August 3rd, 1840
City Gates, Arendal
The cold air hung still on the ramparts of the old stone walls of the city, as a number of Landwehr soldiers raced up the stairs, rifles in hand. Reinforcing the handful of soldiers already providing security, the mix of young and old men moved into intervals of a meter or so, before going to the position of attention, rifle stock next to their right boot's toe and barrel up. It was one of the few drills the new recruits had grasped so far with any decency.
Behind them was the now Lance-Corporal Mikael Eriksen, who followed up behind them. The young man was promoted and assigned to lead the new recruits and keep accountability as well as help train them in between their duties, no easy task. Glancing the troops up and down, Mikael stopped before one particular soldier, before raising his voice.
"Gods-damn it Konrad, tie your fucking laces!"
The young recruit flinched, before stammering a response. "Yes Lance Corporal."
As the teenaged recruit began to tie his low-quarter boots in a fashion that would certainly come unraveled later, Mikael put that thought to the back of his head for later. Instead he turned to the other side of the gate, waving to the squad leader there indicating his readiness. Once he got the return signal, Mikael turned about and looked over the parapet, at the reason for the raised alarm.
Another wave of refugees snaked its way across the snowy earth, the latest of many such bands of refugees of today. Over the last 24 hours, a massive surge of groups fleeing the Crusaders had arrived, causing a state of high alert for the garrison. The city was happy to receive more helping hands and save lives, but troops always had to be drummed up to watch and search the refugees when they arrived. After all, someone had to ensure that a refugee column wasn't actually a Trojan horse.
Mikael waited as the guards already on duty used their spotting glasses to review the refugee column, looking for tell such as an excessive number of young men, enemy uniforms under cloaks or bulges indicating hidden weapons. After a moment, the guard sergeant on duty gave a hand-wave in a reeling motion, indicating that the refugee's looked legitimate. As such the men below began opening the gate, as Mikael initiated his own part.
"Alright fellows, down we go."
Now that the refugees had been cleared from afar, they would still be searched as they came in. This was where Mikael came in. As such, both squads on the flanking side of the walls shuffled down the ancient steps and turning about to step into the now opening gate. Before long, Mikael and his troops had filed out into a flanking position outside of the gate, once again going to the position of attention again, ready for the refugees who were about a hundred meters away.
The wind howled, causing Mikael to clinch his teeth as chill ran down his spine. This was a drill he did not care for, though he held his tongue on the matter. He had just begun to wiggle his toes to keep active when one of his soldiers raised his voice.
"Are those horsemen supposed to be there?"
Mikael looked over to the nearby hill, spotting a large group of irregulars on horseback, watching the refugees and open city gates. At once, Mikael's hair stood on end. This time, however, it wasn't from the cold.
"ALARM!" Mikael screamed, before readying his weapon, eyes widened with adrenaline.
The horsemen must have heard or had great timing, as they began to trot down the hill, quickly shifting into a full gallop. The refugees would have been deaf to not hear the hooves of the horses and the yipping and yelling of the men riding them, and proved to not be as such. The down-trodden refugees began to cry out and break into a run, most throwing down anything but the most vital of provisions as they made it towards the gate.
The men at the gate stood uneasy, as they were under orders to close the gate at the first sign of trouble, but they were not prone to lock out women and children. Plus, the regulars amongst them were spoiling for a fight.
"Landwehr! Load rifles!" Mikael shouted, before quickly loading his rifle in a smooth manner. The same could not be said of his troops, who fumbled even through the basic breach loading action of their Dreyse rifles.
Thank the gods we don't have muzzleloaders, Mikael thought. "Fire at will!"
The recruits fired a staggered volley, before returning to reload. Across the gateway the Corporal there must have given a similar order, as they too began to shoot their rifles. The effect on the incoming cavalry was slight, but it was better than nothing.
As Mikael was reloading however, a shout from above drew his attention.
"Lance Corporal, Corporal! We're closing this gate to a slight crack! If you don't come in now, we may have to close it on you!"
"Okay!" Mikael shouted back, before taking a look at the situation. His recruits had just fired a second volley, once again to little effect, with maybe one or two horsemen going down. Soon they would be in carbine range, and soon after that, they'd be on top of them. The fastest of the refugees had just sprinted between them, with the bulk close behind, especially since the gate was closing in front of them. It was not the mass that was threatened, but the stragglers. As such, he made up his mind.
