Legends Never Die: Vows (ch. 45) (Patreon)

Quest: Path to the Crown

Quest Objective: Defeat 20/25 Jarls of Norway.

Additional Objective: Fight five Jarl armies at once.

Quest Reward: ⅔ of clue for Legendary Item.

Additional Reward: 250 Prestige.

"This is madness," Jarl Hoffer remarked to me as we stood on the field that would mark the completion of the quest along with the additional objective. The terrain was a poor one. A lesson I had taken from King Widukind -- sometimes there was wisdom in giving up a minor advantage to secure a greater one. In this case, it was to ensure that there was a battle at all. My men were at the base of a sloped hill that was covered by a sparse forest, the rocky soil preventing much in the way of vegetation from growing. "You invite disaster, Wolf-Kissed."

I could see why he believed that. It had taken careful cultivation over the course of two months for this day. Upon the defeat of Jarl Haldwin and receiving the quest, I broke my company up into five hundred man bands, then two hundred and fifty. Then bands of a hundred. They raided throughout Norway, all of them driving the kingdom to a single conclusion -- that I was a threat great enough to unite against.

More than twenty Jarls sat on top of the hill -- far more than what I needed to complete the quests, but just enough to meet my personal requirements. Two thousand men. It took twenty Jarls to scrounge up such a number. Most had an army of less than a hundred, and there were a few rare Jarls that had more than two. With careful consideration, I forced them into an alliance. Some, I raised to the point of fury, others I drove together. All to create an army. A great army as far as the Norse people were concerned.

Small. I had had no idea how small and desolate the lands of my people were until I saw the wider world. King Charlemagne's host could have swept across this land to conquer it with near ease. His greatest foes would be the land and hunger. Perhaps the cold too.

"No. This is why I came to Norway in the first place," I told him, urging my horse forward. The men across from me shouted their warcries, trying to intimidate us. I saw a number of Jarls seated or standing behind their men. This would give me the experience that I needed -- how to shape and fight a pitched battle. I turned to my men, seeing hungry and confident faces. I had lost some men over the months, but they had been replaced with more Norsemen.

A handful of them stood out. The future leaders of my army -- Thorkell stood tall and proud, a large Dane axe in his hands. He wore a full ringmail set of armor that was stitched into a gambeson that ended at his knees. My first rough attempts to recreate the armor I had seen on the Paladins lined one of his arms, the plated metal gleaming in the early morning light. Another was Authun, who easily took command of my scouts despite his young age thanks to his skull with a bow.

Olek was the one that rose to prominence amongst the leaders of the infantry. A man with a square face with a long scar from the bridge of his nose, across his cheekbone, and clipping his ear. Dark brown hair with bright green eyes. He was a rather dower man, I noticed. He treated everything with the same amount of severity, no matter how minor, and it was for that reason he had seen the greatest success even if he wasn't the most popular man.

Both he and Thorkell led around four hundred footmen, leaving Authun to lead the fifty archers I had. The last fifty rode with me -- the most promising of my warriors, even if they didn't have any leadership capabilities. Together, we made a mighty army. We were no longer a large mercenary band. The barriers between us had been eliminated over the course of a mere two months.

However, it wasn't my army that I spoke to. "I am Siegfried the Wolf-Kissed!" I announced to the army up the hill. "Take heart warriors, for you face me! The Valkyries are surely looking upon this field, and they shall witness your bravery for standing against me! Today, you shall prove your worth and tonight, you shall sup with the gods!" I told them and I heard Thorkell chuckling.

"Most don't give the speech to the enemy," Thorkell remarked and I offered him a grin.

"Our enemies need the motivation, do they not? Or is victory uncertain?!" I shouted out to my men, earning a thunderous war cry in response. Reaching down to the sword at my belt, I pulled it from its sheath -- the blade that I had taken from Jarl Haldwin's corpse. The blade felt perfect in my hands, like it belonged there. "They wish to die gloriously! Let us assist them!" I shouted, and Thorkell was the one that led the charge. It was the effect of Of One Mind.

Authun began to let loose arrows, firing up on the slingers that pelted our men with stones from a sling. He let loose in the form of a volley and nearly fifty men dropped to the ground with an arrow in their chests, eyes, or throat. It protected the men as they clashed against the shieldwall at the top of the hill. Thorkell could sense my plan. There were no words spoken, but I knew his intentions as well as I knew my own. For that reason, my control over Olek's half of the army felt so clumsy. Likewise, he could sense my own plan which is why his men began to back up a half step, bending the formation and allowing the enemy to push forward.

They exposed their flank to our archers. They began to fall, feathered, but more importantly, they exposed themselves to me.

