Warning: Graphic depictions of violence and gore.
Disclaimer: I do not own One Piece or the characters, they belong to Eiichiro Oda.
Battle With The White Knight
Kid's body thrummed with excitement as he peered through the trees at the village they set their sights on. They had steadily moved southwest searching for a good battle. The first village they came upon was small and poor, easily swept through without a strong army to defend it, only a handful of young men that stayed behind to fight while the rest ran for safety. The pithy band of farmers was slaughtered within minutes, and Lucci suggested they let the rest flee as they wished. They weren't worth the effort of killing in his eyes, and Kid agreed. They were mostly women and children, not warriors to find glory battling against, and Kid had no desire to capture any as slaves.
With the village deserted, they took their time pillaging it. They gathered more horses, three of which Kid secured for his men so he could send messengers back to the camp and check on their safety. There wasn't much else of value beyond their livestock and grain, so they moved on to find better prey.
They marched for another day before finding the larger settlement before them, built with strong stone walls and heavy wooden gates to defend against attacks. From their vantage point above the valley it was situated in, they could clearly see a grand home built of masonry, and a church to one end. The church alone promised riches, but the Saxon home said a nobleman might reside there, which meant even more gold, as well as a better army to give their men a challenge.
"What are you thinking, Kid?" Killer asked beside him.
He didn't answer right away as he continued to survey the area. There were two gates into the village - one to the west, and one toward the south. The church was built furthest from the gates, protected by an inner wall that didn't look to hold the same defensive purpose as the wall surrounding the rest of the village. It didn't appear to be made from such thick stone bricks, and it lacked a barred gate, instead an archway invited all into the courtyard. Kid knew the church itself would likely bar its doors once they were signaled, but that wouldn't be much of a deterrent for them. The main wall of the village had towers at the corners and around the gates for sentries to keep watch, and he could assume archers would take position up high in their defense against invasion. Movement in front of the gates drew his attention to more soldiers greeting people as they came and went – traders, farmers, craftsmen, all with their wares to sell. This village would suit those either interested in a good fight, or those who only desired plunder.
Kid crept through the trees, Killer following close behind, and stopped to crouch beside Lucci. He gripped his sword and his eyes gleamed with the same excitement Kid felt. His long black hair was pulled back into a tight tail that bushed out in thick curls past his shoulders. Black and silver leather hung over his slender torso, belted at the waist where an extra dagger sat at his hip. The tension of his lips spoke of a smile threatening to break out, an expression Kid had never seen on Lucci.
The man undoubtedly anticipated a good battle. Kid had yet to see him draw his sword, but there was no question of the skills he possessed. While in Álasund, he had seen the scars on Lucci's bare back as he toiled away on one of their ships. Five thick round scars in a cross-like pattern that Lucci shrugged off when asked about them. He claimed to have never felt the injuries when he received them - he was heedless of pain. He might not have been a full-blooded Norseman, but he had the heart and form of a berserker. He didn't wear the pelt of a bear or wolf, instead black tattoos covered his shoulders and back – the spots of a great cat. They suited him more. He was more feline with his lithe form and dangerously calm demeanor, nothing like the heavily muscled, ill-tempered brute that Kid was.
"I take it you saw their soldiers?" Kid asked quietly while Franky came to crouch at their other side.
Lucci gave a short nod, but said nothing more. He had grown silent in thought. The white bird perched on his shoulder was more talkative than Lucci as it cooed and bobbed its head. The bird had taken a liking to the warrior the day before, and, to Kid's surprise, Lucci was perfectly content to let it sit on him. He even caught him playing with the thing when they stopped to rest the previous night.
"I'm more interested in riches than battle," Franky said, "but I know plenty of my men are itching for a fight."
Franky was a big brute of a man, too. Bigger than Kid. He had a steel grip that once made Kid wonder if the bones in his hands were made of iron. He laughed and said that he would be happy to find a way to make a man from iron, and promised to show Kid if he ever managed to. The best he had done was create his iron-plated leather jerkin that he swore could shatter the tip of a spear. It looked heavy, but Franky wore the thick armor with ease. Kid hoped to see how well it withstood battle that day.
"This bastard looks like he's already dreaming of the blood he'll swim in." Kid gestured toward Lucci with a chuckle. "I don't see why we should make them wait any longer. There are two gates, one main gate and the other looks smaller, barely used. A noble should be living in that home closest to the southern gate, that's where most of the forces will be."
"We send a direct attack on the main gate," Lucci spoke up. "Draw their forces to one side and then break through with a smaller band at the other gate to attack the church."
"Those interested in gold handle the raiding. Those wanting to fight take on the army," Franky agreed with a nod. "Eustass, I know you've been hungry for a fight. I can handle the raid."
Kid rocked back on his heels, carefully considering his options. He was eager to shed some blood, but he wanted to see what spoils were in the church, too. He supposed he could just fight that much harder to break through the main gate and village to reach the church, and if he failed to get that far, he could always take the nobleman's home if they took the main gates. There was likely to be even greater plunder to be had there.
"Killer, see if any of our men have a preference, but I'll take on the main gates with Lucci," Kid decided.
His cousin nodded. "I know I'll be joining you. I'll see about the others."
Killer stood to relay their plans to the others. Franky went off to his own men to do the same, and Lucci continued to sit and stare at the hill and field standing between them and their enemy. Kaku had been listening to their plans, though, and went about sorting their ranks. He knew better than to break a man like Lucci from his concentration.
Kid took the time to return to his belongings. His sword was strapped to his hip, and he slipped an extra axe into his belt. He checked that the ties of his black armor were secure out of forced habit. For years, he never wore armor in battle, just as any other berserker would. His skin was his armor, and he ran headlong into battle fearless of the pain and death that might await him. But that was before he became a jarl. Now he had the means to pay for good leather and mail armor, and had the reason to don it. He had people who relied on him, a village that needed his protection and leadership. He had no heirs to take over his rule if he died on his journeys, so it was wise to take care of his life as much as he could so he could return to his people with the wealth they needed. When he became jarl, his life was forfeited to theirs. He would only die fighting to protect what was his. His wealth. His village. His people. Nami.
Even if she wasn't his, she still resided in his home and provided him another friendship he treasured. She hadn't needed to foresee his fate for him to know that he would die to protect her. The longer he knew her, the more she endeared herself to him, and the stronger his attraction to her grew – his fate was sealed without her ever speaking of it.
