Legends Never Die: Desire for Creation (ch. 80) (Patreon)

It took another two weeks for us to hear the truth of the battle between the Romans and the Abbasids. The battle had been a series of clashes -- the Romans attacked the Abbasids outside of a castle, breaking their siege, before defeating them in the field. After that, the Abbasids began to retreat, only to find themselves pursued by the Romans, where they clashed in the field once more. It was in that battle that Prince Hadi was killed, and I also heard that the Caliph Al-Mhadi had been wounded as well.

It was shaping up to be a decisive defeat for the Abbasids when Prince Harun and Hadi arrived. They smashed into the Roman's flank, and rolled over the entire army, causing a full rout. The Romans retreated back to a fortified position. Since then, they had been eying one another while word spread on both sides of my victories and hostages.

Princess Jasmine grieved privately when she heard of the death of her brother. She had settled in with Astrid and Jill, my wives, but not so much to the point that she felt comfortable showing weakness.

In the two weeks since my second marriage, I was a little surprised at how little had truly changed. There were some differences, of course -- like Astrid being convinced that Jill was already with child, but for the most part our relationships still felt the same. Just a little… more.

“Morrigan is still gone,” Jill informed from her side of the bed while I busied myself with getting dressed. “She said it would be a couple of days. I'm starting to get worried,” she admitted as I threw a tunic over my head before grabbing my belt.

I was too. “She really didn't say anything to anyone?” I asked, trusting Morrigan to take care of herself, but I was worried about her absence all the same. I had yet to receive a quest from the gods saying that she needed to be rescued however, so between my trust and the lack of notice, I was mostly sure that she was okay. Mostly.

“She simply boarded a merchant ship heading to Constantinople,” Jill sighed. “She didn't say anything to anyone,” she continued, pushing the covers back and I drank her visage in for but a moment. Jill had become rather fond of a white silk shift, and I was rather fond of it too. “Should we start to search for her? Chares wasn't the only enemy that we have.”

The words did squeeze my heart with a pang of worry, but I shook my head. “If there is anyone that I trust to survive, it's Morrigan. I'm not sure what game she's playing, but if she wanted us to know what she intended then she would have told us.” I could guess what she planned, but I wasn't certain. The greatest weakness of her boon was that she needed to see two people in a room to see the connection between them. Though, I couldn't guess who she was trying to see the connection between.

Crossing the distance between us, I pressed my lips to Jill's, who smiled into the kiss. “Rest. I can see everyone off,” I said, breaking the kiss and Jill needed little convincing.

Though, a scowl did flicker across her face, “Hoffer will be pleased.” And, to that, I managed a small wince.

Hoffer had always been displeased with Jill's influence, but he had mostly kept it to himself beyond the occasional sour look. However, since Jill and I had gotten married, his displeasure was starting to spill out. Before, I suppose he was comfortable with the knowledge that Jill was merely a consort, but now that she was my second wife…

I had heard tales of fighting amongst families, even if I never saw it first hand. In my family, there wasn't a difference between me and my brothers, regardless of which mother gave birth to us. And while no one had said it in so many words, I was starting to get the impression that wasn't the case for Hoffer and Astrid's family. It hadn't gotten to the point it needed intervention, but if nothing was done before that point, it would become a problem.

“That's why he's going with Gerald,” I replied, kissing her temple as she settled back into bed. She nodded, appearing vaguely pleased and guilty. The reason for the guilt was easy to identify -- Hoffer was Astrid's brother, after all.

With some reluctance, I pulled away from Jill and went out to start the day. The longhouse had recovered from a lengthy celebration, as had the people of Norland. I had underestimated how large of an event that my wedding would be, so the feast continued on for another five days. Towards the end, I was fairly sure that the people had forgotten what they were celebrating.

It took more than a few days for people to rejoin the living after drinking so much. And, a week later, things were back to normal. Even if I'm certain that we had drained every last drop of ale, mead, and wine in the entire settlement.

And now it was time to see Gerald off. Which had taken a week because of a series of duels that had taken place for the honor of returning to Denmark with my message. Part of why I was sending them out so early in the morning, with the sun just barely peeking over the horizon, was that I hoped to avoid any more duels slowing their departure. And while I seemed to have managed that much, there was still a crowd gathering to see off the five ships that I was sending back to Denmark, each manned by thirty men.

The crowd parted for me as I approached, allowing me to walk down the docks where I saw Hoffer and Astrid embracing. There was a proud smile on Hoffer's face, and I caught his lips moving. I wasn't close enough to hear him, but I made an educated guess that he was trying to convince her to convince me that our child should be named Hoffer. As was their family tradition.