I galloped forward with fifty warriors, all armed with Dane axes, and up the hill we climbed until we smashed into the flank. I lashed out with my sword, catching men in the throat with swipes and thrusts. The warriors behind me sat comfortable in their saddles, swinging their axes thanks to the Frankish gift. The stirrups. It had taken some getting used to, but they proved to give far greater control over a horse and kept the rider in the seat during a charge.

It was a mere fifty riders, but the effects were devastating to the wing of the army. Already, some of it was starting to buckle, but they held their courage. My words inspired them to fight when they might have otherwise run. They knew the Valkyries would be watching this field and they were eager to prove their worthiness.

After my charge, I heard Thorkell shout out and his half of the warband stopped backing up. Then they pushed to secure my riders, and to take advantage of the disruption in the shield wall. Our men poured through the gaps, the right wing of the army starting to fracture while the left still held strong. Thorkell himself led the breakthrough. It wasn't dramatic or overt, not like it had been with Astolfo, much less Roland, but Thorkell was undeniably stronger than he had been.

It clued me in on how the blessings worked for King Charlemagne. Rinaldo likely had some kind of endurance blessing -- it would explain how he continued to fight despite his grievous injuries. Astolfo likely had something related to spears, as Arda had something related to bows. The blessing gave a base increase in prowess, to make them deadlier, as far as I could tell. Which either meant that the gift the Paladins received optimized them for battle… or that they had received multiple blessings.

The left wing was still holding itself in place, trying to overwhelm my flank, but as we began to push the right back, their positioning changed. Especially when my archers flanked around, searching for a good angle to fire up on the enemy. I gave them freedom of movement, but it was a dangerous thing. Worth it, but dangerous.

After two months of smaller battles, I had developed some favored tactics. I favored them because they worked.

We were outnumbered two to one, but the army was already starting to fracture. Divisions within the army made themselves apparent when one of the Jarls decided he wished to escape with his men, or perhaps he plotted the betrayal before the battle had even started. It mattered not. More than that, as the right wing broke under myself and Thorkell, letting us sweep around, the warriors sensed that their defeat was near. Some decided to fight to the bitter end, and as a result, they were left behind as the army began to disintegrate without a formal retreat being sounded.

The battle was a short one. Barely lasting more than an hour, but by the end of it, my warriors stood victorious. A hundred and twenty men died, a mere fraction of the total army, and when they regrouped, they would realize that. The slaughter always seemed so much greater in the midst of battle.

"Hammer and anvil. Works like a charm every time," Thorkell mused, his face splattered with blood while the men began to loot the dead. Not for wealth but for iron. Slowly, my army was being armored like Thorkell. It would take time. Enough so that I needed to consider the fact that I needed to bring more than just warriors with me -- I needed blacksmiths too. "Don't fancy riding them down?"

Quest Complete!

Quest: Path to the Crown

Quest Objective: Defeat 30/25 Jarls of Norway.

Additional Objective: Fight five Jarl armies at once.

Quest Reward: The sword of the father and her father's father.

Additional Reward: 250 Prestige.

"No need. Let them regroup and spread word. We still have four months in Norway, after all," I remarked, seeing Olek approaching with Jarl Hoffer and Astrid. Astrid had been in the thick of it -- her face was splattered with blood, and her axe was dripping with it. She had proven herself as a warrior.

Olek greeted me with a nod, his expression cold as stone. "We have fifteen wounded. One lost a hand," he informed me, his tone gruff and flat. "But none shall die."

"Good," I said, seeing a handful of people treating their injuries. The one that lost the hand was absolutely beside himself. It was another thing that I had to consider. It was a thought that I had back in Francia, when I was raiding, but it hadn't been the time to act on it -- but in addition to blacksmiths, I needed healers. People to stitch up my men after a battle. It could be the difference between life and death.

"I can't imagine what it was like in Francia," Jarl Hoffer said, looking out at the fallen. The wounded enemies were either sent in their way or given the mercy of a blade. "This was a great battle and it was over so quickly."

This was no great battle.

"Hopefully, there will be greater battles," I replied before looking at him. "I believe it is time we returned. Ostara is upon us," I pointed out. The wedding is upon us, I didn't say as I looked at Astrid, who met my gaze evenly. Her expression didn't betray what she thought of our upcoming wedding -- neither revulsion or joy. I had nothing else to go on considering that she had gone out of her way to avoid me. To be treated as another warrior, according to her father.

Jarl Hoffer eagerly nodded, "Aye. We have gained much this season, but now it is time to honor the gods and bind our families."

And so it would be so.

…

We sailed back rich with plunder, most of which would be going to Jarl Hoffer as part of the bride price. Some of the Jarls that we defeated, in particular the ones around the coast, had chosen to swear fealty to Jarl Hoffer, and they would attend the wedding as well.

