Good stuff, Saithis! I think you were due for an interim update of this nature, or at the very least it's a good time to do one. Interesting info on the Hvide clan -- it whets my appetite for your next udpate! 
Piety of the North Star
- Thread starter Saithis
- Start date
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That's a beautiful family tree. Things like this inspire me to play Crusader Kings again. It's also very useful to get a clear picture of who is friends with whom, who is married to whom, etc - when I see my court and it's chaotic, I have no sense of what is going on, but when I see that a count has his wife as chancellor, and his brother and his wife as two other members of the court, it paints a picture I can understand.
I can't take credit for the unintentional valkyrie innuendo, but I will take the blame.
I can't take credit for the unintentional valkyrie innuendo, but I will take the blame.
Completely agree - and the thing I love about this AAR is the whole experience: not just the prose, but the pictures, maps, and now this family tree. A welcome return for one of the few CK AARs I regularly read.
Lovely family tree, hun. It's just such a pity you can hardly tell some girls from the guys.
Anyways, I'm starting to play CK myself and I must say it's a good game indeed, and there is a good chance I might start an AAR of my own one of these days...
And like others before me, I will say this, last but not least:
It was about time we got a good overview of everyone, this definitely clears up a lot of the relations. Keep it up! <3
Anyways, I'm starting to play CK myself and I must say it's a good game indeed, and there is a good chance I might start an AAR of my own one of these days...
And like others before me, I will say this, last but not least:
It was about time we got a good overview of everyone, this definitely clears up a lot of the relations. Keep it up! <3
Loving the family tree and genealogy. It's the little stuff like that which makes this AAR great.
Well, and Skjalm is awesome, but that's beside the point.
Well, and Skjalm is awesome, but that's beside the point.
The less said about three months, the better.
"You can't catch me, you never will!" Harald Bragde danced out of the younger Harald's reach.
Audensen's teeth gritted, the stubborn five-year old hadn't given up just yet. "No fair! You're bigger!"
"But, little one..." the older Harald grinned. "There are more ways to win a contest than just size. You just run straight at me, of course I'm going to win!"
Harald Audensen was actually the second largest of the children, larger even than Ernst, who was almost a year his senior. The age advantage of Harald Bragde was too great, however, and another charge was foiled as Bragde leapt to one side, dangling the red kerchief teasingly before the youth's very eyes.
Audensen fell down with an ‘oomph’, breathing heavily. "It's not fair. You're a head and a half taller and I'm so tired. I'll never win."
"Are you sure about that?"
The young boy looked up at Bragde with a fierce fire in his eyes. "Not by myself. But no one will help me!"
Bragde grinned. "We already agreed: your task today is to retrieve this kerchief by any means necessary. You've got until sundown.”
Audensen whined a little as the elder Harald walked away. He stood up as if to give chase but his legs were a little shaky. At just five years of age he had been chasing his adolescent companion all morning, yet had not laid a single finger on the kerchief as of yet. He had complained to Cecilie that the task was unfair, but she simply told him that life was unfair and he needed to learn to beat the odds.
"Why is everyone picking on me..." he complained and kicked at the grass with a bit. He tried to think, stretch his mind. How on earth could he get help to get that kerchief off of Bragde? His mind puzzled over it for some time as he walked towards the kitchens. It was no use chasing the larger boy on an empty stomach, he reasoned. With food in his belly he might have enough energy to try again.
A borrowed hunk of bread later, he was chewing thoughtfully on the steps of Søborg’s courtyard. He glanced around at the various figures moving to and fro in the confines of her walls. He paused mid-chew – he had an idea. Bragde was likely enjoying himself somewhere, but he knew his compatriot too well – he would come looking for him, cocky as he was.
Harald continued to chew on the hunk of bread he had appropriated and walked over towards the gates. With the confidence only a noble child could exude, he walked straight up to one of the two guards and looked up at him.
“Hi.”
The guard looked down at the boy before him. His cheeks were puffy and red and he had an equally cheeky grin – in his eyes you could see that he was the type of child who believed he could get anything he wanted.
Harald Audensen Hvide was a bright and charming boy by all accounts.
“Good afternoon, young master.” The guard responded politely.
“You’re going to help me.” Harald stated matter-of-factly. “This is important.”
“I, uh...respectfully, young master, I am supposed to be guarding this gate.” The guard looked awkward. His companion was trying to keep stifled laughter from sneaking out.
“And now you’re going to be helping me.”
“I really shouldn’t-“
Harald reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round shiny object. “Oh, too bad then. I’ll have to find another use for this.”
The guard choked. “Ah ah ah ah just a moment young master.” He reached his hand out. “Let’s talk business. What is it you want?”
Gro looked out the window and frowned. She offered a short glance to the woman next to her – the maidservant Cecilie. The woman was insufferable, she clearly knew too much and if Gro had her way she would be removed from the picture permanently. She was always afraid that Cecilie would attempt to poison her son’s mind with her scandalous ways.
“Well?”
“He’ll figure something out. He’s a resourceful young boy, you know.” Cecilie said.
“And if he doesn’t?”
Cecilie frowned. “If he doesn’t then he will learn, but I do not think this will be the case. Give your son more credit.”
“What is your interest in Harald anyway?” Gro said with a sharp tone in her voice. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she eyed up the maid.
“Interest? My, your lady, I am but his tutor, I am but here to teach him the ways of life.”
“Bullshit.” Gro glared. “Do not play games with me, Cecilie. If I find this is some plot, I will find a way to put you beneath the fair earth for good.”
The caretaker of Søborg turned and stormed off in her anger. She was too late to see Cecilie’s friendly smile turn into a scowl at her retreating back. ’You should watch the way you speak to me, Gro. I am more powerful than you think.’
Cecilie turned her head and let her gaze stray across the grass until it reached the small figure conversing with the guards. Her eyebrow raised and her mouth softened to curiousity. “What are you up to, little one...”
