Ragnar rammed his shoulder against the locked door, grunting with the effort. He thumped hard against the solid wood once, twice, and on the third it swung open with a bang and sent him nearly tumbling down to the floor. Herleif stepped over him into the dark room, his eyes quickly adjusting to the dim light that washed in through the open door, shield raised and sword ready for any Pyre Knights that may have been lurking within. There were none.
"This one looks empty too," Ragnar said as he got up to dust himself off and take a look around.
Herleif nodded and walked closer to the nearest workbench to see what he might find. The room was empty, just like the last two they had checked. What remained of the Divine Pyre in the fortress was still out in the yard trying to hold their own against his warriors, or fleeing into the mines dug into the mountainside to try and escape, but the forge was lost to them now even if they didn't know it yet. He had left the greater part of his warriors to deal with the last bit of resistance, while others branched off to begin scouring the forge for anything useful that they could take with them to the siege of the Walled City or back to their ships.
"Just more weapons," he said in a mildly disappointed tone, picking up a half finished sword of the bench, not even sharpened yet, then tossed it away.
"Weapons are good," answered Ragnar, looking over another workbench and eyeing a finely made dagger before slipping it into his belt.
"We have enough weapons."
"You can never have enough weapons," Ragnar said assuredly, sliding a second dagger into his belt next to the first.
Helge stepped into the room next, followed by a couple spear-men who had to dip their weapons and hold broad shields close to fit in through the doorway. The young Shaman glanced over the myriad of sharpened metal and beaten armor with a rather unimpressed sneer, like she had just been offered a lame horse already half in the grave to ride.
"Even with all of this they could still not hold us back. Their God is weak," she glowered.
Herleif gave a small shrug of his shoulders as he walked further into the room. "We have Ragna, Skuld and Priscilla to thank for our victory here today," he said, hearing Helge give a hiss at the Peacekeeper's name.
"I do not like that little woman," Helge said, who Herleif was pretty sure was about the same height as Priscilla. "She lives and speaks in shadows. All of these Knights claim to live in the light of their mighty God, then they go and hide their faces from the world behind metal. I do not trust anyone whose eyes I cannot see and whose neck I cannot bite."
Ragnar perked up from the rack of axes he was carefully examining. "What, do you mean like willingly, or..?"
"I mean," Helge smiled impishly, taking a few light steps over to Ragnar and stroking his beard beneath his chin, "how am I to know a person fully if I have never tasted of them?" she purred.
"Oh, I'll give you something to taste..." he chuckled with a deep rumble from his throat, forgetting the bounty of axes and slipping his hands around Helge's hips to pull her in close.
"That is quite enough of that, thank you," Herleif cut in, narrowing his eyes at the two overly familiar warriors. "If I have to come over there and separate you two, the only thing to do any tasting will be my sword nicking the both of your hides. Now everyone spread out and start looking for something useful." His warriors did as he commanded and spread out through the room, albeit Helge and Ragnar did so a bit more sullenly than the rest.
Their mood soon improved though as Helge found a simple Lawbringer's helmet among the racks of ready made armor and slipped it over her head, but the thing was much to big for her as it wobbled about on her shoulders. She knocked her fists against it, making the hollow metal ring like a bell around her ears, laughing exuberantly like a child and drawing in Ragnar to join in on the fun.
"Harder!" she exclaimed, still laughing as she and Ragnar took turns hitting the helmet upon her head. "Hit it harder! If it rings loud enough maybe I will hear the Christ God talking to me like these fools claim."
Ragnar withdrew an axe from his belt, held his tongue between his teeth while he took his aim, cocked back his arm and swung it as hard as if he was trying to spilt an enemy's skull clean in half. The flat of his blade clanged sharply against Helge's armored head, the helmet ring out with the loudest hit yet, and she dropped to the floor like a stone plunged into the sea.
"Troll shit! Sorry," Ragnar hissed, freezing up for a moment before dropping down after to help Helge back up to her feet.
