After Halvard's various stories about the cruelty of the Usurper, Wulfric had not been sure what to expect of the man. He realized after the fact that he had constructed a mental picture of him similar to the pagan lords that had persecuted the first Arcean missionaries that crossed into the southern lands, bent and pale men with minds poisoned by the heathen priests that whispered in their ear. He had certainly not expected the ruddy, bearded giant of a man who sat on the throne dais of Yeavenguut. Ingmar had a booming laugh and rumbling voice that seemed to make the boards of his hall shake. He traded good-natured insults with many of the other jarls and warriors crowded around the long wooden tables, but there was a shrewd calculation behind his eyes, and every time he happened to glance at Halvard or Torvald, his gaze hardened.

A ceremony much like the one Wulfric had seen in Rovngalad took place before the feat began. The boys all lined up before Ingmar and swore an oath of fealty to him as their king, before receiving a kiss from his much younger wife. They were then all given a simple earthenware cup full of mead that they were to drink and then throw the cup to their feet to shatter it. When the rite was completed, the feast began.

Svein, Odmund and the other boys from Rovngalad returned quickly to their fathers and uncles, and the men of Rovngalad quickly closed ranks. They commandeered a table at the far side of the hall, as far from Ingmar and his retinue as possible. Wulfric heard Ingmar laughing intermittently throughout the feast as he stood behind Halvard's shoulder. The king scratched his Zangoose behind its notched ear as an Aegislash drifted around his head. The red-robed priest stood utterly still off to one side of the throne dais, and Trygi the steward was constantly rushing about the hall to fetch the king something or other, or to carry a message.

He cleared his throat as he approached Halvard's table. Wulfric had the distinct sense he was looking down his nose at them. "Jarl Halvard, King Ingmar requests you join him. Bring your southerner."

Torvald stood up, and Trygi stumbled back with a little yelp. The warrior brushed past the castellan with a grunt. "Just going to take a piss," he muttered, but Wulfric caught the look he threw Halvard.

The jarl sighed and rose to his feet and picked up his drinking horn, throwing back the contents. He steered Wulfric forward, and Wulfric saw that Ulfi and Ivarr moved to the far side of the hall, where they could rush the dais if they needed to. Halvard held Wulfric back when they reached the cleared floor before the high table. The jarl bowed to the king, keeping his face carefully blank. Ingmar grinned down at him. "Ah, the Fool's come back again. What do you think of what I've done with your uncle's hall?"

Wulfric blanched. He had not expected Ingmar to be so bald-faced about Halvard's station. But Halvard merely shrugged. "A little dark for my tastes, but nice enough. I prefer a larger hearth and a few more torches, myself."

"Oh?" Ingmar's eyebrow went up. "Agmundr tells me you have yourself a pet southerner too." He beckoned to Wulfric. "Come here, lad. Let me get a look at you." Wulfric shuffled forward and bowed. Ingmar looked him up and down. "What does he do?"

"He speaks our language like a native son of Rovngalad."

"Anyone can grunt and swear. Nine hells, I'd bet even your Gogoat could speak like a native son of Rovngalad." Ingmar replied, to general laughter. Out of the corner of his eye, Wulfric saw Torvald leaning against the large doorframe of the hall, his eyes narrowed. One of Skerast's tassels wrapped around his wrist.

"Wulfric, say something to the king," Halvard said softly.

"Your majesty, it is an honor to stand in your presence. I am so fortunate that Jarl Halvard has given me this opportunity." On Wulfric's shoulder, Dismas bobbed up and down in a facsimile of a bow and repeated what Wulfric had said.

Ingmar leaned forward on his throne. "Interesting trick. Say something more."

"Your castle is most impressive, your majesty. Even the great castle of Lumen to the south pales in comparison." A blatant lie, of course. The single time Wulfric had made a pilgrimage to Lumen, the citadel had awed him with its scope, easily five times the size of Yeavenguut. But Ingmar did not need to know that. "I am," he searched for the proper word, not one the northerners used often, "humbled to come before you and stand in your august presence."

"Big words for a little man." Ingmar tossed back his goblet of wine. "Jarl Halvard, he speaks better than you. How much would you sell him for?"

Wulfric felt his throat constrict as a smile played across Halvard's face. "Only your crown would be sufficient, King Ingmar," Halvard said.

"Does the slave mean that much to you?"

"Perhaps your crown means that little to me."

