
Quest Reward: Grant Blessing
Grant Blessing: Just as King Charlemagne has his twelve Paladins, the user of this ability can invest in others to empower them beyond what mere mortals can hope to achieve. The blessing is uncontrolled and unguided by the user, nor is it able to be revoked once given. The blessing empowers based on character type; ie, Martial characters will gain physical abilities, or Learning characters will be able to consume or create knowledge at enhanced rates.
Oh. Ohhhhh… Oh.
That... changed everything.
...
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- Pronouns
- He/Him/His
Morgan? Seems like Morgan is a useful choice.
- Pronouns
- He/him
I hope we get to see the hand off of Astolfo. Maybe the paladins demonizing seig a bit less with *her* return in good care. After all just as Seig apologized for insulting astolfo for actions taken in the war, it would be nice to see that honor reciprocated a bit, rather than all the other paladins just baying for his blood constantly
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I hope we get to see some solid gains in non-combat skills, traits, and perks in the next section. It would be cool to see Siegfried grow a reputation as being just as terrifying economically as he is martially. It would also add a new dimension to his legendary genius among the various nordic cultures.
Debts Repaid
- Location
- USA
"So, we lost, huh?" Astolfo had an interesting reaction to the news of the Frankish defeat. I had been a little wary of it, to be completely honest. Which was why I had kept the news from her until the ransom was taking place, despite the fact that her hands were in chains. Simply put -- if she wanted to kill me, then now would be the time for it. A sigh heaved out of her, "Ah… I'm gonna get yelled at when I get back…"
She accepted the news with ease. I watched her carefully, glancing over my shoulder as I headed out of the prison that she was kept in for the past week and some days. I saw her eying my injuries, "I'm guessing you met Roland? Pretty tough, huh?" She continued with an easy smile on her face.
A small huff escaped me, "Hm. Very." I agreed, thinking that it was an understatement. Astolfo laughed easily as we headed out of the camp that was still celebrating our victory over the Franks. And likely would in the days to come. There was an uneasy standoff between the Franks, who still remained in Antwerp, and us. However, in recent days, more news had reached us. The other end of Charlemagne's empire was being attacked, and King Widukind figured that he couldn't afford to raise another army.
That good cheer left Astolfo when we reached the horse that she would be riding back into Antwerp. The body of Olivier was draped over the back of a mare. His sword was strapped into the saddle -- it was tempting to take it as my own, especially considering that it was a much finer blade than the one that I used. A long, drawn out sigh escaped her when she approached the horse, pulling back the cloth that the body was wrapped in. "Oh, Olivier…" Astolfo sighed, her head falling forward.
I didn't offer an apology. It would have been an empty one. I didn't regret killing him, but I did regret the sorrow that it caused.
"Are you angry?" I asked her, getting on my horse. My ribs still ached, but the pain got better with each passing day. I didn't just mean about Olivier.
"I'm furious," Astolfo admitted, sounding remarkably calm in that case. "But, that's war. People die in it. You never want it to be someone that you know, but I've always known that it's a possibility. We aren't gods. We aren't invincible. So, every time I went to war, I prepared myself for the thought of defeat. And dying. And seeing people die." She cast me a glance and gave my injuries a rather pointed look. As if she were trying to say 'don't get a big head.'
There was wisdom in her words. "Does it make it any easier?"
"Nah. Not really," Astolfo confessed as she mounted her horse. "I just have to have faith in God and King Charlemagne that we kill and die for a worthy cause. And, so far, neither have led me astray." Her attention went to the sky, "It's been a hard year for us, but I suspect we'll be in Spain soon enough." She mused, sounding distracted.
Hm. "How did you become a Paladin?" I decided to ask, unable to think of a way to subtly bring up the question. It caught Astolfo by surprise as we made our way through the camp. Tonight, there would be a sacrifice to Woden and the gods -- to give thanks for our victories… and to repay the slaughter of Verdun in full. There was a thrill in the air of the camp, everyone excited for the festivities that would come with nightfall.
"Eh? If you're looking to switch sides, I'd say it's a little late for that," Astolfo remarked, not sounding angry about the question. Just surprised.
I decided to go with a half-truth. "Before this war, I thought that there was none else like me. At least not living. There are tales, of course -- the great warriors Beowulf or Sigurd. Yet, your king managed to find twelve of you… and Arda was a normal woman before she was chosen by King Charlemagne. I was curious how you were found… or chosen," I admitted. Astolfo gave me a lingering look before shrugging her shoulders.
"Ain't nothing too special, really. Some of us have blood ties to him. Others ended up gaining King Charlemagne's attention by chance or by deed, like Arda. But, there's definitely a before and after. I've always been quick, but before the ceremony to join the Paladins and my acceptance of God's grace, I was a lot slower," Astolfo explained, and I got the impression that wasn't something she was supposed to share but couldn't be bothered to remember to keep it a secret. At least that was how I was going to interpret the mild panicked look that followed her explanation.
It was as I thought. King Charlemagne was able to bestow a blessing onto others. I had refrained so far, simply because it was something that couldn't be taken back. I was uncertain if the blessing was the exact same, but it seemed similar in nature. King Charlemagne was creating Paladins through the power of his God, just as I could through the power of mine.