It was Gerald that approached me, “Lord Wolf-Kissed.” He dressed in his finest clothes, and his ships were heavy with wealth. “Gods willing, we'll return before winter sets in.”

I smiled at him, his worship still unnerving, but I was finding that I appreciated his unwavering loyalty. “There is no rush. I'd rather you avoid trying to cross the Dnipro through winter,” I said, nodding to him as we clasped arms. I was expecting it to be about a year before I saw him again.

The ships would be the biggest hold up. Fifty longships wasn't a minor thing to build. Most likely, I would see Gerald return with half of the ships that I asked for and later, I could send someone up to collect the rest. What was more important was the recruits. At the very least, I nodded to replenish my losses -- so a thousand men. But, ideally, my company could grow.

After all, the more men that came to me, the fewer that Horrik could call upon. So, I held out hope that I would see around three thousand fresh warriors, bringing my company to seven thousand and five hundred. That was an army in itself.

I was a little worried at how easily Gerald agreed. It was as if he was convinced that nothing ill could befall him because he had divine protection. So, I insisted. “Be careful. You're sailing into a den of snakes,” I said, my gaze flickering over his shoulder, looking at the man that True Sight marked in red. Everyone else in the crew had to fight for the privilege of sailing back to Denmark and Norway.

Not him.

Him, I sent back intentionally.

Gerald still seemed unreasonably confident, but he nodded all the same. “We'll be careful. By the time the king of snakes realizes we're there, we'll have stolen an army from him,” he swore. Overconfident or not, that was essentially what I wanted him to do, so I nodded. Gerald stepped back, letting Hoffer approach and he clasped arms with me and clapped me on the shoulder.

“Take care, Wolf-Kissed. And since I won't be here to greet him, give my nephew my love,” he requested and I nodded.

“You have my word,” I returned. I couldn't tell how he was taking the news of his departure. He hadn't complained, but he didn't see it as the same honor as Gerald did. It was then that I passed him a number of letters that I had written. “Give these to my family with my love. We shall remain in this land for some more years, but they never stray far from my thoughts.”

Hoffer accepted the letters and nodded. With that, the farewells were over and everyone loaded up onto the ships. The letters contained nothing of true importance, merely telling my mother and siblings of our adventures and what I had seen. By the time the letter reached them, I would be a father. And likely an uncle given my mother's plans for marriages.

Astrid pressed herself into my side, watching as the ships pushed off the dock before sailing towards the harbor mouth. “You warned them both from doing anything stupid, right? That's a lot of wealth, even with how many men are guarding it.”

“I did. They'll be fine. I included a letter for Jarl Radulfr, so he shouldn't be any trouble,” I said, pulling her close. He sat at the mouth of the river to the Baltic Sea, and he struck me as a greedy opportunist. But, with the letter carrying a promise of wealth, I didn't expect any trouble from him. “Horrik will be the one they need to worry about.”

To that, Astrid squeezed my hand. “Let's go pray at the grove,” she decided and I nodded. My words were less of a reassurance than I hoped. It was a harsh truth, though. Horrik was firmly out of reach for me, every bit as much as I was for him. These brief interactions were the only window of opportunity we would have to hurt one another for some time yet -- me trying to steal an army from underneath him, and him attacking my men, stealing my wealth, and preventing my ships from arriving.

And I very much expected him to slip some of his men into the army that came down. Perhaps I could convince them to betray him. Maybe I would just kill them. Either way, he would have fewer men by the time I was done.

As the ships started their long trek back, we made our way through the town that was just starting to wake up. There were fewer people as the thralls had already been shipped back to the Abbasids -- some wishing to return to their homeland, with others promising that they would return with their kin as soon as they were able.

Releasing the thralls had an unintended side effect of making the craftsmen take their teachings seriously. Before, I suspected, they believed that freedom was a vague promise on the horizon. Now they saw the worth of my word and they were convinced. Some worked to return home, while others worked to entrench themselves in these lands without any competition. As a result, some of the craftsmen were already waking up, and I heard the ringing of steel.

Making our way up to the grove where Jill and I were married weeks earlier, I saw that the development of it was already further along. The gardens of flowers were starting to bud, the packed dirt was being smoothed over with grass, with decorations starting to fill the empty space. It was there that we saw the large slab of marble still stood proudly in the heart of the grove.

And it was there that we saw an old man marking the slab with colored paste. Marking where he would chip away and engrave the deeds of the battle that was being called Raven's Feast. He circled the slab of marble, occasionally marking it with blue paste, and it was upon circling it that he took notice of us. “My lord and lady,” He quickly said, bowing his head as we approached. “I was simply preparing the runestone. I can come back another time-”

“No, there's no need,” Astrid quickly interjected. “We were going to pray for my brother's safe passage and offer a sacrifice. We won't interrupt your work,” she offered and the old man seemed vaguely relieved.

