Legends Never Die: Oath of Vengeance (ch. 17) (Patreon)

“He’s waking up,” I heard someone say as a low groan escaped my throat, the pounding in my head waking me up. It felt like someone was using the insides of my skull as a wardrum. I felt something being pressed to my lips, but I spilled it against my face when I turned to the side. “It’s water. You need to drink,” I heard another voice say and with the utmost reluctance, I parted my lips and let the water flow into my dry mouth. My tongue felt swollen, and my throat caked in sand, yet the moment the water reached my stomach, I felt it clench.

Before I had even drank more than a gulp, I found myself leaning over to vomit, only for nothing to come out. It was only then that I noticed that I was covered in furs, and in a bed. Peeling my eyes open, I saw I was in a familiar house just before my gaze met an equally familiar golden-eyed gaze.

There was fear in her eyes. Her expression was sorrowful. My brow furrowed, “Morrigan… is… everything alright?” I asked her, my voice coming out as a croak as I started to straighten up. My head still pounded, and I felt strangely cold for being covered in winter furs. Morrigan looked away from me as she stood up. Was her mother…

Wait…

“What about the feast? How’d I get here?” I started to wonder, trying to grasp at my last memories but they shifted in my hands like smoke, slipping between my fingers. The last thing I recalled was listening to Jarl Horrik tell a story, then Jill… Jill said that I was poisoned? Then I passed out, but that didn’t explain why I was here with Morrigan.

Morrigan turned her back to me, saying nothing. I searched her back for a long moment, then my gaze began to catch details. We weren’t inside the cottage that I had built for Morrigan on the property. We were in the Wise Woman’s hovel and I was in the ancient woman’s bed. It almost appeared the same the last time that I saw it -- the same old wood, the effigies, and herbs hanging from the ceiling, only the herbs appeared old and brittle. It didn’t make any sense.

My farmstead was a two-day journey from the city of Alabu. The Wise Woman’s hovel was even further. How did I get here? And why was I here, sleeping in Morrigan’s mother’s bed?

“We… were attacked,” Morrigan began, her voice slow and heavy. There was a weight there that she didn’t normally speak with. “After you left. About half a month,” she continued, and my heart began to clench in my chest. “They came when your brother was unearthing trees. He… wanted to surprise you, t’is my thinking. That you would come back to find another acre of farmland ready for cultivation.”

My throat tightened up, “What happened?” I asked her, pushing the covers back. She didn’t even turn to face me when I just about collapsed when I found that my legs didn’t have any strength within them. I felt ill. A sickness seeping into my soul as a taint poisoned my body.

“Your brother Tormond is dead,” Morrigan said, turning around slowly, and she seemed to be on the verge of tears because of it. “T’is the fate of all those that were on the farm. I merely heard screaming early one morning, and when I stepped out… I saw a dozen warriors come out of the trees to attack your farm. Like the ones that had done so before. They all died. The farm was burnt down. I… am so sorry, Siegfried.” She told me as I sat heavily on the bed, reeling from her words.

My tongue felt clumsy in my mouth, a hand dragging down my face. “Kirk was murdered during the battles in Frankland,” I spoke, and beyond my weakness, I felt something ignite inside of me. Something that filled my veins and nestled in my stomach like a fire. “Then someone tried to kill me,” I continued, my voice slow and deliberate.

Someone was trying to murder my family. Tormond was dead. Killed. While I was away. Kirk had his throat slit during a battle from behind. I had lost two brothers this year.

This time, when I rose to my feet, I found the strength to keep standing, “Where is my Father? We need to get to the farm -- our family is being attacked,” I said, not bothering to dress myself and simply wrapped a hide around my waist. It was then that the door opened to the hovel, and to my surprise, I saw it was Jill, still dressed in her feasting clothes. Her lips parted when she saw me, and I noticed that she was dirtier than I last saw her. Her skin was smudged with dirt and soot.