With battle looming before him, he shoved all thought of her out of his mind. He sent one of his men off that morning on horseback to see how the camp was fairing without them. The last messenger he sent had returned the night before and reported that the camp and Nami were well. Gunda, Kalifa, Mozu, and Kiwi had all taken command of the shieldmaidens, and even his own men had bowed to Gunda's leadership, while Iceburg's continued to heed Kalifa's orders. For his own men, Gunda was the most determined in keeping Nami safe, so it was wise to follow her command. Nami was surely pleased to have her security overseen by the women. As comfortable as she had grown with his men, he knew she was most at ease with the other women. He wondered if it was instinct for her after being born into a clan of women and raised by a dutiful shieldmaiden. It likely had more to do with the conditions she lived in under Arlong, but he hated thinking about those years of her life and what little he still knew about them, so he would rather think that it was more her mother's influence.
Knowing that Nami was safe and her last vision had yet to come to pass, Kid felt he could focus on his battles without worry.
"I'll lead a division of men against the western gate," Wire said as he came over, spear in hand. "We have nearly fifty total with Franky's men to take it. The larger forces striking the south should overwhelm them enough that our gate will be simple to take."
"Good. See that you secure that church. My gut tells me we'll find plenty of treasure there," Kid ordered.
Wire chuckled. "We'll want to take a large hoard so you can pay Nami off when we return."
Kid glowered at him.
"You're the one who walked in on her naked," Wire pointed out.
"Tsh, bunch of gossips," he grumbled. "Who's volunteered for the western gate?"
"Halle is intent on finding treasure for Nami," Wire said, his eyes shining with amusement when Kid growled. His men were supposed to restrain their desires for her, not run headlong into them. At this rate, they were all going to turn into madmen fighting each other for her attention. "Geir and Stig will join me, too. Axel and Ove mean to join you. Do you think you can take that gate, or are you just going for the glory?"
Kid grinned. "That's a stupid question." Wire laughed at that answer, knowing it was true. "I'll lead the way through that gate. I'll tear it from its hinges with my bare hands if I must. I won't know any glory unless I get inside that wall."
"I have faith you won't fail. You never do," Wire said, continuing to chuckle as he leaned on his spear. "And this time you have additional motivation in the form of a beautiful lady with a lust for gold you'll do anything to please."
Kid glared at him, unamused with the continued teasing. He didn't take his eyes off Wire as he snatched up his shield. The man merely smiled at him, unshaken by his snarl.
"You were the one who brought in the pretty little stray and showed her kindness you're not typically known for," Wire reminded. "If it makes you feel better, know that every single one of your men is envious of how close you are to her. We tease you, or flirt with her, because we know we can't have the friendship you two now share. Perhaps remember that before scaring the piss out of one of your own men merely for talking to her."
Kid hissed and turned his glare away. He'd think on that subtle lecture later, for now he had a battle to join.
"Secure the church. I'll find my way there after taking the southern gate," he called over his shoulder as he headed off to join Lucci and the rest. They were beginning to lead their fighters through the trees to a point that directly faced the entrance they were targeting. They would line up and wait for the Saxons to notice them, then blow their war horns before striking. They wanted their opponents to have a chance at preparing themselves for battle and signal for more soldiers to leave the western gate, leaving it open for the division hidden in the forest.
The sun was creeping to its highest point once their men had fallen into line along the top of the hill and began to march out of the trees. There was hardly a cloud in the sky. The valley was peaceful, a stillness only broken by their footfalls on the sweet grass and wildflowers, and the cawing of the crows and ravens that had begun to circle and land in the trees, anticipating a rich meal after the battle.
Kid stood at the forefront of his men on the right flank. Lucci had chosen the middle. Zambai, leading Franky's men, took the left. They would bear down on the gate from every angle. Lucci and his men would battle straight on while Kid and Zambai would attempt to break in through the side and rear, and ruin their formations while cutting them off from the men who would come to support them from the other gate.
As he watched the guards scramble away at the sight of their forces, Kid let all thought unrelated to his battle fall away.
It was a beautiful day for war.
Within the walls
The morning was perfect for a pleasant stroll in his rose garden with two lovely women at his side. They were two of his favorite servants and had volunteered to help him pick new buds to decorate his chambers. Each woman held a basket brimming with delicate red flowers. He supposed they could head inside to arrange them, but he wanted to enjoy the fresh air and sweet scents of his garden for a while longer. A breeze rustled his long blond hair, his white cape fluttered around his legs. It was too nice to be trapped inside his study answering letters from his lord.
"Sir Cavendish," a steady voice called out just as he was leaning in to cut two white roses to gift his servants with. He stood straight to smile at his headsman, Suleiman. He always looked stern and humorless, but his frown seemed deeper than usual, making Cavendish's good mood wane. "There are heathens forming a line to the south."
Cavendish hissed. There went his pleasant day of gardening. "Ladies, please alert the household staff and tuck yourselves somewhere safe," he ordered the girls as he handed them the roses he held. They gasped and raced into the house without any argument, and Cavendish quickly strode toward his home right after them. "My armor?"
"Already prepared. Farhul is being saddled as we speak. Shall we send a messenger to the heathens to see if they wish to negotiate peaceful trade first?" Suleiman asked as he followed him in. He was already clad in his black armor and deep indigo cape. His straight sandy blond hair was tied back in a long braid he tucked into his armor to protect it from any who tried to grab it in battle. He knew as well as Cavendish that there would be no peace that day.
Cavendish gave a frustrated sigh. "You say they are already in formation for battle," he said as they reached his room and found a servant waiting with his armor ready. He shed his white cape and stood with arms outstretched so he could be clad in the gleaming iron mail and white leather. There was no time to waste, and his servant knew as much, hastily setting to work dressing him. "These heathens have no interest in trade or friendship. They never do. They merely come to pillage and take off with our women. Even after we've joined hands with their ancestors who settled to the northern lands, they still come. And those Danes looking to rule won't do anything to dissuade these raiders. I'd rather slaughter them all and show the king he has no need of them in our lands."
He let his temper thin as his servant secured the bindings of his armor on his shoulders. He would remain calm in battle, but the underlying anger would give strength to his sword.
"Even that Lord Urouge to our north has ancestry with them. He might be a Christian, but his father's family is from Birka. His own men claim he's a giant, but he always laughs them off," he continued to fume. "There are no true Saxons anymore."
"Your mother was from Paris, was she not?" Suleiman reminded with an exasperated sigh. "By your logic, you're not a true Englishman, either."
"But she wasn't one of them… And don't get me started on the Normans. They mean to conquer us all and are just as bad as their northern cousins, stealing our glory and lands," he growled, ripping away from his servant to throw his cape back over his shoulders and secure it. He snatched his sword in a huff on his way to the door. "But that's fine. I'll defeat them all and rise in rank. I will become our country's shining emblem. I'll be their white knight and the king will make me a son, a true prince and ruler."
