Legends Never Die: Setting the Stage (ch. 35) (Patreon)

Jarl Aldmund hadn't quite managed to get everything into position within the time that we gave him, but it didn't matter. With such obvious bait before the Frank's eyes, even if they suspected a trap, they were compelled to still try to kill me. And because of that fact, they fell head first into it, completely missing the somewhat obvious Norse and Dutch soldiers until it was far too late. The ambush was announced with arrows being let loose from the trees that covered the small valley that we traversed, a small river running through it.

I heard the exact moment that the ambush was sprung because the sound of several hundred galloping horses was intermingled with the sudden sounds of screaming. Both of men crying out as they were feathered by arrows, their horses collapsing as they were struck and sending their riders flying forward to be trembled by those behind… as well as the sound of war cries from the Norse warriors that rushed down to attack the Franks. The river would protect the archers -- at least somewhat. It would make it difficult to attack them, but it wouldn't stop a dedicated force. I just had to hope that they could take care of themselves as I wheeled my horse around, changing directions.

My gaze caught Astolfo's, her face hidden behind a helm, but I saw her eyes narrow at my challenge. She sped forward, my men following behind me for the clash against the Franks, and I met Astolfo in the middle. Her golden gilded spear flickered out, jabbing at my throat, only to be batted away with my Dane-axe. I choked up on the shaft, thinking that it was a poor weapon to keep up with her quick speeds, but it was the only way I could reach her. The first bout was a quick clash as we narrowly avoided crashing into each other, both of us wheeling our horses around to clash again.

"You trapped our trap!" Astolfo accused, mirth on her voice despite their poor positioning. Her spear flickered out, becoming little more than a blur and forcing me on the defensive. I noticed that the shaft of her spear was covered in reinforced metal -- the neck of the spearhead extending far longer than it previously did. She noticed that I had been attacking her spear. Inconvenient. However, it also explained why her strokes seemed so much slower. Before, I needed two weapons to keep up.

The extra weight to the long neck slowed her considerably. Astolfo was still firmly well beyond the realm of men, but she couldn't completely overwhelm me with her speed anymore.

"Of course we did. Ageric isn't as clever as he thinks he is," I remarked, our weapons clashing between us with such speeds no other dared to interder. For every one slash I managed to throw at her, I was forced to block ten more. Astolfo was just as good at defense as she was at offense, able to deftly counter my attacks and avoid the full force behind them.

"Hehe… is there something going on between you two? Ageric thinks you're obsessed with him or something. You kidnapped him twice, and now you're invading his homeland…" she trailed off, and I narrowed my eyes at the insinuation. She was trying to make me angry. She was trying to make me slip up.

"You Christians have been slaughtering our people in Holland. It is only natural that we would arrive here," I snapped at her, overextending dangerously to force her to block a blow that bucked her horse back. The white steed found his feet, and Astolfo surged forward to meet me again. "Was he there for it? The massacre of Verdan? Were you?" I questioned, blocking a thrust at my heart and liver and urging my horse forward. With a spear, she still had the advantage of reach, but the closer I got, the favor tilted my way.

Behind her helm, I saw her eyes narrow. "We weren't, but would it matter if we had? You people have been slaughtering your way across Francia, killing thousands and displacing more. I thought better of you, Seig. Did you really think vengeance cuts only one way?" She snapped back at me, the speed of her thrusts picking up, forcing me to relent the attack and remain on the defensive. "My king hasn't repaid this so called blood price even half way yet. The only difference is that the ones he killed all died in one place."

I snarled at her, urging my horse forward despite the flurry of attacks. Both of us were pushing harder -- when we last fought, I had been overjoyed to find another one like myself. Her gift from her God was different than mine, but I finally found a warrior that I could call a peer. Now, however, the battle was personal. "He slaughtered children. Babies," I spat at her.