“Jill?” I questioned, very confused. Why would she be here?

“You’re awake!” She exclaimed, rushing forward and nearly knocking me off my feet when she embraced me. Burying her face in the nook of my neck, I looked to Morrigan to see that she was looking at the ground. I had never seen Morrigan like this. It wasn’t like her at all. Morrigan was haughty and fierce, always looking someone in the eyes and proving that her tongue was a sharp as a knife. More than anything else, the change in demeanor worried me.

“I am? What’s going on? Where’s my father? Where’s Havi and the others?” I asked, wanting to get a grasp on the situation and I almost wish I hadn’t when Morrigan spoke, meeting my eyes. She didn’t spare my feelings. She told me the truth, no matter how much I wanted for it not to be true.

Morrigan was blunt, yet not unkind when she answered my original question, “Your father and brother are dead.” Her lips thinned, “You were placed on a ship and sailed to your farm. I know not what transpired, but your father and brother were left behind in Alabu-”

“My brother poisoned you,” Jill interjected. “Well, he didn’t personally, but it was done on his orders. When your father found out that it was him… he went into a rage, Siegfried. He attacked Thorfinn, he was going to kill him when Havi told me to run away and join you. He… didn’t follow me. I joined your warband on the ship they took because I accused my brother, and… he… they…” Jill trailed off, pulling back from me. She didn’t need to say it. Morrigan already had.

My Father was dead. Tormond was dead. Kirk was dead. Havi was dead.

Swallowing thickly, I nodded. Without speaking, I began to dress. Jill and Morrigan watched me with worried expressions, uncertain on what to do or if they should try to help. I managed to dress myself with my own strength and I began to walk. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw them share a look before slowly following me.

Thorkell was outside of the hovel, who spared me a look up and down when I left the building. He offered a small nod to me, and at that moment, I could tell that he understood. He understood that clumsy words could never hope to convey. He fell in step behind me, and I saw the others had remained with us. I came to a stop, taking in a deep breath of air.

“All of you have a choice,” I began, looking at Thorkell and the other men, then to Morrigan and Jill. “No matter what you choose, know that I will harbor you no ill will. My family has been marked for death,” I spoke the words and they tasted so very bitter.

Why? Why would the gods allow this to happen? Was I not favored by them? Did they not shower me with gifts and boons? What kind of punishment was this? For what? Did I not do well enough? Did I fail them in some way? If they were going to punish me, then they should punish me. They… my family…

“The Jarl will have made my family full outlaws,” I spoke, not understanding it. I wanted to scream. I wanted to cry. Yet, I couldn’t. Not yet. I would weep when the blood of my enemies soaked the earth and their screams of anguish filled the air. “The laws of men will no longer apply to us and any who carry our blood.” That would be the punishment for attacking the family of a Jarl in plain view of everyone.

The situation was messy and I didn’t really understand why things happened the way they did. Why would Thorfinn try to poison me? Had he been the one behind Kirk’s murder? Because I couldn’t see why King Sigfred would have Tormond killed and my farm destroyed. He just didn’t gain anything from it. But, for that matter, I was unsure what Thorfinn could gain by killing me or my family. Their actions seemed almost senseless.

Because this had started before my name had been known. It had been the attack on the farm that brought attention to me. I wasn’t the cause of the grudge against my family.

“Our property will be seized. To that end, I have nothing I can offer any of you,” I told them, making Thorkell smirk. Perhaps that might not be as true as I thought, but the point still stood. “All of you can return to your lives and chances are, we will never meet again.”

I took in a deep breath and let it out, “Or, you can come with me.” I didn’t elaborate. I couldn’t promise them riches. I couldn’t promise them land. I couldn’t even promise them glory or honor. Because by associating with me, they would find themselves outcasts in society. My enemies were many. I was uncertain if King Sigfred was still on that list because now I considered that Thorfinn had been the spy.