Throughout the war -- from my first raid, all the way to the end of it, I had accrued four thousand Prestige. Until very recently, Prestige didn't seem to really do anything. It just seemed to be a metric for how well-known I was. Now, with Bestow Blessing, I could spend five hundred Prestige on a person to empower them. Only I had no idea how much of a boost that blessing would be.
"How much faster?" I asked, my brow furrowing as we left the edge of the camp. Between us and the city was a wagon that carried a number of chests. The five hundred pounds of gold that King Charlemagne spent on Astolfo's ransom. Considering how much he had invested into Astolfo, I realized that five hundred pounds of gold was likely a paltry sum to him.
"Faster than most people," Astolfo said, not offering much else. That was something, at least. Though, it did raise the question of how much King Charlemagne invested into Roland? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? The man seemed completely unbothered by anything we threw at him. And, at what point, did it become a waste to invest more into him?
Why twelve Paladins? Wouldn't it be better to have a hundred warriors that were stronger than a normal man? Was there a limit to how many blessings that King Charlemagne could bestow? Was there a limit to how many I could? Or was it a choice on his part? He chose relatives and people that earned his attention… people that were loyal to him or proved that they had something special about them?
I didn't know. I had more questions than answers, and I had run out of time to ask them. By the cart was a Frankish warrior that seemed terrified as I approached. He made a symbol of the cross as I hopped off my horse to inspect the chests. All the while, Astolfo bemoaned her lot in life. "Ahhh~! I'm going to get yelled at so much! S-Seig! Please, maybe lower the ransom a little? Or a lot?! For your buddy?!" Her panic only increased when she saw that it was all gold in the chests. Five hundred pounds of it.
War truly was the most profitable business if you knew how to win.
"Apologies, but no. It's going to be the bride price for my betrothed," I told her, closing the wagon.
"Eh? You're getting married? Congratulations!" Astolfo said, throwing me a smile as- my eyes narrowed when I saw one hand wasn't in the manacle cuffs that she wore. She just smiled unrepentantly. When did those come off? "Well, in that case, it should be fine. It was fun, Sieg, but I better go back and get this over with." She urged her horse forward and headed to the city with slumped shoulders. "I'll see you again. Sooner or later."
It was a promise.
"Hm. Farewell, Astolfo," I returned, taking the wagon and heading back with my prize. I knew we would see each other again… just as I knew it would be on a battlefield.
King Charlemagne had been shamed during this war. Bitterly so. An insult like that wasn't one that could be ignored. Saxony may be spared if King Charlemagne kept his oath, but I had doubts that the rest of my people would be.
I returned to camp a richer man. Five hundred pounds of gold was an unthinkable sum. I once considered a pouch full of silver a considerable amount. Now, the gold seemed to be the last thing on my mind as returned, far more important things tugging at my attention. I thought the end of the war would be the time to relax, but it felt like my mind was busier than ever. The war that had consumed my attention was gone, leaving me with the aftermath.
Thorkell greeted me as I returned, "Smooth and easy?" He asked me as the wagon came to a stop. I let out a small groan as it did, resting against the back of the wagon. The redness in the white of his eye was gone, leaving him with only the scar that cut through his eyebrow. He was extremely lucky that he hadn't lost the eye entirely.
"They wanted it done as much as I did," I remarked, seeing attention being drawn to the wagon. To them, a single gold coin would be a life-changing amount of money. A younger, less experienced me would have given them that coin as a matter of principle. It meant little to me, and much to them, but I understood now what Thorkell told me when we returned to Alabu. Sometimes less is more. "Astolfo seemed convinced that Francia will be returning to war on the other side of their kingdom."
"Not surprised there. Their king lost a lot of face with this defeat. He needs a common enemy to direct that loss at to secure his position. Not really any different from being a mercenary -- after a big loss, you need an easy win to wash the smell of it out of the air, or people start getting ideas," Thorkell remarked.
I imagined that was true. "Are the men ready to head out?" I asked, getting off the wagon while the chests were carried off to my tent by a handful of soldiers. They were heavy, each one taking four men to lift it.
Thorkell nodded, "Aye, we just need to break down the tents. Are you sure you want to leave?" Thorkell asked me, and in response, I glanced over at the tree. An old oak that stood proudly just outside of Antwerp. In full view of the city. I couldn't see them from where I was, but I knew that was where the thousand odd prisoners were being kept. They had no idea that their ransom was denied. They were waiting for their freedom, half starved to keep them weak. They had no idea that they would die before the sun set. Already, the sacrifice was getting ready.
I didn't know if it was justice. Or if it could rightly be called vengeance. I had no qualms about human sacrifice, but I had only known those that were willing. I very much doubted those thousand men were. I just knew that the vengeful spirits required blood, and blood they would receive. I'm not sure if justice or vengeance really had anything to do about it.
"Aye. I want to grab the hoard before we have to leave Francia," I told him. I still recalled the amount that we left behind -- three hundred pounds of gold, twelve hundred pounds of silver, and fifty pounds of precious gems. Astolfo was almost equal to a full season of raiding. Adding that two the fifty pounds of gold I got for Ageric's second ransom, and the two hundred pounds of gold and silver… I was a wealthy man. Obscenely wealthy, even.