“Haraaald!” Bragde yelled as he looked around the courtyard. “Don’t tell me you gave up already.”
“I’m right behind you Bragde...” Harald frowned and dashed towards the older boy, grabbing hold of his arm. “Give me that!”
The older boy yelped in surprise but quickly pushed his younger opponent off. “Not on my watch!” He laughed and jumped back. “Nice try, but you really should have worked on your art of surprise. Your little comment took the initiative away fro-gah!”
A big strong arm grabbed Harald Bragde’s wrist firmly, a second held the other in place.
“He’s all yours, young master!” The guard said with a grin.
Harald Audensen Hvide stood, brushed the dust off his clothes and calmly walked up to the struggling Bragde. “Thank you Morten.”
“Damnit Harald, this is cheating!”
Audensen laughed a bit and grabbed the kerchief, only to find Bragde holding onto it with a death grip. “Hey, let go!”
“No way, I’m not giving you this kerchief you cheater!”
“Any means necessary, this is fair and square!” Harald tugged harder and harder and the guard pulled his rival back a bit, causing him to lose his grip a little. After nearly a minute of wrestling the younger Harald pulled the cloth free. “HA!”
Harald looked up at the sky with the world’s largest grin on his face. He had won, fair and square, just like he had been instructed. He admitted it wasn’t the world’s greatest plan, but it had worked and that was the important thing. He had the kerchief and he had beaten a mission again.
Bragde growled and rubbed at his sore shoulder. The man had easily overpowered him, and he hadn’t stood much of a chance at that point. He knew they were near the gate but he had let his guard down and paid the price for it.
Harald sat up from where he laid upon the grass. Still grinning, he tied the kerchief around his arm and then jumped up to his feet, feeling full of new life and energy. “I win, I win, I win!” He laughed joyously. “I beat you Bragde!”
“Yeah well don’t rub it in. If you had been alone you never would have won.” He frowned at the younger Harald. “You just cheated, that’s all.”
“Pbbfffttt, nonsense and you know it. You’re just upset that I won fair and square.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shiny object, giving it to Morten the guard. “As promised, thank you for the help!”
Bragde’s jaw virtually dropped. “Harald are you daft!? A whole gold coin for that? Do you know how much money that is?”
The guard grinned sheepishly but said nothing. Money was a powerful motivator indeed.
“You’re so much bigger and stronger, Harald.” Audensen frowned. “I couldn’t have won even if I tried my hardest. Even if I had been quiet sneaking up on you, I’d have grabbed the kerchief only to have you hold on for dear life like back there. I could have never taken it by my own means and you know it.”
“Yes but-“ Bragde paused and glanced over Audensen’s shoulder. “Oh...it’s your mother.”
Harald turned with a grin, his eyes quickly spotting the approaching figure of Gro Svendsdatter. “Mother!” He laughed and ran towards his mother with a big grin.
“I won! I got the kerchief just like Cecilie asked, see? They told me I couldn’t do it but I could!”
He laughed and stopped just short of his mother, who dropped down to her knees in the dress. She couldn’t help but smile widely at his dusty, dirty face and wide grin. “You did fantastic, Harald. You do me proud, you do all of us proud. Don’t listen to their accusations of cheating – you did what you had to do to win.”
“Did I really spend too much money?” Harald frowned.
Gro shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It was your money to spend, anyway. Ask yourself if the money was worth the victory, and if you could have not achieved your goal some other way.”
Harald thought about this. “Some other way, mom? What do you mean?”
“It is fully possible to get what you want without spending the money first. Before you stoop to such a step you should often try to negotiate, to plan, to come up with new ideas and convince those you interact with to do what it is you wish. That way, you can get what you want and keep your money for when you need it. Do you understand?”
Harald thought more, then nodded. “Aye mother, I understand.”
She smiled and gave her son a hug and a kiss on the cheek, prompting a groan and a squirm. “Hey!” He protested, blushing. “That’s not fair!”
Gro stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “I am bigger than you, son. It’s perfectly fair. Now I have to go. Do let Cecilie know that you have finished your task. I am sure she will have some other ordeal planned for you. Don’t let her beat you, understand?”
Harald looked up from rubbing at his cheek, thought for a moment, then nodded. “I understand, mother.”
He looked thoughtfully at his mother, the Princess of Denmark, as she turned and walked away. Though it was not immediately apparent to him, the woman had lost none of her beauty nor her grace, and if anything had matured like fine wine over the years. He was proud of his mother and endeavoured to be like her. He puffed up his chest – he was going to impress her and show her what a man he could really be.
Gro smiled to herself, feeling that same sense of pride and happiness she couldn’t explain. There was something about Harald and his brothers that gave her satisfaction unmatched. They had great futures ahead of them, she was sure of that.
”You called?” a voice whispered from the shadows of the hall as she stepped back into Søborg.
“Yes. I have a job for you, an important one. It’s about a man in Roskilde who needs to disappear.” Gro said quietly. “Payment will be as usual.”
There was a soft pause, then the assassin’s voice trickled back out of the shadow he lay in. ”Very well. Who?”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 30 - The Boys' Sport
24th of April, 1075 Anno Domini
Chapter 30 - The Boys' Sport
24th of April, 1075 Anno Domini
"You can't catch me, you never will!" Harald Bragde danced out of the younger Harald's reach.
Audensen's teeth gritted, the stubborn five-year old hadn't given up just yet. "No fair! You're bigger!"
"But, little one..." the older Harald grinned. "There are more ways to win a contest than just size. You just run straight at me, of course I'm going to win!"
Harald Audensen was actually the second largest of the children, larger even than Ernst, who was almost a year his senior. The age advantage of Harald Bragde was too great, however, and another charge was foiled as Bragde leapt to one side, dangling the red kerchief teasingly before the youth's very eyes.
