Chapter 1: Sigurdr af Munso "The First"
Disclaimer: I do not own Crusader Kings 2 or any other Paradox Game
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**770 AD**
Jarl Sigurdr 'Ring' af Munso only truly felt alive when he had a blade in his hand. He thrust through an enemy soldier serving his enemy, King Hjörvardr of Austergautland, and ripped his sword away just in time to block a sword heading towards his midsection. He may not be as skilled as the almost mythical soldiers in the Wolf Warriors society, but he was a warrior and he would prove it to all who oppose him.
"Commander Cat! Bring your troops around the flanks and slam into their side! I'll keep them distracted!" King Sigurdr yelled to the foreign man who had become his closest friend and greatest commander. His voice rang out across the battlefield, and he and his soldiers slammed into the enemy lines once again, allowing their bloodlust to take over.
In what felt like hours but was surely only a few minutes, Sigurdr saw Cat and his lightest troops surprise the enemy and kill a large amount of them before they could even react. The front line did not last much longer and soon the enemy army was in a full retreat, only a few loyal soldiers staying behind.
Sigurdr couldn't help but respect the men, they knew as well as he did that this was the final battle of the war. This army had been their last hope, Sigurdr had burned their capital and had taken the queen as his concubine, their last option was to face him in the field and hope that someone got a lucky shot in.
One of the soldiers who stayed behind wore a steel crown and bared his teeth when his eyes found Sigurdr. He was about the same age as Sigurdr at 30 years old, but he had a long beard while Sigurdr was bare faced and he was short while Sigurdr was tall. His blue eyes shown with madness and his brown hair was unkempt and ragged, with patches being torn out.
"Where is she? What have you done with my wife you bastard?!" King Hjörvardr yelled, his grip on his axe tightening in his fury.
"I expect my concubine is recovering back in Uppland," Sigurdr said with a smirk, finding some humor in Hjörvardr's worried face. "After all, she did just give birth." Hjörvardr charged at his last statement, but was tackled by Cat, who was more Norse than Cathar in Sigurdr's opinión.
"Now, now, don't do that. Look, I'm a just man so I'll make you a peace offer. All of Austergautland will be annexed by Sviþjod, I will become the new King of Osterland, every last soldier, vassal, or commander you are lord of will be transferred to me. In return, you will not be imprisoned and killed in the most painful way I can imagine and your wife and children, or those that survived, will be returned to you. Accept and know that I am a man of my word and all of this will happen. Refuse and it will all happen anyway, only your entire dynasty will be destroyed until nothing remains but old tales around campfires, understand?"
Hjörvardr said nothing and simply nodded, tears in his eyes as everything his ancestors had worked for was taken from him.
"Do not worry ex-King of Austergautland, you will be provided a nice home on the coast where you and your family can live for the rest of your days. History will not forget you, they will always remember you as Hjörvardr, the first man to be defeated at the hands of Sigurdr, future King of Sweden," Sigurdr smiled as he stood and left his old enemy behind. He had no time to dwell on past wars when he had so many more to wage.
**772 AD**
Jarl, no, KING Sigurdr smiled happily to himself as he looked over the ceremonial clothes that had been made a dozen years ago when he decided on his goal. It was a large fur coat with a large red cloth over it with the symbol of Sweden proudly displayed on the center of it. On his left side was a golden sword and on his right was the Axe of the Af Munso. His chain mail was barely visible under his coat but the silver amulet was shining across his chest. He had bought some of these items and stolen the others, but they all combined to form a stunning image of the most powerful Norseman in the world.
Yet there was still one thing missing.
Sigurdr left his home and walked outside towards the bustling port city of Uppland. While the other Norse leaders were building better defenses and castles, he had been building ports and marketplaces in all of his cities to become the richest man in Scandinavia. They had all laughed at him and compared him to the weak southerners who wouldn't know what a sword was if it stabbed them, but it was Sigurdr who prevailed time and time again, not them.
