For Oaths and Blood: A Viking Campaign

by SpartiateDienekes

After the murder of their father, a clever young jarl, his charismatic and strong brother, and their fierce adopted sister must make impossible decisions and fight brutal battles to protect their family and keep their honor. Yet the more they fight they each must choose which is more important to them. Rated M for violence and gore

14. Mission 13: King of the Danes

Fror looked over the walls surrounding Harald's Hall stood strong. The wood and stone of the finest craftsmanship, the most modern techniques the Danes knew. Some ideas taken from the Christian's of the south and built up over the decades of Ivar's power. He did not want to be slaughtered by an army in his own home, just as he had done to Harald the Golden.

It seemed just to Fror that now Ivar hid in this hall, waiting to be slaughtered. No, not just. Whatever this war was, it wasn't just.

"What are you thinking?" Bjorn said, finally breaking the silence between them. Fror turned to look at his younger brother and immediately turned away. He could not bare to see the purple lines that crossed his face that would never heal.

"How to get past the walls."

"You can't."

"No, I most certainly can. I climbed larger walls."

Bjorn gave him a side glance. "From your time with the Easterners?"

"They prefer 'Nihon.'"

"If you say so. But everyone here just calls them Easterners." Bjorn squinted at the walls. "Your ability to climb them isn't what I doubted. You know what Alfhild is saying."

"She can't be the first to climb the walls!" Fror said, "For the hundredth time she can barely walk." Perhaps it would have been best to have just let the old crone die on the battlefield. Certainly she could be useful for what comes next, but now? She just had a knack for making everything difficult.

"She has her pride," Bjorn shrugged. "But brother, I don't know why we need to do any of this. When I was a prisoner-"

"I'm sorry," Fror shook his head. "I should never have left you. I thought you were dead. I saw the berserker drag you down." Why am I saying this? Does it matter what I thought? I was wrong. I failed him. "I'm sorry, I should have stayed. There's so much I should have done to keep us from this. I've made more of a mess than you know."

"Yes, you have," Bjorn grabbed Fror and pulled him into a rough embrace. "But we're together, again. And we won't abandon each other. And there is another way. Ivar and I, well, we talked when he had me prisoner. He told me he didn't kill father."

Fror nodded. "He would say that."

"I don't think he was lying brother. He thought I was captured, that I was as good as a dead man. Why would he lie about this?"

"I don't know. Ivar's cunning for all his other faults. But even if he's telling the truth. What does it matter?"

"What are you talking about? If he didn't kill father, then none of this needs to happen. We have the wrong man. We could offer terms of peace. We have a position of power here, we could make him agree to let us live in Giertvedt in peace."

No, Toshimo needs the king of the Danes killed, and I will not give up my position when I'm so close. But that's not what Bjorn needed to hear. "You think Alfhild would ever agree to that?"

"No."

"Then why bring it up. We can't let our minds wander about what could be, we need to focus on what's happening now."

"Because this is wrong."

"I gave you my oath, we will find our father's killer, and we will have vengeance. But we need to not lose here. I need you on my side Bjorn. We can't wait for Alfhild."

Bjorn sighed. "She's my Jarl-"

"Yes, I know, you owe her your life and you vowed to serve her. But, you must see what's happening here. Ivar has called up all his Jarls and freemen. They will all be marching here, and they will destroy us. We need to move, now."

"I can't. I gave her my oaths."

"Your oaths will get us all killed."

"If that's what fate has in store for us, then that's what will happen."

Had trying to reason with Bjorn always been this difficult? "Will you, at least, try to convince her that we need to move. We can't wait for her wounds to heal."

"I'll try, but I can tell you now that she won't listen to me.'

Fror sighed. "Very well, you sure picked a difficult woman to follow."

"Seems that's my lot in life, brother. I pick a jarl and all I get is difficulties."

"I-" Not much Fror could say to that. It wasn't fair? It's not his fault? No. Most of Bjorn's problems come from him, directly or indirectly. "I'm sorry, I never meant for things to go this way. And Helgi. I heard, and I-"

"Just don't. I'll tell Alfhild and I'll try to convince her you're right. But don't get your hopes up." Bjorn walked back from the walls toward Alfhild's tent.

He'll have to fix this. With Maeva and Rokr dead, the only persons he truly trusted in life were Bjorn and Bester. And Bester was not with him. He needed Bjorn by his side, he didn't know how low he'd fallen without him.

Later, he'll tell him, something. He'll figure it out later. Now, he just needed to figure out a way to get at Ivar before he calls all of Daneland upon their heads.

He heard a few shouts in Nihongo and Dane back by the tents. Sighing, Fror headed back to the tents to deal with the problem. Hashiba and one of Alfhild's huskarl, Olmo Fror thought his name was, glared at each other over a broken bowl of soup. Oh good, I had feared it would be something pointless.

"Foul dog, you would dare to touch me and my property?" The samurai said in Nihongo.

"I can't tell what you're fucking saying!" The huskarl said.

"Your language is as ugly as you are." The samurai placed his hands on his katana and pulled the grip just enough for the metal of the sword to flash before the huskarl.

"Listen, squinty-eyes. That was mine, you pushed in front of me. I won't be treated like that. Thormund, give me my sword. I'm going to teach this runt respect."

"Thormund, don't give him his sword," Fror stepped between the two warriors. "Hashiba please hold your blade." He said in Nihongo.

"This doesn't concern you, Deceiver." The huskarl spat. "You're not my Jarl."

"True, but for now I'm there's."

"Then your man disrespected me."

"Daimyo Fror," Hashiba said. "I have this handled. I do not need you siding with these pigs. I will not be taken advantage of by barbarians."

Fror shut his eyes and took a breath. "Olmo, it is soup. Did he strike you physically?"

"He struck my hand!"

"Then I will pay you a quarter of your wergild myself. Do you find that suitable?"

Olmo gave Fror a suspicious look. "You will pay?"

"The standard amount. From my own hand."

"Where is it? Where is my wergild?" Olmo stood tall. "You don't have it."

Fror frowned, he'd hoped that Olmo would be a little dumber than this. "I don't have the coin with me."

"Thormund, my sword!"

"I am bored by your arguing. Stop getting in our way, Daimyo Fror. I will bleed this pig, myself."

"You're not helping Hashiba."

"My intention is not to help."

"Olmo, your wergild is right in front of us." Fror pointed toward Harald's Hall. "Made by Harald Golden, his treasure the greatest in living memory. Protected these long years by our enemy. So long as we don't kill each other now, we have all that gold and silver in our reach."

