The bowstring groaned as I drew it back, the arrow's fletching nestled between my fingers and the taut string. One finger above, two below.

The wind screamed past my ears, clawing at my cloak, but I had anchored it firmly under my knees as I waited.

Wait.

Wait…

Wa…

A head emerged, and I loosed the arrow. A gasp sounded to my right, but before my target could respond, the arrow found its mark, piercing its eye. Reflexively, it reared up on its hind legs, then crumpled onto its back, legs flailing helplessly in the air. Its brain was dead, the arrow buried deep in its skull, but the body didn't know that yet, running off of instincts to get as far away from the danger as possible.

"I can't believe you made that shot," my companion said beside me. "The wind is howling like lost souls, and you still managed to strike true..."

Naturally, I made the shot. If there was one skill I carried over between my two lives, it was my archery. In my previous life, archery was the sole pastime I was permitted to indulge in, something my stepmother could never take away from me. Because it was the only activity I truly enjoyed without my family constantly scrutinizing me, I became exceptionally proficient at it.

That is, until my father discovered just how skilled an archer I had become—more accurate than even his best marksmen. And they had guns.

And as it turned out, aiming with a gun wasn't all that different from aiming with a bow.

I rose alongside my companion, a towering, sinewy hunter who seemed to thrive on incessant chatter throughout the night as if sleep were an unnecessary luxury. Together, we ventured towards my latest kill through the snow covered forest - the fifth this week.

"What do you think, Ubba? Will this suffice?" I inquired as we approached the deer's carcass. With practiced ease, I removed the arrow lodged in its eye and inspected it for any signs of damage. Glancing at Ubba, I found him observing me through weathered, brown eyes peering from beneath his mask, shielding against the biting wind and chill.

An image of Cillian flitted through my mind, his expression mirroring that of the hunter beside me. Yet, then it wasn't deer we pursued.

The grin he likely aimed my way must have been wide, creasing his eyes so deeply that I wondered if he could still see through them. "This is more than sufficient. You've done exceptionally well, Thorben," he praised, casting a fond gaze upon the deer. "In fact, outstanding. Each deer you've struck perfectly in the eye, preserving the hide."

"It's nothing special," I murmured, returning the arrow to my quiver at my side. "You needed meat, and I was glad to help."

He clapped my shoulder, nearly knocking me off balance. I glanced up at his amused eyes. "Don't be so modest, Thorben! In all my years, I've never seen anyone with your archery prowess." He patted me again, gentler this time, then moved to kneel beside the deer, drawing a knife. "You're aiming to join Askeladd's raiding band, right? I'll make sure to put in a good word for you."

That was all I needed from him.

…so…

I grinned at him. "Make sure you say I really hit the 'bull's eye' with my shots! That I've got 'deer' determination!"

My pun went right over his head. "Of course! You can rely on me."

Well, damn. I really thought hard to figure out how to make that work in Norse…

When I returned to the settlement, I found Thorfinn in his usual spot. From what I had gathered these past few weeks, he spent most of his evenings and nights in the barn, dedicating his days to hunting or training. That evening, as I entered the barn, he was perched atop a hay pile. Upon seeing me, he hopped down and approached.

It was starting to become a routine between us.

"Why do you have two bowls of stew?" he asked, his tone flat, his narrow eyes zeroing in on the second bowl of stew.

I handed him one of the bowls as he drew near. "To eat with you, of course." I tilted my head, studying his reaction. "If you'd rather I leave, just say so. It's no big deal."

He sneered and turned away. "Do what you want. I don't care."

With a smile, I followed him to the hay pile and sat across from him. We ate in silence, a comfortable quiet growing between us.

One step closer...

In the weeks since my encounter with Askeladd I'd been working hard with the villagers to make a name for myself. I'd moved from one household to the next, helping out where I could. I'd traveled to other settlements, helped traders barter, hunters in their hunting, farmers in their farming. Fishermen and their fishing. Helped with ship maintenance, too.

I even helped organize games and competitions. During the slow winter season, many villagers, moreso farmers and blacksmiths, found themselves with little to do. There was only so much housing maintenance that could occupy their time. Thus, games and ice skating became regular pastimes in Norse settlements.