"It's your decision. Just expect a little bit of grumbling on the way," Thorkell remarked. I imagine the grumbling would come to a stop when they saw the gold and gems. I just nodded, and Thorkell added what he really wanted to ask about. "The war is over. What are you going to do about Grimar?"
Jill had been avoiding me since the talk with Grimar. I think she expected me to be angry. Perhaps I might have been at one point, but the potent anger in my blood had cooled.
A sigh escaped me.
"If he doesn't run, I'm going to have to kill him."
…
We left just as the sacrifices began. It was probably seen as rude to not be the guest of honor for the sacrifices, but I was well past the point of caring. The army shifted in position, allowing the Christians a full view of the sacrifices. Many staves were out into the ground and Franks were tied to them before Saxons who lost family and kin to the Franks were permitted to step forward. They took knives and axes to the men, carving at their bodies and the air was filled with their screams of pain and fear. When they died or passed out, they were cut from the post, dragged to a stump where they were beheaded.
The bodies were desecrated further. Hands and feet were cut off, genitals mutilated, while the heads were brought to the oak tree and stacked up. Exactly how the Saxons had been in Verdun. As soon as a stave was emptied, another Frank was dragged to it and the process resumed.
We heard the Franks screaming well into our journey to reclaim our hoard, our departure practically going unnoticed. I kept an ear out toward Antwerp, but it was like the entire city was holding its breath. It wouldn't soon forget this day, for better or for worse. Neither would King Charlemagne, I imagine.
As luck would have it, we weren't that far away from where we buried the hoard. The forest was burnt out, but there were signs of greenery returning already. The landmark was easily identifiable -- a solidary protruding rock above where the treasure was. The men began digging, soon uncovering the bodies of the thralls that had buried the treasure. Then they hit the treasure itself. All of the hoard was quickly recovered, adding it to our growing baggage train.
All of it was loaded up and we began our trek back to Saxony.
The day after the sacrifices were made, we joined back up with King Widukind. He said nothing of our departure, nor about our added wealth. The only things that were said were congratulations for the victory at hand, and planning out the logistics of the fleet that would be built. The Jarls were quick to try to flatter -- they offered wood from their lands, willing to cut down entire forests to provide me with ships. Those that didn't have wood to offer were quick to offer their own ships.
It would take at least six months to build the fleet of ships. It could be sooner, but given how neglected the land was, King Widukind was reluctant to dedicate such a huge force to build ships for me. They would be built to my specification, modeled after my longship. Though, I did accept ten ships for the sake of transporting my wealth and my men.
It was decided that for the sake of convenience, after I was done in Norway, I would sail back down to Saxony to pick up my ships and the warriors that wished to follow me into battle. A fine deal, all around. Especially when the Jarls were eager to know what I desired to fill the ships that were promised.
Morrigan basked in it, but Jill was sullen and silent. Preparing herself for what was to come.
Because Grimar didn't flee.
He wasn't a coward. I would give him that much. I was vaguely aware of what he was doing at any general moment as we headed back to capital of Saxony, the army slowly peeling away as men returned to their homes along the way, usually far richer than when they left. For, it would seem, King Charlemagne had ten thousand pounds of gold and silver on hand. As for what he was doing, I could only describe it as settling his business. He coordinated for his troops to return home, though he found a number of them that were willing to stay. They didn't say they would stay with me, but Grimar knew it was true.
It was how my mercenary band swelled to a thousand men. Meaning that I outnumbered him militarily. Meaning that he had run out of any viable means of defeating me, and he seemed to know it.
Jill went to plead with him one last time some days after we arrived at the capital, a celebratory feast being held. She knew what the answer would be, but she tried all the same. The only thing that changed this time was that in the dead of night, she knocked at my door. I threw the furs that covered me off, pulling the door open to see her standing there with red-tinted eyes and a swollen face. She had been crying.
"He's waiting for you," Jill sniffled, wearing a nightgown. There wasn't any question of who 'he' was. I swallowed a sigh and allowed her inside my room, poking my head out to see if anyone else had seen her, but only saw a few guards posted at the end of the hall. Closing my door behind me, I saw Jill had taken a seat at the end of the bed, wiping her nose on her forearm. "You're going to kill him."
I hesitated to answer as I took a seat next to her. There really was no other way to say it, "I am." She knew that. Her shoulders slumped, so I continued. "I gave him opportunities to flee. I have to kill him. His family owes me a blood debt… but I won't take any pleasure in his death, Jill. He has chosen to take a stand, and I will give him a warrior's end."
Jill's hands curled into fists, "He said… he wouldn't leave unless I went with him. He said that you'd toss me aside once you're wed. I don't have anything to offer you -- I have no lands, influence, or wealth to give." She muttered, and I saw why she was so troubled. It was one thing to do nothing while your kin was killed, but by staying, she felt like she would shoulder the guilt of his death. She was wrong, but emotions didn't care about being correct.
"His choices are his own. He speaks out of fear for you," I told her, hesitantly reaching out to cover her hand with one of my own. Her hand was much softer than my own -- I had many calluses from my axes and farm work. "You made a difficult choice -- you chose me. My mother decided whom I would marry and there is a good chance that part of the negotiation will be that she must be the head wife. But, as far as I am concerned, we are still betrothed, Jill. You gave me your loyalty. That is enough."