"That is not wergild. That is plunder, which will be divided among all of us, by the old ways. As my Jarlkona always does."

"Yes, but Jarl's take double, and I am a Jarl."

"A Jarl of nothing. Giertvedt is a ruin, and your thralls now belong to Alfhild."

"Yet I remain a Jarl, and so long as you step away here, I will grant you half my plunder."

"Half?"

"Half. You will be getting the share of a Jarl. What other huskarl can say the same? And what plunder awaits us. Think Olmo, a piece of Harald's Hall!"

Olmo paused. Fror watched as the huskarl's beady eyes tried to calculate how much that was before giving up. Olmo stepped forward and held out his hand. Fror grabbed his arm, and they both nodded. "I will not forget your debt to me, Deceiver."

"I would not expect you to. But I have a favor, to ask for this gift."

Olmo's eyes narrowed. "What favor?"

"I will need you Olmo. You are mighty and fierce, the other huskarl's respect you." Well, the first part wasn't completely a lie.

"This is true."

"Do not pick fights with these foreigners. Their ways are not our ways, they are too foolish to understand Odin's Oaths and the ways of respect."

"I could tell. You have given us oathless allies."

"Just give them a wide berth, and try to have your friends do the same. If we all kill each other now, we will never breach Ivar's walls and no one will get any plunder."

"I will try, Jarl Fror. But I promise nothing."

"That's all I ask."

"Are you done siding with your barbarian brothers?" Hashiba said.

Fror ignored him. "See to me after the battle, and I will give you all I promised and more."

"Thank you, Jarl Fror." Olmo nodded his respect and turned to look at the other Danes. "Alright, there's no show today. Back off, away from the Easterners." There were grumbles, but the men dispersed, returning to the boredom of a siege.

"What is this cowardice?" Hashiba called. "Do your strongmen cower in fear? I had heard that for all your inelegance there was at least ferocity with the Northmen. Sad to see your people are even less than I have heard."

Now, to deal with this one. "Hashiba, you are being discourteous and not being a good guest."

Hashiba straightened. "You dare? What would you barbarians know of courtesy?"

"More than you seem to. This is my home, Hashiba. You are insulting my people and my guests. You are being discourteous."

"I have been slighted. The barbarians accosted me while I got my meal, for no reason. That I did not behead him in that moment was the most courteous action I could have taken."

Fror nodded, for all their talk of nobility and honor, the Samurai did not act too different from his huskarls. Only they relied on a strange system of politeness. Over his travels with the Nihon he found their system guided most of their actions. It staggered him, how they could insult and fight over the slightest offense, so long as it was done in a way they deemed fitting their concept of courtesy.

"You cannot expect these simple barbarians to understand the error of their ways." Fror tried, thankful that Alfhild's force had no real translators with them. "They live, as you see, in dirt and snow. Harsh men, strong men, but not educated in the ways of true courtesy."

"Then why should I extend my politeness to them, when I know they will never do the same to me? Courtesy works both ways, Daimyo Fror. And your people are foul hosts."

"They do, and they will. But they could learn from your example. Teach them the ways of courtesy and the Samurai."

Hashiba stepped back as though he'd been struck. "A pig like them could never be a samurai."

Shit. "Of course not, but they could learn to look up to you. To see you as better than them. Let them see your nobility of spirit, your politeness of speech, your prowess in battle. Let them see the ways of the Samurai, so they can learn how much grander you are than they."

"Hah!" Hashiba, "You think these barbarians could learn from our ways? I doubt they can recognize true honor."

"What of me, Hashiba? Have I offended you in some way?"

The samurai finally let his sword fall back into its sheath. "No. You saved my life."

"I did. And have I given you any reason for offense?"

"No."

"These are my people, give them time."

"I will attempt to give them the respect that you deserve and be a courteous guest."

"That is all I ask, thank you Hashiba," Fror bowed to the samurai. This still felt wrong, the Danes do not grovel. He could feel the eyes of the other Danes looking at him judging him. They must see him as weak.

The samurai bowed lower. "I ask that you try to contain your barbarians. I shall endeavor to show them the way of true warriors, but my patience with them will only go so far."

"You have my word, that Dane agreed to keep away from your people. I shall try to keep the other more aggressive people away from yours."

"Thank you, Daimyo Fror."

The samurai bowed once more and returned to speak with the other Nihon. Fror took a deep breath and rubbed some sweat from his forehead. This could not continue. Eventually there will be a fight that Fror cannot stop and his men will tear each other apart. Before Ivar's reinforcements show up. And the only one in his way was the most violent and volatile woman in the world.

It'd be easiest to just kill her, she was wounded. A blade in the night, even the greatest warrior would stop being a problem with that. He'd killed for less, he'd killed kings for less.

Fror went to the mead tent, grabbed a drinking horn and opened one of the kegs. Too risky, if someone saw him coming out of her tent? And who could he trust with killing Alfhild except for him? If he couldn't deal with a problem directly he'd have to work around it.

Fror finished his drink and waited. It did not take long for the brothers Agni to enter the tent. Lastborn brushed past Fror on his way to get his drink, Firstborn at least stopped to nod his respect.

"Agni and Agni. Do you have a moment?"

"Can you wait until I get my drink?" Lastborn muttered as he poured his mead.

"Of course." Let him play his little power game. They can disrespect me all they want, so long as they do what I want them to do. Lastborn filled his horn to the brim, looked a moment to Fror and took a deep drink. He wiped his lips and refilled his horn. Only then did he step aside for Firstborn to get his mead.

"Now, what did you want?"

"I have a mission, for the both of you."

"Respectfully, you don't give us orders, Deceiver." Firstborn sat across from him. "Did Alfhild agree to this mission?"

"No."

"Then why are we," Lastborn took another deep drink "talking here?"

"We're talking, because the brothers Agni are who Alfhild's army follows."

"They follow Alfhild. Did you see her when we attacked Ivar? She killed more men than any two on either side of the fight. We all follow that."

"I saw. I have only seen that skill at killing once before, and Rokr is dead."

"Aye, and if Rokr were breathing down our necks trying to get us to go against Alfhild, maybe you'd have a chance here. But you don't. I'm not stepping on Alfhild's toes."

"Have either of you seen her, since the battle?"

"Yep."

"Of course."

"Then you know how badly wounded she is. The fact she can still use her arm is a gift from Frigga herself, and if she goes back into battle then her side will split open, again."

"Then she'll kill Ivar with her guts falling out," Lastborn said. "What's your point Fror?"

"We don't have time to wait on the Jarlkona. Our food supply is running out, and, my spies have informed me some worse news."

"You have spies?" Lastborn said.