He ignored Suleiman's sigh behind him as he stormed out to find his horse in front of his home, chomping at his bit. His precious Farhul was as eager for battle as he was. He mounted the tall white stallion and spurred the horse into a trot, heading for the southern gate.
"How many are there?" he called over his shoulder when Suleiman caught up on his brown mare.
"They counted nearly two hundred," Suleiman answered with a grim expression.
"So many?" Something didn't sit right with him. Such a large force to take one village meant they truly had no intention of letting them surrender. They were only interested in war and ruin.
"Word was already sent to the western gate to send what soldiers they could spare. They've barred it in case any of the heathens attempt to take it, but our forces will focus on the southern gate," Suleiman said.
They had just reached the gates when they heard the loud, bellowing horns of the heathen forces. The villagers were already scattering, fleeing into their homes. Some men took up whatever arms they could to defend themselves and went to the wall to help the soldiers in their battle. As he trotted through the gates to see the swarm of filthy warriors slowly descending the hill, Cavendish did a quick count of his own fighters.
Hardly enough for man on man battle, but he and Suleiman were strong enough to pick up the slack. And if they could cut some down before they even reached the village, that would help their forces.
He broke through his line to stand at the front. Archers stood at the wall, hidden in the turrets with arrows ready. On the ground, men lined up with shields and swords and spears, their gazes set on the enemy that began to pick up their pace.
Cavendish picked out the leaders easily. A man with red hair, a fierce glare, and bloodthirsty grin stood out among the men on the flank to his own left. Another straight ahead with dark hair and chilling eyes that seemed set on Suleiman told Cavendish he led the middle contingent. Those two were the most dangerous of all the forces.
"Archers," he called up to the turrets as the heathens broke into a run.
There would be no peace.
Arrows rained down on their army, but Kid refused to slow. He held his shield over his head and kept his eyes on the soldiers running toward them. He heard men cry out behind him, struck down by another shower of arrows. He didn't look back. He could count his dead after the battle was won.
An arrow struck his shield just before he lowered it to slam into the first line of soldiers to reach them.
He grinned as he felt his sword slice through flesh. He laughed as he shoved away a spear. He never felt more alive.
War brought him excitement, made his blood sing as the frenzy overtook him. The rush was addictive. He felt untouchable. So long as he had a weapon in his hand, none could bring him harm. No one could stand between him and what he desired most. And that day, he desired whatever treasures were hidden within those walls, and maybe the head of the man with gleaming silver and white armor galloping through the fray.
Lucci seemed to have picked his own prey as he slashed through Saxons with the speed and ferocity of a wildcat. His long sword shone in the sun when he first drew it, but it didn't take long for the shine to dull with every man it cut down. Even as the iron turned red with blood, Lucci's lust for battle hadn't waned as he set his gaze on the other man who came out on horseback. He looked strong as he tirelessly cut through the necks of their left flank.
Kid heard the ring of iron striking iron and looked to his right to find Killer locked with another soldier. His cousin was quick as he fought without a shield to hold him down. He donned only light leather armor and a gleaming iron helm as his only defense against an opponent's blade, and like Kid, he would typically prefer to go without. The only defense he swore he needed were the twin curved swords he sharpened until he thought they could cut a man in half with one strike.
If his opponent stayed still, Kid had no doubt Killer could do just that. But in the chaos of the battlefield, he contented himself with a deep slash that disemboweled whoever stood before him.
Kid turned back to his own battle in time to see a man charging at him. He hunkered behind his shield until the man slammed into him. His feet dug into the softened soil, bracing him as he pushed his shield up. He shoved the man onto his back and struck him while he lay stunned. His sword sunk into his neck, giving him a quick death so Kid could focus on the soldier barreling toward him from the left.
His sword shattered on their shield, but that didn't deter him. He tossed the blade away and slipped his axe from his belt. He knocked the other soldier's shield away to leave him open on the side. His axe slammed into them with enough force to cut the leather and bend the chain mail. The soldier stumbled away, but didn't fall. Kid gave him no pause as he shoved at him again and again. He cut through muscle and tendon at the man's forearm, forced him to drop his sword. It was over for him the moment Kid's blade sunk into his neck.
He couldn't say how many he fell before his axe handle splintered and he was forced to snatch up any decent weapon he could. Younger soldiers would panic when their weapons broke, but it was a fact in battle that no sword would last forever. Kid relished in scavenging weapons from the fallen soldiers around him. He would kill his enemies with their own swords, and feel no remorse in it.
The smell of blood and death surrounded him. The grass and flowers of the field were torn and shredded, crushed beneath their feet, and drowned in their blood. It reeked, but Kid wasn't fazed, the scent only drove him to fight harder.
He was on his fourth sword when he bore down on his prey. The man had kept him in his sights as he slew any Norseman who came in his reach. As the field thinned of healthy fighters, giving Kid a set path for the blond, the man finally climbed from his horse and swatted him on the rear. Kid bit back a laugh as the white horse galloped off toward the safety of the walls, leaving the fighter with a pretty face all alone for him.
"You heathens will never leave us in peace," the man said quietly in English.
Kid grinned, but said nothing as he ran at the man. He used no shield, so Kid tossed his own away. It was cracked and likely would shatter completely with another strike. Without the heavy shield, he could put more of his strength into his strikes.
The blond caught Kid's first downward slash with his own sword, gritting his teeth as Kid put his weight into it. Shouting, the Saxon pushed back and knocked Kid's sword away. Kid braced his stance and prepared to slash again, but had to lean away from a quick strike aimed for his throat. His smile finally fell and he grew serious. This Saxon was fast. He couldn't underestimate him.
Kid blocked another slash, and then another. He got one strike to the man's side that split the leather over his mail, but didn't appear to do more damage. He felt the sharp sting of his opponent's blade slicing through the leather wrapped around his right wrist, but ignored the pain as he kicked the man away. Kid stumbled over a corpse, but snatched up the dead man's axe while blocking another slash from the blond with his sword. He swung the extra weapon at his opponent's stomach. The blond jumped away, but the blow still struck him hard enough to make him cough up bile.
Kid's lungs burned for air as he ran forward, seeing an opening as the blond tried to brace himself. His arms grew heavy from exertion, but he would not fall. Not that day. Not on that field. He would reach the walls and earn his glory.
His opponent was gasping for air, but there was fire in his eyes as he regained his stance. Their swords tangled, their arms locked together. The blond caught Kid's wrist before he could bring his axe down on his head, and once again he ground his teeth as they slipped around in the muddy soil. Kid heard him growl low in his throat and grinned in response.
