Legends Never Die: Celebration (ch. 14) (Patreon)

We lost three hundred men in total, counting those that were too injured to keep fighting. It was a great victory by any stretch of the imagination, but we only had a thousand men so we felt the loss of those three hundred very keenly. Still, it was an obvious win and it was celebrated as such. The dead were stripped of their arms, armor, and whatever wealth they had on them. The Frank camp was raided, granting us a great deal of food.

In the immediate aftermath of the battle, despite the situation with the other half of the army, we celebrated. A feast was held, the dead were burned, and the Franks were left to rot. Otto said rites for the dead Franks to put their spirits at ease for the lack of a burial. It seemed like a waste of time, but when I looked out at the men, I realized how needed it was.

The battle had been hard-fought against incredible odds. I had counted the dead. The Franks attacked with an army of two-thousand and five hundred, and we had killed about thirteen hundred of them, half of their army. All odds pointed to us dying and being routed. People needed some kind of release. So, they drank and ate and howled at the moon. I would have been placed in a position of honor, but I was in my tent.

I held my new sword in my hands -- the grip was enough for a single hand. The pommel was large to balance out a three-foot blade that held a bluish edge to it, something unlike I had ever seen before. The crossguard was a thin bar that was barely wider than the blade that could fit about three fingers in terms of width. It was a sword.

Swords had a special place in my people’s world. They were status symbols -- the only people you saw that had them were Thegns or Jarls or Kings. I shouldn’t have one. I wasn’t a member of Jarl Horrik’s Hird, I wasn’t a Thegn or a Jarl, much less a king. It was taken from the duke I took hostage. Still, whether I should have it or not, I couldn’t deny there was a thrill holding it in my hand that wielding an axe lacked.

I gave it a small swing, a slight smile on my face as it swished through the air. It might not be worth more than that cross I looted, but I had a clear favorite treasure.

In the wake of the battle, I also gained a number of perks and even a few levels. In that regard, I had been right when I thought that I would gain more chances to impress the gods and complete their quests once I left the farm. I had underestimated how much, though.

I reached level ten and I found that unlike stat perks, there were no hold over options, leaving me with three new choices.

Blistering Speed

Strong winds will always be at your back and fast currents will always carry you forward while the shortest path will always be apparent.

True Tongue

When you speak, everyone hears their native tongue and when you are spoken to, you hear their words in yours.

Shadow-Walker

Unless directly looked at, you will blend into the background, making you easy to miss.

The boons the gods offered were an interesting choice. The latter seemed like it would work best for Loki, while True Tongue seemed interesting in nature. However, Blistering Speed seemed the most useful overall. Learning languages helped my Learning Stat immensely while being fast on ships and foot seemed like it could only be beneficial.

I also gained two milestones in Martial; Prowess and Tactics.

Prowess

Strong Arm: Thrown weapons will act under the principles of Power Attack, increasing the range and power of the weapon.

Vital Strike: Weaknesses in an enemy guard become marked.

There were the previous options that were leftover such as Auto-Action, or Steady Hands, or Shatter Defense. It took me a few minutes of thought, but I made my choice -- Vital Strike. Power Strike was exhausting to use continuously and battles proved to last a lot longer than I thought they would. If killing blows were readily marked, then I could use Power Strike less.

Then there was Tactics.

Tactics

Offensive Doctrine: Army will deal increased melee damage when on the offensive.

Defensive Doctrine: Army will have increased melee and ranged defense when on the defense.

Drill Instructor: Army gains more experience faster when being drilled.

All three were good. Great even. So fantastic that I could only see it as the gods doing more than blessing our efforts but actively interfering to ensure that we would win the battle. Because I reached ten in Martial, I gained another perk point that I spent on both Offensive and Defensive Doctrine. Then, with the extra perk I got for reaching level ten, I picked Steady Hands to make Projectile Prediction more accurate.

I was interrupted from my musings when the flap to the tent was opened and Havi came crawling in. He reeked of booze, but there was a content, if slightly drunk, smile on his face as he fell face-first into his bed. "Siegfried… Sieeegg…frieeedd," he muttered, sounding like he was trying to get my attention even if his face was buried in a bedroll. "You… should… go out, little brother! The army is celebratin' your victory!"

I smiled lightly, "I think it's a bit more than just my victory," I pointed out, setting my sword to the side. Havi let out a grunt, a sign that he disagreed.