"Guys, get inside and assist with the searching of the refugees. I'll join you in a moment!"
The recruits nodded sheepishly, before turning and scampering through the gate. Mikael watched the last of his men go through the gate, before finishing reloading and firing again, taking down another horseman. In response the horsemen leveled their carbines and fired, their shots peppering the area. A number of refugees were hit as were some men in the other squad, but luckily none so bad that they were immobilized, though some were likely walking dead.
The horsemen were now a number of seconds away, and drawing their melee weapons. Based on the lack of sabers or lances, it was clear these were no true cavalrymen. Still, they meant certain death if he was outside the gate when they reached it.
The last of the refugees sprinted through the gate, leaving only a uniformed man who was assisting an elderly woman clad in furs and cloak. Swearing a curse under his breath, he slung his rifle as he sprinted to their aid. Right as he reached them, the woman stumbled, her arm flailing towards the ground around them before regaining her balance.
Seizing her, he assisted the unknown soldier in helping the woman towards the gate, at this point effectively carrying her. Still, looking behind them, it was clear that they were not going to make it. With the gate so close, but still too far, a number of horsemen raised their weapons, ready to strike as they closed within meters.
But then, a blessing.
The horses hit sheet ice, stealing all traction and causing the large beasts to skid, throwing them into a panic. As such, instead of striking down Mikael or being able to force a foothold into the city, the rebels were either being thrown from their horses or struggling to remain upright, with a few even going down with their horses. And because of this, Mikael was able to get the woman through the gate, with the help of the other man.
Having made it through, the two released the woman, before turning towards each other. Before Mikael could speak however, his eyes fell upon the man's uniform. Beneath his great coat was a white summer drill tunic, which combined with the lack of crocus emblems on his greatcoat or cap could only mean one thing.
He was a crusader.
But as Mikael inhaled to warn his fellows, the spectacled man raised his hands in surrender and quickly spoke.
"My name is Lieutenant Frikron, and I wish to defect."
…
Barbu River, Outskirts of Arendal
Ralf marched solemnly with his company down the road, his muzzle-loading rifle resting on his shoulder. As he was part of Hrym's company and therefore part of Surtrsen's original battalion, he was located in the forward section of the army's troop column. Light snow fell as they made their way down the valley, approaching the final obstacle to Arendal itself, the Barbu river. In view along the roadway ahead was a bridge, which was the door to Arendal.
At least it would be if it wasn't completely destroyed.
In plain view it stood, the stone and wooden bridge burnt to embers which still valiantly struggled to stay alive in the wintery winds. And while the Barbu river was hardly a dangerous river to ford in summer, the ice atop it was too thin for columns of men to cross, let alone horses and guns. And for an army that had many in rags and summer boots, to ford would invite frostbite and hypothermia on a massive scale.
Captain Hrym wheeled his horse about, before addressing his troops. "Sergeant Major, call a halt and fallout. I'm going to talk to Surtrsen."
The troops slightly scattered as the Captain rode off, leaving the troops to mutter amongst themselves.
"You think it was the Loyalists?"
It was Bern who spoke, his voice firm as he was one of the few unfazed by the cold.
"I don't know. It seems unlikely, since every Sami or Pagan that makes it south is another soldier."
A moment of quiet passed, as both remembered what they did in Ulfberg. Neither were clearly comfortable talking about it, let alone proud of it. But neither would dare seriously question it either.
"We did what we had to do, Ralf. We're making a better world."
"Yeah, of course. It's going to be a better world, Bern. But should we be a part of it?"
Before he could answer, Captain Hrym returned on horseback, shaking his head and laughing slightly in a slightly disgusted tone. "Set up shelters and pickets, boys. We're going to be here a while. Turns out our trusted allies the Sons of Muspell decided to burn our own bridge as part of their scorched earth campaign."
As Ralf slung his rifle and prepared for the work ahead, Bern made a final remark. "That's the difference between us and them, Ralf. We do it because we must. They do it because they can."
However, both men found those words hollow.
