Chapter 10

So, I am not going to beat around the bush here. I am unhappy with this chapter and have seriously considered dropping the story. But seeing as it was one of my better-liked stories, I kept going. This is a quick chapter, and one of my fans is helping me with the upcoming chapter, which I hope will be a lot better. That is really all I have to say here.

On to reviews

AlexFalTon guessed right. I mean, really, was it going to be anyone else? I think not, lol.

RoyalTwinFangs, you know, I honestly thought about doing that. Saying fuck it and do it anyways, but I stayed true to my first idea. It was not easy.

Oddballzebra, at some point, yes. And the Norsemen were actually far more democratic than most of their time. Not in the way we know it but they were far different from other places.

Naruto420, someone has to die, lol

Gaones Paran, I plan to cover that next chapter, and you would think, but come on, have you read Vinland Saga? While not a fan himself I don't think he is the type to put much thought in it so why not leave it to Ragnar.

tuvs76, thank you.

Vasdos I am not sure how it will go with Rollo. Well, I am, but at the same time, unsure. Safe to say he is not the Rollo from the show who, frankly, I got. I wasn't happy with what he did, but I got it. Having to stand in the shadow of your younger brother can not be easy.

Now on with the chapter.

Industry or the concept of industry. It would not be a lie to say Forde, or perhaps it was best to say Frode's family, was the most advanced in the world when it came to it. At that time, only China, at the height of its power, could match them. It was industrial might that would lead to the survival of the Norseman way of life against its many enemies. And it was this that Frode was trying to convince Jarl Borg of on behalf of his brother Ragnar as he walked the man down to see the blast furnace at work—the only one to have survived testing.

It was like Floki had predicted one of the furnaces they had built did, indeed, burn down. With the other blowing up, killing several thralls, which, while upsetting to Forde, was sadly necessary. What were a few lives in the name of progress in the grand scheme of life? Even his own life was not above sacrifice if it came down to it. For the success of this one blast furnace that put them nearly ahead of the rest of the world, even a hundred lives wouldn't be too small a price to pay. It was the sad, shameful truth of things. You only had to look at Jarl Borg's face to see that.

While highly intelligent for his time, even Borg wasn't immune to shock, even fear of what he saw before him. To see the blast furnace at work, smelting iron at an unheard rate, was an eye opener to the power that Kattegat and, by extension, Ragner had at his fingertips. It worried the man, but not overly much, however. It didn't matter how much iron Ragner could smelt and what weapons he could make if he didn't have the men to arm them. Still, Brog could see the potential in this beast before him.

"I take it your brother is not showing this to the other Jarls and Kings Forde?" Brog asks.

"Only those who are voting for him, Jarl Brog," Forde answers.

Brog nods his head and says, "Then why are you showing this to me? I have not agreed to vote for him."

"You haven't, but my brother knows, Jarl Brog, that you understand that for this new kingdom to form and stay united, it needs a strong king from the start. The only way for that to happen is for you or him to be voted king." Frode says to him.

Again, Brog nodded his head. He understood what Frode was saying all too well. While he wasn't entirely on board with this plan to create a united Norseman kingdom at first, he had changed his mind after a night's sleep. Now, he was fully on board and desired to see the rise of a united Norseman kingdom. To get there, however, they needed a strong king. One that those under him would fear too much to betray. Of those in the alliance, only three men had that type of power—himself, Halfdan the Elder, and Jarl Ragnar.

He then inquires, "What about Halfdan? I could vote for him."

"True, you could, Jarl Brog, but we both know you won't. Jarl Halfdan, as you know, will not live much longer. If he were voted High King of the Norseman, he would die soon after. Which could lead to the breaking of this grand ambition." Frode says to him.

Brog says nothing, for he knows Frode was right. Voting for Halfdan would be a waste of his vote and not at all what he desired to do.

"What is your brother offering?" Brog asks.

"A simple agreement. You vote for him, and he will vote for you. In this way, if one of you is voted king, it will show the others that the most powerful members of the alliance are united and will not stand the vote being questioned or challenged." Frode says.

Thinking on this offer for a while, Brog says, "I will demand that if Jarl Ragnar is voted king, the first thing he does is declare war on King Horik."

Frode makes a show of thinking about this. He had anticipated this and discussed it with his brother, but he chose not to inform Brog that they were okay with it.

After they walk for a while longer back towards Kattegat, Frode finally speaks, "King Horik…. has never been a friend to the alliance. I will talk to my brother about your demand, but I see no reason why he would not agree to it.

Nodding his head, Brog and Frode contain on. Neither trusted the other, but the only one, not knowing he was being played, was, in fact, Brog.

Drinking from a horn, Kwenthrith watches on with glee at the combat happening before her. While not a true fan of combat or bloodshed, she did not shy away from it either. And there was just something so fascinating about how serious these pagans took it. True, the men in her land also took combat seriously, but these Vikings loved it. They breathed it and lived it. Their lives revolved around it in a way that was not typical back home. Not even the children were spared from learning how to fight, and any thought of taking it easy on each other due to rank didn't exist.