Audensen fell down with an ‘oomph’, breathing heavily. "It's not fair. You're a head and a half taller and I'm so tired. I'll never win."
"Are you sure about that?"
The young boy looked up at Bragde with a fierce fire in his eyes. "Not by myself. But no one will help me!"
Bragde grinned. "We already agreed: your task today is to retrieve this kerchief by any means necessary. You've got until sundown.”
Audensen whined a little as the elder Harald walked away. He stood up as if to give chase but his legs were a little shaky. At just five years of age he had been chasing his adolescent companion all morning, yet had not laid a single finger on the kerchief as of yet. He had complained to Cecilie that the task was unfair, but she simply told him that life was unfair and he needed to learn to beat the odds.
"Why is everyone picking on me..." he complained and kicked at the grass with a bit. He tried to think, stretch his mind. How on earth could he get help to get that kerchief off of Bragde? His mind puzzled over it for some time as he walked towards the kitchens. It was no use chasing the larger boy on an empty stomach, he reasoned. With food in his belly he might have enough energy to try again.
A borrowed hunk of bread later, he was chewing thoughtfully on the steps of Søborg’s courtyard. He glanced around at the various figures moving to and fro in the confines of her walls. He paused mid-chew – he had an idea. Bragde was likely enjoying himself somewhere, but he knew his compatriot too well – he would come looking for him, cocky as he was.
Harald continued to chew on the hunk of bread he had appropriated and walked over towards the gates. With the confidence only a noble child could exude, he walked straight up to one of the two guards and looked up at him.
“Hi.”
The guard looked down at the boy before him. His cheeks were puffy and red and he had an equally cheeky grin – in his eyes you could see that he was the type of child who believed he could get anything he wanted.
Harald Audensen Hvide was a bright and charming boy by all accounts.
“Good afternoon, young master.” The guard responded politely.
“You’re going to help me.” Harald stated matter-of-factly. “This is important.”
“I, uh...respectfully, young master, I am supposed to be guarding this gate.” The guard looked awkward. His companion was trying to keep stifled laughter from sneaking out.
“And now you’re going to be helping me.”
“I really shouldn’t-“
Harald reached into his pocket and pulled out a small, round shiny object. “Oh, too bad then. I’ll have to find another use for this.”
The guard choked. “Ah ah ah ah just a moment young master.” He reached his hand out. “Let’s talk business. What is it you want?”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Gro looked out the window and frowned. She offered a short glance to the woman next to her – the maidservant Cecilie. The woman was insufferable, she clearly knew too much and if Gro had her way she would be removed from the picture permanently. She was always afraid that Cecilie would attempt to poison her son’s mind with her scandalous ways.
“Well?”
“He’ll figure something out. He’s a resourceful young boy, you know.” Cecilie said.
“And if he doesn’t?”
Cecilie frowned. “If he doesn’t then he will learn, but I do not think this will be the case. Give your son more credit.”
“What is your interest in Harald anyway?” Gro said with a sharp tone in her voice. Her eyes flashed dangerously as she eyed up the maid.
“Interest? My, your lady, I am but his tutor, I am but here to teach him the ways of life.”
“Bullshit.” Gro glared. “Do not play games with me, Cecilie. If I find this is some plot, I will find a way to put you beneath the fair earth for good.”
The caretaker of Søborg turned and stormed off in her anger. She was too late to see Cecilie’s friendly smile turn into a scowl at her retreating back. ’You should watch the way you speak to me, Gro. I am more powerful than you think.’
Cecilie turned her head and let her gaze stray across the grass until it reached the small figure conversing with the guards. Her eyebrow raised and her mouth softened to curiousity. “What are you up to, little one...”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
“Haraaald!” Bragde yelled as he looked around the courtyard. “Don’t tell me you gave up already.”
“I’m right behind you Bragde...” Harald frowned and dashed towards the older boy, grabbing hold of his arm. “Give me that!”
The older boy yelped in surprise but quickly pushed his younger opponent off. “Not on my watch!” He laughed and jumped back. “Nice try, but you really should have worked on your art of surprise. Your little comment took the initiative away fro-gah!”
A big strong arm grabbed Harald Bragde’s wrist firmly, a second held the other in place.
“He’s all yours, young master!” The guard said with a grin.
Harald Audensen Hvide stood, brushed the dust off his clothes and calmly walked up to the struggling Bragde. “Thank you Morten.”
“Damnit Harald, this is cheating!”
Audensen laughed a bit and grabbed the kerchief, only to find Bragde holding onto it with a death grip. “Hey, let go!”
“No way, I’m not giving you this kerchief you cheater!”
“Any means necessary, this is fair and square!” Harald tugged harder and harder and the guard pulled his rival back a bit, causing him to lose his grip a little. After nearly a minute of wrestling the younger Harald pulled the cloth free. “HA!”
Harald looked up at the sky with the world’s largest grin on his face. He had won, fair and square, just like he had been instructed. He admitted it wasn’t the world’s greatest plan, but it had worked and that was the important thing. He had the kerchief and he had beaten a mission again.
Bragde growled and rubbed at his sore shoulder. The man had easily overpowered him, and he hadn’t stood much of a chance at that point. He knew they were near the gate but he had let his guard down and paid the price for it.
Harald sat up from where he laid upon the grass. Still grinning, he tied the kerchief around his arm and then jumped up to his feet, feeling full of new life and energy. “I win, I win, I win!” He laughed joyously. “I beat you Bragde!”
“Yeah well don’t rub it in. If you had been alone you never would have won.” He frowned at the younger Harald. “You just cheated, that’s all.”
“Pbbfffttt, nonsense and you know it. You’re just upset that I won fair and square.” He reached into his pocket and pulled out the shiny object, giving it to Morten the guard. “As promised, thank you for the help!”