"That's not what everyone else says!" He said with a giggle. "You… hmm… you, ah, you would think that you fought the battle by yourself! With, how, uh… how people are talking about you," Havi said, letting out a mead-fueled burp that sounded like a prelude to him emptying his stomach. "I always knew you were going to do great things… but I never thought that girls would open their legs for me just because I'm your brother! I think I sired a son today," he continued, completely losing track of what he was talking about.

My Prestige had reached its first milestone with the battle, giving me the level of Distinguished.

And so far, I didn't see any kind of reward for it. It didn't give me a perk or anything like that. But, still, after all my life, I had reached a milestone and I was now Distinguished. However, I felt the increase in other ways. The reason why I was in my tent was because of how people looked at me. There was awe there. As many people called me Wolf-Kissed, there were just as many calling me Deadeye, or Strongbow. I even heard a few call me Blood-Hair and Corpse-Maker. I hoped the last one didn't catch on, even if it was true.

Almost overnight, I became famous. Something all warriors desired because it was with fame that men made their marks on the world. It was something I desired as well, yet now that I had it, I found that I really didn't know what to do with it. It was easier just to stay in my tent and hope no one bothered me.

"I'm glad you're enjoying my fame," I remarked. And I was. I'd much rather have Havi enjoy himself than become jealous of my success.

Havi giggled, "One of us has to! If Haldur was here, he'd be sooo mad…!" He muttered, turning on his side so his words were finally no longer muffled. Haldur was always eager to prove himself. After the raid on the farm, and I was given the farmstead, he left the family to make a name for himself. He was jealous of my success, according to… Kirk.

To that, we both fell silent. My brow furrowed in thought -- I took a major step forward in my mission of making a name for myself. When I accused King Sigfred of murder, it would be answered. I opened my mouth to speak to Havi, only to hear soft snores from him as he instantly fell asleep the moment his mouth stopped moving. I looked at him for a moment before letting out a sigh and getting up.

Closing the tent flap behind me, I stepped out and saw the camp was still in full swing despite the late hour. A bonfire made from some of the trees that were rolled down the hill illuminated the camp, the flames leaping high into the sky. I saw men and women dancing around it, pounding at their chest while they chanted and sang and laughed.

Off to one corner, however, I saw the prisoners that were taken. They were roped together and kept in a cage made of sticks. All of them were men, and I quickly spotted my own hostage kept in the pen. Ageric was a sullen fellow, unable to even think of escape with his broken leg. It was a straight break, which I had personally set, so if he didn’t move much, he should be able to walk again. I also saw Otto speaking to him in a low tone, and based on how his lips moved, I knew he was praying.

It was something he often did. More so when he witnessed the ways of my people.

“Wolf-Kissed!” I heard someone shout before I found myself being lifted into the air on a pair of shoulders. A horn was pressed into my hand and I was being marched to the bonfire. My eyes were wide when people took notice of me with thunderous cheers, people toasting me with such force that half of their cups sloshed out over the rim.

Jarl Horrik and Father waved me over, and I was brought to them before being put onto the ground. I looked for the man whose horn I had been given, but he didn’t seem to want it back because he walked off. Father reached out, rubbing my head. “I was starting to think I would have to drag you out myself,” he remarked.

“It would be a shame for the guest of honor not to show up at a feast thrown in his honor,” Jarl Horrik added, toasting me. I drank the honeyed mead in the horn while Jarl Horrik finished off his. “It was a good battle. A great battle! That Duke of yours should bring you great wealth,” he told me.

Father nodded, “We were just discussing the ransoms we would ask for those captured. A Duke is like a Jarl in terms of nobility,” he told me, surprising me. I thought Ageric would be more of a Thegn -- an honored warrior in charge of a sizable clan -- rather than a Jarl. “And I have heard of Friesia before. It is a rich land. We will ask for a hundred pounds of silver for his safe return.”

I had been in the middle of a second sip of mead when I heard the price that was being asked. The mead went down the wrong way, making my lungs burn as I sputtered, much to the amusement of my Father and Jarl. Father slapped me on the back and said, “Don’t react like that when we send our offer! You’ll lower the price.”

“That much?” I questioned, coughing a few times. A hundred pounds of silver was… I didn’t even know. I could probably buy fifty acres of farmland with that much silver. It was hard to believe that anyone could be worth that amount. I looked over at the man in the pen off in the distance to see him glaring at me, his expression hateful while Otto spoke to him. “I… don’t even know what I could do with that much money,” I admitted.