The two men regarded each other for a long moment, and it seemed to Wulfric that the entire hall held its breath. Finally, Ingmar scoffed and waved his hand, a clear gesture of dismissal. Torvald flicked his fingers and Skerast uncurled its tassel from his hand. Halvard took Wulfric's elbow and started to lead him away, but Ingmar held up a finger. Torvald froze in the doorway, his hand reaching toward Skerast again. "Jarl Halvard, you and your southerner come and walk with me when this is all over." Halvard nodded up at the king and returned to his table. The men of Rovngalad were far more subdued for the rest of the feast, muttering amongst each other and fingering their weapons. A few other veteran warriors came and spoke briefly to Halvard, exchanging little more than pleasantries so as to avoid the notice and ire of King Ingmar.

When the ale and mead finally ran dry and the northmen began to disperse, Torvald sat down next to Halvard. "Are you actually going to go?" the warrior asked.

Halvard shrugged. "I don't see why not. I'll have my sword, and I'll have Wulfric."

Torvald scoffed. "Because the priest can save you if Ingmar tries to kill you. Let me come with you, brother."

"You may be the finest warrior in the north, but I'm not so far behind you. I can look after myself, little brother." It was said just sternly enough for Torvald to fall silent. Skaldi opened his mouth to say something, but Halvard shook his head. "Both of you, bring the men back to the campsite. If I haven't returned by midnight," Halvard shrugged, "do what you have to do."

Wulfric followed Halvard down to the water's edge, where Ingmar waited with his red-robed priest and another man. The king stared out across the water to where Uthald drifted in the deepest part of the fjord. "A magnificent creature," Ingmar said when he heard Halvard's footsteps. "I've always wondered how a stupid fool like you managed to tame a shipbreaker like that."

"Did you just bring me out here to trade insults, you old bastard?"

"I brought you here to talk, away from the prying ears in my hall."

Halvard glanced at Agmundr and scoffed. "Right. Is this the part where I admire all that you've built over my father and uncle's graves? Or are we going to skip to the part where you try and put a knife in my back?"

"Nothing so underhanded as that. I'm not the savage you think I am, Jarl Halvard."

"Is that so?"

"Whether you believe me or not, I did what I had to do. I united the north."

"My great grandfather united the north, and my uncle was doing just fine at keeping it united until you killed him."

"Harald and Sigurd were getting too old. The far-flung jarls were getting restless. How long before they broke away and carved out their own kingdoms? I put your uncle and father down and kept the north untied under my banner."

"If that's what you want to believe, so be it."

Ingmar sighed. "It is the truth, Jarl Halvard."

"Let's say it is. Why tell me now? I swore your oath. I'm back in the fold for another year."

"I know you are plotting to kill me, Halvard."

Wulfric sucked in a breath, waiting for Agmundr or the third man to draw a knife, to fall on Halvard, to leave the jarl in a puddle of his blood on the sand. Uthald was too far away to help, if he even knew Halvard was here. But Halvard betrayed no emotion. "So you're not quite as stupid as you look."

"You admit to it?"

"No sense in lying, if you already know."

"The other jarls won't help you if you go to war against me."

"I know plenty who won't help you either." Halvard turned his head and spat. "The warriors of Rovngalad always knew we would have to fight whatever Yeavenguut threw at us alone."

"You'll throw the lives of your subjects away for your vain dream?"

"They swore an oath to do it. Each of my warriors—"

"Is worth three or four or five of mine, I've heard it before. I know you have the fastest ships, the strongest pokemon, the finest warriors. But Rovngalad is small, and you are underequipped. You cannot beat me. Just give it up, Halvard. I will let you go back to Rovngalad to live out the rest of your days quietly. It's a generous offer. Prove to me you're not a fool."

"No."

Ingmar pointed out over the water to the two towers that stood at the mouth of the fjord. "I have a southerner too." He inclined his head to the third man, the one who had remained quietly in the shadows. "He doesn't speak our tongue as well as your priest, but he speaks enough now. He is a builder, and thanks to him, I have made Yeavenguut impregnable."

"You built two piles of rock on your fjord. How could my army ever hope to face that?"

"You laugh, but only because you don't see. With those towers, I can string chains beneath the waves. I can keep your ships out, or trap them in the fjord. Perhaps your Gyarados could leap them, but for all its ferocity, could it really stand against the full might of my army alone?"