A perfect example of this was the two men who were currently fighting. Halfdan Halfdansson appeared to be considered a noble within Norse society, as far as Kwenthrith could ascertain. The son of a powerful Jarl, it would, in her head, make sense for someone not to fight at their best against him. Especially if you were but of common birth. Like the man he was currently facing whose name escaped Kwenthrith. However, no leniency was being extended. They were going at it with everything they had. Both were unwilling to lose to the other. That is how serious these people took fighting.

"Ah, there you are, Princess Kwenthrith. I have been looking for you." The voice of perhaps the closest thing that Kwenthrith had to a friend here said.

Looking to her side, Kwenthrith smiles just a bit at the sight of Thyri Harldsonsdottir, wife of Frode. Upon first meeting Thyri, Kwenthrith could honestly say she didn't think much of the woman. Reminding her of a lot of the women back in her homeland, Thyri was soft-spoken and meek, at least at first glance. A woman whose place was to be seen, not heard. Not at all like the force known as Lagertha and the cunning Siggy, who was also her mother. However, appearances can be very deceiving, and while Thyri was soft-spoken, she was in no way meek.

No, the young woman before her was just as cunning as her mother and, while not a warrior like Lagertha, was not at all weak. Kwenthrith had spent time in the bathhouse with her; in fact, it was Thyri who first invited her to the bathhouse, which was lovely. The soaps, as they called them, made her feel cleaner than she had ever felt before. Thus, she had observed what Thyri concealed beneath her elegant attire and fur garments. As she had seen what Lagertha hid, and while Thyri wasn't as toned or had as many muscles as Lagertha, she was not as soft as her mother or her. It was a body that Kwenthrith could honestly say she admired. Yes, admired was the right word, for she didn't wish to say she was attracted to the young woman.

But what she liked most about Thyri was her mind and kindness. The woman was bright, brilliant, in fact, and kind to her. No doubt on orders from her husband, but Kwenthrith was getting the feeling Thyri would have been kind even if not told to.

"Yes, here I am. I did not know I was so hard to find Thyri." Kwenthrith says in a playful tone.

Shaking her head, Thyri says, "No, not hard to find, but the voting for High King will be taking place soon. I had thought you would be near the longhouse. Waiting to see who was voted in."

"Ah yes, the vote. I had forgotten all about it," Kwenthrith claims, but that was, in fact, not the case.

Many things about the Norseman way of life either confused Kwenthrith or she plain didn't understand, like the thought of voting for their leader or the Thing that gave every freeman the right to be heard. Such things did not take place in her homeland of England. Yet here it was, the lay of the land, and she couldn't say she agreed with it. Whether she agreed with it or not, the vote about to take place had much to do with her.

Her desire to return home and reclaim her throne may have lessened somewhat over the last few months in this strange land, where she was able to establish herself as a wealthy free woman under the protection of Jarl Ragnar. It had not altogether disappeared. There was too much bad blood between her and her uncle for her to let go of her burning hatred for the man. That said, you would have to be a fool not to notice the political landscape of this land was changing. Kwenthrith may not have been here long, but it wasn't that hard to understand these people. Or realize what they were after.

"Really? So you do not care who wins or not?" Thyri asks.

"Why should I? It has nothing to do with me." Kwenthrith answers.

Shrugging her shoulders and playing along, Thyri says. "Why indeed."

Kwenthrith knew Thyri could see right through her. It was not that hard to see how this would affect her. When she first arrived, she had been able to haggle some gold from Jarl Ragnar for her help in the raid. Yet, the gold was not everlasting. Right now, she was a wealthy woman under the protection of a powerful Jarl. The question was, for how much longer would this situation persist? With the political landscape changing as it was, there was no guarantee that the incoming High King would be so generous with her. She may have to end up having to look more into Thyri's offer at this rate.

"What about you, Thyri? Who do you wish to come out on top in this vote?" Kwenthrith asks.

"Why Jarl Ragnar, of course," Thyri says as if it were the most obvious thing in the world.

It was not. The fact of the matter was that Thyri, while not angry at Ragnar for her father's death, was unhappy. These things happened; it was the way of the world. Her father and Ragnar had a dispute that could not be settled by anything but blood, and so it was. Her father died, and Ragnar lived. It could have just as easily been Ragnar who had died, but that was the thing. He wasn't the one to die that day, and what child could ever truly forgive their father's killer?

"Is that so?" Kwenthrith inquires, aware of the actual situation. After all, it wasn't that hard to find out how Jarl Ragnar came to power.

"Of course, it is a wife's duty, after all, to look out for her husband's best interest," Thyri says.

And there it was, Kwenthrith thought to herself about why Thyri came to her with that offer of hers. She had to give the woman credit. She knew how to play this game well. Thyri and Kwenthrith both knew her usefulness to the Vikings was limited. She may have had a claimant to the throne of Mercia, but that meant nothing to these people. Her value came from how useful she could be to them and their everyday life. And while her claimant did have some value, it wasn't enough for these people to care about her or her well-being. Especially now that their attraction was starting to point inwards, not outwards, the only thing she had to offer right now was knowledge of her lands, which would only be valid for so long.