These activities were mundane compared to the broader, more intense aspects of their culture, like raiding. Yet, they provided a welcome reprieve, one I eagerly participated in whenever possible.

And then there was Gorm, the feudal lord of this settlement and its surrounding lands. He was Askeladd's uncle.

An old fart who adored his wealth and never missed a chance to flaunt it. When I first encountered him, I had no idea who he was. I had been dragged into the great hall one night for a feast with the current family I was staying with. Gorm was there, grumbling about how one of his traveling traders reported a price increase for their usual haul of leather. Instead of the usual two pounds of cured meat for a bundle of leather, the cost had doubled. Apparently, a neighboring settlement had increased their meat production and could barter their surplus for more goods and services, thereby devaluing cured meat in their region.

This was a byproduct of longer and warmer summers. The more grain they could produce, the more animals they could raise, resulting in an abundance of meats and grains. Their population growth wasn't keeping pace with the surplus of supplies.

And meat, even when cured, only lasted so long.

I'd casually suggested in passing starting a loyalty rewards program and bundling goods and services. Gorm was so intrigued by the idea that he'd invited me to his private office the next day to discuss the logistics. It was then that I'd discovered who he truly was.

The next day, I explained how a loyalty rewards program could work and how they could bundle their surplus goods with their usual bartering services. By combining high-value goods with less valuable ones to the settlement, they could create the illusion of greater value for their customers.

While it wouldn't be applicable in all situations, I was relatively confident that Gorm could find ways to make it work in certain cases. He didn't remain in power because he was lucky, after all. The gleam in his eyes suggested he agreed with my suggestions.

It was all standard economics, really.

"Yes, yes, I can see how that would benefit us," Gorm said, writing everything down as I sat across from him in front of his desk, my arms and legs crossed. My eyes drifted to the window right of me, watching the light stream in through the cracks of the shutter.

Behind me stood a door, likely leading to Gorm's private quarters. The size of the main estate was another clear indicator of the settlement's wealth, and Gorm's house was immense, boasting multiple private rooms—a rare luxury in these times. This residence was fit for a king. Naturally, given the era, feudal lords were often regarded with the same reverence as kings.

It was probable that Gorm kept these rooms for his numerous mistresses…

The walls were adorned with swords, axes, and other ornate weapons, suggesting either decoration or forgotten ownership, as a layer of dust covered their surfaces.

Ultimately, for an office-like space, it was quite spacious, large enough to function as an entirely separate room.

But because of my complacent distraction, I missed it when someone walked in on our conversation.

"Ah, Askeladd, I almost forgot I requested your presence," Gorm said, barely glancing up before returning to his notes. I quickly turned to Askeladd, who stood at the entrance of the office-like room, his hand frozen mid-motion as he held the doorway's cloth aside, a raised eyebrow directed at me. He was wearing a gray cloak over his tan gambeson, his sword oddly strapped to his side. Why was he carrying his sword in his own residence? "I'll only be a moment. Your companion here has some interesting ideas," Gorm finished.

Askeladd's eyes narrowed slightly as he took in the scene. He let the cloth fall behind him and leaned casually against the doorframe, crossing his arms. "Interesting ideas, you say?" he replied, a hint of skepticism in his voice. "I hope they're worth the time, then. I'll be waiting."

Gorm waved him off. "More than worth it." Gorm then looked up to me. "As for the rewards program," he continued, "you mentioned having multiple ways to accumulate points on their ledger. Wouldn't the incentive of earning these points for their spending be sufficient? What additional benefits could we offer that would be mutually advantageous?"

My gaze returned to Gorm, but not before I caught a fleeting look of displeasure on Askeladd's face just as I looked away. Odd.

"Loyalty is the key. The reward points will be tied to their spending, with added incentives for continued patronage. This will promote frequent visits. You could even include referral rewards in the loyalty program," I explained, noticing Gorm nodding with enthusiasm. Ignoring Askeladd's piercing gaze, I pressed on, "Additionally, you could offer volume bonuses—encouraging larger transactions with bigger rewards."

