Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 34 - Goodbye and Hello (Patreon)

“You’re all seriously going to leave, aren’t you?”

Reinn nodded.  

“Son, you, Einar, and Osvif have your rooms reserved for a month.  By then, you three should be set up with a warband.  I don’t expect to see you more than once or twice this next year.  After you all have risen through their ranks and new warrior program, perhaps you can stop by for a few weeks.  Until then, this is goodbye.”

Magnus saw that Guat almost looked shocked at how his father was cutting things off. 

They had discussed how it would go, but Reinn was set, treating him no differently from any other man or warrior from the village.

Looking at his mother, Guat saw that Bollas’s face was set like his father’s.  Neither was going to change their mind, and it was time for the bird to leave the nest.

“Thank you again,” Magnus said as he held out his arm.  “I am grateful for your kindness, Lendmann Reinn.”

The man nodded and clasped hands before doing the same when Osvif offered his.

Magnus elbowed Guat and motioned to his father.

“Until I see you again then, Father.”

This time, Reinn grabbed his son’s arm and pulled him in for one last hug, slapping him on the back and winking.

“Go be a man and a warrior, you three,” Reinn said, motioning to the door for his wife to lead the way.

All three young men watched as the life that they knew walked out the door to the Berserkers’ Den, leaving them to take control of their destiny from this point on.

“Should I ask what our plans are for today?” Osvif inquired.

“I want to go train and visit the different warbands.  We only have a month to decide,” Magnus replied.

Scoffing, Osvif wagged his finger at his friend.

“Says the guy with five different options to choose from.  I only have two!”

“Then you better decide soon,” Guat said as he pointed at the doorway to the street.  “If we don’t move soon, Einar will leave us behind.”

Walking through the town required them to stop almost constantly, shaking hands and smiling as people wished them congratulations.  Osvif played up the role of the short friend of the champion, telling funny stories about Einar and the things he had done years ago.

All three of them were grateful for the three guards who followed them, making sure that no one presented a risk and helped free them from the throngs that occasionally surrounded them.

“My daughter would love to spend some time with you!” an older woman shouted over the throng, waving one hand at Magnus while holding the hand of her daughter into the air with the other.

“Maybe later!” Guat replied over the crowd. “Right now, he needs to find a new home before he can worry about a wife!”

Laughter came from all those gathered, and Magnus just smiled at the woman, seeing the small glimmer of hope she had vanish as the crowd pushed the two of them away.

“You know, you can easily spend some time with all of these women if you want,” Guat whispered when he got close.  “None of them would complain about a date with the champion.”

Snorting, Magnus shook his head and waved at a few who called his name out.

“I don’t have time for that right now. Besides, if Avitue found out, she might come and hurt them or me.”

All three boys laughed at his statement, enjoying a city that seemed excited to have them there.

***

The three of them stood inside the training walls of the Rogue Raiders, watching the fifty-plus Vikings who were running through drills.  A half-dozen healers stood by as the men fought with real weapons at full speed, blood flowing and men occasionally calling out for healing.

“This is totally different from what we are used to,” Osvif said as he motioned at a man who had just lost a hand. “It’s like every fight is one from last week.”

“Warriors!”

A loud shout came from the man each of them knew was the leader, Farmann Tokisson. This Hersir was sometimes called the boulder because of how he was never pushed back in a fight.  He was a few inches from being seven feet tall like Unnulf was. The man had black hair, and his beard was shaved down the middle, creating two long braids.  A scar ran from his ear to his neck on the left.  Even more intimidating were the tattoos the man showed off. Six could be seen on his body.

“Welcome, Guat, Osvif, and Einar!” the man exclaimed as he rushed forward across the area the men were fighting in.

His words had caused a few of the pairs to halt their practice and cheer at the new arrivals.

“Thank you for inviting us,” Magnus replied as the man came close, each boy shaking arms with the man.

“Bah,” he replied, waving off the words as he motioned for them to follow him.  “Another pair of young men stopped by earlier this morning, but I am glad you three are here now.  Come let me show you around and answer any questions you might have.”