I found myself being looked over by Mother and my sisters. While I had been busy fighting, they had stitched a fine set of clothing for my marriage with the help of Jill. It was a little difficult to tell, but she did seem more comfortable with my family now. The clothing itself was colored red and gold -- a finely stitched tunic with a gold embroidered raven with running black wolves in the hemline. A black wolf pelt would be draped over my shoulders while my trousers were a dark shade of red and my boots a dark brown.

While I was being dressed, my hair was pulled into a single braid and, against my wishes, Mother took a knife to my cheeks to get rid of my thin beard. Mother searched my face for a long minute after I was done being dressed, cupping my face in her hands. "You're a man, Siegfried. You've been one since the attack on the farm, but tonight, you'll be seen as a man."

I was getting married. It seemed a little late to be having that thought, but it rang out in my head when I heard the celebrations were already beginning. Music filtered down to my tent, as my men were celebrating just as much.

"I understand," I told her, giving a small nod. Mother smiled, pleased that I did, before letting go of me.

"Your father should be here to see you through this. And we can't visit your ancestors' grave for their sword," Mother spoke of the traditions for marriage. I should be being prepared by my father and married brothers. I should be in Denmark, taking the blade that would be buried with my father. "Those traditions are meant to represent the boy dying and the man being born -- you've been a man for a long time now. This is merely making it official."

I nodded in response, bracing myself when she took a step back and gave me a final look. I must have passed her inspection because she nodded.

The next thing I knew, I was being led out of my camp with the men roaring for me. The wedding would take place outside of the town, further inland and I saw the path had been marked with wildflowers. They led us to a grove that had been prepared -- if I had to guess, the Hoffer family had been preparing for this wedding since I arrived, because it was no small amount of work in preparing the area. There were clear areas for our families, and the honored guests, then everyone else that would bear witness. In the hills around the grove were footholds for everyone to look down upon us, probably enough for everyone in the town and my army.

There was a runestone erected in the grove -- the story of the Hoffer clan engraved upon it, based on the look of it. Before it was a woman with a painted face and more flowers woven into her hair. I took my place next to her, Halfdan patting me on the back hard enough that it was like he was trying to leave a bruise.

Astrid came not long after me, much to the cheer of the gathering crowd. She was escorted by her sisters and shieldmaidens -- each carrying a shield and a sword. Astrid herself… she looked beautiful. There wasn’t really any other word to describe her. Or, rather, the word itself was meant to describe her. She wore a white stitched dress marked with red, her kansan was gone and replaced with a crown of flowers and antlers. Her hair was down…

Girls. When did girls stop being weird and start being… confusing?

In her hands, however, was something that caught my interest. A blade, a dark steel blade that was reforged at the base of the blade. Almost exactly where the blade ended for my battle sword.

The sword of her father, and her father’s father.

I wasn’t surprised to see it here. I guessed as much as when I got the hint for the Legendary item. What that item was, I still wasn’t entirely certain but I was starting to form a guess. It also helped that out of the corner of my eye, I could read the saga -- The first Hoffer found a broken blade in the underwater lair of a terrible beast, the hilt nowhere to be found, so he grabbed the blade with his bare hands before plunging it into the monster, whose magical hide had turned normal blades away like a stone.

Astrid came to a stop in front of me, her expression guarded as the marriage ceremony began. To be honest, it felt like it passed by in a blur -- the seer bade us to transfer the swords. I gave her the first one I had won during the war, while she gave me the dark blade. It was a long one, I noted. A full hand longer than the sword I gave her. The music played and people cheered as the ceremony progressed.

“Do you, Siegfried, wish to wed Astrid before the eyes of the gods?” The seer asked, and I took a breath.

I didn’t know. “I do,” I spoke the words, duty bound to say them. Then the question was posed to Astrid, whose gaze didn’t waver from mine.

“I do,” she spoke the words, and I genuinely had no clue if she meant them. In response, there was a great big cheer that came from the audience before our hands were tied together and a knot was made. I glanced down at it for a moment, seeing the soft strip of cloth and understanding what it meant.

I had just got married. What a weird thing.

Before I could really register that, Halfdan broke off into a dead sprint. At first, I flinched in alarm, my hand tightening on the blade that I now held, only to see him sprinting back to the town. He wasn’t alone -- Hoffer the Heir was quick to join the race, and I realized that they were racing to see who would serve who for the feast. Both Astrid and I were pushed to follow after them, the slip of cloth that bound our hands together falling away as the crowd went to celebrate.