"Of course," Fror lied. Bester had spies, and Bester was nowhere to be seen. "How do you think I was able to attack Ivar directly in his home? How do you think I was able to escape his home and gain these samurai? Just as wise Odin, I try to keep eyes everywhere."

"What do your spies say?" Firstborn sat back, his hand scratched at his beard.

"Ivar's reinforcements are coming. Could be tomorrow, or the day after. If we are here on the outside of the walls when they arrive we are dead men."

Lastborn put down his drink. "Are you sure?"

"Sure as I can be."

He gave a quick glance to his older brother. "Have you told Alfhild?"

"I sent my brother to do so just now. But- you know your Jarlkona. She's not one to let something like that intimidate her."

"She wants to be the one to kill Ivar."

Of course, she does. She kills Ivar she'll use that as a reason for her to be Queen. Imagine that mad woman as queen. We'd all be doomed. "She does, and she's more than willing to for all of us to die so long as she gets what she wants."

Firstborn nodded. "So what is your mission?"

"Tonight, I'm scaling the walls and going to open the gates. I want one of you with me to make the climb, and one of you ready outside with our warriors. As soon as the gates open, everyone storms in."

"Leaving Alfhild behind."

"If she refuses Bjorn. Yes."

"I don't like it," Firstborn said and took another sip of mead.

"I don't much like dying from being overrun by Ivar's other Jarls either," Lastborn muttered.

"True. Say we're with you. What happens when Alfhild wakes up?"

"We'll have a wall between us and her by then."

"Hopefully."

"We will. Ivar lost many men in our battle, and more would have deserted him. If it wasn't for Alfhild delaying us we'd be over the walls already."

"If it wasn't for our Jalkona, you'd be dead."

"I know that, and by the gods I vow that I will make things right with her. After we get into Harald's Hall."

Firstborn nodded. "A thought occurs."

"Go on."

"In this plan of yours, my brother and I will be acting as leaders here."

"Yes."

"Practically jarls in our own right."

"Practically." Fror nodded. He had them.

"Jarls get double the plunder."

"That's right," Lastborn smiled. "Double share."

"They do, and they also get first pick before the rolls are called. I see you and your brother going just after Alfhild and myself."

Lastborn whistled. The brothers looked to each other and nodded. "I think we are the right men for your mission."

"I knew you would be. Which of you will make the climb."

"He will," Firstborn nodded toward his brother. "I'm better at organizing men, and he's quicker than me."

"Good. We'll meet at nightfall. I trust you won't-"

"We ain't going to tell Alfhild. Of that you can be sure."

"We're not suicidal."

"Good. Nightfall, then." Fror raised his horn to the brothers then finished his drink. They did the same.

"Nightfall," Firstborn wiped his mouth with the back of his hand. Lastborn only belched.

Not too much longer to wait. Fror left the mead tent and looked back to the walls. He walked up a small hill and sat looking over the city. The East gate would be the best to use. Smaller, less well guarded. But big enough for the few men Fror had with him to get inside quickly. Then where would be the best spot to scale the walls?

There were no obvious weak points as the Nihon Emperor's palace had. The walls may not have been as large, nor as impressive as that building. But they were new and well maintained. Stone foundations bigger than Bjorn with high wooden walls jutting directly out of the stone, leaving almost no spot for someone to get their footing. Any group of men would have trouble getting over. A full army would make a full mess of things. But a few good climbers? Maybe they'd have a chance. If he picked the correct spot.

"Fror?" Bjorn walked to him, shaking his head. "She said, 'no.'"

Fror nodded. "Figured as much." Then the Agnis are the way to go.

"What are we going to do?" Bjorn sat next to Fror.

Fror looked to his brother. He should be a part of the attack on the city. I should tell him. If only he wouldn't run straight to Alfhild. "We'll think of something."

"Better think fast, then. You think maybe we could try digging underneath it? It'll be slower work, but maybe Alfhild will heal by the time we're done."

"Could work, doesn't help us with Ivar's reinforcements though." And will still let Alfhild sit the throne when done.

"We'll need more scouts then. Place them more to the West. Ivar's army will likely come from there. The East will still have lower manpower after the wars against the Easterners this war season."

"Smart. We'll put that in effect tomorrow morning."

"Any ideas on your side there, brother?"

"Not yet."

"Alright, what's on your mind then. This is usually what I keep you around for." Bjorn gave him a slight shove. "Look, I'm sorry for getting a bit snippy with you earlier. It's just been tough for me."

"I know. Bjorn it's not that," Fror looked at his brother, truly looked at him. His body lined with scars where Ivar's knifemen hurt him. One scar for every mistake I made. "I'm so sorry."

"Fror, you're crying." Bjorn wrapped his big arm around him. "I haven't seen you cry in, well since-"

"Since Megana killed herself."

"Yes, I'm sorry, we don't need to talk about it."

"You never asked me about her."

"I knew it hurt you. Every time someone brought her up, I could see how much pain it caused. Everyone else always says your some cold shark-eyed liar. But, I've never had a problem seeing through you. So, why are you sad now?"

"Because I failed you, over and over. My own little brother. My sister. My friends. My home. I've failed you all. You all counted on me, and I'm the only one left unscarred."

"It's not your fault. I'm the one that said it was Ivar. I was so sure. So fucking sure."

"You don't understand."

"I do. Fror, I love you, but you can be such a selfish shit sometimes. The Sun doesn't rise because Fror Giermundrsson wants it to. We all had a hand in this. I'm the one that said it was Ivar, and I was wrong. Maeva was the one that led the Viking, she made her own decisions. And Rokr, he saved my life, and our people's lives. You don't get to take that away from him." He pulled Fror closer for a second. "Now, you are still the most cunning man I have ever met. So stop feeling sorry for yourself and figure out what we need to do."

"I'll try, for now just sit and help me look for a good spot to start your dig."

Bjorn let Fror go and gave him a brief smile. The brothers pointed out the best spots to weaken the stone supports. They sat until the sun fell too low to illuminate the walls. They helped each other up and vowed to do the same on the next day, until they found the perfect spot.

Fror's heart ached as Bjorn walked away. "Please, Frigga, I can't lose my brother, too. Please let him forgive me tomorrow."

The gods didn't answer. Fror sighed, he wasn't sure he'd want them to answer him anymore. Not after how far he'd fallen. But he couldn't stop that fall now, Fror the Deceiver needs one more night of villainy, then he could put it behind him.

Fror headed toward his tent and threw on his hauberk and tucked his helmet and sword into his bag. Just as he had done in Shin Nihon. His pack and shield strapped across his back he headed to the tent of the brothers Agni.