The words seemed to reassure her somewhat. She squeezed my hand. I would be a king, and kings were permitted as many wives as they liked. As many concubines as they liked. Horrik had three wives, though I had only met one of them, but I heard tales of some having as many as ten. It seemed unwise, but there was nothing stopping me from accepting Jill as a wife.
Jill's head lowered, taking in a calming breath. "Sorry," she muttered after a moment.
I gave her hand a final squeeze before I rose to my feet, making her glance up at me. "Are you…" she trailed off, and I answered by grabbing my belt that had my handaxe hanging from it. I put it on, and met her gaze, which she averted after a moment.
I swallowed another sigh, "He'll earn his place with the gods, Jill. He's no coward. The Valkyries will see that," I told her, earning another shallow nod. I didn't offer an apology for the same reason I didn't apologize to Astolfo. It would be an empty one. Grimar had made his choice and it was time for us to settle this. Jill was silent as I went to the door, but just before I closed it, she spoke up.
"Good luck," She told me, making me pause for a moment as I understood the weight behind the words. I offered a small nod, showing that I understood.
With that, I closed the door behind me and headed out. I chose not to wake anyone up, though I did feel eyes on me as my feet carried me to my destination. I already knew where he would be waiting for me. The Saxons had a dueling grove before a great tree. A sacred place before the gods to allow two men to test their favor. It was in the middle of the night as I made my way through the Saxon city -- the roads were of packed dirt, and the buildings were unimpressive compared to the dwarven crafted ones that the Franks possessed.
It was a good night, I decided, glancing up at the sky above to see that there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sky was filled with stars.
Grimar was waiting for me underneath the great tree, a great axe in his hands as he bowed his head in prayer to the gods. He was dressed in armor with a fine black cloak over his shoulders. Fine clothes to die in. I didn't hide my approach, but it did take him a few seconds to address me as he finished his prayer. "I'm surprised that you came alone."
I searched the grove to find no one but Grimar here. "I knew I didn't need to bring others," I told him. That got a rueful chuckle from Grimar as he turned to face me, his expression grave. I approached, going to stand across from him in the grove -- offerings hung from the branches of the tree and the other trees in the grove were painted. The grass was intermingled with planted flowers, complete with a small pond.
"Saving you during the battle was business. Not personal," he told me outright.
"I know. A lesser man wouldn't have made that distinction," I told him. It was a stark difference from our first meeting. I hurled every single curse that I could think of at him, trying to provoke him into a duel. He kept a level head then, and he did so throughout the time that I knew him. He kept his word since the slaughter of Verdun. He stayed to fight the Franks when everything looked bleakest. He fought to save me when he thought that the battle hinged on my actions.
And now he faced me here, alone.
Grimar was a better man than I had given him credit for. And I had been too angry and bitter to recognize that.
Grimar narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, as if he were trying to tell if I was being honest or not. "Hm. You're not the immature child that you were," he acknowledged. I liked to think that was true. I still felt like myself, but I liked to think I was a little wiser. A little calmer. The hate that poisoned my soul was still there, though the fury had faded. Now it was reserved for Horrik and Thorfinn.
He hefted his dane-axe and I drew my handaxe, my other arm still in the sling. The sound of a twig breaking brought both of our attention to someone else in the grove. Only it really wasn't someone. A single golden eye shone in the darkness, his black fur making him next to impossible to make out in the low light.
Fenrir stood in the grove, watching both of us. Grimar sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the wolf, who seemed even larger than the last time I saw him. He was as silent as a shadow, watching both of us. Judging.
"The gods heard your prayer," I told him, knowing that this was a sign from the gods. I didn't see any other wolves with Fenrir, and I couldn't imagine that he would go anywhere without his pack. Especially so close to civilization.
"I'll suppose I'll see if they heard the rest of it," he remarked, his tone one of awe before he grounded himself and faced me with renewed determination.
"For what it's worth, Grimar… I'll take care of Jill. And I'm sorry that you're your father's son," I told him, facing him in turn.
He met my gaze, pausing before he spoke. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your family. And I'm sorry I am my father's son."
With that, we clashed…
And I was the one to leave the grove.
…
I got some comments about it over on the patreon, so I figured I'd make an AN about it here. The TLDR is that gender roles killed Grimar.
The longer version is that Grimar was locked into his fate, and he really couldn't do anything about it while still maintaining his dignity as a man. Jill can get away with siding with Sieg over her family, just barely. What she did was a massive social taboo in not siding with her family in all things, there is an argument there. She was betrothed to Sieg, who is basically a living god in people's eyes, and people like a good love story -- so, the bitter pill can be swallowed.
In Grimar's case, he's a man, and more than that, he's a warrior. Grimar is a pretty solid guy all things considered -- rational, calm, and he was able to swallow his pride in putting the war first and foremost. Not a lot of people could have done that. But, due to the traditions of the time, Grimar couldn't flee without being considered a coward. He couldn't side with Sieg because that would make him a coward and a traitor. And he was just good enough of a man that he wouldn't resort to underhanded tricks to survive.