As luck would have it, it was Halfdan that won the race. A good thing too, since my clan was far smaller than the Hoffers. Jarl Hoffer was joyous as we entered the longhouse to see a lavish feast was prepared. The scent of roasted meats and vegetables greeted me, and I was shocked that the tables didn’t collapse underneath the mountain of food.

Jarl Hoffer was happier still when Astrid grabbed my hand, and started pulling me to the back room. That got more than a few uproarious cheers, “I suppose there’s no need for the bedding ceremony!” I heard someone shout, and I fought off a frown. The bedding ceremony where others would stand witness to ensure that the marriage was consummated. It sounded… uncomfortable, even if I understood the purpose behind it.

“Sorry,” Astrid began, closing the door behind her, bringing us to the room where we would… She set the sword I gave her against the door as a brace. “I didn’t fancy a bunch of scraggy men watching us fuck and I figured we should have a moment of privacy.”

That made sense, I suppose. I probably should have a conversation with my wife, shouldn’t I? At least one. “You didn’t seem very interested in a conversation,” I remarked, watching her take off her crown of flowers.

“You’re hard to talk to,” came Astrid’s blunt reply as she leveled a look at me, or rather, at the sword still in my hand. I took the point and set the blade aside, even if I did want to test it’s edge. “You really have no idea how you appear to people. My father… Jarl Sven and my father were bitter enemies. The story goes back all the way to my great grandfather’s day -- I don’t think anyone knows what caused the rivalry, but for more than a century our families were bitter enemies.”

… “Who is Jarl Sven?” I questioned, feeling a little lost as I searched my memory for the Jarl.

“Who was Jarl Sven,” Astrid corrected, running a hand through her blonde hair. “He was one of the jarls you defeated in that great battle. We had been raiding each other for years. I lost brothers to his kin. He’s dead now, his army scattered… and you didn’t even bother learning his name. Because he’s small pickings for you. I see it. You could conquer Norway, but you won’t because it’d be too much of a pain in the arse for you.”

I scratched at my shaven cheek, not entirely certain how to respond. “I don’t intend to diminish your family. Or rob them of a blood debt,” I tried, but apparently, that was the wrong thing to say because she shook her head.

“It’s not about you trying to diminish us. It’s what you are. For my father… becoming King of Norway was a far-off dream. It always had been. Now, all of a sudden, it’s not. The crown is close enough to touch for you, but you won’t take it because you don’t want it. And that’s… intimidating,” Astrid admitted, her lips thinning as she regarded me.

“I don’t want to scare you,” I told her quietly.

“You don’t. You just… you didn’t try to speak to me, you know,” Astrid pointed out, sounding embarrassed with a bit of red coloring her cheeks. “Didn’t even try to sneak around the chaperone.”

I paused for a moment, trying to think of a way to word it. “I understand that this is a political match and because of who I am, I understand that… refusal can be… difficult,” I told her, and I saw an expression of surprise flicker across her face. “I didn’t want to put you in a position where you didn’t feel like you could say no to me. Or that you thought your father would want you to say yes.”

That seemed to take the wind out of her sails, “Oh. I thought you didn’t like me,” she admitted. “I would understand why. I did insult you.”

“My honor isn't so fragile that words can hurt it,” I told her, looking at my… wife. I didn’t dislike her, but I wasn’t entirely certain if I liked her either, and that was simply because I didn’t really know her. It felt like we were strangers, yet we were husband and wife. I knew that going in, but now that the deed was done, I had to admit, it was a little strange. “Do you dislike me?”

Astrid thought about it for a moment before shaking her head. “No, I don’t. I… didn’t want to be married because I feared what it would mean for me. That my husband would demand that I stay home and weave or have a babe every year. You haven’t done that. I’m not sure if I’ll make a very good wife,” Astrid admitted with a shrug of her shoulders, “I’m stubborn. I’m not particularly lady like. I like fighting and that’s what I’m good at. But I think… I can be happy with you, Wolf-Kissed.”

This wasn’t so bad. “Siegfried,” I corrected, inclining my head at her. “I won’t stop you from fighting. If only because I know you’d do it anyway.” To that, I got a smirk from Astrid. “I think we can be happy. Will be happy. At the end of summer, I will be setting sail for Miklagard, and I don’t know how long I will be there. But, when I return, I will conquer Denmark and become its king. I’ll need people that I can trust… and I hope to count you among them,” I offered.

It wasn’t love. It wasn’t even really friendship. It was more of a partnership with the hopes that more would grow from it.

Astrid paused, considering me for a moment, before her head dipped into a nod before her hands slowly reached up to the laces in front of her dress. “I can live with that,” Astrid decided, “And I think that it’s time we started. Before anyone with their ear pressed to the door gets any ideas,” she said, pulling the string loose and…

Oh… Wow.