The helmet sat sideways on her shaved head, wobbling about as her knees shook. "I'm alright..." she groaned as he lifted the helmet up off of her, big blue eyes swimming in and out of focus.
Ragnar gave a couple snaps of his fingers in front of her nose, trying to get her to focus. "So? Did you hear the voice of the Christ God?" he asked.
"You know...I actually did..." Helge said, blinking quickly to clear her head.
Ragnar cocked a brow at that. "Well, what did he say?"
Helge tilted her head up against his shoulder and let her grin spread from ear to ear as she looked up at him. "That your sister is the better fuck..." and she cackled loudly as he tossed her back to the ground.
Herleif watched all of this happen in like the unfolding of a child's wild saga tale, and had to remove his helmet just to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "Æsir and Vanir, give me strength," he muttered to himself.
His spear-men did their best to ignore Helge and Ragnar's antics, making their way around the benches and into other rooms that led off from the one they had entered. Herleif was beginning to lose hope that they would find anything of worth in this accursed forge, and that it would only amount to time and blood wasted. It would not do to let the Pyre hold a position behind their line during a siege of course, but it infuriated him to see just how easily they were dealt with by his warriors alone when everything else from their mad faith to their unbridled cruelty refused to yield. The Divine Pyre had power in these lands, he had witnessed that much for himself, but so far their forces had either been too few or too weak to stand against them.
It made him wonder just why the legions of Ashfeld had simply abandoned their northern territories to these fanatics without much of a fight. Judith had said that it was out of fear of killing their own countrymen and families, and of weakening their own forces under the threat of more raids, but there was nothing about these Pyre dogs that showed him they would ever stop at the land they were given by some worthless decree. These vile fools wanted to spread their creed and influence until everyone bowed before their holy mountain of fire, regardless of nation or belief.
So what was Beaufort waiting for? How long before they decided to muster their legions and march north to deal with the Pyre like they should have done in the first place? And would happen if he and the other Jarls were still here in Ashfeld when they did?
It was an unpleasant thought, but movement from the doorway caught his attention before he could dwell on it any longer, and he looked to see Ragna and Skuld making their way into the room. They were blood splattered from their fighting, and hardly looked to be in a fine mood for it, but that didn't stop Helge from jumping into Ragna's arms and kissing her face.
"Get away, girl," Ragna snarled, craning her head back from Helge's affections but refrained from actually pushing her away either. "I have a bone to pick with your bones, sending me on a fool mission like that through the rain and the dark. Your bones are as mad as you are!"
"It all worked out in the end," Helge said, snapping her teeth against the hard line of Ragna's jaw. "And you made some new friends along the way, yes?" Ragna chortled, and gave Helge's rump a swat to shoo the girl away before greeting Ragnar and touching their foreheads together.
Herleif stepped up to pat Ragna on the back and gave Skuld a welcoming smile. "Good job, the both of you. Without you we would still be outside those walls. Glad you managed not to kill the Peacekeeper either. I had my worries," he chuckled.
Helge rolled her eyes at the mention of Priscilla, but Ragna simply shrugged. "She's not so bad I guess, when she's not being an insufferable cunt."
Herleif simply gave an amused hum in response, then looked to Skuld. "Any chance you might have...?"
The silent Valkyrie patted the sheathed seax at her belt, and shook her head no. Herleif simply nodded, knowing better now than to question when or if the chance to see the soul of Ander Ottarson lifted up into Valhalla would ever come. If the gods willed it, it would be so.
"My Jarl, there provisions in this next room," said one of the spear-men, poking his head and spear tip out of an nearby doorway. "Wheat and barley by the looks of it."
Herleif came over and leaned over the man's shoulder to peak into the next room, seeing the sacks of grain stacked on top of each other. But there was more as well. Crates of plowed up vegetables were piled against the far wall, potatoes, cabbages, carrots and more. He would hardly call it enough to be worthy of a feast at his great hall, but not knowing how long they might sit outside the high walls of the Walled City it was a true bounty.