He walked through the crowd silently, his smile almost blinding in front of all the admiring stares and wistful sighs that followed his slow pace towards the center of town. In the middle of the crowded marketplace was a wooden platform with three chairs. In the middle was the largest chair, with furs and gold covering it to show how powerful the man who sat in it was, and in front of it was a stand with a crown made of pearls. To the right of the chair was one only slightly smaller, where his beautiful wife sat. She was angry at him still, he knew it would be a long time until she forgave him for his unfaithfulness, but even she could not ignore the importance of that day and she gave him the first real smile he had seen in year. Finally, to the left of the chair was the smallest of the three, where his heir, Ragnar af Munso, sat staring at his father in open admiration.
Sigurdr calmly walked towards his throne, sitting down in it slowly, almost as if he didn't believe what was happening. He grabbed hold of the crown and sat it on his head reverently, his ears instantly becoming bombarded with applause and cheers.
After decades of dreaming and scheming, he had finally done it. He was finally the King of Sweden, the first King of Sweden. As he looked over the happy crowd, he couldn't help but allow his mind to wander. He wondered if they thought that this was where his ambition ended, where peace would finally return to Scandinavia.
He didn't have the heart to tell them that he was just getting started.
**778 AD**
King Sigurdr coughed violently as he stared down at yet another book about diseases in the world. He had refused to close his gates when a Smallpox epidemic ravaged the capital county of Uppland and now he himself had contracted the illness. He refused to die so soon after achieving his goal of uniting all of the tribes of Sweden under one king, so he had gone to his extensive library to search for something, anything that would help him.
He growled his annoyance to the world as he threw "Diseases and Cures of the World" across the room in his rage. He had accomplished too little to die so soon, he needed to survive at any cost. With that thought in mind, he stood up abruptly and stomped towards the court physician. He reached the room and slammed the door open, his mouth open and ready to bombard the doctor with questions when he saw his son on the stone table in the center of the room.
Suddenly everything else in the room seemed obsolete. He didn't see the bottles lining the shelves of the lab, didn't see the doctor's weary face, didn't even notice the medical supplies and the stench of sickness in the air. All he saw was his first born's pale face and shallow breathing.
Silence filled the air for a few moments until the king finally asked the doctor how his son was doing.
"He'll be fine, I just finished treating him. It will take some time to learn just how successful it will be but I have a good feeling about it. He should live," the doctor said, wiping sweat from his face as he wrote down a few sentences in one of those books the physicians always seemed to carry around.
"However, I can't really say the same for you sire. I know you said that you wanted me to treat your son before I even thought about helping you, but the disease is only worsening. I'm afraid that normal methods of treatment just won't work anymore."
"Well, what do you suggest doctor?" Sigurdr asked wearily, coughing into his hand roughly.
"Come, sit down in that chair and we'll begin the treatment immediately," the doctor said in an emotionless voice. Sigurdr sat down and before he could react, he found himself being restrained to the chair with leather straps underneath the armrests that he didn't notice. "I must warn you sire… this may hurt a bit," the doctor said as he pulled out a small knife and inched it towards the king's eye. Ragnar would remember waking up to his screams for many years.
**783 AD**
Sigurdr stared at the book in his hands blankly as he tried over and over to read the first page. No matter how many times he looked over the page with his one eye, the words did not seem to register in his mind and he was forced to accept what his new court physician had told him. He was infirm, his mind had been damaged after the emotional and physical trauma of losing his eye as well as the countless battles he had fought in and his old age had also damaged it beyond repair.
He had fallen into despair not long after hearing the news. His great mind, the one that was consulted by men and women all over the world and renowned for being one of the greatest since those southern philosophers was gone. He had tried several methods of gaining back what he lost, but it only seemed to get worse. Just the other day he had forgotten his sons' names, all of them except for Ragnar.
Ragnar… he would be the greatest king that Sweden would ever know. He could see it in the ambition and dedication that shown in his son's eyes whenever he spoke about the kingdom. He was brave, diligent, honest, strong, and so many other things that were needed in a great king.
Sigurdr knew he was not a great king. He thought that he was a decent one, his subjects had few complaints, but no-one would remember him as anything but the first. There would be greater kings after him, better and smarter kings, and he knew that his time as a king was over. He knew it was time for him to die, but he refused to do so like fate had intended. He would not die a weak old man laying in his bed, he would die a warrior and live again in Valhalla, where he belonged.