Metal on metal and wood continued to ring out across the 100-yard-long training area, and as they walked, Farmann pointed out a few of his warriors, commenting on how long they had been there and what raids they had taken part in.

Men came over when called, congratulating the three and offering to spar or teach if desired.

As they reached the end of the grounds and came to the long stone building that housed most of the men there, Farmann sat down on the stone steps that led upward and pointed at the ones next to him for them to sit as well.

“Someone will be here with food and drink in a few, but for now, let me ask what each of you is looking for in a warband.”

Osvif looked at the other two, who both gave him the go-ahead. 

“Surely everyone says the same,” the red-headed boy replied with a grin. “However, I want to improve my fighting skills and participate in raids into the realms.  My true goal is to one day be good enough to stand side by side with my two friends as we face down giants of Juton or fight the undead of Helheim!”

Farmann glanced at Osvif and then at the other two and let out a loud, boisterous laugh.  Shaking his head, he wiped an eye with his thumb.

“Not all say it like that, young Osvif, but yes, I can get behind a warrior who is willing to invade the other realms.  Tell me, is it true you three helped face down a troll before your rune awakening and killed three wolves at sixteen?”

“It was actually four wolves,” Guat replied. “As far as the troll, Osvif and I just stood there while Einar did most of the work.”

Shrugging, Magnus grinned as the Hersir looked at him in shock.

“Four wolves versus the three of you, impressive.”

“Well, one did get away, but it was hurt, so I doubt it lived,” Osvif added.

Groaning, the large man snorted and motioned to a young boy who was carrying a tray with some cups and dried meat.

“Now then, let’s have a snack, and I’ll discuss with you three a few things since I at least have some knowledge of what you all desire.

“If you’re seeking a fortune, know that won’t come until you are actually invading the realms, and I doubt I have seen a warrior do that before their twentieth birthday,” Farmann said as he took a cup from the tray.  Taking a drink and clearing his throat, he smiled as the boys realized how good their drink was. “I only pay two silver a day starting out, and you’ll be responsible for all alcohol outside of a special event.  Food is provided at a reduced rate, but as you can imagine, the cost to feed this many men isn’t cheap.  

“Two years of training is what I require before most can go join the warbands tasked with cleaning the forests or protecting against invasions from the other realms.  Typically, those are simple forest trolls, but occasionally, other monsters that enjoy our flesh make it through the barrier or come from other realms.

“Once you pass the final test and have earned enough renown within the warband, you can sign up with the leaders for the raids inside the realms.”

Farmann shifted on his rear, fingering a dried piece of meat between his fat fingers, and frowned.

“I won’t blow smoke up your arse; many men die when they invade the realms.  The power of the creatures that live in them is more than the ones we face on our soil.  Death comes quickly, and often, bodies cannot be recovered.  We all know the cost of such a thing.”

The three nodded, keeping their faces neutral, having discussed all this beforehand.

“Right now, I only have one pack that is actively invading the other realms.  They have had great moments of success but suffered major setbacks as well.  Still, they fight for Midgard and know that we must think the other side as much as possible.”

Setting his cup down, Farmann crossed his arms and studied the three of them.

“Are you willing to wait five years for a chance to be part of a warband invading the realms?”

“We know every warband is the same,” Magnus replied.  “The problem isn’t that. The real question is, what kind of training program do you have? We want to see what you’re doing to ensure every warrior is at their best.”

Cocking his head sideways, Farmann almost said something and stopped, shifting on the step again and then scratching his chin.

“You’re saying you want to know what kind of training we do? Not where we have raided, the runes we produce, or anything else?”

All three teens chuckled and nodded.

“That is exactly what we want to know,” Magnus replied.  “Every warband, if they are honest, are about the same.  Sure, some might have success now but suffer some major blows in a year, falling weaker while another rises.  What matters more is what kind of regiment the warband follows.”

Grunting, the larger man pointed at the men sparring around the field.

“I’m assuming you mean more than what they are doing right now?”

Nodding, Magnus produced a piece of paper and handed it to Farmann.

The Hersir unfolded it and started reading the words listed on it, his eyes growing wider the further down he went.  By the time he reached the end, his mouth hung open slightly.