Bragde’s jaw virtually dropped. “Harald are you daft!? A whole gold coin for that? Do you know how much money that is?”
The guard grinned sheepishly but said nothing. Money was a powerful motivator indeed.
“You’re so much bigger and stronger, Harald.” Audensen frowned. “I couldn’t have won even if I tried my hardest. Even if I had been quiet sneaking up on you, I’d have grabbed the kerchief only to have you hold on for dear life like back there. I could have never taken it by my own means and you know it.”
“Yes but-“ Bragde paused and glanced over Audensen’s shoulder. “Oh...it’s your mother.”
Harald turned with a grin, his eyes quickly spotting the approaching figure of Gro Svendsdatter. “Mother!” He laughed and ran towards his mother with a big grin.
“I won! I got the kerchief just like Cecilie asked, see? They told me I couldn’t do it but I could!”
He laughed and stopped just short of his mother, who dropped down to her knees in the dress. She couldn’t help but smile widely at his dusty, dirty face and wide grin. “You did fantastic, Harald. You do me proud, you do all of us proud. Don’t listen to their accusations of cheating – you did what you had to do to win.”
“Did I really spend too much money?” Harald frowned.
Gro shrugged. “Maybe, maybe not. It was your money to spend, anyway. Ask yourself if the money was worth the victory, and if you could have not achieved your goal some other way.”
Harald thought about this. “Some other way, mom? What do you mean?”
“It is fully possible to get what you want without spending the money first. Before you stoop to such a step you should often try to negotiate, to plan, to come up with new ideas and convince those you interact with to do what it is you wish. That way, you can get what you want and keep your money for when you need it. Do you understand?”
Harald thought more, then nodded. “Aye mother, I understand.”
She smiled and gave her son a hug and a kiss on the cheek, prompting a groan and a squirm. “Hey!” He protested, blushing. “That’s not fair!”
Gro stood up and placed her hands on her hips. “I am bigger than you, son. It’s perfectly fair. Now I have to go. Do let Cecilie know that you have finished your task. I am sure she will have some other ordeal planned for you. Don’t let her beat you, understand?”
Harald looked up from rubbing at his cheek, thought for a moment, then nodded. “I understand, mother.”
He looked thoughtfully at his mother, the Princess of Denmark, as she turned and walked away. Though it was not immediately apparent to him, the woman had lost none of her beauty nor her grace, and if anything had matured like fine wine over the years. He was proud of his mother and endeavoured to be like her. He puffed up his chest – he was going to impress her and show her what a man he could really be.
Gro smiled to herself, feeling that same sense of pride and happiness she couldn’t explain. There was something about Harald and his brothers that gave her satisfaction unmatched. They had great futures ahead of them, she was sure of that.
”You called?” a voice whispered from the shadows of the hall as she stepped back into Søborg.
“Yes. I have a job for you, an important one. It’s about a man in Roskilde who needs to disappear.” Gro said quietly. “Payment will be as usual.”
There was a soft pause, then the assassin’s voice trickled back out of the shadow he lay in. ”Very well. Who?”
It's alive! Wahahaha!
Good update; I think I'll need to re-read the rest of the story to fully get what is happening in this update, but by itself, it stands fairly well.
Audenson seems to be a clever boy; getting others to do things for him by flashing them a bit of coin. He must be careful though, some may like him only for his money.
Good update; I think I'll need to re-read the rest of the story to fully get what is happening in this update, but by itself, it stands fairly well.
Audenson seems to be a clever boy; getting others to do things for him by flashing them a bit of coin. He must be careful though, some may like him only for his money.
Nothing is worse than a narrative with long breaks, so please update more frequently!
Artell: ALIIIIIVE.
SplendidTuesday & Enewald: I'm sorry for the long delay. I don't really have any excuses, my mind has just been other places and I haven't had the motivation to write anything. I need to try and do better, really.
FlyingDutchie: Glad to hear it. I want the antics of the Hvide to continue long into the future if I can manage it.
SplendidTuesday & Enewald: I'm sorry for the long delay. I don't really have any excuses, my mind has just been other places and I haven't had the motivation to write anything. I need to try and do better, really.
FlyingDutchie: Glad to hear it. I want the antics of the Hvide to continue long into the future if I can manage it.
It's Aliiiiiiiive!
I loved this chapter. You know how CK goes on about childhood lessons now and then? There is one right here, in the flesh. Was it too much money? who knows. But status is something one has to defend from childhood, so maybe not too much money. Clearly, however, a gold piece can buy you a skillful blade.
And Gro clearly knows what money can be used for - it's good for Cecilie she wasn't plotting anything.
I loved this chapter. You know how CK goes on about childhood lessons now and then? There is one right here, in the flesh. Was it too much money? who knows. But status is something one has to defend from childhood, so maybe not too much money. Clearly, however, a gold piece can buy you a skillful blade.
And Gro clearly knows what money can be used for - it's good for Cecilie she wasn't plotting anything.
Im going to refrain from the Frankenstein jokes and simply say:
Welcome back!
Gro's maidservant has an interesting way of tutoring Harald, but it also seems incredibly effective. Are we seeing Gro's eventual successor as a child? And I like the irony of Gro admonishing Harald to not resort to money, then going off to pay an assassin...
Welcome back!
Gro's maidservant has an interesting way of tutoring Harald, but it also seems incredibly effective. Are we seeing Gro's eventual successor as a child? And I like the irony of Gro admonishing Harald to not resort to money, then going off to pay an assassin...
Special It's my Birthday! edition update.
RGB: Well, you don't think I wrote a childhood lesson for no reason, do you?
General_BT: No frankenstein jokes? Heretic. You shall be cleansed with fire.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 31 - Fire, Faith and the Heart
2nd of May, 1075 Anno Domini
"We are all drawn into the trap of believing one thing or another. Belief, you see, is the most powerful thing that can spark a man's interest. All of life, its very existence, is a great unknown. To answer that unknown, to give it definition and reality, is the ultimate desire of all human beings.