He pushed aside the tent flap and saw Firstborn setting Lastborn's mail and helmet.

"Almost ready," Lastborn said as he stretched about in his armor. Satisfied, he unwrapped his atgeir and rested the polarm on his shoulder.

"Firstborn, I want you to wait a little bit before waking everyone."

"I know what I'm about Deceiver. I'll have the men ready in time and not give Alfhild the time to stop me."

Fror nodded. "Don't wake up those that will run straight to Alfhild. We'll do this without them."

Firstborn nodded. "Wasn't going to wake up Yellow-Eyes regardless, the bootlicker pisses me off. Let him lose out on the loot."

"And my brother."

Lastborn raised his eyebrows at that. "Huh, thought he'd be in on this."

"No. He's with Alfhild now."

"As you say then," Firstborn shrugged. "We leave Bjorn in the tents."

"Good, we'll see you again at the East Gate." Fror held out his arm to Agni Firstborn. "Have luck."

"Have more, if you two don't get that gate open I'm going to be stuck alone with Alfhild. You'll have a noble death, and I'll be gutted."

"Oh, I'll make sure that gate is open, brother, don't you worry."

The brothers pulled each other into a hug, and gave a small headbutt as they parted. Two armored warriors crept out of the tent and headed toward the wall.

"You know where we're making the climb?"

"Yes, spent all afternoon staring at the walls. I think I got it figured."

Lastborn nodded and let Fror take lead. They sprinted to the underside of the wall, and pressed their backs to the stone.

Fror crept along the stone keeping his eyes at the top of the foundations. "Here," Fror held his hand up

"Why here? Gates further down." Lastborn whispered.

Fror pointed to the top of the foundation. "The stone juts out slightly more than the others, should give enough room for a foothold for both of us.

"On it," Lastborn stepped around Fror and held up his atgeir. The hook clicked and scrapped against the stone a few times, while Agni pulled. "Got it," Agni pulled the atgeir again and it stuck. He placed his feet on the stone and pulled himself up the polearm.

Only a few steps up and he dug his fingers into the small space in the stonework and dragged himself up the rest of the way. He slowly stood, wobbling on the small space he had. He steadied himself then looked down to Fror and nodded.

Fror grabbed the atgeir and set his feet and pulled. He placed his arm on the stone and got himself the rest of the way. His nose rubbed against the wood. Fror reached down and unhooked the atgeir and carefully lifted it up, handing the weapon to Lastborn.

Agni took the atgeir and reached, trying to push it off the top of the wood.

"Shit."

"What?"

"I'm too short." Agni raised to his toes. The hook of the atgeir still half an armslength from the top. Agni gave a short hop, his feet barely leaving the stone. The atgeir did not get close. Agni took a deep breath and jumped slightly higher. The polearm swung in the air, missing the wooden wall completely. As Agni came down his foot slipped from the stone.

"Fuck!" Fror grabbed Agni and pulled him, the man slipped half off the stone. His leg kicking at the foundation.

"Oh fucking shit that hurt." Agni pulled himself back up with Fror's arm.

"Quiet."

Agni kept one hand touching the wood and reached down and furiously rubbed his knee.

"Listen, jumping won't work. We need to do this steady. Here." Fror squatted into a kneeling position, with one knee in the air and the other balancing on the rim of the foundation. "Get on.'

"Oh, this is a stupid idea." Lastborn grabbed onto Fror's shoulder and stepped on Fror's knee. His entire body shaking.

"Can you get it?"

"Hold on."

Fror's eyes were straight at Lastborn's knee but he could hear the weapon smacking against the wall, and scrapping against the wood. He watched as the man wobbled. Fror tried to hold him steady with his free hand, but it couldn't help much. The scrapping of the atgeir stopped.

"Got it." The pressure of Lastborn on his thigh lessened, and a moment later the huskarl stepped off him completely. Fror stood, his body still as close to the wall as he could. He glanced up and saw Agni's leg as he slid over the top of the wall.

He looked up at the atgeir, stretching his arm toward it. The tips of his fingers a hands width away from the butt of the weapon. He'd need to jump.

Fror looked down at his feet and the little slip of stone he stood upon. One jump, one jump as high as he could. And if I fall? Well, then I hope Lastborn has better luck than me. Fror took a deep breath and looked back up at the polearm. He got as low as the fortification allowed and sprung high. He swatted at the atgeir, his hands touched the wooden pole and he grabbed it. His body swung about as the atgeir shifted from his weight. His legs slammed against the wall with a loud thunk. Someone must have heard that. Fuck. He quickly pulled himself up, his hands and forehead sweating as he got to the top. Keeping low he slid to the other side. Being sure to grab the atgeir he unhooked the weapon and dropped it down.

He hung off the side of the wall and let go. He landed on his feet, before his momentum carried him backward, and he fell on his ass.

"Graceful." Agni said and held out his hand.

Fror took the arm and pulled himself up.

"Which way, Jarl? Can't see shit."

"Hold a moment," Fror dropped his pack and pulled out his equipment. He strapped his helmet on and tied his sword to his belt. "East Gates. Come on." The two followed the crooked path of the wall until the gatehouse stood before them. The square room overlooked the wall, with a ladder to crawl up the tower to reach it.

"Careful," Fror said as Agni grabbed the ladder, "we don't know who's up there."

"Right, right." Agni hooked his atgeir over his shoulder and started the climb up. He moved slow, pressing each of the rungs on the ladder to be certain they didn't creak before putting his weight upon it. Fror took his first steps up as Agni slid into the gatehouse.

Someone screamed, Fror scrambled up the last few rungs, his shield smacking loudly against the wood. He stuck his head through the entrance hole and saw Agni thrashed about his atgeir as two guards tried to get close enough to strike at him with their axes.

Fror tried to get himself upright and dived back to the ground as the polearm passed over his head.

"Careful!" He said as he got back to his feet.

"Then get up here and help!"

Fror raised his shield and pushed at one of the guards.

"Fuck!" One of the guards struck at Fror. "Knut!"

"Hold them!" The other guards stepped away and lifted the horn that hung around his neck to his lips.

As he took a breath, Fror dashed forward and slashed with his blade. His sword struck the horn and dug into it. The horn pressed back into the man's mouth and snapped his head back. Fror punched his shield forward, catching the guard in the gut. The man doubled back over and the horn fell from his lips. One more punch with the shield toward the man's shoulder sent the man back until he hit the window overlooking the gate.

Fror pushed at the guard's shoulder forcing him over the window ledge.

