Priscilla walked quickly back toward the horses, with Coal following at her heels. She hadn't bothered to wait around to discover the conclusion of Herleif and Gunnar's talk, as much as it might very well concern her impending doom, and their two so-called Berserker guards hadn't seemed to care enough to stop them from leaving in the end. Regardless of how confident Gunnar had seemed about changing his brother's mind, she had a feeling that Herleif would not be easily swayed from his decision to hand her and Coal over to Erik Golden-Shield, and no amount of calling them by some honorary Viking title was going to change that, touching as it was.

Silently fuming as she went, her thoughts lingered on nothing else but the moment when Gunnar had placed his hand on hers as they sat together on the hill. Why she hadn't just pulled her hand away and turned her back on him was a mystery she was still trying to figure out, but she made up for it by inwardly cursing herself with every step she took. It was perfectly obvious to anyone how the big brute was beginning to feel about her. Whether he was simply acting on some base and savage instinct or suffering from a misguided romantic delusion that was surely one-sided, she didn't know, but she assured herself that it didn't matter. Right now, all that did matter was keeping Gunnar in check and making sure that he didn't let slip the truth about Apollyon to any of the jarls. If letting him believe that there was something more between them was a way of doing that, well, it was certainly not beneath her to use whatever means necessary to see her mission complete.

The idea that she might in any way believe there actually was some romantic notion building between them as they traveled and fought side by side together was absolutely laughable to think about. His surprising amount of understanding and gentle compassion toward her struggles was not something to concern herself with, and his easygoing nature and simple humor were in no way enduring or cute. He was a Viking, a barbarian, and worse yet, a heathen. By all accounts, he was an enemy to her and all her people, and if not for the strange circumstances of their meeting, as he had said himself, they would have remained so.

No, the only thing she would concern herself with Gunnar 'The Bear' was whether or not he could keep the truth of Vincent Chaldeon's death to himself and what she would do if he could not. She had spared him once already, against her better judgment. It was a risk, one she was beginning to feel would soon come back to haunt her in the end.

"Just kill him... Easy," she muttered to herself, quietly brooding as she walked on.

"What's that?" Coal asked her.

"What?"

Coal took an extra long step to come up beside her. "You said something about killing."

"I did not," she said quickly, picking up her pace to stay ahead of him, dodging through a group of Vikings heading in the opposite direction in an attempt to leave Coal behind.

"I'm pretty sure you did," he said, still closer behind her than she cared for.

"Shut up."

"Don't tell me to shut up. Tell me your plan," Coal grumbled.

"Plan?" she snapped, coming to an abrupt halt and turning on Coal so suddenly that he nearly tripped over his feet as he tried not to run into her. "What plan? I have no plan! Why do you think I have a fucking plan?"

"You better have a fucking plan," Coal snapped back, pointing a finger in her face only to drop it as he realized it might draw too much-unwanted attention. He quickly glanced around before going on in a more hushed tone. "You got us into this mess. Now how are you getting us out?"

Priscilla could have screamed from the indignation, but somehow, she kept herself in check and balled up fists tight at her side. "In this mess? I seem to remember saving your life when I got us 'into this mess'!" she hissed at him.

"And I would be eternally fucking grateful if it wasn't for the fact that my head is now on the chopping block right next to yours!"

"Well, if you are so desperate, then you come up with something! What plan do you have? Or are you incapable of coming up with anything that does not involve digging a tunnel with a spoon?"

"I have a plan," he said quickly, "I say we run."

"We run?" she repeated, hoping that he realized how stupid he sounded.

"Yes, run," Coal said again, realizing nothing.

It was too much, far too much, enough to make her grab Coal by the collar of his armor and pull him down to her level. "I just told you to run while we sat up on the hill and you stuffed your mouth full of spit and stew! I seem to recall you passing on the idea."

"Not me running, us running. There's a difference," Coal said.

"No running!" Priscilla shouted, and she shoved him away, no longer caring in the slightest how much attention they attracted now.

"Fine!" Coal shouted back, only to go right back to whispering. "But then we need a fucking plan that doesn't involve getting our backs split open to look like bloody angels."

"The plan is the same as always. We go to the Walled City and defeat the Pyre, then we wait. Nothing has changed." She stretched herself up toward him, intent on standing as tall as her limited height would allow under his gaze. "I have worked too long and hard to let a would-be barbarian king stand in my way now."