Thorkell stepped forward and patted me on the back, “I already told you -- so long as there are no sieges, I’d follow you to the edge of the world. And over it, if that’s what you wanted,” Thorkell proclaimed, surprising me with his quick decision. I swallowed thickly, not wanting to shame myself by weeping. His words spurred the others to voice theirs -- the men of my warband quickly proclaimed their loyalty.

“My family will hate me for what I did. My brother… I will not be welcomed home,” Jill admitted, holding her head up high. She had always been rather quiet, meek even since she had run away from me once. I was pleased to see that beneath that was a core of strength. “I have nowhere else to go. I would like to come with you if you would have me.”

My gaze slid to Morrigan, who looked away. I thought that might be her answer before she let out a frustrated sigh, “The debt you owe is still withstanding -- home and hearth. I shan’t allow you to so easily shirk your obligations.” She said, and I smiled, my spirit feeling a little lighter. I wasn’t alone in this.

But, I would soon learn how untrue that was.

…

I could barely look at the farm. The house that I had built was reduced into blackened wood and ash. I didn’t look upon the graves for the bodies, though I was glad to learn that Morrigan and the others had taken care of it while I was unconscious. The only reason we went to the farm was because it housed the ship that had been stolen from Alabu. Luck would have it that it was Thorfinn’s ship, and it was loaded with the treasure I had earned during the war. I suspected that it was there because Thorfinn planned to steal it.

The men loaded up, and once again, we found a strong wind as the currents helped us forward. Even anyone noticed the unnatural current, then they said nothing as they rowed while I gathered my strength. And prepared myself for what I could find. My farmstead was a two-day journey, but my father’s was a day and a half from Alabu. However, it was only a handful of hours by ship.

It had only been a single night since I had passed out and been poisoned. If Jarl Horrik sent the order to seize my family’s home right after the attack on his son, then I could be several hours too late if he sent someone from the sea. Or, I could be back just in time.

There was a powerful silence as we sailed to my family’s home. Twice, I had sailed this river to sail up to Alabu. I knew the signs that we were getting close. My mind wandered despite my attempts to focus. I tried to figure it all out, but it felt like I was missing pieces. Like I heard a tale without the beginning, middle, or ending parts that gave any context or lead up to the conclusion.

Thorfinn’s actions didn’t make any sense. At all. Even ignoring everything he said to me, I couldn’t find what would motivate him to hate my family so much. Had my father done something? Had my brothers? Had I? What blood feud did he have with us? To the point that he might have acted as a spy for King Charlemagne -- how many had died because he warned the Frankish King if it was him that did so?

Even if he was plotting against King Sigfred, which was the only thing that could explain why he would betray the army, it still didn’t explain… why us? Why did he hold such a grudge against us?

I wanted answers. Jill might have some. However, by the time I was willing to break the silence that filled the ship, my heart plummeted when I saw smoke drifting up even before we rounded the curve of the river. It felt like an incredible weight was being pressed onto my shoulders, and like the poison that still flowed through my veins, it seemed to grip my throat and rob me of my breath. No one said anything as we continued towards the source of the smoke, all of us knowing exactly what it meant.

As we rounded the bend, I saw a familiar beach where I would lay my fish traps. I saw that they were still out. I also saw an unfamiliar ship moored on the beach, and my heart began to thunder in my chest. Standing from where I sat at the back of the ship, I strode forward while we approached the beach, Thorkell knowing our destination without words. With no hesitation, I leaped from the boat, landing in ice-cold waist-deep water.

The gods were very cruel, I decided, walking onto the beach, clenching my axes that I had ready for this exact outcome. All of us had our one day. The day that we would die. It was decided the moment that we were born, or even before then. I understood that I couldn’t blame the gods because it was my family’s day. No one could deny fate. However, it was so cruel. So very cruel to be given such gifts that had such a terrible cost. To give with one hand and to take with another.