So, his only choice was to die with his head up high.
Also, on another note, in regards to Jill -- there was a quote that I found but I can't find where I found it, but it basically went like this; The first wife is for power, the second is for pleasure, and a third is arrogance. After everything, Sieg wouldn't leave Jill behind but she's not in a position to actually offer Sieg anything. What he would have gotten is a plot of land that he no longer owns. The position of first wife in norse culture is basically the most important one, and the one that brings the most to the table -- either literally or politically.
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!
She accepted the news with ease. I watched her carefully, glancing over my shoulder as I headed out of the prison that she was kept in for the past week and some days. I saw her eying my injuries, "I'm guessing you met Roland? Pretty tough, huh?" She continued with an easy smile on her face.
A small huff escaped me, "Hm. Very." I agreed, thinking that it was an understatement. Astolfo laughed easily as we headed out of the camp that was still celebrating our victory over the Franks. And likely would in the days to come. There was an uneasy standoff between the Franks, who still remained in Antwerp, and us. However, in recent days, more news had reached us. The other end of Charlemagne's empire was being attacked, and King Widukind figured that he couldn't afford to raise another army.
That good cheer left Astolfo when we reached the horse that she would be riding back into Antwerp. The body of Olivier was draped over the back of a mare. His sword was strapped into the saddle -- it was tempting to take it as my own, especially considering that it was a much finer blade than the one that I used. A long, drawn out sigh escaped her when she approached the horse, pulling back the cloth that the body was wrapped in. "Oh, Olivier…" Astolfo sighed, her head falling forward.
I didn't offer an apology. It would have been an empty one. I didn't regret killing him, but I did regret the sorrow that it caused.
"Are you angry?" I asked her, getting on my horse. My ribs still ached, but the pain got better with each passing day. I didn't just mean about Olivier.
"I'm furious," Astolfo admitted, sounding remarkably calm in that case. "But, that's war. People die in it. You never want it to be someone that you know, but I've always known that it's a possibility. We aren't gods. We aren't invincible. So, every time I went to war, I prepared myself for the thought of defeat. And dying. And seeing people die." She cast me a glance and gave my injuries a rather pointed look. As if she were trying to say 'don't get a big head.'
There was wisdom in her words. "Does it make it any easier?"
"Nah. Not really," Astolfo confessed as she mounted her horse. "I just have to have faith in God and King Charlemagne that we kill and die for a worthy cause. And, so far, neither have led me astray." Her attention went to the sky, "It's been a hard year for us, but I suspect we'll be in Spain soon enough." She mused, sounding distracted.
Hm. "How did you become a Paladin?" I decided to ask, unable to think of a way to subtly bring up the question. It caught Astolfo by surprise as we made our way through the camp. Tonight, there would be a sacrifice to Woden and the gods -- to give thanks for our victories… and to repay the slaughter of Verdun in full. There was a thrill in the air of the camp, everyone excited for the festivities that would come with nightfall.
"Eh? If you're looking to switch sides, I'd say it's a little late for that," Astolfo remarked, not sounding angry about the question. Just surprised.
I decided to go with a half-truth. "Before this war, I thought that there was none else like me. At least not living. There are tales, of course -- the great warriors Beowulf or Sigurd. Yet, your king managed to find twelve of you… and Arda was a normal woman before she was chosen by King Charlemagne. I was curious how you were found… or chosen," I admitted. Astolfo gave me a lingering look before shrugging her shoulders.
"Ain't nothing too special, really. Some of us have blood ties to him. Others ended up gaining King Charlemagne's attention by chance or by deed, like Arda. But, there's definitely a before and after. I've always been quick, but before the ceremony to join the Paladins and my acceptance of God's grace, I was a lot slower," Astolfo explained, and I got the impression that wasn't something she was supposed to share but couldn't be bothered to remember to keep it a secret. At least that was how I was going to interpret the mild panicked look that followed her explanation.
It was as I thought. King Charlemagne was able to bestow a blessing onto others. I had refrained so far, simply because it was something that couldn't be taken back. I was uncertain if the blessing was the exact same, but it seemed similar in nature. King Charlemagne was creating Paladins through the power of his God, just as I could through the power of mine.
Throughout the war -- from my first raid, all the way to the end of it, I had accrued four thousand Prestige. Until very recently, Prestige didn't seem to really do anything. It just seemed to be a metric for how well-known I was. Now, with Bestow Blessing, I could spend five hundred Prestige on a person to empower them. Only I had no idea how much of a boost that blessing would be.
"How much faster?" I asked, my brow furrowing as we left the edge of the camp. Between us and the city was a wagon that carried a number of chests. The five hundred pounds of gold that King Charlemagne spent on Astolfo's ransom. Considering how much he had invested into Astolfo, I realized that five hundred pounds of gold was likely a paltry sum to him.
"Faster than most people," Astolfo said, not offering much else. That was something, at least. Though, it did raise the question of how much King Charlemagne invested into Roland? Hundreds? Thousands? Tens of thousands? The man seemed completely unbothered by anything we threw at him. And, at what point, did it become a waste to invest more into him?