"That's horse shit!" Coal exclaimed, struggling to keep his voice in check even as he quite theatrically threw up his hands in aggravation. "That's just taking a plan that was pretty shit to begin with and adding more shit on top of it. At this point, it's more shit than it is a plan! It's just shit, Priscilla! All we have is shit!"

"Well you have always been better at talking shit than me, Coal, so I will leave it up to you to make something out of the shit we have to work with." She put her hand on his shoulder and gave it a reassuring squeeze. "I look forward to seeing what you come up with," she said and then promptly turned on her heel and headed for the horses.

"What about the commander?" Coal asked as he stepped quickly to follow after. "Surely Judith isn't just going to stand by while two of her own Knights are put to death?"

"Oh, you mean the problematic Peacekeeper that keeps making trouble with our new Viking overlords and the unknown Conqueror who arrived in her legion just weeks before our territory was torn apart?" she called back over her shoulder, letting Coal separate fact from sarcasm himself. "Yes, I am sure she will simply jump at the chance to risk everything she has fought for to get to this point just to save her two most important upstarts."

Coal was silent for a moment before speaking up again. "Point taken."

As their horses and fellow Knights came into view, Priscilla briefly wondered if being blood eagled by the likes of Erik Golden-Shield and Ivar the Red wouldn't be preferable compared to Coal's whining. She weaved her way through Knights and foot soldiers tending to their gear or seeing to their mounts, ignoring them as she stormed past. Not that anyone sought her attention, but it made her feel better to think that she was the one who was better off without the whole lot of ungrateful bastards. If only they knew what she was going through to save their skin, the sacrifices she was making, risking her own neck for theirs. They would never know, of course, as Erik would most likely have her killed long before her plans might bear any real fruit.

Finding her horse, she marched up to the beast and began checking the stirrup straps of her saddle, if only to keep herself busy and her mind off of the dark cloud looming over her potentially short future. Maybe running wasn't such a bad idea after all. Just jump on her horse and ride, take off at full gallop across the plain before anyone could stop her, putting as much distance between herself and these northern savages before disappearing into the wilderness forever.

No more warring Legions. No more Viking raids or Samurai incursions. She would leave it all behind. No more Sisterhood, no more answering to Beaufort. No commander or jarls to deceive or live under the threat of death each moment of every day. None of it. She would be free to live her life how she wanted, and that would be the end of it. All she had to do was get on this horse and run.

And there would be no more Coal, now that she thought about it. No more stupid jokes in the darkest of moments. No one to have her back when it felt like it was just her against the world. No more Gunnar either, with that great laugh and booming voice. No one to stand up for her when she needed it most. No one to treat her like she wasn't an outsider. It would just be her, all alone again.

It was a bitter irony that she should be a Peacekeeper fearful of being alone, but such was her life. It was that fear that had caused so much heartbreak and strife in her past and brought her to such a point of desperation now. That fear of being alone would keep her from running even though her life depended on it. She just couldn't bring herself to leave, not even these deserters and heathens. Maybe she was just as much a fool as Coal and Gunnar after all.

"Priscilla," Coal said as he suddenly appeared at her side, making her jump in surprise and causing any empathy she felt for the man to evaporate instantly. "In all seriousness, we need a plan. Not a shit plan, but a real one. I would very much like not to be ripped apart by Northmen if we can help it."

She squeezed the leather of her saddle tight in her hands for a moment as she composed herself, then turned and lightly thumped her fist against his chest, trying not to imagine herself holding her dagger as she did so. "Of course, you are absolutely right. We need a plan. A good plan. One that cannot fail, lest we meet an untimely demise."

"Yeah," Coal nodded along with a growing smile. "Yeah, now we're talking. What are you thinking?"

Priscilla bit down hard on her lip, willing herself not to cry out in anger when she spoke. "Oh, it is a magnificent plan. One that I really put a lot of thought into."

Coal went quiet for a moment, dark eyes narrowing at her. "Now, I thought you had a plan, but I feel that you're just lying to me out of spite at this point."

