Ragnar rammed his shoulder against the locked door, grunting with the effort to break it open. He thumped hard against the solid wood once, twice, and on the third, it swung inward with a bang and sent him 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 look around.
Herleif nodded and walked closer to the nearest workbench to see what he might find. The storeroom 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 to 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. The greater part of his warriors had been left to deal with the last bit of resistance while he and 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 from 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 of spearmen who had to dip their weapons and hold their broad shields close to their chests in order to fit through the doorway. The young Shaman glanced over the myriad of sharpened metal and beaten armor with a rather unimpressed sneer as if she had just been offered a lame horse already half in the grave to ride.
"Even with all of this, they still couldn't hold us back. Their God is weak," she glowered.
Herleif gave a slight 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 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 willingly, or..?"
"I mean," Helge smiled impishly, taking a few light steps over to Ragnar and scratching his bearded 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 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 both of your hides. Now everyone spread out and start looking for anything 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 too 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 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 taking his aim, cocked back his arm, and swung it as hard as if trying to spilt an enemy's skull clean in half. The flat of his blade clanged sharply against Helge's armored head, the helmet ringing 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 for a moment before dropping down 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 off her, big blue eyes swimming in and out of focus.
Ragnar gave a couple of 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..."
Her loud cackling filled the room as Ragnar tossed her back to the ground.
Herleif watched all of this happen like the unfolding of a child's wild saga tale, and had to remove his helmet to pinch the bridge of his nose as he sighed. "Æsir and Vanir, give me strength," he muttered.
His spearmen did their best to ignore Helge and Ragnar's antics, making their way around the benches and into other rooms. 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. Still, it infuriated him to see how easily his warriors dealt with them 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 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 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 some worthless decree gave them. 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 what might 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 behind 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. I take it 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 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 nodded, knowing better now than to question when or if the chance to see the soul of Ander Ottarsson lifted up to Valhǫll would ever come. If the gods willed it, it would be so.
"My Jarl, there are provisions in this next room," said one of the spearmen, poking his head and spear tip out of a nearby doorway. "Wheat and barley, by the looks of it."
Herleif came over and leaned over the man's shoulder to peek 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 sat piled against the far wall, potatoes, cabbages, carrots, and more. He would hardly call it enough to be worthy of a feast at his 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 spearman went to 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. The figure had to dip his head to fit the 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," the Lawbringer 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 stare. "Lady Judith requests your assistance at the mines. The last of the usurpers are held up inside the tunnels with the remainder of the hostages, and your warriors want 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 he stopped and he turned back to Helge, Ragna, and Ragnar and eyed them all in a way 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 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 all these weapons?" Ragnar 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 them into shape, but he had also just openly chastised Ragna in defense of a Knight, so he couldn't bring himself to tear them down together. Much like being a father, he had learned over the years that tough love could only get you so far and that sometimes you had to offer a child something sweet if you wished all to be well. Or, in this case, for his most 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," Herleif 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 he went out the door.
"Well," said Ragnar, clapping his hands and rubbing them together once they were alone. "Which ones do you hear calling out to be saved?"
"Oh, I hear all of them," Helge smiled, stepping over to a bench and picking up a shining sword as tall as she was, bracing her legs to lift and balance it in the air. "They all call out so desperately. Please, Ragnar! Please, Ragna! We do not wish to be left behind all alone!"
Ragna picked up a knife and gave it a flip in her hand, then set the tip to balance 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 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 and moved down the line of workbenches like she was at the summer market, her fingers wiggling in the air before making her selection.
"Aye. All of them."