Why twelve Paladins? Wouldn't it be better to have a hundred warriors that were stronger than a normal man? Was there a limit to how many blessings that King Charlemagne could bestow? Was there a limit to how many I could? Or was it a choice on his part? He chose relatives and people that earned his attention… people that were loyal to him or proved that they had something special about them?
I didn't know. I had more questions than answers, and I had run out of time to ask them. By the cart was a Frankish warrior that seemed terrified as I approached. He made a symbol of the cross as I hopped off my horse to inspect the chests. All the while, Astolfo bemoaned her lot in life. "Ahhh~! I'm going to get yelled at so much! S-Seig! Please, maybe lower the ransom a little? Or a lot?! For your buddy?!" Her panic only increased when she saw that it was all gold in the chests. Five hundred pounds of it.
War truly was the most profitable business if you knew how to win.
"Apologies, but no. It's going to be the bride price for my betrothed," I told her, closing the wagon.
"Eh? You're getting married? Congratulations!" Astolfo said, throwing me a smile as- my eyes narrowed when I saw one hand wasn't in the manacle cuffs that she wore. She just smiled unrepentantly. When did those come off? "Well, in that case, it should be fine. It was fun, Sieg, but I better go back and get this over with." She urged her horse forward and headed to the city with slumped shoulders. "I'll see you again. Sooner or later."
It was a promise.
"Hm. Farewell, Astolfo," I returned, taking the wagon and heading back with my prize. I knew we would see each other again… just as I knew it would be on a battlefield.
King Charlemagne had been shamed during this war. Bitterly so. An insult like that wasn't one that could be ignored. Saxony may be spared if King Charlemagne kept his oath, but I had doubts that the rest of my people would be.
I returned to camp a richer man. Five hundred pounds of gold was an unthinkable sum. I once considered a pouch full of silver a considerable amount. Now, the gold seemed to be the last thing on my mind as returned, far more important things tugging at my attention. I thought the end of the war would be the time to relax, but it felt like my mind was busier than ever. The war that had consumed my attention was gone, leaving me with the aftermath.
Thorkell greeted me as I returned, "Smooth and easy?" He asked me as the wagon came to a stop. I let out a small groan as it did, resting against the back of the wagon. The redness in the white of his eye was gone, leaving him with only the scar that cut through his eyebrow. He was extremely lucky that he hadn't lost the eye entirely.
"They wanted it done as much as I did," I remarked, seeing attention being drawn to the wagon. To them, a single gold coin would be a life-changing amount of money. A younger, less experienced me would have given them that coin as a matter of principle. It meant little to me, and much to them, but I understood now what Thorkell told me when we returned to Alabu. Sometimes less is more. "Astolfo seemed convinced that Francia will be returning to war on the other side of their kingdom."
"Not surprised there. Their king lost a lot of face with this defeat. He needs a common enemy to direct that loss at to secure his position. Not really any different from being a mercenary -- after a big loss, you need an easy win to wash the smell of it out of the air, or people start getting ideas," Thorkell remarked.
I imagined that was true. "Are the men ready to head out?" I asked, getting off the wagon while the chests were carried off to my tent by a handful of soldiers. They were heavy, each one taking four men to lift it.
Thorkell nodded, "Aye, we just need to break down the tents. Are you sure you want to leave?" Thorkell asked me, and in response, I glanced over at the tree. An old oak that stood proudly just outside of Antwerp. In full view of the city. I couldn't see them from where I was, but I knew that was where the thousand odd prisoners were being kept. They had no idea that their ransom was denied. They were waiting for their freedom, half starved to keep them weak. They had no idea that they would die before the sun set. Already, the sacrifice was getting ready.
I didn't know if it was justice. Or if it could rightly be called vengeance. I had no qualms about human sacrifice, but I had only known those that were willing. I very much doubted those thousand men were. I just knew that the vengeful spirits required blood, and blood they would receive. I'm not sure if justice or vengeance really had anything to do about it.
"Aye. I want to grab the hoard before we have to leave Francia," I told him. I still recalled the amount that we left behind -- three hundred pounds of gold, twelve hundred pounds of silver, and fifty pounds of precious gems. Astolfo was almost equal to a full season of raiding. Adding that two the fifty pounds of gold I got for Ageric's second ransom, and the two hundred pounds of gold and silver… I was a wealthy man. Obscenely wealthy, even.
"It's your decision. Just expect a little bit of grumbling on the way," Thorkell remarked. I imagine the grumbling would come to a stop when they saw the gold and gems. I just nodded, and Thorkell added what he really wanted to ask about. "The war is over. What are you going to do about Grimar?"
Jill had been avoiding me since the talk with Grimar. I think she expected me to be angry. Perhaps I might have been at one point, but the potent anger in my blood had cooled.
A sigh escaped me.
"If he doesn't run, I'm going to have to kill him."
…
We left just as the sacrifices began. It was probably seen as rude to not be the guest of honor for the sacrifices, but I was well past the point of caring. The army shifted in position, allowing the Christians a full view of the sacrifices. Many staves were out into the ground and Franks were tied to them before Saxons who lost family and kin to the Franks were permitted to step forward. They took knives and axes to the men, carving at their bodies and the air was filled with their screams of pain and fear. When they died or passed out, they were cut from the post, dragged to a stump where they were beheaded.
