Battle Through the Nine Realms - Chapter 52 - Finding Old Friends (Patreon)

Arngrim led Einar through the maze of streets.  They flowed in a similar hub and spoke style, but there were a lot of smaller circles that ran through the massive town.

Everywhere was a bustling crowd of people, moving things, selling, and buying, clamoring about.  

What caught Einar’s eye the most was the limited number of tattoos he spotted.  Here in the city, it appeared most only had a single arm tattoo.  The warriors who were traveling were the only real Vikings with multiple tattoos visible.

Occasionally, the guards with the emblem of the crossed spear and hammer would walk by, or be standing on a corner, enough visible through their armor that Einar could imagine they had four or five, but even then, it felt off to him.

“Why are there so few tattoos compared to—”

“Later!” Arngrim snapped.  “Not now, just walk and enjoy the view.”

A parade of shieldmaidens had passed them earlier, walking in five rows of four, every citizen staying out of their way. The one in front stood taller than Einar, and her green eyes told everyone she wasn’t above running them over.

Horses neighed and whined as they experienced the throng of people that seemed almost overwhelming.

“The second wall will change some of this,” Arngrim said as he pointed to the gate up ahead.

Swallowing the spit he felt rising in his throat, Einar nodded and watched as they continued to move toward the massive walls.

Having arrived inside the first walls at the port, it felt almost impossible to believe they had built something as tall and strong as those. 

Holes were centered in the walls, currently with wooden panels blocking them, but it was obvious they were designed for some kind of weapon.

“For giants,” the rune crafter said as he followed his young friend's eyes. “It’s been so many years, but a long time ago, giants invaded, and they had to find ways to withstand the assault while firing back.”

“Of course,” Einar said with a shrug, the sarcasm lost in the crowd.

The amount of people walking through the first level of the city felt oppressive somehow. There were children racing around, some playing with sticks as weapons, but it appeared no one seemed concerned about what went on beyond the boundaries.  If food was as abundant as Arngrim said, then all that was left was finding work, enjoyment, and living. It appeared life was far better than so many of the other countries he had done tours in, and yet, something itched at the back of his mind.

The last quarter mile of the way to the wall left Einar feeling the true weight of the structure before him.  When walking toward a two-story house, it doesn’t seem that big of a deal.  Even all of the stone buildings seemed fine when standing up close, but seeing the structure that was five stories tall and running in a circle around the city made everything else difficult to comprehend.

A clear area 100 yards wide was between the last buildings and the wall, preventing anyone from using a close structure as a ladder or a way to hide if trying to scale it.

Surprisingly, the stonework looked almost new, as if the test of time had somehow failed to do anything to weaken it.  Thick stones that were almost five feet tall and three feet wide were stacked on top of each other, running upward.

“Close your mouth,” Arngrim whispered as they drew near the twenty-foot-tall gate.  “You look like a fool.”

When he checked, Einar scowled, hearing his older friend laughing that he had just been joking.

The stem of people going into the second wall was far less, people thinning out as they moved.  Now, it was a few carts with goods, or Vikings on horses, even a wagon full of what he guessed were students had passed them.

Ten guards stood at this gate, all dressed in full armor and bearing the crests of the king on their shields.  A silver and gold woven band rested on their arms.  

“Just walk like you belong. No one will say a word, and stay right beside me,” Arngrim whispered.

Making sure he walked tall and keeping his hands relaxed, Einar strode toward the open gate, past the guards who gave him a glance and then a nod, each of them spotting the armband he wore.

No one came this way unless there was a reason, and who knew why the thegn that had just passed came with someone who looked a little off, but they had seen far worse-looking men getting escorted inside.

Passing through the twenty-foot-thick passage of the wall was even more impressive to Einar.  Knowing they had built a system that supported this weight was incredible.  Giant holes were in the ceiling, each one of different thicknesses, and he could tell there were gates waiting to be dropped down, closing off the inner section if required.

As they passed into the new section, the landscape changed massively.  

The tight cluster of homes, businesses, warehouses, and buildings was gone, now replaced with more space between each stone worked location. More ornate decorations, statues of the gods, and more appeared, and it was no longer just a place where Vikings passed the time but where people really lived.

Tiny gardens and trees sprang up on the properties as they moved into the new section.  

The shops that they began to walk by were designed to attract those with gold to spend.  Even the smell that had permeated the outer wall was gone, replaced by an almost clean smell.

“It’s totally different,” Einar said to Arngrim as they walked.  “Two different groups entirely.”

The older man nodded and grinned.