"Not at all!" Priscilla exclaimed, gripping one of the straps across his chest now. "It is the perfect plan, I promise you that. A plan unlike any other. And I will tell you right now, this plan is absolutely, unquestionably, pure..." A growing commotion rising at the edge of the camp where the horses grazed drew her attention over Coal's shoulder, and any sense of contempt in her voice instantly vanished at what she saw in the distance. "...shit."

"Shit?" Coal repeated, reeling back from her in surprise. "Our plan was already shit… Oh, I knew you were lying to me, you tiny bitch!"

"No, you fucking imbecile!" Priscilla growled, grabbing Coal by his arm and turning him around as she pointed toward the north. "I mean, shit!"

Far out on the plain and quickly getting closer were a group of no less than thirty riders, Northmen wearing golden helmets and yellow painted armor. Above their heads waved a white banner with a golden eagle waving in the wind, and leading them was a white-haired Highlander with a gleaming claymore strapped across his back. They were riding hard straight for them, and none of them looked at all happy to be there.

Coal froze where he stood. "Oh, shit."

The Sea Eagle raiders barely slowed their pace as they made their way into the camp. They barreled straight past the Lion Flame Knights sitting around their horses, knocking aside gear and nearly trampling anyone who didn't get out of their way fast enough. The Bilrost Vikings fared little better as they all scrambled to get out of the way of Erik's riders, and soon, the uninvited guests had ridden into the center of the camp. The brooding Highlander called Old Wolf cast his steely eyes about, surveying all around him, seeing everyone and yet looking past them as only one practiced in ruthless authority could. He was searching for someone, that much was clear, but for whom Priscilla couldn't be sure, which did nothing to calm her nerves.

"Come on," she said, tugging urgently on Coal's arm to lead him after the new arrivals.

"Are you sure this is a good idea?" he grumbled as he stumbled after her. "Usually, it's best to stay away from the bastards that want you dead."

"Is standing around here doing nothing any better?" Priscilla retorted and pulled Coal along faster until they were weaving through Knights and Vikings to get closer to where Erik's champion had come to a halt. Together, they pushed their way past two Bilrost warriors just in time to see Old Wolf dismounting from his horse and throwing the reins to some unsuspecting young Warlord who caught them in the face with a look of surprise. The Highlander looked about at the gathered circle of warriors that had formed around him and his riders, and even with the distance between them, Priscilla could see the smug smile sitting beneath his neatly groomed mustache and beard. Then he turned and faced the only person who hadn't bothered to get up from their campfire upon his arrival.

"Oi, corpse maiden. Where be your master?" Old Wolf demanded, speaking loud enough in his strange accent for all to hear.

Skuld sat calmly at her own little fire, her fierce blue eyes shining from within her golden helmet as she examined the edge of her bright spear. She held a dark whetstone in one hand and slid it smoothly along the spearhead before giving it another look. Even with dozens of Vikings from two different clans standing around her and an overbearing Highlander staring her down, the woman sat as calm and serene as an immaculate statue carved of marble.

Old Wolf waited a moment longer in silence as Skuld went on ignoring him, then stepped forward and kicked a spray of dirt over her fire. "Ya hear me? I came to speak with your master. Now tell me where he might be, or better yet, go 'n fetch him for me like a good wee lass."

Skuld seemed unbothered by her fire being snuffed out, just as she seemed unbothered by Old Wolf's continued demands for her attention. She continued to sharpen her spear, giving it another slide of the whetstone before she was finally satisfied with its ability to skewer man and beast alike. Perhaps the Valkyrie would begin with a worthless old man who fancied himself great purely by association with the lord he served, Priscilla thought. It was only after Skuld slipped the stone into a pouch that she set her stormy eyes on the Highlander, though they were void of any emotion other than indifference. Or perhaps it was the blue fire of pure divine rage. The woman revealed nothing behind that mask either way.

Slowly, Skuld got to her feet, sparking a hint of jealousy within Priscilla as she rose to her full height and met the great Highlander eye-to-eye. Her blonde hair sat on her shoulders like braided sunshine, and she stamped the end of her spear into the ground so that the polished blade glinted majestically in the fading daylight. She still wore that same old knife on her belt, the one that Ragna had said she would never use until the right moment. Standing with equal amounts of grace and authority, everything about Skuld simply seemed otherworldly.