"You see, you must understand the way that things work. We all must. The unknown, it is frightening on a very basic level. This is why religion is the powerful force it is, the dominant rulership. Ask yourself whether it is real or not. Ask yourself whether any of it is real. Is the man who preaches one faith right while the other is not?
"Understand, Asbjørn, that no living man shall ever know the answer, that faith is built around belief and not fact or science, nor does science or fact overcome belief. The two shall forever be interchangable, interdefined, and that no man can ever defy the way things truly work."
Asbjørn's eyes flittered open. "How do they work, then?"
The priest above him looked taken aback. "What?"
"It's all nonsense...believing in something out of fear and because they tell you to...one should believe what one believes, regardless of the pressure of your peers. You should make your own peace, and your own decisions." Asbjørn muttered.
Slowly, carefully, Asbjørn sat up. He heard sounds, metal upon metal, screams of the dying. There was war.
"What is going on?" He snapped at the priest.
The father looked taken aback and confused. "I...we are under attack, my son. Lithuanian rebels. They have struck our position here while the main army has gone."
Asbjørn smiled. "Then valhalla awaits. You were administering the last rites, were you not?"
The priest looked nervous and nodded. "I was, my child. What do you mean by-"
"It is time for me to give up believing in something I cannot. It is time I find my heritage again. I have little time for this world, but enough strength to do what I must. They say the entry to valhalla - to heaven - is reserved for those who die in battle. I think I understand what it means now. It is not literal battle, it is the battle of your spirit and your heart. For long years I have sought my death in battle, to drown the sorrows of my lost children and my lost wife."
"My child, I know you have grieved but you must lay down, you need rest."
"Silence!" Asbjørn rasped with frustration. "In seeking my death I only sought damnation. There was never to be any peace in my death, no valhalla, no reward, no glorious end. To die because one wants to die is the coward's way out. To die while your life has had meaning, to die for a cause, that is the true path. Giving up in my heart was giving up in my spirit. I would have died in that bed having never truly fought. I would have never seen valhalla.
"The battle is not literal, father. The battle is a metaphor - the battle is in your soul. You fight for what is right, you never give up on life and you never give up on hope. That is the point. I have seen it so clearly now."
The priest looked thoroughly confused. "You speak heretic's words, child. Noble or no, you cannot preach such false lies and expect me to simply sit idly by."
"Idly by? You have more important things to do than me, priest. There are wounded here, men who can still live. Get them out, find any volunteers and get them to safety." Asbjørn glared. "I will fight for the right cause this time. I will buy you time to save their lives. Now go."
Asbjørn stood, wobbled for a moment, then regained his balance and picked up his sword. "I have no time for armour, no time for games."
"Child, forsake your heretical thoughts! Ask God for forgiveness and he will save you!"
Asbjørn turned slightly as he limped towards the door. "Forgiveness? I shall not. I shall follow my own beliefs and find my own death. I believe in the old way, the old path. It simply holds better to me, and if I die, I die doing the right thing. You should too, now go."
Without another word, he left the infirmary and strode down the steps. Each fall of his foot sent pain through his chest, but he ignored it. A small group of Lithuanians were moving towards the infirmary, where they paused before the door. Clad only in his trousers, his chest bandaged by pale tan cloth, Asbjørn raised his sword. The man in the lead paused and paled as if he had seen a ghost.
"Darius, I see you found a way to escape death." Asbjørn called out to the resistance leader. "I shall have to fix that."
Lord Darius scowled and swore to himself in his native tongue. "Don't you damned vikings ever die...rush him!"
Four men charged one, but although Asbjørn's wounds were grave, his heart burned with all the fire of the gods he believed watched over him. With one swift motion he sliced open the abdomen of the first pagan, then turned and deflected a blow from another. A sharp pain ripped through his chest as the barely-sealed wounds re-opened, staining his bandages a dark red. Ignoring the pain, he roared in fury, a natural high overcoming all else as he burst forward and skewered the dark-haired prussian on his blade.
He turned and used the body as a shield to deflect two blows from Darius and the other man. Raising his sword he stepped forward and swung with both hands, nearly bowling Darius over from the force of the blow. Blood ran freely into his bandages and down his body, his life draining away with each step. His eyes glowed with innate fury as he struck against the other foe, their blades meeting three times before Asbjørn pierced his guard and drew a fatal blow across his chest.
Darius stood and dropped his sword. He turned and tried to flee but the strong hand of Asbjørn gripped his shoulder. Darius slashed out with a knife but only cut a shallow wound. Asbjørn didn't notice it as he grabbed the knife hand and slammed his own head into Darius', leaving the pagan stunned. He raised his sword and ruthlessly sliced off his opponent's head, leaving the lithuanian noble dead on the floor.
Asbjørn panted and collapsed to one knee, the pain starting to catch up. He shook his head and looked up, seeing more prussians moving towards the small hut. "Enough people have died...I will not let them kill my men..." He thought to himself.
Raising himself up, Asbjørn leveled his sword. There were a dozen pagans, he was alone and probably fatally wounded if he was not tended to immediately. For the first time in years, he felt the sinking feeling that he didn't want to die. He had his revelation, he knew what he must do for his own happiness and the happiness of life. On the other hand, he was probably dead whether he stayed or left, and if he fought, at least he might save the lives of those men who fought by his side.
He looked up at the sky, and blinked. For a moment he thought he had seen a valkyrie looking down upon him, smiling, but it was gone as soon as he looked again.
"I see...then to die is my fate. I shall give my brethren their chance to live." He looked down at the charging lithuanians and laughed. "Let me show you the face of a true norseman!"