"No! No!" the guard clutched at his shield, his fingers digging into the leather covering. Fror put his weight behind the shield and forced the man out the window. His scream cut off as he crashed against the ground.

"Knut! You bastards!" the other guard swung his axe wildly. "Help! Help!"

Agni slammed his atgeir down on the guard, his weapon bit into the side of his face and cleaved down until the blade tangled in the guard's hauberk. He clutched at the weapon for a moment before collapsing on the ground.

"The gate!" Lastborn said as he stepped on the corpse and pulled his weapon free with a slurp.

"On it, go check if anyone else is coming." Fror rushed to the ladder and slid down to the ground. Several long wooden boards were nailed across the gate, with several more angled against the massive wooden doors. Ivar thought they would rush in and try to hack their way through. Not a bad defense.

"Agni!" Fror called up to the gatehouse.

"What?" The Lastborn's head popped out of the small window.

"Throw down the guard's axe!"

He disappeared back into the room for a moment then returned with the weapon. Fror stepped back as the blade fell until it struck the ground. He picked the blade up and hacked at the barrier.

"Shit!" Agni yelled from his perch. "Hurry up, looks like they've all woken up."

Fuck. Fror hacked at the wood as best he could, kicking the chunks of the boards aside as they fell. The axe was not meant for splitting wood, and the blade chipped and bent. But it worked better than his sword ever would.

Fror hacked at one of the horizontal posts, and pushed his shoulder into it until it clattered to the ground.

"Oy! The fuck you think you're doing?" Someone snarled behind him.

Fror turned to look at his new opponents, three men. Brandishing maces, knives, and cudgels. Fror slammed the axe into another log in the barrier so it stuck into it. He picked up his shield and unsheathed his sword.

"Come on then," he said and tapped the front of the shield with his sword.

"Get him, boys!" the big one charged.

A large dark shape fell, landing on the largest of the men. His atgeir in hand, Agni pressed the blade into his enemies skull and they both collapsed to the ground.

"Hela take me, the fuck is that?" the other men shouted and stepped back.

"Fuck me, that hurt worse than I thought it would." Lastborn used the big man's corpse to help himself back to his feet.

"Come on, kill him!" one of the men, with a forked beard and long bushy eyebrows stepped forward and swung his mace at Lastborn.

"I got them, keep going!" Agni shouted and held his polearm out to block the mace. Fror nodded and pulled the axe out of the wood. He hacked away at the last of the barrier until only one solid bar remained crossing the gates.

"Got you fucker!"

Fror dived to the ground, the cudgel soared over his head. The man readjusted his stance and swung down at Fror.

He pushed back, his legs kicking up snow as he scuttled until his back pressed against the gate.

"You're not getting away shit-eater."

Fror grabbed at his sword and pulled. He felt his belt tear from his body. His sword, still in its sheath smacked aside the cudgel. Fror lunged forward, smacking his enemy in the groin with the wooden scabbard.

He exhaled and doubled over, still wildly swinging his cudgel. Fror kicked at the man's knee and sent him face first into the frozen dirt road. Fror got to his feet, making certain to press his knee into his enemy on the way up, to keep him from moving about. He unsheathed his sword and skewered his unarmored opponent.

Fror wiped his brow and looked to Agni. Lastborn swung his atgeir around his head, using the butt to knock aside his enemy's mace and slammed the polearm into the man's shoulder. Blood spurt out as his entire arm fell off.

The man screamed and fell to his knees. Agni smiled and lifted his atgeir once more. The man raised his remaining arm over his face, not that it did any good when the atgeir cleaved him from forehead to hip.

"Warning, would have been nice."

"I was a bit focused." Agni pulled his atgeir from the mess of the corpse at his feet.

"Fine, get over here and help me."

The two put their shoulders below the massive wooden plank and lifted. Grunting and swearing they carried the plank to the side of the gates and tossed it into the snow. They heard the thunderous steps of the people of Harald's Hall start to move. An army worth of men must be descending on them with all the noise they've made.

"Your brother better be here." Fror grabbed one of the handles of the heavy gate door.

"He will be," Lastborn grabbed the other. They pushed and the massive doors creaked open.

"Oy! Stop them!" Voices and shouting came from behind him. Fror glanced over his shoulder as he pushed. Hundreds of men and women, brandishing pitchforks and reapers, mixed with swords and spears.

Fror grit his teeth and pushed all the harder. He felt the snow piling up behind the door, stopping whatever momentum he could pick up. His body shook and he heard a clatter of mail as Agni slipped on the ice and snow and fell.

A spear embedded itself in the door a handswidth from Fror's head.

"Fuck!" He turned in time to bat aside another javelin with his shield. Too close now. Nothing for it, he'd need to fight. He brandished his sword. Go for the ones with no armor first, as best I can. Hack away, always keep the sword moving. They likely aren't trained warriors, or only a few of them. Keep them away, keep them busy until I can't fight any more.

Then they'll kill me.

Fuck this was a terrible plan.

A hand grabbed the side of the gate door, followed by another, then another. The doors creaked open, and a warrior stepped forward covered in mail and a smile on his face.

"Figures I'd find you on your ass brother." Agni Firstborn tossed his longaxe between his hands.

"Fuck off."

Firstborn smiled. "Boys! We got a battle here. You ready for a fight!"

Men rushed forward from behind the door, weapons at the ready and armor gleaming in the torchlight.

No, this makes it look like Firstborn's plan. He'll take lead and the victory will be his. Fror looked about him and saw the javelin embedded in the wall. He pulled it out and ran before the brothers Agni. The mob stood against them, their expression a mix of fear and wrath.

Fror threw the javelin over their heads. "Odin owns you all!" he shouted the oath.

"Odin owns you all!" the men screamed behind him. His sword slashed down at a man with a trident, taking his hand off at the wrist.

The forces crashed around him. Men and woman screamed as huskarls hacked them to pieces. Fror felt swords and scythes scrape harmlessly across his hauberk. He focused on blocking the strikes that his armor couldn't handle. The maces and fortunate few that had atgeirs and spears.

One huge man wearing only his night clothes charged at him, with a large wood cutting axe. He lifted his weapon high and sent it crashing down at Fror's shield with a mighty roar. Fror stepped aside and let the force carry the man forward into his waiting blade. Too heavy an axe wielded by an untrained woodsman, most like. As the man stumbled forward and tried to heave his blade back up for another strike, Fror's sword carved through his flesh. A cut from his hip into his arm.

The man screamed and tried to swing his axe again with his left hand dangling from his arm, held together through sinews.