"You're a damned fool if you think you rebels haven't butchered children. You just didn't see it Seig. It doesn't make them any less dead," Astolfo replied, making me grit my teeth in response. That was a point I couldn't argue. At least not in good faith. How many burned out villages had we come across? How many people died in the sacks that I paved the way for? I knew it happened. I saw it happen with my own eyes. And I still did it again and again because I had a reason to.

The right of the victorious. That is what my father called it. And when I found myself in charge of a mercenary band, I accepted it. Simply because scaling back, limiting myself… would have been counterproductive. It would have made things more complicated, it took longer, and it could mean less wealth. Above all else, it seemed difficult. It was why I never seriously tried to impose any kind of discipline over my mercenaries. So long as they obeyed my orders, I was fine.

But now that fact was being thrown in the face of my righteous anger over the butchery that took place in Verdan, and I was less sure if I really had the right to call it righteous anger.

My guard slipped and I felt the sharp sting of her spear cutting my arm at the shoulder. It was a shallow wound, but it would prove troublesome since it was my sword arm. "It wasn't right," I returned, ignoring the wound.

"Was slaughtering people cowering in a church?" Astolfo shot back at me, her spear darting around. Now she took jabs at my legs, and gut, forcing me to move the arm and worsen the wound. "What was done to your people was cruel. I won't deny you that. However, you are looking for compassion and fairness in war. We did to you what your people have done to us. There is your fairness."

I blocked a last jab at my throat before backing off a half step. Blood quickly soaked through my sleeve and I focused my awareness to the odd hundred feet around me. Astolfo was left unsupported. The rest of the cavalry was in pitched combat and slowly being whittled away while the rest of the Frankish army was slowly advancing. That, I saw from horseback. The battle lines would be messy, but with their cavalry committed and losing, and our position, I felt good about our chances of winning.

Taking in a deep breath… "Aye, you're right," I told Astolfo, making her lower her spear a fraction. "I apologize for my words, Paladin Astolfo. They were misplaced and undeserved."

It was a point that was slowly being hammered home ever since I swore vengeance. Something that was crystalized when Alef attacked me in the Saxon camp. Astolfo said it best -- vengeance cut both ways. As much as I could claim it upon others, it could be claimed upon me. Calling the massacre of Verdan unjust and vile completely ignored our own actions. It was hypocritical and that wasn't something I could deny.

"Ah?! Well, I wasn't really expecting an apology. I accept it, though. Arda was right about you. You do have a strange sense of honor. S'not too late to be friends?" Astolfo offered, but I shook my head. I wouldn't just abandon my oath. No, I wouldn't just cling to the idea that the Franks were morally unjust for what they did. I wouldn't use it as a justification for everything that would come next.

"I will not fight for King Charlemagne. I gave my word to King Widukind, and above all else, I will not fight for a God I do not worship," I refused outright. I would not become a Christian. How could I be when I had never even spoke to this God, and while my own gods acknowledged me? Astolfo seemed unsurprised, but a tad disappointed. "However, I shall accept your offer of friendship. So long as you understand it shall change nothing about this battle."

"Eh?! Not going to hold back on your buddy?!" Astolfo asked, spinning her spear. She reached up and shrugged off her helmet, revealing a grinning face. I liked her, I decided. Despite being led head first into a trap, locked in combat without hope of support, she smiled and laughed without any traces of fear.

"Of course not. You are a worthy warrior. You deserve a warrior's death," I told her.

And my gods agreed.

Quest: Defeat Astolfo

Reward: 1 Prowess perk.

Bonus Objective: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.

Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.

That was a first, I noticed, dismissing the quest from the gods with a thought. A clue would be my reward? For a legendary item? What could it mean? My thoughts started to jump to possible answers -- perhaps a legendary sword? Or perhaps a magical ring or necklace? I felt an eager thrill at the mere thought of it. But I was forced to shove those thoughts away as Astolfo urged her horse forward. Before I should think of rewards, I should earn them first.

With renewed vigor, the two of us clashed once again. Sparks flared where our weapons clashed between us, our weapons moving in blurs to the men around us that couldn't help but to look on us with awe. The battle around us was taking shape -- the rest of the Franks having arrived. Out of the corner of my eye, I saw what was left of the cavalry break off to start crossing the river, either intending to attack our archers or flee, but they became targets. Astolfo's smile never wavered, no matter what, despite my suspicion that she was just as aware of the battle as I was.