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
6th of May, 1075 Anno Domini
Søren glowered at the sight before him, dozens of grown men whimpering like children. Ducal men, all of them, servants of the Hvide clan he had sworn his revenge against. One by one, his men delivered the axe to them, giving them their permanent sleep.
"This is an act of war, Rosenkrantz, do you think the Hertug will take it so lightly?"
"The Hertug is too far away to think of his own people." Søren smirked. "What armies does he have? The people will not stand for the way that the Hvide ruins these lands. They will rise up."
Constable Sten gritted his teeth in anger, the ropes binding his hands were too tight to escape from. "You can't pretend that a few peasants you rallied are the whole island. This rebellion will get you nowhere."
"On the contrary, with Hvide away on Crusade, this will be a very easy task indeed. Do you think crusaders will suddenly go to the aid of an island they care nothing about? His own army will be depleted from the long war and we will take this island back by force. If they want to rule pagan lands so bad, they can go rule them, but he is no longer welcome here."
Søren raised the constable's chin with the point of his sword and laughed. "This is all too easy. Roskilde is now mine, Sjælland shall fall like leaves before the wind."
Aided by mercenaries and disgruntled peasant rabble, Søren had overcome the militia of Roskilde, stormed the walls and tore down the flag of the Hvide clan. The flag of the Rosenkrantz dynasty now flew freely over the parapets of Roskilde's stone wall, marking the city as no longer under the rule of Hvide.
Most of the city militia had been taken prisoner and, by Rosenkrantz's orders, executed. Their bodies would serve as a warning to the rest of the people of Sjælland - to defy the Jarl Rosenkrantz, who styled himself Greve of Sjælland, would only mean certain death.
"This time that Knýtling bitch won't interfere with my plans. Scottish mercenaries, pah, who needs them." Søren took a long drink of his mead, looked down into the nearly-empty cup, and glared. "Kill him. Kill the rest of them. Kill all of the Hertug's dogs. This is no time for mercy. Start preparing the men, getting weapons distributed, we must achieve victory at all costs."
Harald looked over the parapets at the sight of smoke trailing into the sky. It was nearly evening and yet it trailed up so clearly for all to see. Although he was only young, Audensen understood the severity of the situation. A fire of that size was no mere accident or simple burning - something very big was being razed to the very ground, reduced to ashes. More smoke was rising into the sky, from the fields, clouding the horizon in black clouds.
He looked down. People were rushing en masse towards the gates of Søborg, where a large group of soldiers were surveying them suspiciously. These people had been dislodged from their homes. Something evil was in Sjælland, he could tell. No one would tell him what was going on, but his mother had no time for him, and the entire castle was buzzing with activity. Soldiers were all active and on duty, all well armed and ready for a fight.
"Græslund. The smoke is coming from the village of Græslund to the south."
Harald looked up at the small figure of Cecilie. She was frowning deeply and seemed quite concerned about the flames. "They are rebels, Harald. Led by the Jarl Søren of Rosenkrantz, they have risen up against us. They believe the Hvide clan is unfit to rule this land and have rallied up a mob of mercenaries and peasant rabble who conspire to bring us to an end. They are not great in number, but we do not have the army to fight them, not here in Sjælland."
The young boy thought about this. "Rebels...will they kill us, then?"
"Not easily." Cecilie smiled. "They have no proper siege equipment and Søborg is well provisioned and armed. They cannot storm this castle without losses that mere peasants and mercenaries will be unprepared to take. They will seek to starve us out and that will not happen soon."
Harald kicked at the floor a bit with his feet. "I wish I was old enough to fight. I'd send them running home like the cowardly rats they are."
"No matter how brave or strong you are, no man can fight an army on his own. Remember that, Harald, for your own sake." Cecilie ruffled his hair. "You should stay off the walls in the coming days. It will not be safe, the rebels may try to kill anyone they see on the walls."
Harald moved away from the wall and looked down into the courtyard, where dozens of commoners milled about. "They...lost their homes in the fire, didn't they?"
Cecilie nodded. "Probably most of them. The fire has not gone long enough for these, most probably fled before the army ever arrived, to come and seek shelter. It is our duty as their protectors to keep them safe from these raiding bandits. Rosenkrantz claims to be freeing this land but his men loot and plunder on their own whims to keep their army fed and marching."
Harald sighed and his shoulders visibly sagged. "I do not know why, but I feel sad for these people. I cannot imagine what it must be like, to lose one's home. I have always lived in Søborg and never lost anything. Part of me wishes I knew what their lives were like."
Cecilie raised an eyebrow. "Don't trouble yourself with such thoughts, they are commoners, they are less than you, it is your birthright to rule them, and it shall be your right to dominate them as you please."
"That's not what uncle Skjalm or my father would have said." Harald frowned. "I don't understand."
Cecilie sighed. "Nevermind, you are too young still, far too young. Come now, today is your birthday, you shouldn't linger upon these walls. Let us go find you something nice to eat, this should be a happy day."
Harald's face widened into a huge smile and he rushed off. "Hooray!"
Cecilie offered a slight smile as she followed, her mind introverted into itself. "Harald, my boy, you are too old for this world. How at the age of 6 a boy can speak with such grace and maturity is beyond me. I fear one day you shall surpass all our expectations and all my work..."
RGB: Well, you don't think I wrote a childhood lesson for no reason, do you?
General_BT: No frankenstein jokes? Heretic. You shall be cleansed with fire.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 31 - Fire, Faith and the Heart
2nd of May, 1075 Anno Domini
"We are all drawn into the trap of believing one thing or another. Belief, you see, is the most powerful thing that can spark a man's interest. All of life, its very existence, is a great unknown. To answer that unknown, to give it definition and reality, is the ultimate desire of all human beings.
"You see, you must understand the way that things work. We all must. The unknown, it is frightening on a very basic level. This is why religion is the powerful force it is, the dominant rulership. Ask yourself whether it is real or not. Ask yourself whether any of it is real. Is the man who preaches one faith right while the other is not?