…
The North Mountain, Arendal
While Surtrsen's army was worried about fixing a bridge, Ásta was miles away, knowing but uncaring. Above the permanent frost line of the mountains, Ásta clawed her way through the ice and snow, trying to find a place she had not seen in centuries- the place where she died.
It was in these mountains where she made her last stand with her loyal followers against her treacherous countrymen and their Danish and Saxon allies. It was here that they fought for days on end, butchering the Christian troops by the score until the final day. The day Frida killed her, and took her crown. And it was Frida who sealed her away and entombed her, preventing her wrathful return as a Draugr.
As she reached the clearing, the took a moment to take in the surroundings, including the nearby monstrosity that was Queen Elsa's Ice Palace, currently empty, Elsa's near death having taken away it's loyal protector, the Snow Golem. The only reason it remained was that the icy temperatures ensured the snow didn't melt, and that the structure itself was sound. Regardless, Ásta thought it ironic, perhaps even fitting that Elsa had built her redoubt so close to where so many died defending against those that would have had Elsa burned as a witch.
And perhaps that's one lesson we should have learned from the papists. Such ignorance of her own people's history…
To that though, Ásta could only shake her head, before turning about and coming to begin what she came here to do. Producing an ancient and rune inscribed drinking horn, she begun to fill it with mead, while beginning to speak to the hallowed, frozen earth.
"I would speak to those that can hear me, in this sacred and ancient battlefield, where the Valkyries of Odin and Freya collected the glorious dead and the fates woven by the Norns themselves thicken the air! Lo there, do I call to the glorious dead, to those who remember the last toast made with this very horn!"
The Horn filled, Ásta walked into the clearing, holding the drink vessel high and spinning about, as if to show an invisible crowd about her, a crowd she knew to be watching.
"I call to you in Valhalla and Folkvangr, where you are fighting and drinking and dining with the gods, as well you should! I beckon you temporarily to Midgard, to fulfil the oath you made to this drinking horn's last rising, an oath you swore to obey past even death itself! I call you to me, my brothers and sisters!"
And thus there was silence save for the wind for over a minute, though Ásta would feel the charged spiritual energy thickening the air. She had little doubt that she had been heard and headed. Before long, cracking and sifting was heard, and corpses, mummified by ice and snow rose from their mass graves, little more than skeletons with skin and sinew. Both men and women arose, adorned with rusted armor, furs and hair both head and facial. But unlike Ásta, they were not pleased to be back.
A shield maiden stepped to the front, confronting Ásta. Blond, tall and muscular (at least for a ice mummy), this one was certainly a fearsome warrior in life, and feared little, including the monster in front of her. In a tongue that Ásta had not heard another speak for so long, the she-corpse spoke.
"Who dares steal the glorious dead of the gods for their selfish, evil purposes? What foul beast, so selfish and evil as to become a Draugr dares disturb this holy field of battle?" The skeleton paused, before carrying on, her tone of voice indicating the greatest crime of all. "And who dares use the belongings of a dear, long lost friend, befouling her memory for personal gain! Speak Draugr, so I may send you back to Niflheim where you belong!"
Ásta merely smiled behind her mask, holding back joyful tears, before speaking. "Linda, Linda, Linda, always the first to rise to the defense of your Queen. You were always the most loyal of all. I've missed you so!" Before the shield maiden could respond with more than a puzzled look, Ásta removed her mask and cast back her hood revealing herself to the undead warriors. Up until now, Ásta had been eating well and regenerating as such, to the point that besides her aura and glowing blue eyes, she appeared as she had in life, except perhaps a little older. "It is I, Queen Ásta 'Frysthjarta' Skadibarn of Arendal."
The undead were taken aback, before Linda responded, with clasping of her arm and a bear-hug. "My Queen, my blood sister, it has been so long!" After a moment, the undead woman stepped back, her gaunt face fretting with worry.
"But I do not understand, Asta. You were righteous, selfless, and brave! How could you become-"
"A Draugr, Linda? Because it was necessary. It was the only way to ensure that everything that we sacrificed isn't lost."
"But that would be impossible! Surely the histories tell-"
"Winners get to write the songs and ballads. We became the monsters when they wrote our history. And I was powerless to stop it. Until now."
"I worry for your spirit, Ásta, and I pray when this is done you may join us with the Aesir as you deserve. You have stood watch long enough. Now, let us right this tragedy which is the slander against us, and the Christian seizure of our home!"