Knowing this and being able to see the bigger picture, Thyri came to her with an offer. One that Kwenthrith had thought of herself but had yet to act on. That offer was her hand in marriage to one of the three brothers of House Munsö. Kwenthrith's first choice was, of course, Jarl Ragnar, who was the most powerful of the brothers. If not in fighting skill, then do to his position as Jarl of Kattegat and maybe soon to be High King of Norway. However, as quickly as she thought about it, Kwenthrith put it out of her mind; she had little doubt she could seduce Ragnar into her bed. However, she dismissed the idea immediately upon considering it. She had seen both Lagertha naked and training among the men, and the fact of the matter was the woman could beat Kwenthrith to death with her bare hands. She may have been crazy, but she was suicidal. Even if she could win Ragnar away from Lagertha, she would forever be looking over her back for the day Lagertha put a dagger in it. No, it was best to look elsewhere for a would-be husband.

There was the oldest brother, Rollo the Bear or Merchant, depending on who you ask—a tall, strong, and mighty warrior with an eye for trade. On the surface, he seemed like the perfect man for her. Seeing as his sexual appetite matched her own, she felt they would get along splendidly, but as good as he seemed for her, he was nothing compared to the younger brother. Frode was different, not just from the men in her homeland but from everyone else currently alive. Even from a distance, Kwenthrith could tell his eyes always looked beyond the here and now. To a future only he could see, which led to these people being so advanced.

His what he called technology could greatly benefit her homeland, and by her homeland, she meant herself. If or when she chooses to return. Though she had half a mind just to let any children, she may have taken up the task of reclaiming what was hers. She was still deciding on that. The question was, however, whether she was okay with being a 2nd wife. Unlike back home, there was no law against it, and according to Thyri, it was not all that strange. It's not the norm, but it's not odd. Norsemen typically only ever had one wife for several reasons, and while bed-slaves and frilla were common, Kwenthrith had no interest in being either.

"I am still thinking about it, Thyri ." Kwenthrith finally answers.

"Of course, Kwenthrith, take your time. There is no rush." Thyri responds with a warm smile.

Then, a horn is heard blowing from the longhouse. It would seem that it was time for the vote, and every Freeman in Kattegat was free to witness this important moment in the history of their people.

Sometime later, in the long house, sitting in a small circle, the Jarls and Kings of the alliance face each other. All of them, down to a man or woman, looked confident. Confident in the belief that they would be picked as the High King of Norway. Or at least pretend to believe that it would be them that would be picked above everyone else. While in truth, most knew that the only one of two men here today would be picked to be High King. That being either Jarl Borg of Götaland or Jarl Ragnar of Kattegat. Both were great warriors with sagas worth telling and had the power to hold this loose alliance of Jarls and Kings together. The only question was who among them would win.

Truth be told, no one really knew as the voting got underway. Each Jarl calmly announced in a loud voice who they would vote for until, finally, only two clear choices remained: Ragnar and Borg, who had yet to cast their own votes.

Looking at each other in the eye, Ragnar is the first to cast his vote. He stands up and says, "I vote, Jarl Borg."

It was a tough vote for him. On the one hand, he would have preferred to vote for a known ally like Styrbjorn, who had voted for him, but in the end, he voted for Borg. For only one reason, however, and that being his brother Forde had suggested it. Predicting very accurately that it would either be Bong or him that won the day.

Nodding his head at Ragnar, Borg stands up before the other Jarls and Kings and stays true to his word with Forde, "I vote Jarl Ragnar."

He then sits and looks at the remaining Jarl, who hasn't voted—Halfdan the Elder, who even now showed no favor to either Ragnar or Borg. While Ragnar had indeed given him great gifts upon his arrival, he had neither accepted them nor denied them. On the other hand, Borg had given him nothing but promises when he came to see him about the voting, but what Brog had promised him had been outstanding.

Putting his hand to his beard, Halfdan storks it for a time. Carefully thinking over who to vote for. He knew how he could not vote for anyone but these two. Doing such a thing and leaving it as a tie would speak poorly of him and may even end the alliance he helped forge. But that knowledge did not make his choices any easier to pick from.

Finally, after a few moments longer, the old Jarl, who everyone knew was half dead already but held their respect, slowly stood up under his own power. Then, in a powerful voice that betrayed his age, he said, "I vote for Jarl Ragnar."

The room was deadly quiet, and a great tension could be felt in the air. Jarl Brog's supporters were not happy with this vote. They had wished to see Brog win and become the High King of Norway, not Jarl Ragnar, but before anyone could say anything, Jarl Brog stood.

"Then the vote is cast, and let none dare question it." Jarl Brog says in a commanding voice.

"Hail High King Ragnar," Rollo yells out, and everyone, even those who were not happy with the vote, answers in turn.

"It's done," Forde thinks. The first step to the unification of Scandinavia. There was still a long way to go, but they had done it and taken the first step to keep the Norseman way of life going. A lot would change, no doubt, but the first step was taken. The only question was, could the Norseman people take the next step, or would they fail before the might of the world? Only time will tell.