"Perfect," he smiled, clapping the spear-man's shoulder. "This is exactly what we need. Make sure it is all brought out and prepared for the journey to Mount Ignis. This will help keep our bellies full if we need to starve the Pyre out from behind their walls."
"Boring!" called out Helge, and she stuck out her tongue and struck a sour note like the sound of a wet fart.
Herleif ignored her, and the spear-man moved to go and fetch more men to see that his orders were carried out. Just as he left the room though another figure appeared outside the door, a hulking shape of armor silhouetted by the gray light outside. He had to dip his head in order to fit the fanned ornament of metal feathers atop his helmet beneath the door frame, and Herleif recognized him as Judith's own Lawbringer, the executioner from down in Cinder Mill.
"Jarl Herleif," he began, stopping short of completely entering the room when he caught sight of a Shaman, two Berserkers and a Valkyrie all giving him an evil looking stare. "Lady Judith requests your assistance at the mines. The last of the Pyre usurpers are held up inside with what is left of the hostages, and your warriors are wanting to attack. She is having... difficulties getting them to hold."
"Thor's balls," Herleif cursed, but nodded at the Knight and headed for the door. "Skuld, you come with me. You three stay here and help move the food." Then a thought crossed his mind, and he turned back to Helge, Ragna and Ragnar and eyed them all in a way that he usually reserved for confronting his children when they needed to behave. "Best leave something behind for the people here. Better to plan for that now rather than be scolded by Judith for it later."
Ragna gave a harsh snort of laughter. "Are you serious? Why do you care what that tin woman thinks?"
"I care even less for you questioning my decisions, Ragna," Herleif said as he rounded on her. "See that it is done, and make sure the people here get their share." Ragna didn't look to be pleased to be rebuked so openly, but she kept her mouth shut and cast her gaze down to her feet, which suited him just fine.
He made to leave with Skuld, but Ragnar piped up next in a timid voice that sounded more like a puppy's whine than a wolf. "What about the all these weapons?" he asked, pouting over at the tables and racks upon racks heaped with sharp metal. "It would be a shame to just leave them here all unattended and forgotten."
"A shame," Helge repeated with Ragna nodding along next to her.
Herleif stopped with a sigh, glancing back over his shoulder as the trio stared back at him with their sorry-looking faces. He had half a mind to tell them off and whip into shape, but he had also just chastised Ragna in defense of a Knight, so he couldn't very well bring himself to tear them down again. Much like parenting, he had learned over the years, tough love could only get you so far, and sometimes you had to offer a child something sweet if you wished all to be well. Or in this case, his most mad and blood-thirsty warriors something sharp to play with so that they didn't go causing even more trouble for him elsewhere.
"Take only what you need," he relented, taking a moment to point a stern finger at each of them. "I mean it." The last thing he saw before he left the room was the wolf's grin spreading across each of their lips, followed by the sound of their happy laughter dancing through the air after him out the door.
"Well," said Ragnar, clapping his hands and rubbing them together once Herleif and Skuld were gone. "Which ones do you hear calling out to us to be saved?"
"Oh, I hear all of them," Helge smiled, stepping over to a bench and picking up a shining sword that was as tall as she was, bracing her legs to lift it up and balance it in the air. "They all call out so desperately. Please Ragnar! Please Ragna! We do not wish to be left all alone!"
Ragna picked up a knife and gave it a flip in her hand, then set the tip to balancing on her finger. "What kind of great and noble warriors would we be if we didn't come to their much needed rescue? If we save one, then surely we must save them all."
"All of them?" Ragnar asked his sister, already slipping a third dagger into his belt right up alongside the first two.
Ragna nodded, picking up a poleaxe next and swinging her leg around it as if mounting a horse to ride around the room. "It's only fair."
Helge smiled, letting the giant sword drop with a clang and taking up the Lawbringer's helmet she had worn. She turned it upside down like a bowl and moved down the line of work benches like she was at the summer market, her fingers wiggling in the air before making her selection.
"Aye. All of them."