The cavalry was done for, leaving a pitched battle in the valley. The river secured one flank, but as far as I could tell, it was half fought in the forest and half fought in the valley flats. It made it next to impossible to really tell what was going on around us. Thorkell had a good head on his shoulders. Halstien too. The only one that I was worried about was Halfdan. I would be damned if I lost another brother on the battlefield.

Only Astolfo was keeping me here. She punished my stray thoughts -- tagging me again in the thigh -- but I managed to respond with a power attack that I forced her to block. Her horse cried out as the two of them were forced to shuffle back, Astolfo's eyes widening. "Oh, I cannot let you and Roland meet!" She announced, visibly shivering at the idea before urging her horse forward once again. Our third bout.

Despite taking two wounds, I felt as if I was winning the fight. It was slow, hardly noticeable, but Astolfo's thrusts weren't as fast as they had been. The added weight from her spear head was firing her out. It couldn't be more than two or three pounds at most, but even an extra pound of weight could be exhausting with repetitive tasks. Especially if you weren't used to the weight. It was something that she wasn't unaware of either. Her expression became a little more strained and sweat building on her brow.

If I couldn't break her spear, I would have to wear her down. It would mean I couldn't help much with the battle itself, but we had enough of an advantage that it should be fine.

Urging my horse deeper into her guard, blood flicked off of my arms with each movement, trailing down my forearm. Astolfo's smile became fragile, sensing that I was winning, and she desperately tried to ward me off. She gave ground, edging closer to the river and picked up the speed of her attacks to keep me on the defensive. However, slowly, for every one attack I managed to throw out she managed to send nine… then eight… then seven. Each blow I delivered, all blocked by her, rattled her. The last Power Attack I delivered to her guard nearly unhorsed her and it might have if her horse hadn't shuffled back to the edge of the river.

I saw her considering her options, keenly aware of the archers that were now at her back, but she had no choice but to keep them there. I could see her thinking about fleeing, or commiting to a suicidal charge to take me out with her. The archers would feather her before she could cross, and she knew it was just as deadly to turn her back to me.

She was trapped, and she knew it-

Almost as if to save her, I saw a red trajectory line up with my chest. My gaze snapped to the source of it, throwing up my Dane-axe just in time to block the blade. The arrow impacted with thunderous force, the flat of the blade slamming against my chest while the arrow itself seemed to explode on contact. My horse shuffled back, neighing while I locked eyes with the person that shot me.

"That archer. I never learned her name," I remarked, inspecting my axe to see that the second deep groove made an X. She was soaking wet, telling me that she swam across the river and now she was hiding on the other side and firing deadly accurate arrows. That… that wasn't something that I could leave alone. She had to be taken out.

"She's Arda. A paladin of Charlemagne. She's determined to kill you," Astolfo admitted, taking advantage of the lull to catch her breath. "She arrived not long after you attacked Worms and she impressed King Charlemagne with her resolve. He granted her his blessing and she was acknowledged by God." She elaborated, and that caught my attention.

"Could she shoot like that before her blessing?" I asked, making Astolfo tilt her head.

"Dunno?" She said, playing dumb, seemingly realizing that she said too much. That all but confirmed it for me.

Charlemagne. He was the source of the Paladin's strength. It was different than how my favor worked. I was uncertain if Charlemagne spoke directly to his God, like I did, but it seemed he had the ability to empower those that he acknowledged. There had to be some kind of requirement or limiting factor. Otherwise, every single Frank we fought would be as strong as I was. It was valuable information.

"You asked me if I spoke to God when we last met," Astolfo voiced, her own tone suspicious. "Do you speak to your gods?"