I walked up a familiar path, my feet carrying me to my destination because they knew the way. It was a poor time to think it, but I hadn’t seen my mother in over half a year. Neither Brandr nor his wife Asta. I never saw my nephew either. Nor my sisters. Nor Ida. There hadn’t felt like there was enough time, yet now I realized how utterly worthless the time spent on the farm was. All that effort to impress the father of the man that attacked my family, who could have been aware of that plot… who would have labeled me an outlaw.

What a waste of time. I should have just stayed with my family.

My spirit was in my waterfilled boots as I stepped through the treeline, seeing my home. The home I spent most of my life in. The fields looked burnt, the crop having grown a smidge. They were clear and it was a familiar sight. It felt more like home than the house I built.

Then I heard laughing.

My body moved before I put any thought to it. I heard a great many voices. Around fifteen, if I had to guess. I entered the property of my childhood home, my feet taking me up a familiar path, drawn forward by old memories and the sounds of good cheer. I nearly missed a step when I caught sight of a body in the doorway, collapsed there in a pool of dried blood. I hardened my heart for what I was about to see, but it didn’t make the sight of Brandr’s corpse any easier.

A hack at the chest, near the heart. The first blow would have killed him, but he was ravaged with a dozen more. I stepped inside of my childhood home, almost feeling like a stranger, even as I heard laughing from the men that sacked my home. They jested and cheered, filling my chest with a terrible anger. But, even as I entered my home, I didn’t see another body. I saw that my home had been ransacked, but I didn’t see the rest of my family. No blood was spilled upon the ground or a corpse.

I didn’t dare let hope blossom inside of me, knowing that it may not mean anything. I could still stumble across the bodies of Solveig and Helga. Of Mother and Ida. Of Asta and her babe, Arne. Or Halfdan and Haldur.

Stepping out of the home, I rounded the corner to see that the rest of my warband was creeping forward to prepare an ambush. I didn’t bother with that. The weakness in my body was gone, replaced with something raw and intense. The men that did the deed that were feasting around a fire, a slaughtered pig on a spoke. They helped themselves to my family’s supplies, all of them merry. All of them enjoying themselves. They were seated in a circle around it, and my gaze slid over them all -- all of them were well-armed. Shields, spears, axes, and scale mail.

“Are you the ones that attacked my farm up the river?” I spoke up, making the men flinch as they leaped to their feet, all of them missing me in their own enjoyment. I looked between their faces, looking for someone that I recognized. I found one. A warrior that had been on the raid to Saxony before the war last year. Actually, I recognized a couple of them. These…

These people were Jarl Horrik’s hird. Some of them, at least.

“Aye,” one spoke up, a man around Brandr’s age confidently stated. “That was us! The Wolf-Kissed has handed himself to us,” he said with a smile. Though, he seemed a bit puzzled when I smiled back at him.

I let out a small breath of relief, “Really? That’s good,” I decided, giving a small nod of my head. “That’s good. If it wasn’t you, then I was going to butcher everyone in Alabu. Just to make sure that I repaid the blood debt.” I spoke, my voice cold to my own ears.

Kirk. Father. Havi. Tormond. Brandr. The rest of my family was missing.

That wiped the smile off of his face, prompting another to speak up. Baldur, I believe. “Your father attacked the Jarl, Wolf-Kissed. Blinded his boy. His daughter was kidnapped,” he said, his gaze sliding to someone behind me. Jill, in all likelihood. “Your family has been branded as skalgamores.”

I tilted my head, “That’s fair,” I agreed, and instead of reassuring Baldur, that just seemed to make him more nervous. “But the attack on the farm was before we were branded skalgamores.” I pointed out, looking to the younger man, who shifted where he stood.

He offered a shrug. “It… we were told to make it look like a slave revolt,” he said, but that didn’t answer why. Why? Why did this happen? Why was my family killed?