Gorm leaned back in his chair, a satisfied smile spreading across his face. "I like it," he said, nodding approvingly. "Encouraging regular patronage and rewarding large transactions—it's a smart strategy. This could significantly boost our trade." His hand ran down his beard. "But how to implement it. I'll need to think that one over. Unless you have an idea?" He looked at me, expectantly.

I raised my palms in a gesture of surrender. "Unfortunately, I have no idea how you operate here, and I'm sure teaching an outsider like me would be too time-consuming." Crossing my arms, I added, "Besides, I doubt you'd trust me with such sensitive information in the first place."

Gorm chuckled. "You make a good point. Very well." He reached over to a pile of coins and picked up two silver pieces. "Here. For your time and excellent suggestions." He offered them to me. I stood up and extended my gloved hand, acknowledging that it was a rather generous sum with large grateful eyes.

I accepted the coins, my hand closing around them. "Thank you, Lord Gorm," I said, inclining my head respectfully. "I appreciate your generosity. If you ever need my services again, you know where to find me." I offered a slight smile even though he didn't see it before stepping back, ready to take my leave.

Then I remembered Askeladd was standing in the doorway.

And he was still leaning against said doorway, his arms crossed.

And that damn smirk playing on his lips.

I walked past him, recalling our last conversation in the great hall. I had provoked him, ensuring he saw me as more than just a woman disguised as a man. It was the best I could manage with the limited time before Yule. I needed him to understand my desire to join his band, and honesty seemed the only viable approach since killing him was not an option.

Not anymore.

It wouldn't help Thorfinn. He had spent too long in this cycle of vengeance. Killing Askeladd would only plunge him back into that destructive spiral.

As twisted as it sounded, for me to persuade Thorfinn to return home, he needed to forgive Askeladd for what he did to Thors—not for who he was, but for that singular act.

So, I too had to play nice with Askeladd.

As I walked past him, I nodded and said his name with as much calm and nonchalance as I could muster. Our shoulders briefly touched as I passed by his still leaning frame because he refused to move when I got close. The jackass.

When I brushed the cloth aside from the entrance, Askeladd said from behind me before I let the cloth fall back,"Hold on." His tone was sharp and commanding. I stopped in my tracks, my back to him. "Wait until I'm done with Gorm. I need to speak with you after."

I turned to look at him, but he was already striding into Gorm's office-like room. He grabbed the seat I had just vacated and sat down, his face all smiles. His voice, filled with amusement, rang out, "Up to your scheming again, Uncle Gorm?" He didn't glance at me again as he leaned back in the chair, arms folded and feet stretched out in front of him, crossed at the ankles.

What could he possibly want to discuss?!

...

What was it that he wanted to talk about!?!

Shit.

I let out a small sigh and let the cloth fall back behind me and walked down the short hallway of the manor. The narrow passage felt even tighter as my thoughts raced. Reaching the end that led to the kitchen and then to the great hall, I leaned against the smooth wooden wall, crossing my arms.

Maybe he wanted to discuss me joining his crew. Perhaps I had passed whatever inscrutable requirements he had devised, and he intended to inform me personally.

...

No, that definitely wasn't it.

He had something up his sleeve, something I couldn't yet decipher. And, of course, he was relishing at the thought of me squirming, knowing full well I was overthinking every possibility.

Even though I had resolved not to kill him, the urge to severely maim him in his sleep still lingered.

He took his sweet time talking to his uncle. By the time he had finally emerged, I had already cornered one of the kitchen staff, who was lugging a slab of cured pork. I was in the middle of passionately suggesting the addition of particular herbs I knew would elevate the dish. The cook's disinterest was palpable, but I was relentless. By the time Askeladd appeared, the beleaguered man was nodding along to my recommendations, likely just to get rid of me so he could start prepping.

I didn't mind. All that mattered was the prospect of a better meal.

"It's called garlic. Believe me, you've never had anything like it," I exclaimed to the man backed into the kitchen corner, his eyes wide and his hands raised in surrender. Garlic hadn't made its way to this region yet, and they had no idea what they were missing. My hand moved energetically at my side, waving up and down as I spoke. "I can bring some now if you don't mind waiting a bit?" I pointed toward the exit, ready to fetch the garlic, but before the man could respond, I turned to leave with all intent and purpose to bring him the garlic despite his possible protest.