"Shit." Fror pushed his shield up to meet the blow. The axe smashed into the shield, bits of wood split aside as the axehead pierced deep, the thick rim jutting all the way through. Fror pulled his arm down and to the side, taking the woodsman's axe with it. The man stumbled as he tried to grab at the handle, and Fror cut down with his blade, cutting him from shoulder to stomach. The man opened his mouth, as blood and a sick gurgle spewed from his lips. His eyes rolled back in his head and the man collapsed.

An elderly woman screamed as the woodsman fell and came at Fror with a craftsman's hammer. Fror let the poorly aimed blade fly past him. Tears dripped down the woman's face, as she fought. Her wild swings easy enough to avoid until the old woman tired herself out. As one heavy strike hit the ground Fror took his chance and beheaded her in a single stroke.

His guts tangled up inside him. These weren't warriors, nor Christians, nor emperors. These were just people, defending themselves from the raiders at their home. Fror continued to strike at his enemy, his scowl growing.

One child with a shaking spear struck at Firstborn, who fought at his side. He smiled and grabbed the spear, pulling the child so small he could not have seen more than nine winters. Firstborn cut him in two with his longaxe, from head to groin. Brains, guts and blood spewed from the wound as Firstborn laughed.

Vomit crawled up Fror throat and filled his mouth. He swallowed the bile back down as he let some men stream forward around him. No, no. Another load of bile filled his mouth as he spat it to the ground. Whatever was happening to him, he couldn't show it. He needed to keep pushing through. He needed to prove he's strong. But he needed to get these people away from Alfhild's warriors and the samurai. Who seemed just as gleeful with their killing.

Fror stepped forward and grabbed the old woman's head from the ground.

"Run!" he shouted and held it high. "Flee before my might! Fror Giermundrsson will have you! Flee!" He threw the head over the mob. It flew to the middle of the crowd and smacked a short greyhaired man in the cheek. Blood splattered around him and he screamed.

The short man dropped his weapons and fled, clawing at those behind him that got in his way. Soon the boy beside him did the same. Then the woman in front of them. Soon the mob turned and fled a tangled mass of bodies that surged away from their certain death.

Lastborn hollered and chased after them, his atgeir cleave two in the back with a single blow.

"Wait!" Fror shouted. "Lastborn, hold!"

The huskarl turned back to Fror in confusion. "What?"

"Leave them," Fror started to head away from the mob. "We don't have all night, and we have more important enemies to take care of." He looked over his men. "To Harald's Hall! To the Gilded Hall, filled with Ivar and Harald's greatest treasure! We can deal with these cowards later. Now, we need to kill a king!"

A cheer rose from the ranks, even the Samurai screamed something, caught up in their own bloodlust. He pointed his sword the direction of the hall and led the forces through the city. Only the foolish ran from their homes weapons in hand and tried to stop them. They died within moments, nothing Fror could do for them. At least their deaths were quick and honorable. Let them rest in Folkvangr.

They reached the hall and found the doors barred and light shone from within with the scraping of movement.

"Ivar!" Fror shouted as his men started to hack at the doors.

"King Ivar!" a voice called from within. "I earned that respect, Jarl. for a few moments longer, at least."

"King Ivar, then. Open your hall!"

"Don't see much a reason to do that, Jarl Fror. In fact, it seems pretty foolish."

"You've lost, Ivar. Tell me, where are your wives and children?"

"Fuck you, Fror."

"Ivar, open the gates and we will settle this as we should have months ago. You and I will fight. Let the gods decide who should be king."

There was a pause. "Horse's cock. I'll open the doors, and you'll just have your men swarm in and kill everyone inside."

"By the gods, I won't do that."

"Oh is Fror the Deceiver giving his word? That's worth less than my piss."

Fror shut his eyes a moment. Of all the names to stick, it had to be The Deceiver. Thrall-Friend might not carry any respect to it, but at least is didn't announce that he couldn't be trusted.

"Fror the Deceiver and Ivar the Wicked. We both have been given names we don't deserve."

"Hah. Try and break down my hall, Fror. You may win but at least me and my warriors will die with our honor."

"No," shit he needed this done quicker than that. If Alfhild shows up and takes control of the situation. If those reinforcements do show up. There is no time to try and crack open the gilded hall. "Ivar, I have no desire to see your men die, with honor or without. But you're giving me little choice. Have it your way then. We're setting fire to the hall."

"What?" Ivar shouted.

"What?" Lastborn grabbed Fror's shoulder his voice a low hiss. "The gold's in there, you fucking shit."

"Silence," Fror whispered and pulled away. "I don't plan on ruining my share of the loot." Fror turned back to the door. "Torches!"

"Then what are you-"

"No!" Ivar's voice rose from the hall. "No. Promise me, my wives and children will be safe."

"I give my word, that I will not harm your wives or children. I will also not hurt your warriors, unless they attack me or mine. I do not have interest in killing them, King Ivar."

"Swear it, before the gods."

"By Odin's Eye, and Thor's hammer. By Tyr's missing hand. By my father's love and by the grave of my wife. I swear to you, I will not harm your wives or children."

"Alright. Alright, I'm coming out."

Shifting wood and ironed sounded behind the doors. Until they opened and the king of the Danes stepped forward. Behind him, stood twelve warriors in mail, weapons at the ready forming a ring around several woman and children.

The king stood tall, stepping in a way to control his slight limp from his wounded leg. "Jarl Fror, can I have a moment, with my family?"

"So long as it's short."

"Thank you." He turned to look at his wives and children. He gave each wife a kiss and whispered something in their ear. Most nodded with tears in their eyes or streaming down their face. Some clutched onto him, holding him close until he pried himself from their arms. Until he reached the eldest, who looked on with rigid austerity.

"Brynhildr," Ivar bowed his head in respect.

"My king."

"I hope I did my duties."

"Better than I had hoped. All my children still live."

"I gave my word, all those years ago. I kept it."

"You have. Coming to the end of it, you were the greater husband than Harald ever was."

Ivar smiled. "That makes me glad. Brynhildr, I have always sought your wisdom, and I must ask one last thing of you. You have lived through this before. Please, guide my other wives and children. Teach them your strength."

"I shall do the best I can."

Ivar nodded, and embraced his last wife. Fror saw a single tear roll down the stone-faced woman's cheek as they broke apart.

Finally, Ivar kneeled to his children and opened his arms. They rushed towards him, kissing and crying. "Enough, enough. Don't all of you cry, or I will lose my tears as well." Ivar kissed each of his children in turn. "I love you, no matter what happens here on in. We will meet each other again in Valhalla."

"I will avenge you father," one of the older boys said. "I'll kill him for what he's done."