“We’re not in the area where the academy and guilds train.  There are some very expansive sections, and you need to see them at some point.  Many new Vikings come here, hoping to become trained in the art of magic and rune crafting, not realizing that those in charge are going to keep them suppressed for a lifetime.”

Arngrim began to direct their path, weaving along streets and pointing out a few different things.  Some of the shops seemed impossible to understand.  

“Why are there so many shops for the same thing? Surely there isn't that much of a need, especially inside here.”

Shrugging, Arngrim slowed down, not worried about others hearing as they walked on the street with a tenth of the people before.

“There are different schools here.  Some train to be a warrior.  Parents who hope their child might make it pay everything to get little Ivar enrolled and he will need equipment.  Likewise, the runes you saw for sale are junk, designed to take money.  They are all basic or intermediate at best.  None are worth the stone they are crafted from.”

“If that is how this city is, then what does that mean about the innermost section?”

“There is a reason why Midgard is as it is,” Arngrim said with a groan. “That section is raised from the time they were born to follow the commands of the older ones.  The only good news is that we do not produce more than two children typically per house.  Imagine if most people had four or five kids.”

Einar had learned about the Gunnleifsson family the troll had destroyed. Their having three children had been so rare that many wondered how it had managed to happen.  It was then that he found out one or two were the average number of children.

“So, what is happening with this dwarf group that is arriving? Surely it must be something special?”

“Just wait. We’re two blocks from where I’m headed.  There is a couple I know here, and they owe me a lot.”

Not asking, Einar just nodded and continued memorizing everything he saw, making sure he could remember which way they had gone if needed.

***

“The Mead Hall,” Einar said as he read the sign.  “Seems like a really nice place compared to the Berserkers’ Den we stayed at.”

Chuckling, Arngrim nodded and pointed at the outside of the building.

A stone gate with metal fencing surrounded the property.  

The stone building had clear windows on the bottom floor and the covered porch area with its stone steps led up to two massive doors that stood open, inviting anyone who got close with the smell of food and some music barely coming from inside.

As they walked into the doorway, Einar knew they were not in the places he had grown up drinking and relaxing.  The benches were much sturdier, and the tables were clean.  No smell of sweat or alcohol permeated the place.

A few guards wearing the band of those from the wall were seated at a back table, laughing, and playing a game of dice, not concerned with the time of day.

Darting across the floor with two jugs of liquor was a plump redhead woman who moved with a grace that defied her size.  Tattoos covered her arms, legs and face and Einar immediately had an idea how Arngrim believed he was owed here.

A tall man stood behind a wooden bar with casks of alcohol stacked upon each other in a wooden holding area and glanced at the two of them.

His red hair stood out in the bright light of all the lanterns and then he saw Arngrim, the man’s eyes widening from across the room.

“Runa! Prepare a table for some guests! The one nearest to the kitchen!”

When he had bellowed out the woman turned and for a moment almost looked like she might trip when her eyes fell upon the grinning fool next to Einar.

“Do I want to guess those runes came from you?”

Chuckling, the rune crafter nodded and moved toward the bar.

“Grani Unisson! My name is Arn, and I have heard wonderful things about this place from some friends.”

The red-headed man nodded and held out his arm, clasping Arngrim’s.

A massive tattoo covered the man's right arm as the sleeve moved back, and Einar could see lines showing from his chest. The man glanced at the rune crafter's companion.

“Einar,” he said as he introduced himself.  

“Pleasure to meet you.  Now, please, come and let me get you two something to drink.  Are you going to need a room?”

“One room, two beds and for at least a week, maybe two,” Arngrim replied with a wink.  

He slid a few gold coins across the wooden bar and a smile quickly appeared as the coins vanished under Grani’s palm.

“Well then, I will have Runa get you two a room.  I can have some food brought out if you are interested.  Also, I have my skald over there, he can play something if you desire.”

Einar noticed that near the door was a man who had been hiding in a corner, gently strumming on a harp.

“Not right now but maybe later.  Perhaps later when you are free, I might be able to ask some questions about services provided by your place.”

Grani nodded, an eyebrow raising just a little bit as he studied Arngrim for a moment.

“We can gladly talk about that after a good meal and a few meads.  Now please follow me.”

Having spent a lifetime listening to people talk while trying to be discreet in case anyone was listening, Einar could tell by the tone of both men that something was being said, he just wasn’t sure what it was yet.

Sliding onto the bench across from Arngrim, he kept an eye on the door and was glad to see that the kitchen was visible and close.  The perfect spot to not be snuck up on at all.

“I’ll be back with your drinks and food in a moment.”