Wulfric grunted as Halvard threw his entire body weight behind his sword blow, and the monk-turned-northman staggered back a few paces. Halvard hissed out a breath and pointed the tip of his blade at Wulfric's feet. "Sloppy. Again." Wulfric charged, and Halvard parried effortlessly, sidestepping the blow and slapping Wulfric with the flat of his blade. "Again. Every man of Rovngalad stands in the shield wall, and every man counts on his brothers in arms. If one man flags, the shield wall breaks. We can't get back the years you lost in that southern monastery, but I can make sure you don't get the rest of us killed." This time when Wulfric attacked, Halvard slowed his counter to show him how it worked.

Since arriving back from the disastrous affair at Yeavenguut nearly a month ago, Halvard had brought Wulfric into the daily training with the rest of the warriors. The farm work Wulfric had endured for most of the previous year had hardened his muscles, but dragging a plow and swinging a sword were quite different, and he was crawling to bed sore once again. Svein and the other boys were in a similar circumstance, and it embarrassed Wulfric that the only opponent he could regularly match was Svein. The boy was over a decade his junior and more than a head shorter, but what he lacked in muscle mass and reach he made up for in a lifetime of learning weapons fundamentals from his uncles. However, the previous week Wulfric had managed to best Skaldi, and he still felt a glow of pride whenever he thought back to it. The northern priest had overreached and Wulfric had slipped inside his guard, knocking him to the ground and disarming him. Skaldi had been livid, of course, but Halvard had seemed suitably impressed.

Occasionally Ulfi would take Wulfric off Halvard's hands and help him with his axework, and sometimes invited him to help out in the boathouse when the weather prevented them from spending much time in the fields. Ulfi was a stern teacher, but his style was far more patient than Halvard or Torvald's, and Wulfric knew he was trying to fill the void in his heart that Odmund had left. Although he had little enough interest in building boats, he indulged Ulfi and paid careful attention whenever the man lectured him on how to sand along the grain and fit the ribs.

While Wulfric sat massaging his sore muscles by the fire, Torvald sat down across from him. The warrior had just returned from one of his strange trips out into the mountains with Jarn. Torvald leaned back with a groan and smirked. "Halvard's running you hard, isn't he?"

Wulfric smirked. "Nothing I can't handle."

"Big talk from such a small man."

"I'm no Torvald the Red, but I'm getting there."

Torvald laughed. "Well, you certainly boast like a northman now!" He poured himself a horn of ale and took a draught. "Wulfric, would you turn Dismas over to me tomorrow? There are some things I would like to teach him."

"Dismas isn't really a fighter."

"On the battlefield, your pokemon are often the only things standing between you and the Cold Halls. Perhaps Dismas won't fly at the lead with Branna and Sigrund, but you'll want him to watch your back."

Wulfric turned to his Chatot. "Well, what do you say? Do you want to learn how to fight?"

Dismas cocked his head from side to side and warbled for a moment. Then he bobbed up and down. "Fight! Die! Blood!"

Wulfric glanced over at Torvald. "He's all yours, I suppose."

And so it went. When Wulfric reported to the training yards for his daily beatings, Torvald took Dismas off with Branna and Skerast. When the Chatot was returned to Wulfric in the evenings, Dismas was covered in scratches, his feathers were rumpled and in disarray, but Wulfric could not deny that Dismas was carrying himself with far more swagger. When Wulfric asked what Torvald's methods were, the warrior shrugged. "We're just sparring. Dismas isn't as fast or strong as Branna, but he's quick and he's clever. He can turn and loop faster because he's small." He rumpled Wulfric's hair. "Kind of like you, little priest."

One day while taking a short respite from training, Halvard shooed Svein from the bench he shared with Wulfric. The boy shrugged and went off to wrestle with Talvar. Halvard watched his nephew for a moment before turning Wulfric. "When we first met, you were drawing. I remember that."

"Yes…"

"Can you draw me something?"

"I suppose, had I the proper tools."

"I need a map."

"Halvard, I have seen the sea charts you keep. I'm sure I could copy them if you needed it transcribed, but I doubt I could compare to—"

"I don't need a sea chart, I need a map. Of your kingdom."

Wulfric felt his throat constrict. "You mean, of the interior?"

Halvard nodded. "We know the coastline, more or less. A few raids have gone a short ways up the rivers, but not very far. But your kingdom has iron, and some of the finest swords and armor I've ever seen."

"You plan to raid Kalos? Inland Kalos?" Wulfric shook his head. "You're mad. The king's knights have their estates in the interior. We would never get out alive."

Halvard scoffed. "You think Kalosian knights can match the fighting men of Rovngalad?"

"Maybe you would win against a few knights. But there are many knights in Kalos, and only so many men of Rovngalad."

"Just draw me a map, Wulfric. I have ink and parchment. We can talk more when it's done."