It struck Priscilla then just how much the Valkyrie looked like the image of an angel, dressed as she was in her white cloak and mail along with her golden helmet adorned with little wings. Even the idea of caring for lost souls seemed like a notable similarity. She doubted that any of the Vikings here would take kindly to that sort of comparison, though, even if it were simply an innocent observation.

"I serve no master," Skuld said, her words muffled slightly by her helmet but still somehow carrying immense weight as she spoke.

The crowd watching stood in abject silence to watch these two mighty heroes stand opposite each other, a chooser of slain facing the chained wolf, almost like catching a glimpse at the end of days, according to Viking belief. Old Wolf simply grinned, though, slipping his steel and gold claymore from his back and planting it in the ground to lean against.

"Oh aye, an I've just been do'n Erik a favor these last forty years. I simply can't help me'self, what for my own weeping heart and all. Luckily, he gives me such nice 'n shiny things to wear for my troubles," he said, glancing down and wiping at one of the great golden brooches that held his patterned cape to his armor. "Poor bastard feels indebted to me or some shite for all the big tough men I've killed for him. So when he asks me to ride out 'n have a chat with his wee friend Herleif, see if he'd not gone 'n gotten himself lost out in this barren shitehole, what am I to do but give a kindness and come seek out this Bilrost bloke. Ya follow me, lass?"

Priscilla was pretty sure she'd just heard Old Wolf say more in this one moment than Skuld ever had in the whole time she'd known her, which hadn't been for very long to begin with, and the stoic Valkyrie certainly wasn't trying to up the count now. Again, Skuld simply stood there, staring at Old Wolf with unflinching defiance.

Old Wolf stared back, smiling slightly as he waited for an answer, then soon glanced about to see if her silence was some joke he was not included in.

"I know ya ain't mute, lass," he said, turning back to Skuld. He gave her one more chance to speak up but only ended up waiting in vain. "Ya making me sad now, lass, and when I get sad, I get angry. Be a crying shame if I was to take out that anger on a pretty thing such as yourself. But then, I ain't seen nothing but this shiny mask covering your face." He grinned at her as he lifted one big hand, reaching out his fingers toward the bottom rim of her helmet. "I'm sure ya look as beautiful as the sun under there. More beautiful even than gold..."

As soon as his fingertips touched her mask, Skuld swiftly jumped back into a crouch and brought her spear to point right at Old Wolf's throat. By the time the crowd reacted with a gasp of surprise, she was already as still as stone, perfectly poised to drive the spear tip into the Highlander with ease. The Sea Eagle riders kicked their horses forward, lowering their own spears in defense of their leader, but Skuld didn't flinch.

Old Wolf looked less than pleased to be threatened, especially not by a woman who seemed to have no regard for his station. "Are ya sure ya want to be doing this, lass?" he growled softly, glaring down the length of the spear at Skuld. His hand tightened around his sword, fingers squeezing around the black leather grip. "Or do ya wish to know who it is that will come to claim your soul when it's dead in the dirt?"

Skuld's eyes narrowed to deathly blue slits beneath her helmet. "Do you?" she asked. Old Wolf scowled at her and swallowed hard, the lump in his throat grazing ever so slightly against the spear tip as it bobbed up and down.

Priscilla watched on with the rest of the crowd, not sure if Skuld killing Old Wolf would work in her favor or not. Having Erik lose his champion might prove to be enough of a distraction for her killing Chaldeon to be overlooked, at least for a time, but it didn't seem likely. Rather than silently hoping for some sort of deliverance, she looked around for any way of sparking off a fight and seeing if she could sway the fates in her favor. That was when she spotted Gunnar standing not far off to her left. In a way, it surprised her to find him standing there on his own rather than with her and Coal. As annoying as it was to suffer his unexpected company at any given moment, she had somehow grown used to having him around.

She caught his eye as the standoff went on, but when she moved toward him, he frowned and gave the faintest shake of his head. His hand came up at his side, gesturing for her to stay where she was. Priscilla felt herself grow tense, wondering if his talk with Herleif really had gone poorly. More than that, she couldn't help but feel a bitter sense of disappointment at being told to stay away. It was a ridiculous notion, though. There was no sense in them standing together at all, really, so why would it matter? She shouldn't have given it any thought in the first place.