Ásta chuckled at Linda' enthusiasm, glad to finally be amongst her people again. Still, there was business to be done. "That will happen in due time. But there's something far more important to resolve."
The cold corpse scoffed, before replying. "My Queen, what could possibly-"
"Linda, the new Queen, this Queen Elsa, she has control over the ice and snow."
A look of true terror made itself plain on Linda's face. "By the gods…"
Ásta nodded in agreement, before stating her will. "Yes. And she must die, before it can happen again."
…
Royal Family Dining Area, Royal Palace, Arendal
Anna turned the corner into the dining room set aside for the Royal Family, only to be surprised to see Elsa and Captain Mackenzie already there, talking in English.
"You do realize that there is a wee bit of difference between a Scotsman and an Irishman, no?"
"I do understand that Captain." Elsa said, careful to avoid dramatic movements. Still reduced to makeup and wig, Elsa had been moving about more, but not by much.
"Then I fail to understand why you think you can just dump a mob of unruly paddies on me, and expect things to be dandy."
"Because Captain, you are by far the highest ranking Officer I have that speaks English as a primary language."
"Oh, that's hogwash and you know it! I do business with too many of your officers to not know that plenty of them can speak and write English."
"But are they fluent? I don't need a man to order them around, I need a man to lead them. And that means a mastery of language. And that's you. Now unless you have other business, I suggest you look to your Irish troops."
"No, your Majesty." The Scotsman bowed, before turning and leaving, muttering quietly under his breath. Waiting for him to leave, Anna then waved quietly with a nervous smile.
Elsa smiled and blinked, taking a moment to reacquaint herself linguistically before greeting her sister in German. "Anna, you are a sight for sore eyes. I've been dealing with that sort of nonsense all morning."
"In our Dining Room? I thought we had a throne room for this sort of thing?"
"We do, but it's easier for Gerda to maintain my appearance from here than the throne room. Speaking of that."
Elsa pulled the wig from her head. Revealing her "natural" hair again. No longer the dark brown of her mother's, it was now lighter brown, fairly close to dirty blonde.
"Ooh, you're getting there, Elsa!"
"Not quickly enough. I may need my powers to defend Arendal, and yet the enemy are at the gate! And yet, I'm still powerless."
A moment of uneasy silence followed, as it took a moment for Anna to notice that Elsa was trembling in fear. It didn't help that Anna was still used to looking for temperature drops to determine if Elsa was upset or not. The moment she did, Anna snapped into her comforting mode.
"Hey, don't push yourself on this Elsa. I'm here to help remember?"
Elsa sighed a deep breath to bring her heart rate down, before turning to Anna and speaking. "Anna, about that…"
"Look Elsa, I am so sorry, for whatever I did wrong. I was just trying to help you out and if I messed up I can-"
Elsa's eyes widened in surprise before she cut Anna's rambling off. "What, no! You didn't do anything wrong, Anna! In fact, you did very well. Between the Irish, mobilization laws and your supervising of recruit training in our raised battalions, you've been indispensable."
"I have?"
"Yes Anna, you have. Thank you, for your hard work so far."
Anna smiled warmly, her self-esteem a little boosted. "Don't sweat it, sis."
"Now, can you please find Kai? I have a meeting with Marcks and Grimstad soon, and I want to be ready on details."
Anna chuckled before heading to the door. "I'll help you out now, but you can't keep playing that 'I'm recovering' card indefinitely."
Pausing to turn around, she turned the knob and began to open the door. "After all I literally died and you don't see me-"
A fiery blast slammed the door open, throwing both sisters out the bay windows of the room, causing both to tumble down the roof top and fall nearly a story, landing onto the snowy interior of the Royal Courtyard. Unseen to them now, Muspell stepped through the breach he had made, in all of his terribleness. Half Draugr and Fire Giant, he clutched his dagger with his right and prepared to summon more flames with his left, full of hate and anger. Today, he figured he would take out his frustration with the witch and the law on these two, killing two birds with one stone. Three, if one considered getting his freedom an additional bird.
With freedom so close he could taste it, Muspell smiled as the room and himself burned around him. "I think… I'll enjoy this kill."