It took him several nights to be satisfied with his product, and much of it was guesswork. He knew that the brothers who had specialized in cartography at the monastery would have scorned his amateurish efforts at rendering the Kalosian coastline, but it was better than nothing. The rivers were a simpler task, as he knew roughly where those courses ran. He also made notations as to where there was open country, mountains, and the inland desert, though he doubted Halvard would have any interest in the badlands.

At Torvald's suggestion, he also marked potential arms stockpiles and the best way to reach them. After considering the various options, Wulfric ultimately deemed that the best place to strike was the citadel at Camphorae, some distance southwest of the capital of Lumen. The longships could row up the Sennouire river from where it emptied into the sea south of Geosenge Village and follow it up the lowlands to just outside of Camphorae. Though the river would undoubtedly be defended at key points along its length, there were long stretches where it was uninhabited and the closest settlements were leagues from the banks. It would also give the raiders a chance to practice defending their boats from defenders on the shore, as they would certainly be forced to do when they mounted their offensive against Yeavenguut.

When Wulfric presented his plans to Halvard, the jarl studied them for several minutes in silence. "This is our best option?"

Wulfric nodded. "There are better stocked garrisons in the eastern mountains, but we would have to travel overland in Kalosian territory. We would surely be discovered and killed. Camphorae is by no means a vulnerable target, but it is far more feasible to attack there than it would be to try and reach San Dent-du-Mille or, Arceus forbid, Anistelle City."

"How many knights can we expect?"

"I do not know for certain, but there will be at least a full legion of common soldiers at the garrison. Duke Louis de Verron keeps his court at Camphorae, and his personal guard would be formidable."

"What is a 'duke'?"

"A noble. He's the king's cousin. So he has many knights at his command."

Halvard glanced over at Torvald. "How evenly matched were our men against the knights at Coumarina?"

Torvald shrugged. "There weren't many when we took the garrison. Ivarr and I could handle them. Skidsegg and Thorund couldn't." Wulfric had never before heard the last two names, and could only assume that they had died in the raid where he had been captured. Torvald continued, "I've been training the others. Their formations and tactics are predictable, but their armor is much better than ours."

Wulfric cleared his throat. "If I may?" He tapped his map, where he had marked major Kalosian fortifications and citadels. "The southern nobles are always squabbling about something or other, so their troops are constantly seeing combat. Knights are hardened veterans and exceptionally skilled. But your warfare is very different from theirs. When Kalosian lords fight, they march their troops to their rival's city and start a siege. Battles tend to be rather structured affairs, with formal writs of challenge. They aren't used to defending against an opponent that comes out of nowhere, strikes fast and retreats with their spoils. If we can keep the element of surprise, Duke Verron in all likelihood won't be able to respond quickly enough. You could take the weapons and armor from the garrison and be three leagues downriver before his knights even get to Camphorae."

"The men won't like running from a fight," Torvald said.

"The men will have plenty of chances to die in glorious battle when I take Ingmar's head," Halvard replied. He turned back to Wulfric. "What do you know about the coffers of Camphorae?"

"They are considerably fuller than the ones of Coumarina. More than that, I can't say."

Halvard smirked and clapped Wulfric on the shoulder. "That's all I need to hear. Torvald, do you think the men would be satisfied missing out on their share of glory if they got their share of gold instead?"

"I'm sure it would quiet most of them."

"Of course it would." The jarl stood up. "Inform the warriors that we will sail when the moon turns."

"So soon?" Torvald cried. "Halvard, that's just days away!"

"And why wait? The fields are planted. My warriors are getting restless, and we haven't had a real raid since returning from Coumarina last year."

"It will be as you say," Torvald said. He glanced over at Wulfric. "But this time, we're not bringing home any strays."

"That will be for Wulfric to decide," Halvard replied with a laugh. "He'll be leading the raid."

"He'll what?" Torvald snapped.

"I'll what?" Wulfric yelped.

Halvard shrugged. "Why not? You know the country better than any here. You know these Kalosians, know their strange foreign ways. You can leave the fighting to us, but it will be your responsibility to guide us to Camphorae."

Wulfric swallowed the lump in his throat and looked to Torvald for help. The warrior sighed in resignation. "He's the jarl. Once he's made up his mind, there's nothing I can do."

Skaldi, however, was not nearly so accommodating. "I'll go to the deepest pit in the Cold Halls before I follow some southern priest!" Skaldi spat when Halvard told his assembled his warriors the plans for the spring raid. "You can give him an arm ring if you wish, but that won't make him one of us! He'll just get us all killed!"

Several other warriors took up Skaldi's tune, and soon the rumbles of discontent were spreading. Ulfi stood up and walked to Wulfric's side, putting one of his heavy, scarred hands on the monk's shoulder. "I accept Jarl Halvard's choice," the boat builder rumbled. "We need his knowledge if this raid is to succeed. If you stand behind the jarl's dream to take back his throne, then you'll stand behind Wulfric." He pressed his lips in thin smile. "Or are you all just too cowardly to sail south?"

"Coward?" Ivarr roared. "You call me a coward, you old bastard?"