The bodies were desecrated further. Hands and feet were cut off, genitals mutilated, while the heads were brought to the oak tree and stacked up. Exactly how the Saxons had been in Verdun. As soon as a stave was emptied, another Frank was dragged to it and the process resumed.
We heard the Franks screaming well into our journey to reclaim our hoard, our departure practically going unnoticed. I kept an ear out toward Antwerp, but it was like the entire city was holding its breath. It wouldn't soon forget this day, for better or for worse. Neither would King Charlemagne, I imagine.
As luck would have it, we weren't that far away from where we buried the hoard. The forest was burnt out, but there were signs of greenery returning already. The landmark was easily identifiable -- a solidary protruding rock above where the treasure was. The men began digging, soon uncovering the bodies of the thralls that had buried the treasure. Then they hit the treasure itself. All of the hoard was quickly recovered, adding it to our growing baggage train.
All of it was loaded up and we began our trek back to Saxony.
The day after the sacrifices were made, we joined back up with King Widukind. He said nothing of our departure, nor about our added wealth. The only things that were said were congratulations for the victory at hand, and planning out the logistics of the fleet that would be built. The Jarls were quick to try to flatter -- they offered wood from their lands, willing to cut down entire forests to provide me with ships. Those that didn't have wood to offer were quick to offer their own ships.
It would take at least six months to build the fleet of ships. It could be sooner, but given how neglected the land was, King Widukind was reluctant to dedicate such a huge force to build ships for me. They would be built to my specification, modeled after my longship. Though, I did accept ten ships for the sake of transporting my wealth and my men.
It was decided that for the sake of convenience, after I was done in Norway, I would sail back down to Saxony to pick up my ships and the warriors that wished to follow me into battle. A fine deal, all around. Especially when the Jarls were eager to know what I desired to fill the ships that were promised.
Morrigan basked in it, but Jill was sullen and silent. Preparing herself for what was to come.
Because Grimar didn't flee.
He wasn't a coward. I would give him that much. I was vaguely aware of what he was doing at any general moment as we headed back to capital of Saxony, the army slowly peeling away as men returned to their homes along the way, usually far richer than when they left. For, it would seem, King Charlemagne had ten thousand pounds of gold and silver on hand. As for what he was doing, I could only describe it as settling his business. He coordinated for his troops to return home, though he found a number of them that were willing to stay. They didn't say they would stay with me, but Grimar knew it was true.
It was how my mercenary band swelled to a thousand men. Meaning that I outnumbered him militarily. Meaning that he had run out of any viable means of defeating me, and he seemed to know it.
Jill went to plead with him one last time some days after we arrived at the capital, a celebratory feast being held. She knew what the answer would be, but she tried all the same. The only thing that changed this time was that in the dead of night, she knocked at my door. I threw the furs that covered me off, pulling the door open to see her standing there with red-tinted eyes and a swollen face. She had been crying.
"He's waiting for you," Jill sniffled, wearing a nightgown. There wasn't any question of who 'he' was. I swallowed a sigh and allowed her inside my room, poking my head out to see if anyone else had seen her, but only saw a few guards posted at the end of the hall. Closing my door behind me, I saw Jill had taken a seat at the end of the bed, wiping her nose on her forearm. "You're going to kill him."
I hesitated to answer as I took a seat next to her. There really was no other way to say it, "I am." She knew that. Her shoulders slumped, so I continued. "I gave him opportunities to flee. I have to kill him. His family owes me a blood debt… but I won't take any pleasure in his death, Jill. He has chosen to take a stand, and I will give him a warrior's end."
Jill's hands curled into fists, "He said… he wouldn't leave unless I went with him. He said that you'd toss me aside once you're wed. I don't have anything to offer you -- I have no lands, influence, or wealth to give." She muttered, and I saw why she was so troubled. It was one thing to do nothing while your kin was killed, but by staying, she felt like she would shoulder the guilt of his death. She was wrong, but emotions didn't care about being correct.
"His choices are his own. He speaks out of fear for you," I told her, hesitantly reaching out to cover her hand with one of my own. Her hand was much softer than my own -- I had many calluses from my axes and farm work. "You made a difficult choice -- you chose me. My mother decided whom I would marry and there is a good chance that part of the negotiation will be that she must be the head wife. But, as far as I am concerned, we are still betrothed, Jill. You gave me your loyalty. That is enough."
The words seemed to reassure her somewhat. She squeezed my hand. I would be a king, and kings were permitted as many wives as they liked. As many concubines as they liked. Horrik had three wives, though I had only met one of them, but I heard tales of some having as many as ten. It seemed unwise, but there was nothing stopping me from accepting Jill as a wife.
Jill's head lowered, taking in a calming breath. "Sorry," she muttered after a moment.
I gave her hand a final squeeze before I rose to my feet, making her glance up at me. "Are you…" she trailed off, and I answered by grabbing my belt that had my handaxe hanging from it. I put it on, and met her gaze, which she averted after a moment.