"No. No, you mustn't. This is a duel before the gods, this is honorable and good. You will respect the outcome as their will."

"But the Deceiver is forcing you into it!"

"No, a man can never force a king. We all have a choice, and I chose this. Now, be strong. My sons, my greatest pride. You must all become the men as I raised you to be. Strong and fair. Just and honorable. Honor the gods above all others, and make a name for yourself. Your own name. When we see each other again, I don't want any of you to just be Ivarssons."

"We will, father," one of the younger boys said.

"I know you will," Ivar pulled the boy close. "And my daughters. Look how beautiful you've all become. Fair as their mothers, and cleverer than I ever was. You were all the joys that made my life worth living."

"Let's hurry this up, old man," Lastborn said and spat.

Ivar nodded. "I love you all, protect each other."

The king turned away from his family and faced Fror. "I am ready." Ivar pulled Harald's sword from its sheath and buckled his helmet straps. "May the gods decide the victor."

Fror nodded and stepped before the king. "Make a space, and no one interfere."

The warriors backed away from the two of them.

"Three shields?" Ivar asked.

Fror nodded. "No surrendering or calls for mercy?"

"Of course not."

Fror watched Ivar's wounded leg. I'll need to force him to keep putting more weight on it. Relying on it for his movements. Wear him down. Fror looked at his own partially broken shield, and went to his warriors to change it for an unbroken one. He stopped.

No. I can use this. Fror turned back to Ivar. They tapped their swords to the front of their shields and circled each other. The king prodded at him with his shield. The wood clanked and Fror's partially broken shield shook.

Fror moved his shield about and swiping with his sword, just enough for Ivar to not realize he was setting his shield up to take the harder strikes toward the hole.

"One thing I don't understand, Fror." Ivar said as he struck. "Is how you think you're going to get folks to follow you. You're not regarded as particularly honorable."

"They followed you."

"Of course, I freed them from that monster, Harald. But you? It's obvious you're only fighting me because you want the throne."

Ivar pushed his shield up and under Fror's own, opening him up for an attack. The slashed toward Fror's head, only a quick step aside sent the blow into the mail around his arm. The strike still stung as it impacted, but nothing fatal.

"You're wrong, I'm fighting because of what you did." Fror pushed his shield high, pinning Ivar's own then swiped low. Ivar jumped back away from the strike. Fror saw a small wince as Ivar landed on his bad leg. "You killed my father!"

"I did no such thing!" Ivar stepped back into Fror's reach with his shield forward. The rim smashed into Fror's own, shattering the shield into two pieces. "I didn't kill Giermundr!"

Ivar slashed at Fror's head with his following attack. Fror instinctively lifted his arm and felt the sword strike mail. Fror stepped close as he could to the middle of the fighting space and tossed the remains of the shield onto the ground.

"Shield!" he called.

Ivar stood just out of reach, waiting patiently for Lastborn to rush up with a spare shield before running back into the circle of warriors that formed around them.

Fror grabbed the central grip and nodded to Ivar. He waited for the king to advance, setting up his sword hidden far behind his wide new shield. As the king thrust out with his shield again, Fror stepped to the side making sure to strike at the shield down as he moved.

Ivar grunted as the shield smacked him in his thigh. Fror took the moment to strike at the shield, tearing apart some of the leather binding.

Again, Ivar came at him his shield poking and prodding, trying to open Fror up. Fror ducked low behind his shield and let the blade strike. As the blade hit, Fror pushed forward, sending Ivar limping away. Fror kept at him, punching his shield toward Ivar's leg, and strike toward his good side. Forcing the king to keep putting pressure on weight on his old wound.

"Clever, little, shit," Ivar said through clenched teeth. "I see what you're doing."

You see part of it. Fror lashed out once more toward Ivar's weak side. The king braced his shield against the impact and thrust his blade forward.

Fror raised his shield, but not quick enough. The fine steel found the gap between armor and shield. The sword struck Fror's face, piercing into his cheek, and as Fror's shield shot up he forced the sword higher. The blade tore up through his flesh and dug deep into his eyes.

Fror screamed and backed away. He felt the blood and viscus fluid of his eyeball run down his cheek and into his mouth.

"Now, I'm not the only one with a weak side."

A cheer came from Ivar's family. Their merriment cut short as Fror lunged forward and hacked his blade into Ivar's shield. He hacked and struck until a large chunk fell to the ground.

Ivar tried to slam the shield into Fror's head. Fror stepped away and let broken shield swing past him.

"Shield!" Ivar tossed his shield to the side, well outside the circle of the fight. One of his huskarl's ran forward to hand him an unbattered shield with an intricate design of Jormungandr drawn along the outer edge.

Fror frowned and headed to his side. Firstborn came to his side with a sweaty piece of cloth.

"Shit, Fror, that fucker got you."

"I know," Fror growled. "I felt it."

"No need to be pissy." Firstborn wiped the gore from the side of his face.

"I lost my eye. I can be a little fucking pissy." He wanted Bjorn, if this didn't work, he needed to tell him what he'd done. Everything about this whole mess they got in.

Ivar limped back to the middle of the circle and started tapping his sword and shield together. Fror pushed Firstborn away and walked forward. Fror and Ivar nodded to each other and took up their stances.

Fror lashed out first, continuing to hammer at Ivar's weakened leg. His sword striking high to force the shield down, or his shield mashing into Ivar's own to keep it pressing into the leg wound.

For his part, Ivar tried to hammer at Fror's blind side, twice his strikes scraped across Fror's helmet, but he couldn't quite get that same damaging strike.

The two stepped back to catch their breath. Fror looked at the blood dripped down Ivar's leg and turned the top of his boots red. He had him.

Fror let Ivar strike at him first and stepped back out of the way toward Ivar's weak side. The king lunged toward him, and again Fror stepped toward his weak side. He lashed at Ivar, a slow easy to block strike that Ivar overextended to block with his shield. Fror pushed forward with his own shield knocking aside Ivar's sword and smacking directly onto Ivar's thigh.

Ivar snarled and lashed out at Fror's blindside. Fror stepped into the strike using the force of his shield to bash down the arm he could barely see. He felt his shield connect with the sword and heard the wood burst. From beneath his shield he thrust his sword forward. Ivar stepped back with his wounded leg. His foot caught something. Pain twisted his features as he fell to the ground.

Fror kicked aside the piece of his first shield that Ivar tripped on and stepped on the king's wrist. He ground his foot onto the arm until Ivar opened his hand and released the sword of Harald the Golden. The king's blade. Fror tossed his own aside and picked up his new weapon.

"No!' Ivar's family screamed, several of the wives and children turning away. Others looking on in horror.