"Who knows?" I didn't answer. Astolfo didn't seem surprised. However, we both knew this was the end of our duel, so she reached down and put her helmet back on. I threw myself forward, dodging another arrow aimed at my eye. I had to defeat Astolfo first and quickly because I wouldn't be able to handle them both for long. Or even briefly when I felt the feathers of another arrow tickle my ear as I leaned my head out of the way while I tried to shift Astolfo between us, only she seemed keenly aware of her positioning. Which made her hard to dislodge.

However, refusing to move worked against her as much as it helped her. She had nowhere left to go, and as I pressed the attack, I drew blood for the first time with the edge of my axe cutting her forearm. A shallow wound, but a clear sign that the tide of the battle turned against her. With Astolfo's face hidden behind a helm, I couldn't see her expression, but her gaze was serious. Mine was as well when I saw movement out of the corner of my eye and a horn blowing. One of our horns.

The sound of victory.

The battle was too short for it to be a massacre, which probably meant Ageric had called the retreat. They committed to the battle to save the cavalry, but they were already lost. Not to mention, it was a poor battlefield for them. The army started to surge forward, intent on giving chase to the Franks, but that wasn't what I noticed.

A group of horsemen were crossing the river. A dozen of them.

Directly to Arda. Their bravery was commendable, but what terrified me was the fact that Halfdan was leading that charge.

Gritting my teeth, I swallowed a command for them to hold. I couldn't shame my brother like that. I just had to pray to the Norns that today wasn't his chosen day.

Astolfo tried to seize my momentary lapse in focus, her spear going for my throat, but I batted it away with a forearm, a deep gash splitting the skin. Even her spear wasn't normal. Flipping my axe, I reversed my grip and swung at her head. Her spear almost managed to make it back, and it would have if I hadn't grabbed hold of the shaft, nearly costing me the flesh on my palm. The slight delay in her guard was all the time I needed, the back of my axe striking her at the temple and with enough force that Astolfo was unhorsed. She crashed to the ground, the spear falling from her grasp, and she didn't move.

Quest Completed: Defeat Astolfo

Reward: 1 Prowess perk.

Bonus Objective Completed: Defeat Astolfo without killing her.

Bonus Reward: ⅓ clue for a legendary item.

Bonus Reward: In the long shadow of the throat of the world.

I didn't pay the reward or the single stanza any mind in favor of looking out to Arda. I urged my horse forward, throwing my hands out wide and tossing my axe to the ground.

Shoot me. Please shoot at me instead of Halfdan.

Despite the distance between us, our eyes seemed to lock. I saw the fury in her gaze and how her lips thinned. Arda’s eyes flickered down to the horsemen that were galloping before her before her gaze went back to mine. I tried not to swallow thickly, waiting for her to make her decision… but I knew the instant that she did. She abandoned all thoughts of stealth and took aim with her bow, the arrow lining up directly at my chest. The projectile prediction lined the arrow up at my heart that pounded in anticipation.

I saw the second that it flew free from her bow, just as Halfdan arrived. His axe struck out, catching her in the neck, killing her. She chose to die for the opportunity to kill me.

As soon as the arrow left her bow, I reacted, slamming a hand into the path of the arrow and feeling it land in my grip. Despite catching the arrow, it still continued on, pushing forward through my gambeson and chainmail.  All the way until I felt a small prick over my heart before the arrow went still.

Arda, huh?

I'm glad that I didn't kill her at Worms. She got the warrior's death that she richly deserved.

…

We won the battle handily, I learned after it was done. The dead were counted and we lost less than ten on our side. The Franks, however, lost closer to three hundred. They were still a fighting force to be reckoned with, but Jarl Aldmund decided to call it a victory seeing as most of the dead belonged to the Frankish cavalry. Ageric wasn’t keen on pressing the battle and quickly retreated out of Holland altogether and we soon learned where they were going.

The Franks were marching into Holland. The armies that they had sprinkled throughout the kingdom were condensing at a city called Antwerp. Our scouts were practically tripping over one another since both sides were cautiously watching the other -- King Widukind gave the order to march across the river, using the foothold that we secured. It took more than a week to march twelve thousand warriors across the river since so many feet turned the dirt into an untamable muck.