“Ah, I shall offer my own prayers, Princess Astrid. And my thanks for sparing my old bones a long walk,” he offered as I stepped forward, inspecting the slab. “It shall be my finest work, old bones or not.”

I glanced at him, “You've erected runestones before?” I asked and he eagerly nodded.

“It is my profession! I learned the craft when I was a small boy from my father, and I've spent the sixty years since mastering it,” he informed with obvious pride. And, given his age, he must have been one of the camp followers that Gerald brought with him. “Often enough, I carve smaller works. Name stones for warriors hoping to earn a saga.”

Namestones. I had seen some of them floating around my army, but I never had one commissioned myself. The stones were what the name implied -- a piece of stone with a warrior's name written on it. When they accomplished a deed of note, such as winning a duel or slaying a dangerous animal, they would add an inscription of the deed to the stone, and pass them out. It was the hope that they would accomplish enough deeds to earn a saga. They advertised themselves and their deeds.

“I've carved fewer runestones, but half of the ones still standing in Denmark were carved by me,” he continued with more obvious pride.

Astrid was curious, asking a question that I also had. “Yet, you left?”

“Aye. You've already been mentioned in one,” He informed me. “A boy who stood in the face of archers, his arms held out wide, knowing that he had the gods’ protection. Not a single arrow touched you then, and you led the charge against the Franks.” The Runecarver reminded me, and I recalled the battle he spoke of.

It felt like a lifetime ago, I thought. Instead it was… three years now?

Astrid gave me a mildly amused look before the Runecarver continued, “I knew then that if I followed you, I’d have worthy deeds to carve. And I was right! The very first I shall carve is a victory that will be remembered for thousands of years!” The way he spoke, you'd think the victory of carving my deed was equal to the deed itself.

I looked back at the marble slab and What Lies Within showed me what the runestone could be. A four sided pillar, each with the victory written in a different language. I saw it could be a statue of Odin. Of Thor. Tyr. Of any of the Aesir.

“Thousands of years?” I echoed, reaching out and placing a hand on the slab, feeling its smooth surface under my palm. Before I came to Rome, I didn't understand the length of that much time. To me, the days of old could be anything between eighty years to a century to a millennia ago. There was no true difference. But, now I knew better.

A thousand years ago, Alexander the Great reshaped the world and even a thousand years later, the world still felt the echoes of his steps. A thousand years ago, Julias Caesar carved away the rot of an ancient republic to pave the way for the mighty empire the Romans would become.

I had seen buildings and statues with my own eyes that had been built in the eras of those men. A thousand years was an incredibly long amount of time. Generations upon generations upon generations.

“Do you remember the Parthenon in Greece?” I asked Astrid and she cocked an eyebrow at my tone.

“It'd be hard to forget,” she replied, curious where I was going with this.

“It was built in the year four hundred and forty-seven before the Christian God died. Making it over a thousand and two hundred years old by their calendar,” I said and I saw her still at the information. “The Romans do not care for us and our legacy. Or even their own history. They would see the Parthenon reduced to rubble because its beauty offends their god. And they will likely destroy this runestone as soon as we set sail for home.”

I was jealous. I had started to become accustomed to the feeling when I thought of the Roman cities. Their statues. Their wealth and knowledge. Because I looked upon what the runestone could be, and I doubted that it could endure the test of time.

However, the Runecarver chuckled, “I suspect they will. As much as I would like to say that all of my works are still standing… most of them aren't,” he admitted. “A warrior or jarl is defeated, and the victor sees his runestone smashed to rubble. More of my work has been destroyed than remains, I fear.” He sighed, sounding sad but resigned. “But I still work. I still carve. Because, I know, at least one of my works shall endure. That when I am long dead and forgotten… my work, and the story on it, shall remain.”

As he spoke, he held out a hammer and a chisel. I looked down at them, knowing what the offer was, and I pondered it for a moment before accepting. The tools both had some weight to them as I lined up the chisel and raised the hammer.

With a single decisive blow, I carved a chunk of the marble off. Taking a step back, I looked at it, feeling a little… foolish. Honestly, I just marred the uniform surface of the slab, but it was no different than woodcarving.

“Art,” I decided, and I could tell neither of the two had any idea what I was talking about.

I had two more classes whose spots I wanted to fill. I would take art classes from the university. With my hands, which knew so much death and destruction, I would learn to create. And, maybe… just maybe…

One of my creations would endure the test of time.