"Kill him!" the shout erupted from his men overpowering the voices of mourning.

Ivar gasped and looked up at Fror gasping for air. "I didn't… kill… Giermundr."

"I know," Fror whispered as he plunged the sword into Ivar's throat. "I did."

The king's eyes bulged, and his brow furrowed in a look of pure hatred as he died. Fror pulled out his new blade and wiped the blood from it, feeling the balance and ease at which it moved. Truly the sword of kings.

"Jarl Fror!" a shout rose from his people. "Odin bless Jarl Fror!"

"No," Fror said as he sheathed the blade. "King Fror." He looked to his supporters and Ivar's old huskarls. "As my first command, take Ivar's family and secure them in one of the larger homes in the city. See that they are well protected. Firstborn, I'll lead that job to you."

"Aye, my king."

"Be gentle, they have done us no harm. We are not murderers."

"Of course, my king." The Firstborn took some of his men and separated the family from Ivar's old guard and led them from the circle. Several of Fror's men laughed at them as they passed some even going as far as to throw dirt at them.

"The rest of you," Fror directed to the old king's huskarls. "You have all earned fearsome names and great respect. You will be treated fairly, but until I secure the city completely, I'll need you to leave your weapons and armor.

With some grumbling the huskarls did as they were told. Longaxes, swords, and mail dropped to the frozen ground.

"Lastborn?"

"My king?"

"Secure Ivar's treasury, we will divide it fairly among our warriors."

"Of course!" Lastborn stepped toward the hall, only stopping when Ivar grabbed his arm and pulled him close.

"Do not steal too much, yourself. Understood?"

"Of course."

Fror let the warrior go and watched as he ran into Harald's Hall.

"Someone, fetch a healer to see to my eye." Fror shouted over his shoulder as he walked through the gilded Hall. Beautiful art and precious silver circled him as he passed through the Great Hall of the Danes, and his new home. He walked to the far end of the hall and sat upon the Danethrone. Now, his work would truly begin.

---

"Alfhild is furious." Bjorn stood in front of the throne. "She demands more of the loot."

"Alfhild is always furious. She has received more than her share," Fror leaned back on his throne. It had been three days since Ivar's death, and Bjorn had barely said a word to him. Perhaps this meant they could put the unpleasantness behind them. But Fror doubted it. "This would be easier if she would just see me."

"I believe she is sending me, because she worries that she'll try to kill you when she sees you."

Fror sighed, "Well, at least she has that foresight."

Bjorn simply scowled. Fror stood up and walked to him, resting his hand on his younger brother's shoulder. "Besides, Alfhild is going to be even angrier with me soon enough."

Bjorn pulled away from him. "I thought you were supposed to be smart, Fror. You keep antagonizing her she will lash out."

"Of course, the trick is to make her lash out at where you want."

"What do you have planned, Fror?"

"Something that won't concern you. Besides, you won't be her huskarl for much longer."

"What?"

"You're my brother, more importantly, with me here someone needs to be Jarl of Giertvedt."

"Me, jarl of Giertvedt."

"Besides there is something else I need you to do," Fror whispered into Bjorn's ear. "We both know that Ivar didn't kill our father. Go back to our home, try to see if there's anything to show who did. We need to find our true enemy."

Bjorn nodded. "I'll do it, brother."

"There are two thing, I will need from you."

"What?"

"I need to speak with Alfhild try and get her to see me."

"I'll try, and the other?"

"Edla."

"What about her?"

"A king can't let people think he can be betrayed. Edla needs to be dealt with."

"No, Fror, you can't be serious!"

"After, she tried to get us both killed. Bjorn, this needs to happen if I'm to be taken seriously as a leader."

"Don't make me do this, Fror, I owe her my life."

"And she cost how many? You won't have to end her life yourself, only take her and send her to me. I'll do the rest."

"No," Bjorn looked to his feet. "I'll deal with her. A jarl should do their duty to their king."

"Thank you, brother."

"Is that all, King Fror?" Bjorn said his voice as hard as steel.

"Yes, Jarl Bjorn, that will be all."

His brother nodded and left the hall. Fror watched him leave. He'll make it work, he'll find a way to make his relationship with his brother right again. Once Bjorn fails to find anything about their father's killer, give him a few months to cool down. Things will get better.

There was only one more thing that needed to be done. Alfhild would fall in line when she hears what he has planned for her. Edla gone. Someone loyal at Giertvedt. One last loose end.

As Bjorn left the brothers Agni entered the hall. There was still time to send them away. Did he truly need them?

"Looking fair, king," Lastborn laughed as they drew close. He wore a new golden silver chain looted from Ivar's treasury, and several golden rings on his arm. The loot of a jarl, and he flaunted it before everyone with eyes.

"Welcome Brothers Agni. Everyone else, leave, I need to talk with these two, alone." Within moments the hall was cleared, leaving only Fror and the two murderers turned huskarls.

"What is it you need, my king?" Firstborn said, he did not display his newfound wealth, only another sigil of Tyr tucked into his shirt and a fresh shave to celebrate leaving the cold.

"As a new king, I need," Fror stopped. He needed to say it. He'd done so much for this broken so many vows, led so many men to their deaths. What were a few more? "I need-"

"So who do you want us to kill?" Lastborn said as he tapped at the gold embedded in Ivar's throne- his throne.

"I didn't say-"

"It is fairly obvious, my king," Firstborn said. "It's alright, we done this before. Our jarl before Alfhild had us killing freemen when it suited. We know the ways."

"We need to know names though."

"Aye, that's important."

Fror took a breath, no turning back now. "Ivar's sons."

Lastborn whistled.

"That's a tall order," Firstborn said. "Old bastard fucked a lot of women, sired more than his share of sons."

"You can't do it?"

"Oh we can do it, but it won't be easy."

"Didn't you vow not to kill them?" Lastborn asked.

"I did, but, as long as they're alive, so long as men can look to them as the true king-"

"You don't have to explain," Lastborn said. "I was only asking to make sure my memory ain't leaving me."

"Consider it done, my king." Firstborn said.

"Make it as discrete. I can't let people know it was me. Just have them disappear, make people believe they left to hatch their own schemes against me."

The two left the hall, smiling. Leaving only Fror alone with his throne. A map of the Christian lands clutched in his bloodstained hands.

Edit: Well, that's it. Thank you to everyone who stuck with this until the end. I hope you enjoyed it. Currently, I'm deciding to either continue with this story with the Samurai campaign, or switch to other projects. This was a lot of fun. Please give a review, even a harsh one. That's how we learn to get better.