But as I turned to make my leave, I saw Askeladd standing in the hallway, one hand on his hip and an eyebrow arched.

I would have laughed at him witnessing my…display. But I hated him and he didn't deserve to hear me laugh. Instead, I raised my hand in greeting. "Oh, hey Askeladd."

His blue eyes flicked from me to the cook. I glanced back at the cook, catching a quick, unseen gesture to Askeladd. But he quickly tucked his hands behind his back before I could see it. Behind my mask, I smiled; he reminded me of the cook from my childhood, likely disliking his culinary expertise being questioned.

Not that I cared.

"I see you're indulging in that... passion of yours," Askeladd remarked, unimpressed. "Why don't you leave the poor man alone?"

I turned back to him and shrugged. "What can I say? It's a passion I can't seem to shake."

I added a wink for good measure, but his eyes only narrowed, still unimpressed. The memory of him mocking my wink when he drank from the glass I offered at Yule a month ago flashed in my mind. Was he angry with me? I thought we were on better terms.

Maybe I was overdoing it. I should probably dial it back, especially since I'd accidentally flirted with him at Yule. The way his gaze lingered then still sent unsettling shivers down my spine.

Leaving the cook, who exhaled in relief, I approached Askeladd, crossing my arms. "So, what did you want to discuss?"

He tilted his head toward the door leading outside. "Walk with me."

He turned and walked away, and I followed without voicing my questions.

What was he planning?

We stepped into the biting cold, and he pivoted back to face me, his gray cloak waving slightly in the gentle cold breeze. His expression was neither serious, amused, nor unimpressed—just blank.

For some reason, that unsettled me more than his usual antics.

"I've heard you're good with a bow," he began, his voice monotone. It wasn't a question, but I answered anyway.

"I am."

"Then I could use your expertise—if you're up for it." Then he finally let a smirk flash onto his face before he went neutral again. "You'll be compensated, of course."

I tilted my head, trying to read him. He stood in the pathway leading to the large kitchen, his expression still blank as he stared at me, unblinking. Was he purposely trying to hide his thoughts? Maybe I should be flattered he thought he needed to.

I wasn't sure how that made me feel.

But, why?

"What do you need me to do?" I offered, silently adding if it was a reasonable request. The way his eyes narrowed, again, told me he caught my unspoken caveat.

The bastard.

"A bandit issue has come up," he said, his tone flat. "They've already taken three of our caravans this winter. I need your help to dispatch them."

Short and to the point. At least when it came to serious matters, Askeladd didn't beat around the bush.

His eyes bored into mine, revealing nothing. The severity of his words, however, made it clear this was not a request to be taken lightly.

Was this a test?

Who was I kidding? Of course it was a test. But bandits? He wanted me to help him kill bandits? Maybe not with him directly—he probably had a group of men for these kinds of tasks—but still.

He wanted me to kill for him.

Of course, he would test me this way. To see my reaction, to measure my resolve. After all, they were at war, siding with the Danish crown. If I balked at killing a few bandits, how could I be trusted to help conquer England?

Conquer England...

The thought lingered, heavy and inevitable. Even if I didn't assist, it wouldn't change the course of events. They'd proceed without me, and they'd succeed too. With or without my involvement, the outcome was already written in history.

My involvement wouldn't seal their fate—they were already marked for death, oblivious to the shadow creeping ever closer at their doorstep.

I nodded to Askeladd, maintaining eye contact. "I'll do what I can."

He didn't react as I expected. No sharp-witted comment, no questioning my resolve. Nothing. He simply nodded and said, "Prepare to depart at the eve. We'll see if you can live up to that carefully crafted reputation of yours."

He turned and walked away, likely to gather the other members of the party. I wanted to call after him, to ask how long we'd be gone, who was handling supplies, and other logistical details. But I didn't. This probably wasn't the first time a situation like this had arisen, and I had to trust Askeladd to manage the logistics.