“Don’t tell me yet,” I told him, holding up my axe to stop Thorkell’s approach with my warband. “I want to torture the answers from you first,” I said. Rage didn’t feel like I thought it did. I thought I knew what rage was back when Kirk had been murdered. When my veins had filled with fire, anger tainted every thought, and nothing could lift the foul mood I was in.

This was different. I wanted them to hurt. I wanted them to suffer. I wanted them to scream in agony as they died.

So, I did. The poisoning weakened me, but it was more than made up for the white-hot rage that flowed through me. It was a fool’s errand, even still. The only thing that saved me was the fact that none of them were prepared to actually fight. Most of them seemed varying degrees of being drunk. But, my gifts from the gods made all the difference.

An image of my family flashed in my mind…

And then I was surrounded by corpses.

My mind didn’t go dark like some men spoke of when they had too much to drink and they lashed out as if possessed by an evil spirit. I could feel it when I hacked the men apart, dragging my blade over one’s stomach to toss his entrails into the bonfire. Or when I broke another’s leg, bracing a foot against his ribcage and pulling with all my might to tear the limb clean off.

I was aware of all of it, but it felt like someone else was doing it. Blood soaked my clothing, it covered every inch of my skin and dripped from my axes in a steady stream. My chest heaved with exertion, my body felt sore and beyond it, I felt the stinging pain from a number of wounds. Looking around, I just saw bodies. Some of them looked like they had been ravaged by a wild animal.

But, not all of them were dead. I saw the man that had spoken earlier, the member of the band that had attacked my farm.

He crawled back, his eyes wide with fear. “You-” He started, but his voice failed him. His mouth moved like he was saying words, but no words came out. He just crawled away from me, his face one of absolute terror. Even tears started to form in his eyes.

“That’s no good,” I told him, striding towards him. “How are you going to impress the gods like that?” I asked him, wondering where that confidence that he had a minute ago went. He soaked his own trousers based on the wet spot between his legs. He’d run, but I don’t think he was capable of it.

“I’m sorry,” he forced out with a small shake of his head. “I-I’m so sorry.”

I frowned, crouching down in front of him when his back hit the wall of my burnt-out home. “No. Not yet,” I told him, holding up my axe. He flinched at the sight of it, and when I pressed the edge of it to his throat, he whimpered. “Do you have a name?” I asked him, and my voice sounded odd to my own ears.

“K-Kjell,” he answered, making me tilt my head.

“Kjell?” I echoed. It sounded like all the emotion had been drained from me, leaving me empty. “One of my sisters was going to marry a man named Kjell. He was supposed to be a renowned warrior.” I observed, my gaze running the length of him. “Is that you? Were you going to marry my sister?”

Kjell shook his head, “That’s not me.”

“It is,” Thorkell spoke up, his voice so serious that I could only compare it to when he made me vow to never bring him to a siege. “He bragged to everyone in Alabu that he had been engaged to the most beautiful redhead girl in the entire world. That he was practically a thegn with the dowry that your father gave.”

I nodded, “Hm.” I grunted, my gaze meeting Kjell’s, and now tears did fall from his eyes. Some warrior. Weeping like a little girl, disavowing his own name to save his skin? Coward. Spending eternity in Hel was too kind for his like. “I’m going to ask you a question, Kjell. I’m only going to ask it once. After that, I’m going to kill you. Do you understand?” I asked him, pressing the edge of my axe against the soft flesh of his belly after pulling up his gambison.

Kjell nodded fiercely, seeing a way to live. I’m not sure why he would want to after disgracing himself so thoroughly. He took part of a raid against the family whose daughter he was supposed to marry. “I don’t know where your family is! Th-the only one that was here was the man -- you’re elder brother! The rest of them were gone before we got here!”

The ice around my heart started to crack at the news. They could be alive. They got out. Why would they be gone? Could they have heard about the raid on my farmstead? Did Brandr send them away for their protection? Then why was he alone? Why didn’t he go with them? Why-... Brandr and the others wouldn’t have known about Kirk, Havi, or Father. They would have just known about the attack on my farm, if that was what sent them into hiding.