His mind made up, the first king of Sweden stood from the table he was attempting to read at and found his most loyal scribe. He had him write a message and send it by raven to an old 'friend' before the king left Uppland for the last time.
Two weeks later, on the same battlefield where the first steps to becoming king were taken, Sigurdr found himself facing Hjörvardr for the last time. They both wore their old armor, neither of them had been in battle for several years, and each held a sword at the ready.
Hjörvardr looked at Sigurdr in what must have been pity for a few moments before finally speaking. "You're dying," he said simply.
"Yes, I have been for sometime now…" the king said solemnly his hand brushing over the strip of cloth that covered his ruin of an eye.
"I once prayed for that night and day you know… Until I saw what you had turned this land into. If you hadn't taken over the surrounding territories, Saxony, Denmark, or, gods forbid, Francia would have. I respect you King Sigurdr," Hjörvardr said in the same solemn voice he held for the entire conversation. Suddenly, his blues eyes turned as cold as ice, just like they had been 13 years ago and his voice was no longer solemn, but cold, "But despite that, I will never forgive you for what you've done. Today I will avenge my wife's honor and my children's lives, prepare to die 'Ring'."
No more words were spoken, they were warriors and had no more need of them. Instead they allowed their swords to talk for them as steel flashed through the air. Sigurdr blocked an above strike before kicking his enemy in the stomach and slicing off his left arm while he doubled over. He raised his arms to deal the final blow, thinking about how he would have to find a new person to kill him, when his mind failed him for the last time and he stood there with a blank look in his eyes.
If Hjörvardr felt any shame or dishonor in using this distraction to kill his enemy, he didn't show it as he used all of his strength to slam his sword into Sigurdr's stomach. The two stared at each other for a few seconds before the fell to the ground with a loud thud.
On the same field that the legend of Sigurdr af Munso began, Sigurdr died along with his enemy. However, while the tale of Sigurdr 'Ring' af Munso ends, the epic saga of King Ragnar 'Loðbrok' af Munso begins, changing not only Scandinavia, but the entire world.
**Excerpt from 'The History of the Scandinavian Empire' by Ake Mutel circa. 2043**
King Sigurdr 'Ring' af Munso was the first af Munso to ever live, and was also the first king of Sweden. He spent his entire life battling and conquering everyone who fell into the de jure territory of Sweden and he would be remembered as one of the few kings who never lost a battle. While today he is seen as a war mongering brute, back then he was seen as a hero. He united the Kingdom of Sweden which dissuaded Saxony's plans to invade the region for gold and resources, which would have affected the Norse culture in its entirety.
Some historians argue about how his life ended. Some say he died in his bed while his mind made him forget everyone and everything around him. Some say that he died in battle against the Empire of Francia, bringing down 100 enemies until a stray arrow ended his life for good. However, the most accurate tale comes from King Sigurdr himself, who had a scribe write in his journal his plans to fight his long time enemy in an attempt to die with a sword in his hand and a smile on his face. Despite how he died, one thing remains certain, his death led to the ascension of the greatest ruler that Sweden has even known and the simple transition of power to only one of his sons instead of splitting the kingdom among all three of them would set a standard for the transition of power until the end of the Scandinavian Empire in 1568.
King Sigurdr will not be remembered as the strongest king, the smartest king, the richest king, or even the worst king. But without him there would be no Scandinavian Empire or af Munso family. Without him there would be no tales or legends of Ragnar 'Loðbrok' or Porgil 'The Holy'. Without him, the world as we know it would be unrecognizable and I for one will always respect the story of Sigurdr af Munso, the first King of Sweden.
Author's Notes:
So I thought of this idea while playing as Sweden in Crusader Kings 2. I plan on making many more chapters about the other rulers and I will change how the chapters are laid out from time to time. Some may be written just like this one while others might be said from a historian's point of view or like a legend told around a campfire. Anyway, I hope that you enjoyed this story and please rate and review so I can improve it.