Halvard's eyes went wide, and Agmundr laughed behind Ingmar. The king smirked. "Now you see."

Wulfric edged around behind Halvard's back. "You are from the south?" he whispered to the quiet man. "They captured you too?"

The man, several years older than Wulfric, with a ragged beard and sunken eyes, nodded. "I never thought I'd hear someone speak Kalosian again."

"I'm Brother Wulfric, from the monastery at Coumarina."

"I'm called Donatus Builder. They took me from Geosenge Village."

Wulfric glanced over at Ingmar. "Why do you serve him? He's wicked and cruel."

"All the northerners are wicked and cruel," Donatus replied. "I serve him the same reason you serve your jarl. You keep them happy, you keep your life. King Ingmar wanted towers, so I built him towers."

"You could escape with us, come back to Rovngalad. There would be a place for you there."

"I'd be trading one master for another. Jarl Halvard won't be so different from King Ingmar. I'll stay with the demon I know."

Wulfric shook his head. "I'm sorry, Donatus."

The builder shrugged. "We just got captured by the wrong people. It's nothing personal, Brother Wulfric." He sighed. "Say a prayer for me, would you? Let Arceus know that I'm just doing what I need to do to get by. He'll understand, right?"

"His love is all-encompassing and His wisdom infinite. I'm sure He will."

Donatus nodded. "Thank you, Brother Wulfric."

"I won't turn tail and go home," Halvard was saying. "Perhaps you could crush us all with your little finger, but I don't care a damn about that. You killed my father and my uncle. You stole my throne, and you cast me out into exile, then treat the very thing that shames me like some generous boon." Halvard snarled and bared his teeth. "The only way this story ends is with a bloody sword and one of our heads in the dirt."

Ingmar shook his head. "Just remember that I tried to give you one last chance. I won't offer it again."

Halvard and Wulfric returned to the Rovngalad camp. Halvard brooded in silence, and Wulfric knew better than to try to draw him out of it when he was this sober. The men had built a small fire, but no one tended to it as they all prepared their bedrolls. Halvard sent Wulfric over to sleep by Torvald and Svein while the jarl slumped down against Steinarr some distance away. Torvald raised an eyebrow as he groomed Branna's feathers. Wulfric glanced over at where Svein played with Talvar and inched closer to Torvald. "They didn't kill each other," Wulfric whispered. "But they certainly wanted to."

"Well, that's something." Skerast drifted by Torvald's head, its blades glittering from the polish Torvald had recently applied.

"Ingmar kidnapped a southerner like me, a builder. He's the one who built the towers at the mouth of the fjord." He explained what Ingmar had told them about the chains that he could raise, and Torvald's scowl grew deeper.

"That sounds unpleasant." He shooed Branna off his knee, and the Talonflame alighted on a tree branch above the clearing. "Nothing we can't work around, but still rather inconvenient." Torvald fell back on his bedroll. "Well, nothing you need to concern yourself with, little priest."

One by one, the men drifted off to sleep, and the fire died to mere embers. In the middle of the night, Wulfric was woken to Dismas scratching at him. The monk nearly sat up, but saw a shadow move before the faint fire pit. Keeping his eyes to small slits, he saw that a company of armed men was moving through the camp, swords drawn. Wulfric felt his throat constrict as one of the men drew close to Halvard's sleeping form. He reached over and grasped Torvald's wrist, trying to shake the warrior awake. Torvald brushed his hand away, and Wulfric saw that he was awake and watching the men with his eerie predatory smile.

Wulfric's heart was racing. Torvald was going to let the assassins kill his brother and usurp Halvard's title. Halvard's dream of regaining his throne and establishing trading ties with the south would die with him. Wulfric knew he had been sent to Halvard's side for a reason, and he had to do what he could to protect him. "Halvard!" he shouted. "Halvard, wake up!"

As he drew the dagger from Torvald's discarded sword belt and sprang to his feet, Dismas jumped into the air and unleashed a booming squawk. The sound made all of the assassins pause for just long enough for Wulfric to leap across the fire pit and onto the back of Halvard's assailant. He plunged the dagger into the assassin's throat and felt the man's blood pump out onto his hands.

Halvard was on his feet, sword already in hand. "Men of Rovngalad!" he boomed over Dismas's shrieking. "Men of Rovngalad, stand and fight!"

And with that, the clearing erupted into chaos.