Wire's horns bellowed over the fray, carrying on the wind from the western gate. The blond's eyes widened and he dared to glance over his shoulder at the village he was defending. Kid spared his own look to see the other gate come crashing down. Their men were in and it wasn't long before the screams of the villagers reached their ears.
"You bastards," the blond hissed, turning to sneer at Kid.
Kid chuckled and shoved the man away to break their locked stance. With the village taken, the soldiers would lose what little hope they had. Zambai was already breaking through the thinned formation to reach the southern gate, cutting down any that turned to run into the village, intent on helping defend it from the other attack. They didn't have enough men to save them, though.
Kid watched his opponent stagger back, curious if he would surrender and plead for mercy. His head had fallen forward, blond hair falling free from the tail he wore it in. He was confused when he saw the man sway. He didn't think the strikes he landed had been enough to weaken him that much.
It was pure instinct that drove him to step back just as the man lifted his head again. He only had a second to raise his axe and deflect the tip of the sword bearing down on his heart. It drove into his left shoulder, slicing through the unprotected seams of his armor. Pain lanced up his neck as the man continued to push and twist the sword into him. Kid bit back the urge to cry out and blocked out the pain as he focused on the man who caught him off guard.
He had been fast before, but this time he had lunged at Kid in a single blink of the eye. Kid's only warning came in the maniacal grin the Saxon wore. His face was twisted, his pupils shrunk down to pinpoints. He was completely mad, swallowed up in a frenzy so overwhelming he doubted the man even knew who he was fighting.
"I'll kill you," he hissed as he continued to push his blade into Kid's shoulder. "I'll kill you all."
Kid loved that kind of challenge and couldn't help but laugh.
The man was about to jump away when Kid snatched his wrist again, holding him in place, sword still buried in his shoulder. He didn't hesitate as he slammed his forehead into the blond's nose before ripping the sword out and shoving him away. It hardly stunned the man. He staggered once, but as soon as his back foot planted on solid ground, he shot forward to slash at Kid's neck. Kid ducked and dodged, got the handle of his sword into the man's side as he passed, but immediately had to twist away from another slash.
He watched with dark humor as the blond cut down two of his own amid his madness. He had definitely gone insane.
Kid wasn't as fast as the man he fought, and now that the man had lost all his wits, he had nothing holding him back. He was a man with nothing to lose and happily sinking deeper into his own blood lust. Kid could only block and defend, and before long he was flat on his back with a sword point dangerously close to his throat. He held tight to the man's wrists and pushed back, holding him off as best he could. He heard Killer shout his name.
He was lucky his cousin was as fast as he was, because Kid doubted he could have held his opponent off much longer.
Killer slashed at the man's back, cutting away his stained cape and slicing through his armor. The man's attention turned away from Kid with a hiss. He had only a brief opening before the man either turned back to Kid and killed him, or jumped away to attack Killer. Kid tightened his grip with one hand and drew back the other to swing a hard punch into the man's jaw. He fell to the side, shocked at the unexpected hit. Killer took the newest opening and slammed the grip of his sword into the man's temple, knocking him out cold.
"Not going to kill him?" Kid asked as Killer yanked him to his feet.
"He's likely a nobleman," Killer explained. "We might be able to use him as ransom."
Kid hummed in agreement as he took in the battlefield. There weren't many English soldiers left, and Zambai's men had successfully broken through the gates. Lucci stood over the man he had singled out before, staring down at him with a disappointed frown. He didn't even look to be out of breath as he stood in the middle of carnage. Kaku was nearby, cutting down any other soldiers that still tried to fight. He spotted Axel and Ove already sifting through the fallen men, killing their foes that clung to life, and helping their injured brethren get back on their feet.
"Tie him up, then," Kid said, gesturing to the unconscious man. He tossed away his borrowed weapon as he headed toward the southern gates. The battle was done, and there were spoils to be had. "Anyone that might be important, we'll take as hostages."
As he walked toward the village, he noticed Lucci haul his opponent over his soldier. Kid lifted his brow as the man carried the fallen soldier with him.
"You didn't kill him?" he asked as he caught up to Lucci. He could hear the other man's rattling breaths and unconscious groans. Blood dripped down from a cut across his face, and his armor looked torn and ragged. He had been beaten badly, but somehow clung to life.
"He wasn't worth the effort," Lucci explained flatly.
Kid grunted. "Well, he might be a valuable hostage, anyway. If he's not, we can kill him later."
Inside the walls, they were greeted with a different type of chaos than what they faced on the battlefield. The band of raiders that came in through the western gates ran free through the narrow dirt paths, tearing through homes and capturing all the villagers they could find.
"I see you made it through," Franky called out as he casually sauntered toward them. He was far cleaner than those that fought in the field, only a few splatters of blood covered one cheek. He didn't have any cuts on him, so Kid knew it wasn't his own. "Did you find your glory in battle?"
"They were weaklings," Lucci spat as he let his captive fall to the ground. He walked by Franky, aiming for the church. "What are you doing with the villagers?"
"Capturing them for now and holing them up in the church," Franky said. "Wire's already got the priest and found a sizable hoard they were trying to hide beneath their altar."
"Anyone check the lord's home?" Kid asked, pointing toward the grey brick building.
"Not yet. All yours if you want it," Franky said.
Kid grinned as he spun on his heel, intent on searching the home. His shoulder was still bleeding, the limb heavy from its injury. He would need to get patched up, but he needed a hard drink before he let their healers anywhere near him.
With the village seized, they could take their time searching through it. A sweep of the lord's home showed there was no one left to resist them, so Kid decided they would occupy the village for a few days. They could rest, mend their wounds, gather whatever they desired, and head back to camp at their leisure. Assuming his messenger didn't return with bad news.
Lucci's men had decided to remain at the church, securing the surviving villagers within. Kid wasn't sure what Lucci intended to do with them, and wasn't inclined to ask.
Kid and Franky took over the manor and surrounding homes. The masonry home wasn't big enough to be a castle, but it was richly furnished and well kept. They found the servants cowering in a cellar beneath the kitchen and dragged them out to work for them. Most of them didn't fight back. One of the women screamed, another cried when they saw their captives bound and unconscious in the main room, and Kid had to slit the throat of one of the men after they tried to come at him with a knife. That put an end to any thoughts of resistance, and his men settled in while the servants rushed to do their bidding.
Wire brought a chest of gold trinkets from the church - as well as a bound priest - just as Kid was sitting down at the table to have Axel treat his shoulder. He had Wire bring over a glittering chalice that hung over the edge of the chest, and ordered their new servants to fill it with the wine he found while rummaging in the kitchen. He made the servant girl drink it first to make sure they hadn't thought to poison them, and was satisfied to see the girl didn't die so he could enjoy his drink.