"Understand, Asbjørn, that no living man shall ever know the answer, that faith is built around belief and not fact or science, nor does science or fact overcome belief. The two shall forever be interchangable, interdefined, and that no man can ever defy the way things truly work."
Asbjørn's eyes flittered open. "How do they work, then?"
The priest above him looked taken aback. "What?"
"It's all nonsense...believing in something out of fear and because they tell you to...one should believe what one believes, regardless of the pressure of your peers. You should make your own peace, and your own decisions." Asbjørn muttered.
Slowly, carefully, Asbjørn sat up. He heard sounds, metal upon metal, screams of the dying. There was war.
"What is going on?" He snapped at the priest.
The father looked taken aback and confused. "I...we are under attack, my son. Lithuanian rebels. They have struck our position here while the main army has gone."
Asbjørn smiled. "Then valhalla awaits. You were administering the last rites, were you not?"
The priest looked nervous and nodded. "I was, my child. What do you mean by-"
"It is time for me to give up believing in something I cannot. It is time I find my heritage again. I have little time for this world, but enough strength to do what I must. They say the entry to valhalla - to heaven - is reserved for those who die in battle. I think I understand what it means now. It is not literal battle, it is the battle of your spirit and your heart. For long years I have sought my death in battle, to drown the sorrows of my lost children and my lost wife."
"My child, I know you have grieved but you must lay down, you need rest."
"Silence!" Asbjørn rasped with frustration. "In seeking my death I only sought damnation. There was never to be any peace in my death, no valhalla, no reward, no glorious end. To die because one wants to die is the coward's way out. To die while your life has had meaning, to die for a cause, that is the true path. Giving up in my heart was giving up in my spirit. I would have died in that bed having never truly fought. I would have never seen valhalla.
"The battle is not literal, father. The battle is a metaphor - the battle is in your soul. You fight for what is right, you never give up on life and you never give up on hope. That is the point. I have seen it so clearly now."
The priest looked thoroughly confused. "You speak heretic's words, child. Noble or no, you cannot preach such false lies and expect me to simply sit idly by."
"Idly by? You have more important things to do than me, priest. There are wounded here, men who can still live. Get them out, find any volunteers and get them to safety." Asbjørn glared. "I will fight for the right cause this time. I will buy you time to save their lives. Now go."
Asbjørn stood, wobbled for a moment, then regained his balance and picked up his sword. "I have no time for armour, no time for games."
"Child, forsake your heretical thoughts! Ask God for forgiveness and he will save you!"
Asbjørn turned slightly as he limped towards the door. "Forgiveness? I shall not. I shall follow my own beliefs and find my own death. I believe in the old way, the old path. It simply holds better to me, and if I die, I die doing the right thing. You should too, now go."
Without another word, he left the infirmary and strode down the steps. Each fall of his foot sent pain through his chest, but he ignored it. A small group of Lithuanians were moving towards the infirmary, where they paused before the door. Clad only in his trousers, his chest bandaged by pale tan cloth, Asbjørn raised his sword. The man in the lead paused and paled as if he had seen a ghost.
"Darius, I see you found a way to escape death." Asbjørn called out to the resistance leader. "I shall have to fix that."
Lord Darius scowled and swore to himself in his native tongue. "Don't you damned vikings ever die...rush him!"
Four men charged one, but although Asbjørn's wounds were grave, his heart burned with all the fire of the gods he believed watched over him. With one swift motion he sliced open the abdomen of the first pagan, then turned and deflected a blow from another. A sharp pain ripped through his chest as the barely-sealed wounds re-opened, staining his bandages a dark red. Ignoring the pain, he roared in fury, a natural high overcoming all else as he burst forward and skewered the dark-haired prussian on his blade.
He turned and used the body as a shield to deflect two blows from Darius and the other man. Raising his sword he stepped forward and swung with both hands, nearly bowling Darius over from the force of the blow. Blood ran freely into his bandages and down his body, his life draining away with each step. His eyes glowed with innate fury as he struck against the other foe, their blades meeting three times before Asbjørn pierced his guard and drew a fatal blow across his chest.
Darius stood and dropped his sword. He turned and tried to flee but the strong hand of Asbjørn gripped his shoulder. Darius slashed out with a knife but only cut a shallow wound. Asbjørn didn't notice it as he grabbed the knife hand and slammed his own head into Darius', leaving the pagan stunned. He raised his sword and ruthlessly sliced off his opponent's head, leaving the lithuanian noble dead on the floor.
Asbjørn panted and collapsed to one knee, the pain starting to catch up. He shook his head and looked up, seeing more prussians moving towards the small hut. "Enough people have died...I will not let them kill my men..." He thought to himself.
Raising himself up, Asbjørn leveled his sword. There were a dozen pagans, he was alone and probably fatally wounded if he was not tended to immediately. For the first time in years, he felt the sinking feeling that he didn't want to die. He had his revelation, he knew what he must do for his own happiness and the happiness of life. On the other hand, he was probably dead whether he stayed or left, and if he fought, at least he might save the lives of those men who fought by his side.
He looked up at the sky, and blinked. For a moment he thought he had seen a valkyrie looking down upon him, smiling, but it was gone as soon as he looked again.
"I see...then to die is my fate. I shall give my brethren their chance to live." He looked down at the charging lithuanians and laughed. "Let me show you the face of a true norseman!"
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
6th of May, 1075 Anno Domini
Søren glowered at the sight before him, dozens of grown men whimpering like children. Ducal men, all of them, servants of the Hvide clan he had sworn his revenge against. One by one, his men delivered the axe to them, giving them their permanent sleep.
"This is an act of war, Rosenkrantz, do you think the Hertug will take it so lightly?"