A hundred pounds of silver. I could buy a ship. A fleet of ships. And pay for warriors to sail with me, if they wouldn’t be willing to already. I could hire farmhands to work with me to further cultivate my land. I could do the same with Father’s farm. I could buy a lot of food so we would never have to worry about going hungry again…

So, that was a lie. I had plenty of ideas about what I could do with such an absurd amount of money. Father seemed to know it too because he laughed deeply, “You’ll find something, lad. So long as you don’t drink and whore it away, then I’ll be proud.”

“It was a good thing you got him when you did,” Jarl Horrik said, sinking deeper into his seat as he gazed towards the fire. “The scout returned with news of Sigfred’s army -- they’re faring well, but the tide of the battle is against them. Their count was about eight hundred dead on Sigfred’s side and half that dead on the Franks’.” That caught my full attention, all thoughts of wealth leaving my head instantly.

Meaning that King Sigfred had lost about half of his army while the Franks lost about a third.

“If we reinforce his army, then we’ll have even numbers,” Jarl Horrik spoke, earning a sideways look from Father.

“If,” he echoed, not sounding surprised but curious what the other option was.

“Or, we could ransom our captives to the Franks, take the wealth that we managed to get, and retreat. This entire war was a trap, and I’ve already lost near half of the men that marched with us,” Jarl Horrik said, not hiding the fact that he would be leaving the other half of the army to die to the Franks. “I suppose we could regroup with King Widukind, but it’s still too early to tell how many of his people he will convince to fight with him.”

Father nodded, “Aye, makes sense. It’s not really our concern in the end.”

“Isn’t it, though?” I asked, speaking up and earning both men’s attention. “When we raided Saxony, I spoke to a slave named Wilfred and he talked about how King Charlemagne would attack us next when Saxony fell.” I spoke, wondering what happened to the man. I tried to take ownership of him when I was given the farm, but he had already been sold. “I spoke to him -- King Charlemagne -- and…” I trailed off, not sure how to say it.

I frowned down at the ground, “I think he would kill us all if he could. It’s not about wealth or land to him. I don’t think, at least. It’s about his god. He won’t accept anything but all of us converting to his god, and if we won’t, he’ll kill us.” That was the impression that I got from him. He didn’t have any Tells when he spoke to me about his god. I might not have the whole truth, so it could be about land and money, but it was also about making people see God’s Light, even if they had to kill everyone that clenched their eyes to it.

There was a small silence to that before Jarl Horrik spoke, “You’re in favor of reinforcing King Sigfred?” He asked me, meeting my gaze evenly.

I offered a slow and deliberate nod. I hated King Sigfred. More than anything. I didn’t want to fight to save him or anything like that. This was just looking to the future because if we didn’t fight now, then we would have to fight later. If the action led to my vengeance, then that was even better.

Jarl Horrik and Father shared a look before Jarl Horrik offered a nod. “Then we shall march to their aid. Should we win… then perhaps we can visit Frankfort, or one of the other Frankish cities. It should be great fun without an army breathing down our necks.”

And, with that, our course was set.

…

After a long night of celebration, in the morning we began to march. The captives and wounded were directed to Sigiburg, including Ageric. I expected Otto to go with them given that’s where I had enslaved him, but instead, he chose to march with us. Those that we left behind to secure the fortress would look after our prizes.

With that seven hundred warriors crossed the Rhine river with the aid of a long rope bridge. It took some time, more so than normal because everyone was about as ill as my brother was from a heavy night of drinking. I was worried about them. They might have needed the celebration, but on the eve of battle, it was punishing them. Still, we made it and began our march to where the battle was being held.

The first thing that I noticed was that the forest was incredibly dense. The trees were so plentiful that I could reach my hands out and brush two trees at the same time with each step I took. We made our way up a hill where the sounds of battle echoed through the air -- screams of men, and the clashing of weapons. That seemed to sober people up as we marched our way up a long hill.

It was next to impossible to really see the battle taking place. It took place on a hill in the middle of the dense forest and because of it, the trees got in the way of letting us get an idea of what was going on. I was an arrows shot away before I saw the Frankish warriors clashing against King Sigfreds army, and I only saw a small part of the battle. It still seemed to be raging, but I couldn’t tell if one side was on the verge of winning or not.