Axel helped peel him from his armor and blood soaked tunic. His left side was heavily bruised, covered in a mottled web of blue and purple. He hadn't felt that injury when he received it, but he would surely be hurting for a few days because of it. The damage to his shoulder was more worrisome. The bleeding had stopped but the joint had swelled and the skin was an angry red around the wound. An attempt to rotate his arm brought a sharp pain that shot up his neck and stabbed at the back of his head. Holding a shield would be cumbersome for a while, but he should be able to manage. He wouldn't be able to do much of anything else with that arm for a week or two, though.
The new wound on his right arm amused him. He still had a scar on that arm from Nami slashing at him after he woke her from the sleep thorn's curse, and now he would have a new scar running parallel to the other. He seemed to be collecting scars ever since Nami came into his life.
Once Axel finished wrapping his shoulder, Kid decided to wander the home. Their captives were still unconscious and he was curious what other treasures he might find. He had found the lord's chambers earlier, but hadn't searched it yet. He had been more concerned with finding anyone who might be hiding in there. Now that they could relax, he took his time to look around.
The room was decorated in silk tapestries and vases filled with roses. The large bed was canopied with white and purple silk, the frame and banisters carved with gilded flowers. The bedding was soft, and when he sat down, his weight sank in until the bed comfortably embraced him. He imagined Nami would be envious to hear that he got to sleep in that bed. With all the silk and flowers, it looked like it had been made for a princess or queen. Nami would appreciate the finer touches, likely knowing how costly it had to be.
He dragged himself from the bed before he could doze off, and crossed the room to a desk in the corner. He examined one ceramic vase that sat atop it before tossing it to the ground, uncaring when it shattered. He was too concerned with everything else that sat on the desk to think about spilled water and crushed roses.
The desk was covered in papers and leather bound books. Curious, he sat down in the wooden chair as he picked up a piece of parchment with swirls of black ink on it. He could speak the English language adequately, but he didn't understand the letters well enough to read it. He at least knew the words on the parchment were English, whereas the words in one of the tomes he opened were in another language. He thought it might be Frankish, but he couldn't be sure.
He sorted through the books when he found one with sketches that resembled the maps he had at home, tucked those to the side, along with whatever blank sheets of paper he found.
"Kid?" Killer called from the door just as he began to search through nearby shelves that were piled with more books. "What are you looking for?"
"What do those books say?" he asked, gesturing to the stack he set aside on the table.
Killer hummed as he opened the one on top. "As far as I can tell, this one is a journal. The maps are the routes to other villages nearby." He went to another. "This one is in… French."
"French?" Kid asked distractedly as he tossed books to the floor.
"A dialect some of the Franks use," Killer explained. "I can't understand it as well as Frankish, but I believe this is a book of stories about their saints." Kid grunted his understanding. He didn't care about that book if it was about their holy men. "Why are you going through these, anyway?"
"They're for Nami," Kid answered as he moved to crouch in front of a chest tucked to the side of the desk. He opened it and was pleased to find more blank parchment.
Killer chuckled. "I thought you were supposed to pay her with gold."
"If you saw how excited my maps made her, you'd know this is just as precious a treasure to her," Kid said with a laugh. "Even if she doesn't count it toward my debt, might be enough to make up for how I treated her the last few days."
"I thought you already talked to her about that."
"I did, but I'm not about to assume one conversation earned her forgiveness for being an ass to her."
Killer chuckled. "You're still feeling guilty about leaving with Birgit, aren't you?"
"Who?" Kid scrunched his brows in as he glanced up at Killer.
His friend glowered. "The woman you left with? The reason you thought Nami was upset in the first place?"
Kid's brow furrowed more. "Her name was Birgit? I thought it was Agot." He waved that detail off as Killer rubbed his eyes with an exasperated sigh. "Well, whatever her name is, doesn't matter." Killer sighed again, but kept his thoughts to himself. "Nami said that wasn't what upset her, but I ain't stupid. She was livid when I came to bed that night, and the whole morning she looked ready to murder me. Don't understand why, but I'm not going to ask her about it again."
"So you're just going to appease her with whatever gifts you think she might like?"
"Better than letting her stew in whatever remaining anger she has. Maybe if I spoil her a bit, she'll think twice before gelding me in my sleep."
"I doubt she would go so far," Killer said. He frowned when Kid looked over his shoulder with a raised brow. "As I said, you're only doing this to ease your guilt - which you shouldn't even feel. Nami said it herself, you're free to do as you please. Even if seeing you run off to sleep with another woman does upset Nami, she has no right to stop you."
Kid ignored him as he dumped the stack of books into the chest with the blank parchment. He had already made up his mind on bringing it all back for her. Even if it wasn't to apologize for his behavior, he would still gather them for her. He knew the paper and ink would make her happy. She could draw whatever maps she desired this way. The journals might appeal to her if she could make any sense of them, too. He didn't even know if she knew other languages, but if she didn't, Killer could always help her translate.
"Jarl Kid," Wire called from the door. "They're awake."
Kid jumped up. "'Bout damn time," he said as he snatched his cup of wine before following Wire out to the main room.
They had captured fifteen soldiers, as well as the two men of obviously higher rank. The soldiers were locked away in a barn, of no importance to Kid. But the priest and the two blond men who had commanded the army were bound up and kept in a corner of the main room. He had even graciously allowed the servant women to treat their wounds. If he was going to ransom them to whatever lord or king they belonged to, then he couldn't have them bleeding out.
As he sauntered out to the main room, he could hear the man he fought growling and shouting. Kid grinned at the vehemence of the man's tone, his smile widening when the blond's seething glare fell on him as soon as he entered.
"Leave my house at once, heathens," he snarled, fighting at the rope binding him. He sat up against one wall beside his other captives. The man Lucci fought sat in silence with no emotion in his eyes as he watched Kid's men. He was heavily wounded from his battle, so he surely knew there was no fighting the two dozen men packed into their home. The man who apparently owned the place was too furious to realize the same and continued to growl at them.
Kid ignored him as he threw himself into an ornately carved chair, replete with the same flowery designs on the bed. That appeared to infuriate his captive even more, much to his amusement. He grinned as he pointedly propped his muddy shoes on the table and waved his cup to signal for more wine.
"You arrogant beast," the blond snarled as a servant poured wine from a flagon into his cup. Her hands shook and she refused to look him in the eye, then ran off as soon as his cup was full. "This is not your home."