Brandr stayed behind to prove to Jarl Horrik that he was no coward. Fleeing the farm entirely would have been just as bad as being raided. He stayed behind so he would be able to tell me - our father -- what was going on and where our family was. Meaning… he died for nothing. He died with courage, but for nothing and he took our family’s location with him to the grave.

The hope in my chest started to wilt. I had no idea where I would find them. Eventually, they would hear that our family was branded skalgamores. Should I search for them? Could I even find them if I tried? Or would that just put them in danger? My family hadn’t been physically branded as skalgamores, which would force them to live on the edge of society. Meaning that they could go up to villages and settlements to live, but that was dangerous.

My mother… if she was still alive, then she would go away. Far from the lands of Jarl Horrik, where our red hair stood out. A place where they would be out of his reach. However, that was most of the world. My time in Saxony had shown me how small Jarl Horrik’s holdings were. Even the Kingdom of Denmark that King Sigfred boasted.

I wasn’t certain what to do about that. What I did know was that I needed to get a message to Horrik. “Thank you. Now, I want you to give Horrik a message to me. Him and his bastard son,” I snarled at him, withdrawing my axe from his belly.

Kjell breathed a little easier, “I can do that for you! What do you want me to tell him?”

“I want him to know that everything I do to you, I will do to him. I will do it to his sons. I’ll inflict it on  everyone that gets in my way to him,” I told him and that hope bled away before the screaming began.

Rage was a powerful thing. As was hate. It could make you do things that you never thought that you were capable of. I always had an odd relationship with cruelty -- I never really had a taste for it. To most, I was rather soft-hearted and they weren’t wrong. However, what I had a problem with was cruelty that served no purpose. That was just harm inflicted for the sake of inflicting harm.

This was very different. This was a message.

I carved out his eyes. I cut off his cock and balls. I shattered every tooth that he had. I cut off his nose, his ears, then his hands and feet. I seared the wounds shut with fire. Emergency Aid came in handy because it made sure I didn’t kill him on accident.

When I was done, I turned to Thorkell, searching his gaze for a moment. I didn’t expect the nod of approval that I got. Jill, however, looked like she was going to be sick.

“It’s not too late for you. Jill, your father had my brothers killed,” I told her, making her flinch. “I don’t blame you for that. You probably saved me. But… I’m going to kill your family. Can you really accept that?” I asked her, making her shy away.

She seemed to hug herself, her lips pressing into a thin line. She seemed to struggle for words for a moment, but I was stunned when she started to nod. “My father never cared for me. He only showed any love for his sons… he never cared when Thorfinn beat us. He… was always a very cruel brother. I don’t think he knows how to love.” Jill rose her head, “but he was mistaken thinking that I would always be afraid of him. So… I don’t care. Do what you will with them. As far as I see it, you are my family now.”

I didn’t really know how to react to the proclamation. I wanted to be happy, but the emotion just wouldn’t come. I offered a nod to her, and she seemed a bit sad that I couldn’t return the feelings she had. But, she didn’t look upset. I think she understood that I wasn’t in the right mind to return them. I liked to think that I would.

“What do we do now?” Thorkell asked me. “I’m all for attacking Alabu and killing the Jarl and his spawn. Never much cared for him.”

I knew. I knew exactly what I had to do “I’m going to wait,” I said, and that caught Thorkell completely off guard. I knew what Jarl Horrik wanted. He told me as much. And because I knew what he wanted, I knew how to hurt him. To crush him. To make him suffer in a way that was beyond physical -- to inflict a loss that he would feel just as keenly as I did the loss of my brothers and the scattering of my family. I hated him now. The respect and admiration I felt for the man turned to a vile poison. I hated him more than I did Thorfinn, simply because what Jarl Horrik did felt like a betrayal.

“What do you mean, you’re going to wait?” Thorkell asked me, sounding stunned.