"Are you afraid to follow Wulfric, our brother in arms, to the south?"

Ivarr hesitated. "Damn it, of course not!"

Several of Skaldi's naysayers started to come around, and Ulfi leaned down to speak in Wulfric's ear. "I put my honor on the line for you. Don't prove me wrong."

"I won't. I swear it."

And so a fortnight later, Wulfric found himself on the docks of Rovngalad once again, going over his crude map with Ragnhildr, Halvard, and Torvald. Ragnhildr pursed her lips as she studied the smudged ink. "We are sure to be detected as we move inland."

Torvald shrugged. "We just kill anyone who sees us."

Wulfric did his best to hide his discomfort. For all that the northmen had adopted him as one of their kind, he was still at heart a Kalosian, and the thought of putting his innocent countrymen to death to further Halvard's aims sat poorly with him. But he did not let his discomfort show, and took his place in Halvard's boat beside Ulfi. Ivarr and Torvald cast their longboats off from the docks first, and Ragnhildr followed after them. Halvard and Skaldi directed their ships to bring up the rear. As they rowed towards the mouth of the harbor, Uthald drew up alongside the longship. Halvard reached out over the water and brushed his hand against Uthald's scales. "Not this time, my friend. Stay here and protect the village."

Uthald moaned deep in his throat and pulled away, drawing himself up out of the water to watch the ships pass through the mouth of the fjord. Halvard turned and waved as they turned south, and soon even the top of Uthald's crest vanished behind the coastal hills.

They sailed for five days, curving out to sea to stay out of sight of the settlements on the coast and from any fishermen plying the abundant coastal waters. When Halvard and Ragnhildr judged them far enough south, they turned east and it was not long before they came across the mouth of the Sennouire. They did not linger in the delta long, for Geosenge Village was only a league up the coast. The sails were struck and stowed in the bellies of the ships as the northmen rowed their way up the river, stopping for the night only when they were certain they were far from any Kalosian village.

They camped on shore that night, and Wulfric huddled close to the fire. All around him, warriors inspected their weapons, polishing their swords and sharpening their axes. The low rumble of muttered conversations filled the night air. Halvard sank down next to Wulfric and spread the map across his knees. "Show me where we are." Wulfric gave the jarl his best approximation, and Halvard nodded slowly. "How far should we go tomorrow?"

Wulfric thought for a moment, and estimated that if they pushed, they could reach Camphorae in three days. "Going back down the river will be easier, of course," he said. "We won't be fighting the current, and your longships are faster than any Kalosian river boat I've seen. Provided we manage to surprise Camphorae and take what we need quickly, we should be able to slip completely through their fingers."

Halvard tugged at his beard. "If it comes to a fight, stay close to me. I will keep you safe."

"Thank you."

"I know this is hard for you."

Wulfric reached for the small iron ring around his neck. "I know that I'm one of you now. But for all that, these people we're raiding are still my countrymen. I don't like killing anyone, but I especially don't want to kill a man with whom I ought to have no quarrel. I'm bringing death to them and… by Arceus, that's as good as murdering them myself."

"You may hate me for making me do this to you. That's… fair." Halvard sighed. "But I need the men to trust and respect you. When I kill Ingmar, I will open trade with the south. But the men need to see that the southerners can be trusted, and the only way to do that is to fight and bleed beside one. Better yet, if they're led by one in Rovngalad's most ambitious raid in years, it will be less of a bitter draught when we really trading for what we could have just taken." Halvard shook his head. "Leadership is a heavy burden, Wulfric. Being jarl is bad enough, and when I'm king it will be worse. If I thought Torvald could do it, I'd turn things over to him in a heartbeat."

"About Torvald…" Wulfric took a deep breath to steady himself. "Halvard, on the night we were attacked in Yeavenguut, Torvald woke up too. He could have stopped things before I did, but he tried to stop me. He would have let you die."

Halvard was silent for a moment. When he finally did speak, it was with resigned acceptance. "I can't say I'm surprised. If I were in his position, I might have done the same thing." The jarl shrugged. "He probably thought that once I was out of the way, he could settle things with Ingmar and rule Rovngalad in peace."

Wulfric stared into the flames. "Halvard, do you truly believe you'll win?"

"Of course I do," the jarl replied. "I can't fail. Too much is riding on me."

"Even though the odds are so long?"

Halvard scoffed. "Odds? A man like me doesn't need to consider things like odds. I make my own luck."

Wulfric managed to smile and fingered the ring of Arceus he wore beneath his shirt. "I wish I could have the same faith in myself that you do."

"You don't need to believe in yourself," Halvard said. "I believe in you, Wulfric. So just believe in me, and I'll carry us through. Guide us up the river, and I'll take everything from there. I swear it." Halvard lay back on his bedroll and smirked. "Wulfric, I promised you that we would change the world and a man of Rovngalad never goes back on his word. But I can't do this without you."

"I'll stand with you. I promise."

Halvard smiled. "It's not going to be easy. But life without difficulty is a life without valor."