Kid didn't respond, choosing to sip his drink while eyeing the three captives. His own men chuckled, but wisely said nothing as they played along with him. He settled on staring at the priest. He was clad in a golden gown and wore gold chains around his neck. Jeweled rings were squeezed onto fat fingers he would likely have to remove if he wanted the trinkets for himself. He was old, wouldn't put up any fight. The sweat on his brow and bald head told Kid he was too much of a coward to fight, anyway. He'd rather hide behind his church walls and pray to his martyred god than bloody his hands. And despite the fear resonating from his quaking frame, the holy man still glared at him with an arrogant disdain that rankled Kid. He was looking down on him. Bound and beaten, and he still thought he was better than him.
"Do you even understand me?" the blond continued to fume. "Or are you pagans as dumb as you look?"
Kid's grin vanished as he stood. He didn't look at the man shouting at him, his whole attention was fixed on the priest. As he stalked closer, the priest's arrogance became masked by fear as he shrank in on himself. Kid crouched in front of him and listened to the man mutter his prayers.
"I don't like the way you look at me," Kid growled in Norse. He snatched the man by his gilded chains, startling him as he jerked him closer. "And I don't like the way that man talks to me."
"Holy Father, please deliver us from these savage demons," the holy man muttered.
"Demons?" he asked, glancing over his shoulder at Killer. He had heard the word before, but wasn't sure of its meaning. He could take a few guesses, though.
"A creature or spirit of evil from their biblical lore," his cousin translated.
Kid grinned. "I suppose to them we would be demons," he mused while examining the cross that hung from the priest's chain. It was decorated with precious stones that glittered in the candlelight, with a smooth, polished piece of amber set in the middle.
"Get your filthy hands off him," the blond snarled at him. He sat furthest from the priest and leaned over their other captive to yell. Kid slanted his gaze toward him to stare blankly. "You drink my wine from a holy cup, and dare touch a servant of our Holy Lord. Do you have any honor, heathen?"
Kid silently glowered, then turned back to the necklace he held in his grip. With one hard tug, he broke the chain and ripped the jewelry off. Disdain returned to the priest's gaze, but it wasn't there for long after Kid pulled a knife from his belt and sank it into the man's throat. His other captive fell silent with horror as Kid leaned back to watch the priest choke on his own blood. Once the rattle in his lungs disappeared and his limbs stopped twitching, Kid stood.
"String him up outside the wall," he ordered his men as he turned to the other two captives. "Hang him like their god so his people can worship him as a martyr, too." He lowered himself to his haunches in front of the seething Saxon noble and grinned, switching to speak in the broken English he knew. "Anything else you want to say to this dumb heathen?" he asked. "Perhaps you'd like to join your holy man as a martyr?"
The man growled curses under his breath while Kid chuckled into his cup.
"Oh right, you don't like me drinking from this," Kid mused as he examined the gilded cup. It didn't make his wine taste any sweeter, but he enjoyed it more knowing it ticked the man off. "How rude of me," he said before tossing the last of his wine into the man's face. "There. I won't drink from it anymore."
Kid laughed as the man spluttered and hissed. Red wine stained his blond hair and dripped down into his eyes. He was as furious as ever, but wisely kept his mouth shut. His sneer said plenty.
Kid tossed away the chalice, letting it clatter onto the stone floor behind him.
"You said this is your home." Kid pointed at the blond with his bloody knife, amused when the man didn't cower away. He held his glare and disdain with a fury Kid could respect. This man was no coward. He fought well that day, proved his strength, even if it wasn't enough to win. "Does that mean you are the lord of this village? What is your name?"
The man growled. "I'm Sir Cavendish. I'm a knight entrusted with this village's protection."
"A knight?" Kid glanced back at Killer, seeking an explanation.
"A high ranked soldier. He answers to the nobleman that rules this village and region," Killer explained in Norse.
"So not a lord," Kid mused. "Would he be worth anything, then?"
"If he holds enough esteem and importance to his liege lord, they might pay a ransom."
Kid turned back to Cavendish, and then glanced at the other man. "What about him? Is he a knight, too?"
"He is Suleiman, my headsman," Cavendish answered.
"So, an executioner. Doubt your lord would pay his ransom, too," Kid mused. "I'm surprised a knight has such a fine home. You seem to have as much wealth as a lord. You must be important."
"Of course, I am," Cavendish said haughtily. "This home was a gift from the king for my many victories in battle and tournament."
"Tournament?" Kid's head cocked to the side in confusion.
"A contest of strength and skill," Killer explained. "They will pit their knights and soldiers against each other in single combat, or various other contests created to show their skills with various weapons. The victor is given accolades and gifts, sometimes even women."
Kid chuckled. "Remind me to start holding tournaments, then. They sound like fun." He leaned in toward Cavendish and playfully tapped him on the cheek with his knife, leaving a smudge of the priest's blood to mix with the wine still dripping from his hair. "Maybe your king will let us have this home since we bested you and your army in battle. We could protect this village better than you."
Cavendish's lip twisted in a sneer, and Kid cocked his head as he closely appraised the man. We wore an ugly expression, but his face was pretty. The bruises and filth of battle didn't do anything to take away from his soft skin and feminine features. His blue eyes sparkled like gems, even with the hatred in his gaze. For a man, he was actually quite beautiful.
"Hey, Killer," Kid said as he grasped Cavendish's face, tilting it toward his cousin as the man struggled in his hold. "Would you say he's prettier than Nami?" he asked, switching back to Norse so his captive wouldn't know what they were talking about.
Killer crouched beside him and cocked his head in thought.
"What are you heathens doing? Release me," Cavendish ordered, fighting at Kid's grip.
Kid dug his fingers into Cavendish's cheeks and snapped his head back toward Killer.
"Hmmm, perhaps he would be comparable to Baldr, but I would hesitate to say he rivals someone like Nami. If only to avoid angering her grandmother," Killer mused.
Kid's head fell back with a loud laugh. "That's true. We would be wise to avoid her family's wrath. Still…" He leaned in to grin at Cavendish, and spoke in English again. "He's pretty enough to satisfy me. What do you say? Join me in bed and I'll leave here without any more fight, and you can tell your king that you ran my army off the battlefield so he doesn't take your home from you."
"Are you kidding me?" Cavendish asked in a low growl. "As if I would lower myself to do such a thing."
"If you don't want to, all you have to say is no. There's no need to be so rude about it," Kid laughed, shoving the man's face away. "I'll just satisfy myself with whatever your lord ransoms you for, assuming they even think you're worth the cost. As I said, they might just let me kill you and have your home since you proved so useless against us." He gave a disgruntled sigh and frowned at Killer. "It's too bad he refused me. I've gotten so used to having a pretty girl in bed with me every night, it would have been nice to have the company of a pretty man while I slept in his bed."
Cavendish slumped forward as he spoke, and Kid wondered if his taunting had been enough leave him so defeated. That was a disappointment. He had hoped to entertain himself all night by toying with the man. He wanted to see that pretty face twisted with rage and homicidal glee.