After all, he was the Chieftain. It was his job.

As evening descended, I rendezvoused with Askeladd near his manor. Eight other men accompanied him, two of whom I recognized.

"Bjorn," I called out as I approached, prompting all eight, and Askeladd, to turn their heads in my direction. "Nice to see you again." The snow crunched beneath my feet as I halted beside them. I adjusted the straps to my backpack on my shoulders and repositioned my bow slightly so the string that was attached to my bow wasn't wrapped around the front of my neck.

Bjorn nodded in acknowledgment, his eyes not so discreetly drifting to the sword at my left hip. Not my usual sword, just a subpar one I'd picked up in my travels. But this was the first time I had worn one in front of him or Askeladd. "You've been busy this past month," he remarked.

"You've heard, eh? Someone's been keeping their eyes on me." I resisted the urge to wink.

"How could I not, with everyone in town talking about you."

"Glad to know I'm making a positive impression."

Bjorn chuckled. "Positive impression? More like a loud one. Half the town thinks you're good with your hands, the other half thinks you're just really good at breaking things."

I considered mentioning to him I was more than willing to show him just how skillful I was with my hands, and how gentle I could be, but since the other men in our group were unaware of my gender, any playful flirting was out of the question.

Instead, I masked my wince, fully aware he was alluding to the ice skating incident. "No one's perfect," I muttered under my breath.

Bjorn turned to Askeladd who was silently watching our exchange, his blue eyes never leaving mine. "Seems like everyone's here. But should we wait till morning to set off? I'm not too eager to travel through the night."

Askeladd's eyes shifted to Bjorn. "Night or day, it makes no difference. The sooner we move, the better." A strong gust of wind whipped his cloak, and he raised a hand to keep his hood from blowing off. "If we wait any longer, the bandits will be gone. They're likely going to camp near the bait caravan I've sent off earlier this day. I want to catch them before they slip away."

I want to catch them ? So, he was coming along, too.

Great.

"Fair enough," Bjorn said.

"Would they be stupid enough to camp nearby?" I asked.

Askeladd eyes speared to mine. His gaze was cold. His lips curled into a slight, mirthless smile. "Desperation makes men foolish," he replied. "And arrogance even more so. They won't expect us to be on their trail so soon."

I held my tongue, sensing that something was off. For some reason, Askeladd seemed angry with me. I racked my brain, trying to figure out what I could have done to set him off, but I came up empty. Then I glanced at Bjorn, who was also watching Askeladd.

Bjorn, however, didn't seem puzzled by Askeladd's sudden coldness. Instead, he looked slightly amused.

…I'd have to ask Bjorn later when Askeladd wasn't around; there was no point in worrying about it now.

Askeladd then gave the order to move out, and we set off on foot along the trail his decoy caravan had taken. I followed, with Ubba the hunter beside me. He immediately struck up a conversation and kept it going throughout the entire evening and night. He seemed to hold me in high regard, as he didn't talk to anyone else in our group. In truth, I didn't mind; his chatter made the time pass more quickly.

However, this also meant I couldn't ask Bjorn about Askeladd right then. I didn't want to bring it up in front of anyone else, as these Norsemen gossiped worse than schoolgirls during lunch period.

As the sun began to peek over the horizon, Askeladd having us move through the night without much rest, he abruptly halted us on the trail near a bustle of trees that surrounded the trail, at an opening that led to a wide open field. And when he turned around on the well used trail, his eyes locked onto mine. "You," he barked, summoning me with two quick waves of his wrist. Irritated by his attitude, I complied, walking to the front of the row of men.

"What?" I replied when I was close enough, matching his intensity, and also irritated from walking all night without rest. He was such a prick.

As I approached, Askeladd's expression remained stern, his eyes only narrowing slightly. "I need you to scout ahead with me," he said, his voice low and commanding. "Just the two of us. No one else. Can you handle that," then he smirked, "or do I need to ask someone else?"

I never thought I'd be relieved to see him smirking again. What had my world come to?