Even still, Jarl Horrik brought a horn to his lips and announced our arrival as our army charged forward. We descended on the Frankish flank, slamming into them. I spearheaded the charge, carving away at warriors to relieve the flank we found. Upon seeing the reinforcement, the Norse warriors took heart while the Frankish lost theirs.

The flank collapsed after we struck it, and I pressed forward into their line as if I were trying to find the other end of it. Again, I had no concept of the overall battle. What I did know was that the trees acted as a makeshift barrier, and because of them the cavalry was practically useless, so I had yet to see it in action.

Sticking with the main body of the army, I found that we enveloped a number of Franks. They tried to push out of the melee to join the others that were beginning to flee, but our warriors kept them in the pocket. Violence was brought down upon them in the forms of axes, spears, and knives. The Franks fought back with all their might, and they surely earned their way into their afterlife with glory, but the more that fell, the lesser their strength.

The battle was the shortest one I had fought yet, I noted, not feeling anywhere near as exhausted as I was after the previous battles. Maybe an hour or less before the pocket of what turned out to be a thousand Franks was put to the sword. Vital Strike was an incredible gift, I found. When I fought an enemy, I saw spots on them that marked where a single cut or stab would kill them, or at least be a fatal strike. As they attacked or defended, the spots appeared and disappeared, relying on me to act on them when prompted.

It was hard to celebrate the victory because I readied myself for what was about to come as I marched into King Sigfried’s camp. My hands clenched into fists with my two axes in hand, following Jarl Horrik as our arrival was met with cheers. And, it was then that we got the message from a familiar face, thegn Ubbe, who had delivered the offer to go on this adventure.

“He’s dying?” I spoke, recoiling from the words I just heard leaving his mouth, the wind taken from my sails and it felt like I lost my footing.

Thegn Ubbe shook his head, “It was a bad blow to the head, but my king is strong. He will awaken,” he said, but his tone was grim. He glanced behind him at the tent behind him, a deep frown on his face. “He has not woken yet,” he admitted.

“How bad of a wound? What happened?” Jarl Horrik questioned, sounding incredibly calm while I was left reeling. What kind of joke was this? I was just about to claim my vengeance, only for the man to take an injury that left him unconscious? It was a cruel twist of fate for it to get in my way, denying me what I desired. What I deserved -- the head of my brother’s murderer.

The Thegn seemed reluctant to answer, peering at Jarl Horrik with barely concealed distrust. However, he revealed what happened with bitten-out words, “He took a seaxe to the face. It’s a bad wound. He lost an eye and his nose,” he admitted, and… that was a bad wound. It sounded like his face had been cut in half. I had seen someone with a missing nose before, one too poor to afford a wood or metal one.

It hadn’t been a pretty sight.

Good.

“He’s been unconscious for the past two days. We were on the verge of retreating when you arrived so, for that, you have our thanks, Jarl Horrik,” Thegn Ubbe said, bowing his head to the Jarl in acknowledgment. Jarl Horrik smiled lightly, stroking his beard in thought. He wasn’t even bothering with pleasantries -- the dislike between the two men was so known that there wasn’t a point.

“What shall you do now?” Jarl Horrik asked, making the Thegn grimace. “The Frankish army has been routed. Between the defeated armies, should they regroup, their numbers should equal ours. If this campaign continues, we will need to join forces.” The reasoning was obvious. As was the response.

Thegn Ubbe eyed Jarl Horrik, “Under you,” he said, an accusation in his tone.

“Aye, under me,” he agreed, near shamelessly. It was clear why Thegn Ubbe didn’t care for it. An old enemy would be in charge of warriors that had likely been feuding for longer than I’ve been alive twice over. I’m not sure that he had the authority to decide one way or the other, either. Jarl Horrik would accomplish his goal. And, I suppose, I would accomplish mine as well, but it almost felt like I had been robbed of it with King Sigfred’s injury. “If you say yes, we intend to march north. My scouts tell me of a city called Cologne based on the Rhine. With our combined forces, I intend to sack it. Then, we shall retreat to Saxony until King Widukind’s army has been raised.”

Thegn Ubbe scratched at his beard, “The other Jarls won’t like it, but they will want blood and wealth for those that were lost in the past days. King Sigfred will be brought back to Hedeby. I can’t say for certain if the others will decide to stay,” he admitted. And, I suppose, overall, the war hadn’t been profitable for most. It sure had been for me, but I sensed that I was an outlier in that regard.