"What is the meaning of this?" rang out a powerful voice over their heads, followed shortly after by Herleif making his way through the crowd. His warriors quickly stepped aside for him, and as he set his eyes on the sight of Skuld and Old Wolf facing off against each other, or more aptly, Skuld holding herself back from running the old bastard through, he scowled angrily and strode toward them. "Old Wolf, what an unexpected surprise. For what purpose has Erik let you off your leash this time?"

"I came to speak with ya, Jarl Herleif," Old Wolf said without taking his eyes away from Skuld. "So far, my welcome has been less than hospitable. If I was you, I'd call off your wyrd-woman here before she gets cut down t'size."

Herleif slowed his stride as he approached, letting the Highlander linger at the tip of Skuld's spear. "The Valkyries suffer no rule from the likes of jarls and men. They serve only the gods and fight alongside us in our battles as they see fit. You would know this if you cared to learn about the world you serve in, of course. I am honored to have Skuld here with me, and I may ask her to spare your worthless life for the friendship I share with your master, but it is ultimately up to her if she wishes to do so."

He turned to Skuld with an easy look that was neither expectant nor demanding and simply waited for her to make a choice. It seemed that everyone watching collectively held their breath, none more so than Old Wolf as he glared down the spear tickling his neck to the Valkyrie, but at last, Skuld relaxed her stance and lowered her weapon, moving to stand at ease next to Herleif as if nothing had happened at all.

"Wonderful!" Herleif smiled. "It seems the gods wish you to live on for at least one more day. What joyous news for you."

Old Wolf still scowled as he put both hands on his sword. "I would urge you t'think again on who it is you be talking to if you think my master does not gift me with his authority when I grace you with my presence."

Herleif said nothing at first and stepped right up to the Highlander until they nearly stood nose to nose. "I know exactly who it is I am speaking to," he said with a not-so-kind smile across his face. "Now, what is it you have come to speak about, old dog?"

The lines on Old Wolf's face grew deeper and more grim as he frowned. "Erik gave you the honor of hunt'n down this fire worship'n Lawbringer, Chaldeon. Now he grows anxious t'meet the bòidheach himself, an I've come to collect. He has questions about the city's defenses and how t'get into the vault."

Now, it was Herleif who frowned. Priscilla watched on as he glanced over his shoulder to Gunnar, who, in turn, looked at her. The fear in his eyes shook her to the core, and she knew for certain then just how badly the talk with Herleif must have played out. Suddenly, the idea of running seemed undeniably tempting after all.

Old Wolf followed Herleif's gaze, then glanced about at the crowd. "Well? D'you have a prisoner to make a gift of? Bring 'im here, an I'll be on me way, an you all can go back to play'n in the dirt like bairns."

A chill ran down Priscilla's spine as she watched Herleif lean in and whisper something in Old Wolf's ear. The sight of the Highlander's eyes going wide was even less comforting.

"Dammit," she murmured just as Old Wolf leaned back to say something, but Herleif caught him by the shoulder and continued their private conversation.

"Plan?" Coal asked beside her.

"What?" she said, watching as Old Wolf's features twisted up in anger. Then, to her utter dismay, both he and Herleif looked over in her and Coal's direction, and there was no mistaking what had been said between them.

"Plan. What's the plan?" Coal asked with a great deal more urgency.

"The plan?"

Her heart was racing faster than her mind now, making it nearly impossible to think. She had to think, though; she had to come up with something that would get them out of this. She had to save their skins if there was ever going to be a chance of saving anyone else from the cultists.

"The plan is..."

Without really knowing why, she looked back at Gunnar, not having a clue how he might help but seeking him out anyway. His only answer was the pleading look in his eyes and the little nod of his head to back away into the crowd and disappear. To run, she knew that they had to run. But where? Where could they go when all roads led to the Walled City, where she had placed all hopes of freedom and a return to the life she knew? Now, it seemed because of her mistakes, she wouldn't have a life at all.

"The plan..."

Old Wolf made a harsh call in a language she didn't understand, but the riders who accompanied him surely did. They dismounted from their horses, some stepping forward with spears, others reaching into their saddlebags before coming on. They carried shackles with them, and they looked at no one else except at the problematic Peacekeeper and unknown Conqueror standing in their midst.

"We really need a plan, Priscilla," Coal hissed, slipping his shield onto his arm but having no flail to accompany it.

"The plan is..." she said again, knowing now what the plan had been all along. "The plan is… we are fucked."