Looking ahead, I understood why he wanted to scout. Far off on the side of the path leading to the next settlement after Gorm's, there was an abandoned cart in the wide open field. Stripped down but conspicuous, with hardly any snowfall covering it. Even from the distance we were at, I could tell the cart was recently hit and stripped of its supplies. My eyes instinctively scanned the trees on either side that surrounded the open field, about two football fields length away from the trail, but I saw no sign of movement.

But that didn't mean they didn't have watchers.

Askeladd's reasoning became clear. We had a large group, all on foot, without a cart or any plausible reason to be on this trail. Anyone watching would easily discern we weren't out here for a leisurely stroll once we entered the open field as one big group.

But why me? Wouldn't Ubba be a better choice? Or even Bjorn? Sure, Askeladd might want to test my loyalty, but entrusting such a crucial task to an unknown was risky. If I messed up, gave us away in any capacity, the bandits would get away, leading to more hijacked caravans and greater losses. With another two months of winter ahead, they couldn't afford that.

I glanced at Askeladd, my eyes likely reflecting my questions, but I simply nodded.

"Alright," I said, trying to keep my voice steady. "I'll follow your lead. Let's see what we're dealing with up there."

Askeladd's smirk widened, a glint flashing in his eyes. Was that approval? "Good," he said. " But ," he drew the word out, a weird sort of delight flashing in those piercing blue eyes, 'I'm not the one taking the lead."

Did I say I was glad to see him smirking at me again? What a fool I was.

Why was he testing me like this? I thought Askeladd was smarter than that. If I messed up, it would look bad on him, too.

"Fine," I replied a bit too forcefully, striding past him without another glance. He chuckled, but soon I heard the crunch of snow behind me as Askeladd commanded the others to stay back until he gave the order.

I tried to ignore his presence as much as possible, scanning our surroundings for any sign of movement. As we drew nearer, there was still no sign of life.

As we walked, Askeladd's presence behind me gnawed at my nerves. I couldn't fathom why I allowed him to affect me so deeply. Provoking him at Yule, I was fully aware that our engagement was far from over, yet here I was, letting him get under my skin.

The memory, and feeling, of his lingering gaze from Yule resurfaced, but I resisted the urge to look back at him.

Before long, we reached the remains of the caravan, picked clean. There were no horses, no sign of the man who drove the caravan, either.

It seemed only mere hours had passed since the attack, with only a light dusting of snow covering the wreckage, and as the sun rose higher in the sky, you could clearly see how the snow sparkled where it lay untouched, and where it remained dull and compacted.

"Looks like we're up against quite a few bandits," I remarked, my eyes sweeping over the multitude of footprints scattered in the snow around the carriage. "There are too many for them to conceal themselves effectively. If they were savvy, they'd keep moving toward the next settlement with their plunder. But," I paused, glancing towards the woods where a clear trail of footprints led, "it appears we're dealing with amateurs."

Still, I saw no movement where the trail disappeared into the woods. Perhaps they were reckless enough to camp nearby. But without any lookout? Utter novices.

Askeladd narrowed his eyes slightly, his expression unreadable. "Amateurs can still be dangerous," he replied coolly. "They may lack finesse, but they could compensate with desperation."

I looked from Askeladd to the woods and back again. "Still want me to take the lead?"

"Did I say otherwise?" he replied with a snarky edge. Again, he smirked, his sharp too watchful eyes drilling into mine from behind his hood. I stared back, watching as a snowflake fell to his pale cheek…

It took considerable effort not to roll my eyes. I turned away from him and began to follow the trail of footprints, with Askeladd close behind, at least keeping silent.

We didn't have to trudge through the forest long to find the bandits. In the thickest part of the forest, they had set up camp. The tents were covered in snow, the area well-trampled, and various trinkets and mounds of leather littered around indicated they'd been there for a while. The remains of their recent fires were still smoldering, sending thin trails of smoke curling up into the frigid air. At the far end of their camp lay a man, bloodied and likely dead—the caravan driver.

We found a large tree about half a soccer field away from the camp and hid behind it. Askeladd didn't say anything as he settled behind me, and I began counting the bandits, wanting to get this over with as soon as possible.

"Ten and two," I whispered to Askeladd.