"The Hertug is too far away to think of his own people." Søren smirked. "What armies does he have? The people will not stand for the way that the Hvide ruins these lands. They will rise up."
Constable Sten gritted his teeth in anger, the ropes binding his hands were too tight to escape from. "You can't pretend that a few peasants you rallied are the whole island. This rebellion will get you nowhere."
"On the contrary, with Hvide away on Crusade, this will be a very easy task indeed. Do you think crusaders will suddenly go to the aid of an island they care nothing about? His own army will be depleted from the long war and we will take this island back by force. If they want to rule pagan lands so bad, they can go rule them, but he is no longer welcome here."
Søren raised the constable's chin with the point of his sword and laughed. "This is all too easy. Roskilde is now mine, Sjælland shall fall like leaves before the wind."
Aided by mercenaries and disgruntled peasant rabble, Søren had overcome the militia of Roskilde, stormed the walls and tore down the flag of the Hvide clan. The flag of the Rosenkrantz dynasty now flew freely over the parapets of Roskilde's stone wall, marking the city as no longer under the rule of Hvide.
Most of the city militia had been taken prisoner and, by Rosenkrantz's orders, executed. Their bodies would serve as a warning to the rest of the people of Sjælland - to defy the Jarl Rosenkrantz, who styled himself Greve of Sjælland, would only mean certain death.
"This time that Knýtling bitch won't interfere with my plans. Scottish mercenaries, pah, who needs them." Søren took a long drink of his mead, looked down into the nearly-empty cup, and glared. "Kill him. Kill the rest of them. Kill all of the Hertug's dogs. This is no time for mercy. Start preparing the men, getting weapons distributed, we must achieve victory at all costs."
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
16th of January, 1076 Anno Domini
16th of January, 1076 Anno Domini
Harald looked over the parapets at the sight of smoke trailing into the sky. It was nearly evening and yet it trailed up so clearly for all to see. Although he was only young, Audensen understood the severity of the situation. A fire of that size was no mere accident or simple burning - something very big was being razed to the very ground, reduced to ashes. More smoke was rising into the sky, from the fields, clouding the horizon in black clouds.
He looked down. People were rushing en masse towards the gates of Søborg, where a large group of soldiers were surveying them suspiciously. These people had been dislodged from their homes. Something evil was in Sjælland, he could tell. No one would tell him what was going on, but his mother had no time for him, and the entire castle was buzzing with activity. Soldiers were all active and on duty, all well armed and ready for a fight.
"Græslund. The smoke is coming from the village of Græslund to the south."
Harald looked up at the small figure of Cecilie. She was frowning deeply and seemed quite concerned about the flames. "They are rebels, Harald. Led by the Jarl Søren of Rosenkrantz, they have risen up against us. They believe the Hvide clan is unfit to rule this land and have rallied up a mob of mercenaries and peasant rabble who conspire to bring us to an end. They are not great in number, but we do not have the army to fight them, not here in Sjælland."
The young boy thought about this. "Rebels...will they kill us, then?"
"Not easily." Cecilie smiled. "They have no proper siege equipment and Søborg is well provisioned and armed. They cannot storm this castle without losses that mere peasants and mercenaries will be unprepared to take. They will seek to starve us out and that will not happen soon."
Harald kicked at the floor a bit with his feet. "I wish I was old enough to fight. I'd send them running home like the cowardly rats they are."
"No matter how brave or strong you are, no man can fight an army on his own. Remember that, Harald, for your own sake." Cecilie ruffled his hair. "You should stay off the walls in the coming days. It will not be safe, the rebels may try to kill anyone they see on the walls."
Harald moved away from the wall and looked down into the courtyard, where dozens of commoners milled about. "They...lost their homes in the fire, didn't they?"
Cecilie nodded. "Probably most of them. The fire has not gone long enough for these, most probably fled before the army ever arrived, to come and seek shelter. It is our duty as their protectors to keep them safe from these raiding bandits. Rosenkrantz claims to be freeing this land but his men loot and plunder on their own whims to keep their army fed and marching."
Harald sighed and his shoulders visibly sagged. "I do not know why, but I feel sad for these people. I cannot imagine what it must be like, to lose one's home. I have always lived in Søborg and never lost anything. Part of me wishes I knew what their lives were like."
Cecilie raised an eyebrow. "Don't trouble yourself with such thoughts, they are commoners, they are less than you, it is your birthright to rule them, and it shall be your right to dominate them as you please."
"That's not what uncle Skjalm or my father would have said." Harald frowned. "I don't understand."
Cecilie sighed. "Nevermind, you are too young still, far too young. Come now, today is your birthday, you shouldn't linger upon these walls. Let us go find you something nice to eat, this should be a happy day."
Harald's face widened into a huge smile and he rushed off. "Hooray!"
Cecilie offered a slight smile as she followed, her mind introverted into itself. "Harald, my boy, you are too old for this world. How at the age of 6 a boy can speak with such grace and maturity is beyond me. I fear one day you shall surpass all our expectations and all my work..."
Ahhhh....Asbjorn finds his way to Valhalla, covered in sheer badassery.
Harald's interesting education continues, bedecked with real-life examples. Such as men trying to burn you out of your castle.
I hope Cecilie's faith is justified.
Harald's interesting education continues, bedecked with real-life examples. Such as men trying to burn you out of your castle.
I hope Cecilie's faith is justified.
Now to listen this with enough sound....
Or actually anything of Manowar.
And happy birthday again!
actually, this one http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=diLCzRJEJRg
Or actually anything of Manowar.
And happy birthday again!
actually, this one http://www.youtube.com/watch?v=diLCzRJEJRg
What an end for Asbjorn, it redefines the term 'going out with a blaze'.
The good ol' Jarl needs a visit of a certain Scotsman or German methinks.
The good ol' Jarl needs a visit of a certain Scotsman or German methinks.