I swallowed another sigh, "He'll earn his place with the gods, Jill. He's no coward. The Valkyries will see that," I told her, earning another shallow nod. I didn't offer an apology for the same reason I didn't apologize to Astolfo. It would be an empty one. Grimar had made his choice and it was time for us to settle this. Jill was silent as I went to the door, but just before I closed it, she spoke up.
"Good luck," She told me, making me pause for a moment as I understood the weight behind the words. I offered a small nod, showing that I understood.
With that, I closed the door behind me and headed out. I chose not to wake anyone up, though I did feel eyes on me as my feet carried me to my destination. I already knew where he would be waiting for me. The Saxons had a dueling grove before a great tree. A sacred place before the gods to allow two men to test their favor. It was in the middle of the night as I made my way through the Saxon city -- the roads were of packed dirt, and the buildings were unimpressive compared to the dwarven crafted ones that the Franks possessed.
It was a good night, I decided, glancing up at the sky above to see that there wasn't a cloud in sight and the sky was filled with stars.
Grimar was waiting for me underneath the great tree, a great axe in his hands as he bowed his head in prayer to the gods. He was dressed in armor with a fine black cloak over his shoulders. Fine clothes to die in. I didn't hide my approach, but it did take him a few seconds to address me as he finished his prayer. "I'm surprised that you came alone."
I searched the grove to find no one but Grimar here. "I knew I didn't need to bring others," I told him. That got a rueful chuckle from Grimar as he turned to face me, his expression grave. I approached, going to stand across from him in the grove -- offerings hung from the branches of the tree and the other trees in the grove were painted. The grass was intermingled with planted flowers, complete with a small pond.
"Saving you during the battle was business. Not personal," he told me outright.
"I know. A lesser man wouldn't have made that distinction," I told him. It was a stark difference from our first meeting. I hurled every single curse that I could think of at him, trying to provoke him into a duel. He kept a level head then, and he did so throughout the time that I knew him. He kept his word since the slaughter of Verdun. He stayed to fight the Franks when everything looked bleakest. He fought to save me when he thought that the battle hinged on my actions.
And now he faced me here, alone.
Grimar was a better man than I had given him credit for. And I had been too angry and bitter to recognize that.
Grimar narrowed his eyes at me for a moment, as if he were trying to tell if I was being honest or not. "Hm. You're not the immature child that you were," he acknowledged. I liked to think that was true. I still felt like myself, but I liked to think I was a little wiser. A little calmer. The hate that poisoned my soul was still there, though the fury had faded. Now it was reserved for Horrik and Thorfinn.
He hefted his dane-axe and I drew my handaxe, my other arm still in the sling. The sound of a twig breaking brought both of our attention to someone else in the grove. Only it really wasn't someone. A single golden eye shone in the darkness, his black fur making him next to impossible to make out in the low light.
Fenrir stood in the grove, watching both of us. Grimar sucked in a sharp breath at the sight of the wolf, who seemed even larger than the last time I saw him. He was as silent as a shadow, watching both of us. Judging.
"The gods heard your prayer," I told him, knowing that this was a sign from the gods. I didn't see any other wolves with Fenrir, and I couldn't imagine that he would go anywhere without his pack. Especially so close to civilization.
"I'll suppose I'll see if they heard the rest of it," he remarked, his tone one of awe before he grounded himself and faced me with renewed determination.
"For what it's worth, Grimar… I'll take care of Jill. And I'm sorry that you're your father's son," I told him, facing him in turn.
He met my gaze, pausing before he spoke. "For what it's worth, I'm sorry about your family. And I'm sorry I am my father's son."
With that, we clashed…
And I was the one to leave the grove.
…
I got some comments about it over on the patreon, so I figured I'd make an AN about it here. The TLDR is that gender roles killed Grimar.
The longer version is that Grimar was locked into his fate, and he really couldn't do anything about it while still maintaining his dignity as a man. Jill can get away with siding with Sieg over her family, just barely. What she did was a massive social taboo in not siding with her family in all things, there is an argument there. She was betrothed to Sieg, who is basically a living god in people's eyes, and people like a good love story -- so, the bitter pill can be swallowed.
In Grimar's case, he's a man, and more than that, he's a warrior. Grimar is a pretty solid guy all things considered -- rational, calm, and he was able to swallow his pride in putting the war first and foremost. Not a lot of people could have done that. But, due to the traditions of the time, Grimar couldn't flee without being considered a coward. He couldn't side with Sieg because that would make him a coward and a traitor. And he was just good enough of a man that he wouldn't resort to underhanded tricks to survive.
So, his only choice was to die with his head up high.
Also, on another note, in regards to Jill -- there was a quote that I found but I can't find where I found it, but it basically went like this; The first wife is for power, the second is for pleasure, and a third is arrogance. After everything, Sieg wouldn't leave Jill behind but she's not in a position to actually offer Sieg anything. What he would have gotten is a plot of land that he no longer owns. The position of first wife in norse culture is basically the most important one, and the one that brings the most to the table -- either literally or politically.
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!
Neko-tama
[Verified Cat] [Verified Writer]
- Pronouns
- She/Her
I don't like it. I mean at the end of the day, they are all raider scum, and odds are that Grimar is a rapist as well as a murderer, but feeling obligated to kill someone he respects because of who his family is? That is so profoundly stupid, I don't have the words to describe it.