"Really now?" he said, leaning a little too close for comfort as he peered over my crouched form around the tree. "I only count ten and one."

I pointed towards the right of the camp near one of the tents. "I see a pair of boots sticking out of that tent over there, making it ten and two."

"Are you sure they're not just a pair of boots?"

"Yeah, I saw one twitch."

"And you can see that from here?" There was doubt in his voice.

I shrugged for his benefit, but rolled my eyes for mine. He couldn't see the latter. "I have good eyesight."

I suddenly sensed him moving then crouching beside me, his knee grazing mine and sending an unpleasant shiver down my spine. "And how do you believe we should approach them, Fiadh?"

I blinked, taken aback. It was the first time he had ever used my name, and he whispered it so close to my ear. Why was he asking me this?

Why was he so close?

I couldn't help but voice my concern while keeping my eyes forward and on the bandits. "Isn't that up to you? You're the Chieftain, after all."

"You pride yourself on reading people, don't you? Look at those bandits. How do you suggest we deal with them?"

Again, I blinked and finally turned to my left, where Askeladd was much closer than I had realized. If it weren't for my cloak and mask, I would have felt his breath on my skin. His knee brushed against mine, one hand resting on it while the other arm was propped up on his knee on his other leg, his face just inches from mine.

Our eyes locked, and I instinctively leaned away from him. That damnable smirk was back on his face, and again he didn't look away or blink as he looked into my eyes. Trying to read me, I realized.

Then it hit me.

You pride yourself on reading people, don't you?

Bjorn's amused gaze toward Askeladd began to make sense.

"Bjorn told you about our wager, didn't he?" I asked, cocking my head. "That's why you've been cold to me."

His smile instantly vanished, replaced by a sour look I hadn't seen before. I looked away, my own smile falling to my lips. In hindsight, that wager wasn't the brightest idea. I should have known Bjorn would mention it to Askeladd. And it would seem it had set me back with his opinion of me.

"Looks like most of them are drunk or heavily hungover," I began, complying with Askeladd's question. Now wasn't the time for games. "Two might be a challenge in close quarters. Three look like archers. Concerning if they had the upper hand, but the least concerning when they lose it." I pointed to one with broad shoulders and heavy armor who sat on a log near a campfire, eating some cured meat. "If I had to guess, he's their leader. That spear near him could be a challenge both up close and at a distance. Something tells me he knows how to use it either way. The rest," I waved my hand lazily, "are average men. If they didn't have the numbers, they'd probably run as soon as a fight broke out. If we take out their leader first, there's a good chance that'll happen regardless."

I turned to Askeladd again, who was still watching me with that unreadable expression. "I'm guessing you had something to do with their current state?"

"I might have slipped some cheap liquor into our last caravan run," he replied.

I smiled. "You should have poisoned the supply. It would have made things a lot easier for us."

Askeladd chuckled, a glint of amusement in his eyes. "Where's the fun in that? Besides, I like to see what you're capable of under pressure."

"Do you test everyone who wants to join your crew in a similar way?"

Askeladd's smirk deepened with a hint of challenge. "I test those who have more to prove when strength isn't their strong point. I need to know what you're capable of before I trust you with my life."

"Who says strength isn't my strong point? I could be quite formidable," I retorted.

His eyes slide down my figure, then back up again for emphasis. "Then prove it."

I turned away once more, fixing my gaze on the band of men. "Fine. Strength isn't my specialty," I admitted. Then, I patted my bow slung across my back. "But I make up for it," I added, glancing up at him. I started to wink, then hesitated. "Should we fetch the others?"

Askeladd nodded, his eyes oddly assessing.

It didn't take long for us to fetch the group. Bjorn only grumbled that it took us long enough before following us without question. It looked like he was going to say more when he looked at me with a smirk, but he refrained from doing so. Probably for the same reason I didn't flirt with him, the bastard.

As we walked through the woods as one unit, Askeladd gave then the rundown. "We've got a group of bandits up ahead—drunk and scattered, but dangerous if underestimated. Only two of them will pose a challenge in close combat, three archers, and a leader with a spear who knows how to use it. Our plan: take out their leader first. The rest will scatter." Then he smiled retchedly, the rest of the men mirrored that smile. "But don't let the bastards escape." His arm came up, palm up, a devilish glint shining in his eyes as he added mirthfully, "After all, the cowards don't deserve to live."