“What do you intend to do?” Morrigan asked and I took in a deep breath, pushing my mane of red hair back and considering it. I knew what I wanted to do, but I wasn’t sure how to go about it.

“I’m thirteen,” I reminded them. I was nowhere near my majority. Even under normal circumstances, I was still two years away from being considered a man. And I suspected that I wouldn’t be treated like one for another two years then. “Jarl Horrik intends to become king of Denmark. He was going to use me to help take the crown.”

Morrigan got it first because I saw a hungry look in her eyes. “And you shall take the crown from him,” she breathed, a smile curling at her lips. Thorkell scratched at his hair, frowning in thought but he didn’t seem opposed to the idea.

I didn’t really care about being king. I never really wanted to rule over anyone or anything like that. I had been content with the farm. With the knowledge that my family was taken care of and never had to worry about hunger. Now, I wanted the crown. I wanted Jarl Horrik to know that it was me that took away his life ambition, something that he had struggled to obtain for decades. Because what was crueler? To labor for your entire life towards a goal and never reach it, or to finally achieve it, only to have it ripped from your hands with barely a taste of success?

To do it, I would use the lesson that he taught me. “I’ll build a reputation first. I’ll need money too. And warriors. It’ll take me years, but when I return to this land, it will be as a man grown with an army at my back. Then, I’ll take the throne from him. I will take everything that he had ever worked for and desired and loved from him.” I said, envisioning it in my mind. My reputation as a warrior would be easy to make, and word of it would travel through the merchants and veterans of battles. “My family is in the wind. When they hear of my deeds and exploits, they will come to me. They will find me.” I repeated, willing the possibility into existence.

Jarl Horrik would hear of the tales of my deeds. And he would know fear because he knew that I would be coming for him. At the same time, the rest of my family would as well. And they would hope.

“Renown, gold, and men…” Thorkell said, leaning back as he seemed to be thinking of something. I looked at him, wondering what was with his reaction, then he snapped. “Aha! I remember now! I was in a tavern ages ago, and some pissant kept talking about a place called Miklagard. A city so rich that they pave the roads with gold and they have flowing rivers of wine and walls so high they touch the sky. He said that he had a cousin that made a fortune down in that land acting as a mercenary.”

Morrigan scoffed, “T’is the tale of a drunken lout,” she dismissed easily, earning a cheeky grin from Thorkell.

“All tall tales start with a grain of truth. The streets made of gold and rivers of wine are a lie, but at the very least, it has tall walls around the land. And when one has riches, one has many enemies that desire said riches, so there is mercenary work aplenty.” He said, and Morrigan opened her mouth to argue, only to find that she couldn’t. I wouldn’t call the logic sound, but it made sense.

I took in a deep breath and let it out, “Then we set sail for Miklagard,” I decided before turning around to look at the house.

“But first… a funeral.”

…

Fun fact time -- this was actually based on one of my CKII games I played. Basically, when I first started out in Denmark, my first character had a garbage intrigue stat. Because of it, he was pretty much instantly assassinated. Then so was my firstborn. Then second born. Then third born. Then my OG character’s wife. Then my fourth born. Then a number of concubines.

My entire dynasty was dropping like flies and I could just barely pump out kids faster than my characters dropped. In the end, I ended up having the character that would be Siegfried under the tutelage of the person that had the highest intrigue stat I could find -- which was 30 something.

The assassinations continued until I ended up playing as that character, and when he came of age, the assassin was revealed by his sister blabbing about it. Turns out, it was the guy I had my character study under. Entering the debug menu, I saw that the guy had spent forty of his sixty years focused on exterminating my dynasty. And I have absolutely no clue why. The reason why I never suspected him was because I thought we were cool -- always had a positive opinion of my characters, the guy wasn’t insane or anything. He just really wanted my dynasty dead before it could take off.

I like to think that he was a time traveler that saw what the future held. Not the case in this story, however. Some events have been tweaked for maximum drama and suspense.