"Tsh, you lose consciousness again?" Kid asked as he reached to grasp the man's hair.
Cavendish shot forward as soon as Kid leaned in. He couldn't do much bound as he was, but he still managed to slam the top of his head into Kid's nose with enough force to break it. Kid fell back laughing as Cavendish lunged at him. He grabbed the man by the throat to hold him off, and cackled at the face that hovered over his own. The man's beauty was lost in the twisted, malevolent grin he wore. The man he fought on the battlefield had returned, as bloodthirsty as ever.
He easily overpowered Cavendish with him tied as he was, and shoved him back against the wall. Kid gripped the man's throat tight, strangling him, but Cavendish didn't stop writhing in his bonds.
"I'll kill you," he hissed. "All of you are dead."
Kid laughed. "And you call us demons."
"You are fortunate he is restrained, otherwise we all would be dead right now," Suleiman spoke up. "You are right to call him a demon in this state. Sir Cavendish is possessed by a violent demon we call Hakuba, one who relishes death and will slay anyone standing near him. Friend or foe, makes no matter. All people must bleed before him."
Kid chuckled as he stared at Cavendish. "You don't have to tell me that. I've already met this demon. I have him to thank for killing two of your soldiers that might have gotten in the way of our battle." He released Cavendish's throat as his struggles began to weaken, and then slammed his fist into the man's face to knock him unconscious. He slumped down the wall and fell to his side as Kid stood. "And your people might call that a demon, but that demon is of his own making. It's the frenzy that comes from battle, a fury that cannot be contained. If he were one of us, he would be clad in furs and called a berserker. He would learn to revel in his blood lust and control it, not squander and suppress it until it came lashing out to control him, turning him into that mindless beast."
Kid wiped away the blood flowing from his broken nose and went to retake the carved chair. Axel came over to hand him a wet linen cloth to clean his face, then handed him a fresh cup of wine to rinse out the metallic tang of blood in his mouth. He prodded at the swollen bridge of his nose. It was offset to the right and making it hard to breath, so he waved Axel in to help set it back into place with a hard shove of his thumb. The sickening crunch and renewed pain made him wince, but he bit back his curses and drank another mouthful of wine.
"Which nobleman rules this village if he does not?" Kid asked their only conscious captive.
"There is a lord two days' ride to the north, but Cavendish is not on good terms with him. I doubt Lord Urouge would pay a ransom for us. He would likely come here to wipe you out himself," Suleiman said. "You can send a message to the king, but he is also more inclined to send an army to force you from your occupation than negotiate with you."
Kid rubbed his sore nose as he thought. Perhaps he could take their forces north in search of this Lord Urouge. If this knight had such a grand estate for himself, he imagined a ruling lord would have even more wealth in his home.
"Why is he on such bad terms with his ruler?" Kid asked out of curiosity. "If he is so loved by his king, why not his liege lord?"
"Urouge is not his lord, at least in Cavendish's mind. His father's family is from Svealand," Suleiman explained, earning Kid's full attention. "There is a village called Birka with a Christian congregation. Generations ago, Urouge's family lived there and worked as missionaries attempting to convert their fellow svear from their pagan ways. When they saw how futile their efforts were, even met with open aggression from a clan of priestesses and shieldmaidens to the west, they decided to leave and settle here. Cavendish believes the noblemen with Norse and Dane ancestry have claimed power and fame within our Christian countries that they have no right to, and quite simply have outshone him."
"Oh? He really doesn't like us, then," Kid chuckled. "I imagine he'd be pleased if I left to prey on this Lord Urouge."
Suleiman nodded. "Though I do not believe your forces would do well in battle against him, Cavendish would be happy if you killed each other and saved him the headache."
"Why don't you believe my men can defeat this lord?"
Suleiman's gaze was hard as it met his. "Because Urouge is a giant among our people. If you look upon him, you will no doubt see that he is one of your people by his size alone. He has a strong bloodline. Even his mother gave him strength from a union between a Norman and a Moor. He is born of all our enemies. He may be Christian, claim the pious life of a monk, but in his heart resides a demon the likes none have seen."
Kid chuckled. "If that was meant as a warning to frighten me, then it falls short. It only makes me want to battle this demon that much more."
Suleiman shrugged. "Then it will be your funeral."
Kid dropped the subject with another laugh and held up the necklace he stole off the priest. The pendant swung back and forth, and he stared at the amber as it captured the light, making it glow.
"Our messenger should return soon," he mused to his men. "Make sure we keep guards on the wall to signal him. I want to hear how the camp is before I make any decisions. If the camp remains safe, we'll stay here another day before heading north for this lord. If they've been attacked, then we'll return to them."
"It's unfortunate Nami's dreams don't give any details," Axel sighed.
Kid grunted his agreement as he continued to watch the pendant. Without a battle to distract him, the anxiety he felt over Nami's latest prophecy gnawed at him. He trusted that her guards would keep her safe, and that she would fight her own battles well enough to survive, but he was still unsettled by the prospect that his people might be defeated.
"What of their ransom?" Wire asked, gesturing toward Suleiman and Cavendish.
"There won't be one," Kid said. "He wasn't lying when he said the other villages would only come to war with us, and I don't know if we have time to sit around waiting for them."
"Should we kill them, then?" Killer asked.
Kid hummed in thought, his gaze casting from the pendant to settle on the Saxons. "No. If we ever return, I want to fight that madman again. It'll be more enjoyable to kill him in battle, than just slit his throat here." He stood and tried to stretch his injured shoulder. It stiffened with pain and he grimaced when he found himself unable to raise his arm above his head. That wasn't going to make his next battle any easier. "I'm going to help myself to that bastard's bed," he decided, snatching a flagon from a servant on his way by. "Wake me when the messenger returns."
Back in Cavendish's chambers, Kid returned to his curious search through the knight's belongings. He found a silver box engraved with flowers and knotwork that didn't hold anything within, but it was pretty, so he tossed it into the chest of parchment he meant to give Nami. She could keep her gold coins in it, or perhaps her jewelry. The woman had been building a collection of necklaces and earrings since she came to Drafn. Most were simple silver or bronze chains with polished stone amulets, nothing as lustrous as the gold he knew she lusted for. All her jewelry was scattered around her room, and she had been moaning about needing a box to store them in.
He dug through Cavendish's chests of clothing, but found nothing he cared enough to steal. There were some silk vest and shirts, but he doubted Nami would have any use for them. She wanted silk to make dresses with, that meant they couldn't already be fashioned into clothing. He tossed the clothes to the corner, and later decided to relieve himself on them. He knew it would infuriate Cavendish when he found the soiled clothes. Imagining the man's fuming tirade would satisfy Kid for days.