His eyes then glanced at me as we stopped halfway to the bandit camp, still mirthful and still assessing. This time I couldn't hide my shiver. "Archers up."

He was enjoying this a little too much.

But what did I expect from a murderer?

Out of the ten of us, five of us were archers. When we closed in on the bandit camp again. Askeladd had us hid behind trees, surrounding the camp with someone with a melee weapon positioned behind us to charge in when needed.

Askeladd, of course, was positioned behind me.

And he gave me the order to aim for their leader.

I knelt behind the tree, my bow in hand and to my side with an arrow knocked on the string. I closed my eyes and took a deep breath. Letting the cool air fill my lungs.

Here it goes.

I was going to kill someone under Askeladd's order.

A hand suddenly fell to my shoulder. Sharply, I looked up to see Askeladd kneeling beside me again, his hand clutching my shoulder rather tightly. His face wasn't as close to me as before, but he still felt too close for comfort.

His sword was held tightly in his right hand.

"Now, Fiadh, don't disappoint me by missing your shot. We can't have anyone doubting your ability to take a life when it counts," Askeladd said with a hint of amusement in his stern remark. His hand tightened on my shoulder to the point it was starting to get painful and biting into my collar bone. Damn, did he have long fingers. He leaned in closer to me, his lips curled up. "So what's it going to be? Are you ready to take his life, or will you hesitate and disobey my orders?"

He was mocking me. Askeladd didn't think I was capable of taking a life. If I did miss, he'd use it as an excuse not to let me join his crew. He expected me to miss.

"Just give the order," I said sharply, and leaned out from behind the tree away from him, my bow drawn.

He let out a small chuckle as he circled to the other side of my tree, positioning himself in plain view—still crouched and hidden from the bandits unless they were actively searching for intruders, but clearly visible to the rest of us. He raised his arm, and I kept my eyes fixed on him. When he glanced at me, his smirk deepened, accentuating the lines on his face…

And his hand fell forward.

All our bows sung together, our arrows flying through the air in unison. Not one had hesitated.

Not even mine.

There was no hesitation behind letting my arrow fly. Because hunting humans wasn't new to me.

I'd done it before.

And when my arrow hit its mark, reflexively, the leader stood up, then crumpled onto his back, legs and arms flailing helplessly in the air. His brain was dead, the arrow buried deep in his skull, but the body didn't know that yet, running off of instincts to get as far away from the danger as possible.

I looked back to Askeladd…

And I didn't smile. Because despite all the lives I'd taken in the past seven years, it wasn't something I ever found pleasure in. Though these men had been dead for a thousand years before my first life began, it didn't matter. A life was still a life.

And I'd taken hundreds.

(Author's Note: I'm not too happy how this chapter turned out. Again, I've been sick, and again I tried writing while I was sick. I really need to stop doing that because it always churns out chapters I'm not too proud of.

I also might have some bad news... the next chapter will probably be delayed again. I want to edit these past chapters before the next comes out. My main goal in editing is making sure I don't have any chapters that contradict each other and unfortunately for chapter 12 Wager, some of Askeladd's dialogue, to me, sounds off compared to what he says in later chapters, so I want to go back and edit it a little. I won't make any significant changes so no need to reread any of the previous chapter when the next comes out.

But some goodish news, I have a blog out on Tumblr if you want to follow called "Quidell-fics". I've been reposting Askeladd content I find entertaining as well as snippets of my chapters. I might also post snippets of the next chapter before it publishes, as well as status updates if I'm running late for whatever reason. :) Check it out if you like.

On another note, I've been meaning to ask this in my past author notes but kept on forgetting...

What version of the Vinland Saga Anime did/do you watch?

For me, I watch the Netflix dub version. Kirk Thorton performance for Askeladd just fits the character so well, IMO. When im writing Askeladd's dialogue, I always imagine Kirk's voice when writing it.

Let me know your thoughts on this chapter! And thank you for reading :)