Jarl Horrik smiled, reaching out and placing a hand on his shoulder, a gesture that seemed more intimidating than reassuring. “Then you shall convince them to stay,” he told the Thegn, giving an order that made the other man frown deeply. A tense moment passed between them, their gazes locked in a battle of wills.

Then Thegn Ubbe offered a slow nod. With it, we seized the remaining half of the army.

I hardly noticed as I stared through the tent that was closed, attempting to peer through the hides to see the unconscious and disfigured king that lay within. It was… frustrating. Horribly and maddeningly frustrating to have my brother’s murderer so close, yet out of reach. I was almost tempted to walk forward, throw the tent flap to the side and finish off the murderous king with a single swing of my axe.

But, that wasn’t how I wanted to end it. I wanted to look King Sigfred in the eyes as the life drained out of them. I want him to know that it was me. That I had repaid the murder of my brother. That vengeance was mine and the blood debt had been paid in full.

Instead, I turned away without a word said.

I could wait. The gods wouldn’t deny me my revenge, so King Sigfred would live. He would survive, disfigured and shamed. Soon, he would be deposed and then I would have his head. It would take some time, but it would happen. The gods willed it.

And so did I.

…

Like with the previous army, the wounded and captives were sent to Sigiburg on the other side of the Rhine river while what was left of the army marched onward towards Cologne. King Sigfred’s army had a large number of wounded that needed escorting, and there hadn’t been many prisoners. But, with the shattered Frankish army fleeing in the direction of Frankfort, our march up to Cologne went unmolested. Possibly unnoticed as well. The march took days over the rolling hills that were either covered in trees or tall grass.

Three days had passed before we caught our first glimpse of the city from atop of a hill that overlooked it. There, I saw that Cologne was a city unlike any I had ever seen before, even Frankfort. Unlike it, the stone walls went around all of it. The inside of the walls looked to be densely pact with stone buildings. Some raised above even what the walls protected like one in the center of the city that I saw had a large cross on it. A church. Or monastery. The walls themselves looked rough, crumbling in a number of places. I also didn’t see patrols on the walls either.

Spilling outside of the city was a large village that almost seemed to be the size of Alabu clinging to its walls. Frankfort had been a large city, but Cologne had it beat twice over.

“It doesn’t have walls on the river,” I voiced, picking out the flaw in the defenses. The city also had a number of gates from what I saw. It didn’t really seem like a fortress, not in the same way that Sigiburg or Eresburg did. It wasn’t made for holding off an army. The walls were more a preventative measure, a deterrent of sorts. “And the gates seem lightly guarded.”

“We should move fast, then,” Jar Horrik remarked as we scouted the city in the distance. “Before someone notices us, and they get put on-” As he spoke, the bell began to ring, making all of us tense. “Speak of Loki, we’ve already been discovered!” He snapped, clearly annoyed.

However, I frowned at the city, watching people begin to leave their homes from outside of the city gates to funnel inside. They didn’t seem to be panicked. “It’s not an alarm,” I realized, catching Jarl Horrik’s attention. “It must be one of their saint days. Or their day of worship. I don’t know,” I admitted, “They’re attending mass to celebrate.”

Father huffed, “Prayers for a celebration? Christians are a dull folk,” he remarked, pursing his lips in thought.

“That pet priest of yours came in handy,” Jarl Horrik added, frowning at the city. “If they think that it’s time to celebrate, then they haven’t been warned. They’ll be unprepared. Wolf-Kissed,” he said, turning to me, “Can you take the walls?” He asked me, and it reflected how highly he thought of my abilities that he seemed to think I could do it single-handedly.

And it spoke well of me that it was a possibility. I looked at the walls, scratching at the bite scar on my neck as I did so. I eyed the gates, noticing that they looked like heavy wood. All were open at the moment. The walls were sparsely manned as well…

“I think we should just attack,” I told them, pointing at a road that led straight to one of the gates. “Split up into groups of a few hundred, and just rush the gates before they can close them. Even if one group gets in, then we have a foothold the others can enter by. And I’ll make sure that one group gets in.” I spoke, Father patting me on the back in approval as I spoke.

Quest: Sack Cologne

Rewards: Prestige, 10,000 exp, additional wealth gains.

The gods voiced their approval of the attack, while Jarl Horrik nodded.

“I’ll take your word for it, Wolf-Kissed. Now, go.”