“Did another warband give you this?” 

Shaking his head, Magnus finally showed his cards.

“I designed that training program for our village.  You think the three of us are amazing. What should come in the next four or five years after they continue to follow what I gave Reinn. Our village will produce some of the best warriors Midgard has ever seen.”

“And you’re giving me one page to, what? Show me you think you can improve on our program?” Farmann asked as he scratched his jaw, his eyes blinking faster than usual.

“Whoever gets us will not just get a warrior who can fight. They also get a warrior who knows how to train with more than just an axe or spear or sword,” Magnus replied. “Even if the three of us end up in different warbands, every one of us knows enough to help improve their new home immediately.”

Guat and Osvif each pulled a piece of paper out at the same time and waved it in the air before tucking it back inside their shirt.

“We like the idea of fighting together over the next two or three years, but we also know that if we each end up somewhere else, then the caliber of warriors across Midgard will be higher, and when it is time to fight and raid, we as a realm will be better off.”

Farmann’s hands moved so fast as he rubbed his chin. Magnus thought for a moment the man might end up bald on the edges.

“Are we the first house you’ve visited and given this talk to?” 

Magnus nodded and smiled.

“If you’re willing, we could run your men through a small sample of the training.  See what they think and if you consider learning more worthwhile. You could try to take that paper and run it every day, but you’d find that in less than a month, it wouldn’t provide the same results.”

“Odin, help me,” the large man muttered as he looked up at the sky. Afterward, he looked at the three teens. “So what will this training you offer cost me if I say I want it?”

Magnus winked and motioned to the field filled with the sound of men sparring.

“Let’s see how it goes first, and then we’ll decide. My only rule is you and none of your men can tell any of the other warbands about what we are about to do or how it turned out.”

Frowning, the Hersir nodded slowly and motioned toward his men.

“Lead the way.”

***

Every Viking gathered laughed when they heard that for the rest of the day, they would take part in a training program that the Champion of the Symposia followed.  

They all stopped laughing after Magnus held up a gold coin.

“Whoever beats me earns this coin.  If more than one beats me, then they can also earn a coin.”

Silence hung in the air as each of them knew a gold coin for a single day of exercise was about the easiest way they would ever earn one.

“Rules are simple.  I’ll lay out the things we’re going to do.  No one will push or cheat.  Osvif, Guat, and Formann will monitor that no one does.  Once I finish, anyone who beats me earns a coin. Those that don't… Well, we’ll just add them to the list of people I’ve defeated this week.”

Laughter came again as many had seen the young man compete and knew he had talent.

“All right, here is what we are going to do…”

***

The horn blew, and men collapsed around the training area as Magnus reached the finish line where Formann stood.  One Viking barely beat Magnus across, being smart enough to pace himself with the teen once he saw the pace the champion set.

Other men lay on their backs, sucking in large amounts of air, sweat covering their bodies, and the dirt sticking to their flesh.

“It was just running, squatting down, standing up, pushing off the ground and sit-ups.  How did it destroy them so badly?” Formann asked, his eyes almost so wide they could fall out with a gentle bump.

“Because they’re strong and in good shape but not in great shape.  Their Endurance is lacking, or they didn’t use their brain like Valmond, who paced himself with me.  Going out too fast wore them out, and nothing was left,” Magnus replied with a grin.  His breathing wasn’t near as fast as it had been just a moment ago.  “Surely you know that in some battles, you need to pace yourself and let whatever you’re fighting wear themselves out.”

Nodding, Formann put a hand on Magnus’s shoulder and then grimaced as he pulled it off, wiping the sweat and grime from his hand.

“I’m interested in doing whatever it takes for one of you to be in our warband!” the man exclaimed.

Laughing, Magnus nodded and then fished in his pant pocket, pulling out the gold coin and flipping it to Valmond.

“Just remember, don’t tell another soul to any of the other warbands about this.”

“Bah, you’re going to repeat this with each of them, aren’t you?”

All three boys started laughing and nodded.

“Something tells me that a gold coin is going to be well worth whatever this is going to cost me,” Formann muttered.