That time, for me, was spent preparing for the battle to come. You could almost feel the tension in the air as everyone knew that the coming battle would be the one that decided the war. This was the last of the Saxon’s strength, and if we crushed this army, then King Charlemagne would be a fool to do anything but sue for peace. Otherwise, the Saxons would sweep across Francia like a tide. Likewise, should the Saxons lose the battle, then that would be it. There was no hope of continuing the war.

Astolfo was taken prisoner by me. As a Paladin, she had a unique value to Charlemagne that I was hoping would be paid in gold when it came time to ransom the prisoners taken on both sides. Regardless, it would mean we would face one less paladin in the coming battle. Likewise, Halfdan had been honored for his kill of Arda. He took her bow as a trophy -- a metal one that had gilded gold adorning on it. He couldn’t draw it, despite all of his efforts.

Neither could I, for that matter. A true testament to Arda’s strength as an archer.

While the battle in Holland had been small, with the loss of two paladins, much had changed. Our efforts were praised and we all waited for the moment that we all knew was coming. The moment when King Charlemagne decided to march.

"We have chosen our battlefield," King Widukind voiced in the Dutch city, standing at the opposite end of a long table that had King Ageres on the other end of it. The nameless count -- who I was starting to think he didn't possess a name at all because everyone simply knew him as the Count -- stood next to him, gazing upon the large model of the chosen terrain on the table. "Despite our number advantage, King Charlemagne will be forced on the offensive. Time works against him here."

The terrain was vaguely familiar to me. Mostly because I recognized the burnt twigs that represented the scorched forest that I had set alight to cover my horde. On the other side of the scorched forest was a wide and long hill with a slight incline, with a river to one side that protected a flank. It wasn't what I imagined when I pictured the battle, and King Widukind continued. "Between our numbers and a great advantage in terrain? King Charlemagne would be a fool to attack when defeat is certain. However, with a slight advantage? We can tempt him into attacking. Do you agree, King Ageres?" He asked, looking at the boy king.

He glanced at the Count, who spoke. "The Saxon King requires your approval of his plan. He says that the battle cannot be won without our brave soldiers."

In the past day that I had been here, I heard a great many things when no one knew I spoke their language. They spoke rather freely when they thought I couldn't understand, and didn't know I had learned their tongue in a mere three days. That had landed me a nice amount of Intrigue experience. I think Loki would approve. Above all else, I had learned that King Ageres didn't receive a single true translation. Something I told King Widukind.

"The barbarian king has it. I hope to see my brother on the battlefield. This entire plan of yours will be quite pointless if he survives," King Ageres remarked, sounding bored and uninterested. I tried not to look interested at what they were saying -- such a thing would give me a way. When they felt comfortable speaking their own tongue, certain no one knew it, they dropped hints here and there. However, they never went into specifics.

As far as I had learned -- Ageres just wanted his brother dead to secure his claim.

The Count didn't reply, "King Ageres conedes to your plan, King Widukind. However, he requests that the Dutch warriors shall be placed on the left flank." He said in Germanic. The Dutch offered three thousand warriors in total -- a considerable amount, but a small fraction of our army.

King Widukind glanced down at the table, "Very well then." He agreed easily enough. Too easily. He had his own plan and he had remarked more than once that he could put no faith in the Dutch. Not after learning that someone was relaying information to Ageric on where to target our people. However, I said nothing and merely waited for the decision to be made. "Grimar shall be in the right wing, along with the rest of the Norse warriors. I and my people shall comprise the center."

The right wing was protected by the river. I would have expected to be placed in the center.

"These Paladins are of great concern to me, but there is little we can do but anticipate their disruption in our formations. Wolf-Kissed, you and your mercenaries have freedom of movement. You are tasked with blunting whatever damage they can do," he instructed, earning a nod from me.

There was too much unknown. Too much to calculate… and too much depending on this battle.

But, all the same, we agreed to the plan, knowing that the future of our ways depended on it.