Once certain that there were no more treasures to be found, Kid threw himself into the canopied bed, hoping to find a few hours of rest. Sleep was hard to come by while out in the open. He only lowered his guard enough to shut his eyes as he leaned against a tree. If he was lucky, he might doze off for a few minutes before a rustle in the forest woke him. Now that he was within the safety of the village's walls, he thought he might find some rest.
He nodded off while idly playing with the cross he stole, his fingers gently sliding over the smooth amber stone. His worries remained at the forefront of his mind, even in his dreams, and what sleep he got was restless. His arms needed to move, to swing an axe or sword. His legs twitched and urged him to run. His pulse thundered in his ears until it turned into the steady beat of horses galloping over rich soil.
Fog filled his dreams as the restlessness grew. A hooded shadow lurked and then vanished. Another shadow formed, far larger than the first. A giant that grew and grew until his shadow drowned Kid in its wake.
The girl with amber hair - that is the one we take.
Kid shot up in bed, gasping for breath. The words of his dream echoed in his mind. A chill drew down his spine.
He told himself it was only a dream. It was only a nightmare bred from Nami's prophecy. But as he clutched the amber pendant he had fallen asleep holding, he wondered if her magic was calling to him. Was Hnoss trying to guide him into action? Was Freyja lending him her sight? What if it wasn't a dream?
These men are no better than wolves. We will hunt them and slay them.
The deep voice of his dreams resonated in his mind, remaining even as he sat awake. Nami had said they were hunters in her dreams. Could they be coming for her?
Kid threw his blankets away and climbed out of bed. If the dream was a warning, he could not risk ignoring it in the hopes it was nothing more than a dream. He would rather prepare for the worst and be proved wrong, than return to the camp days later to find them all slaughtered and Nami lost.
He said nothing as he stormed into the main room to snatch up his tunic. It was stiff and crusted with dried blood, but that didn't matter to him as he yanked it on.
"Kid? What is it?" Killer asked from the makeshift bed he made across from their hostages. The other men were sleeping around him, but began to stir at Killer's voice.
Kid grabbed his armor and awkwardly began to slip it on. His injured shoulder made that a challenge. The material was heavy and thick, less forgiving of his stunted range of motion. Killer dragged himself to his feet to help Kid in his task.
"I saw the hunters," Kid explained quietly while winding the broken chain around his wrist. He tucked the cross into his leather arm guard. "They're after her."
"What? Are you talking about Nami's vision?" Killer asked as he secured the last ties of Kid's armor.
"I think her mother is trying to tell me to go back to the camp. The hunters should be resting for the night, but I think they'll find the camp come morning."
"We're a day from them, Kid," Killer pointed out.
"By foot. I'll take one of the horses," Kid grunted as he pulled away from his cousin.
Killer glowered at him while he grabbed a sword from the pile of weapons they claimed from the battlefield.
"You guys stay here. Wait for the messenger and gather everything we mean to take. Don't forget that chest of parchment I left in the bedchambers," Kid ordered as he headed toward the door, snatching up his fur cloak along the way.
They all muttered their understanding, though he could tell they were uncertain of his command. If he waited on all of them to gather what they needed, they wouldn't make it in time. There weren't enough horses for all of them, either, and they needed to leave some behind to draw the carts of treasure they stole. This was his task, his burden. He had brought Nami into the village and offered her his protection. He wouldn't drag more of his men into this battle than he had to, not when he was already sure to lose those he left to guard the camp.
He raced out to the stables without waiting for his men to argue his decision. Cavendish's white horse looked to be the fastest, but it was aggressive and angrily snapped at any who neared it. Kid avoided that one, and quickly saddled the brown mare he had seen Suleiman riding into battle. He heard footsteps crunch through the dried rush lining the stable's ground, and turned to find Killer carrying a saddle toward a grey mare. His twin swords were tucked into his belt
Killer didn't have to say anything. Kid knew he would follow him, no matter what orders he gave telling him otherwise. It was a waste of time to argue with him, anyway.
He mounted his horse just as Killer finished securing his saddle. With a hard kick, he urged his mare to burst out of the stables and take off for the gates at a racing gallop. As soon as he made it out of the walls, he heard Killer's horse catching up to him.
They only had a few hours until sunrise.
But they would make it in time. They had to.
A/N: So this chapter was actually going to cover both this battle, and the battle at the camp, but since this got so long, I decided to end it on a cliffhanger.
I would like to thank madame-peregrine on tumblr for reminding me that Enel (as well as Urouge) come from the sky-island Birka - which happens to be the name of a real Viking age village in Sweden. It is near Stockholm, and in my research of the area, Birka had been the reason I picked that region for Nami's birthplace (Vasteras), which is just to the west of Birka. So the reminder that that village shares its name with a sky island some of these characters come from really helped with explaining Urouge's background in this chapter (and obviously it's going to be a huge help in the Enel arc). Birka is actually the site of the oldest Christian congregation in Sweden, dating back to the 800s, which I was going to use as a partial tie to Nami's father, but now I have more reason to bring it up here. I had already brought up a comparison to giants for Urouge, which is a trait used to describe the Viking invaders, so really does work perfectly. And as for Urouge's other ancestry being tied to the Normans and Moors (Muslims from Northern Africa, the Iberian peninsula, and areas around the Mediterranean) - I had already planned to have some of his heritage be based around the Muslims of the time, but as I was researching them, I found that Sicily had once been conquered by the Moors, and then conquered again by the Normans who apparently were tolerated by the Islamic populace because they were kind and actually protected them from the Franks, so a union between a Norman and a Muslim worked well to draw that side of his family into Christian Europe.
Also, I had to translate Cavendish's hatred for the 'Worst Generation' to work in this setting since he isn't going to have the same reason for his hatred that he does in the pirate world. Naturally his hatred then expands to the group of people many of them are descended from and takes on a very xenophobic tinge. I use six of the Supernovas in this fic (including Kid, Killer, and Urouge), and five of them are tied to Scandinavian countries, either directly or through ancestry.
By the way, even though I compare Urouge to a giant in this chapter, he is vaguely going to represent a Norse god, which I will bring up in the next chapter.
And as I warned at the end of the last chapter - this shit is getting dark, and the next chapter is going to be worse. :) This chapter was a reminder that Kid is not a good person and does awful things and will continue to do awful things to his enemies throughout this fic. Killing a priest in cold blood and pissing on Cavendish's clothes are the least of his crimes. Hell, they're the least of the crimes he will commit just in England. This is the fic where I get to let Kid truly be Kid, in all his homicidal glory.