Astrithr? Goddess?
You dare call Lithuanians, Sambians and Prussians SLAVIC?
Where are these forums going nowadays...
You dare call Lithuanians, Sambians and Prussians SLAVIC?
Where are these forums going nowadays...
Piety of the North Star
- Thread starter Saithis
- Start date
-
We have updated our Community Code of Conduct. Please read through the new rules for the forum that are an integral part of Paradox Interactive’s User Agreement.
Awesome as always. But Noooooo! Harald! Girls are icky! Just setting himself up for a fall (esp if Ernst gets the girl).
Poor Skjalm. He has bad luck with such things.
The Brothers are mean bastards in a fight and probably equipped even better than the Danes...can't just charge them and hope for the best.
Gro is correct and incorrect at once - no friends are to be completely relied on, yet you are nothing without allies. Harald does need better friends. Also, postponing revenge for Astrid? That's bad! If he is to be the King he should focus on planning revenge and conquering England, not listening to his heart!
The Brothers are mean bastards in a fight and probably equipped even better than the Danes...can't just charge them and hope for the best.
Gro is correct and incorrect at once - no friends are to be completely relied on, yet you are nothing without allies. Harald does need better friends. Also, postponing revenge for Astrid? That's bad! If he is to be the King he should focus on planning revenge and conquering England, not listening to his heart!
Harald had the brawn and martial skill to be a Duke, maybe the Hall experience has given him the cunning too?
Daughter of the King of Norway? He's got a discerning political eye too... even if it's tied to his trousers/heartstrings! :rofl:
I sense some possible trouble, however--what if the Emperor comes to the defense of his relative, the Hochmeister... Sjaelland's invincibility in battle just got convincingly broken...
Daughter of the King of Norway? He's got a discerning political eye too... even if it's tied to his trousers/heartstrings! :rofl:
I sense some possible trouble, however--what if the Emperor comes to the defense of his relative, the Hochmeister... Sjaelland's invincibility in battle just got convincingly broken...
Whoops, just missed three updates. I read the first one, the two others will be for tomorrow. I hope Ernst's plan isn't too devious and evol.
I've got another update or two planned, then I'm going to take us into a temporary interim. I'm working on some maps and I'd like to take you guys on a tour of Europe to show what's been happening so far outside of the Hvide's glorious domain. I don't plan on updating tonight, both because I just got back from a job interview and to let people catch up, but I do hope to have another two updates done by the end of the weekend, so consider yourself fairly warned!
AlexanderPrimus: I'm sorry, I'm trying my best to get back into a rapid updating schedule, so that this story can actually get somewhere before I've gone grey!
Ilyavania: Harald doesn't love! Love is an unboyishly thing to feel! Ernst is definitely trying his best to twist and turn people against Harald, but Harald shouldn't be underestimated just because he spends most of his time learning to fight and ride and lead men into battle.
Skjalm's lost his second wife but this one actually brought him children. Even if he feels bad, at least the Hvide line lives on, both through him and his brother Auden. As of the last update, Auden has 6 sons (no daughters) and Skjalm has 2 daughters and 1 son. It's going to be a nightmare keeping up with that many characters!
Enewald: Astrid would be the proper, but I let sentimentality and 'prettiness' get in my way and forced my hand into changing it to Astrithr, because it's much prettier. As for the Slavs/Balts thing, that was a stupid slip, what I get for not proofreading. I've since fixed the mistake.
StevetheERB: He's not gonna get himself any cooties...yet. Ernst won't be getting that girl without competition, though, that's for sure!
RGB: Skjalm's luck is pretty bad, yes, although at least he has children now. The Danes definitely underestimated the power of a Knightly order and despite Auctune's familiarity with Order tactics, managed to fall straight into their hands. It's definitely an important event as it's the first time Sjælland has lost a battle since Skjalm Tokesen became Duke.
Gro as you say is correct and incorrect, she sees allies as something seperate to friends and friends as a dangerous, potential liability. It can't help that she tends to associate with violent psychotics like Connor O'Reilly or violent sociopaths like Hans.
General_BT: Harald's definitely big for his age and if it keeps up he'll make every bit the Viking Duke. The Hall experience will have definitely opened his eyes a bit, and helped him to grow up. The arts of ledger are being passed down to him by Cecilie and he's proven his way with words before. He's got everything he needs to be the next leader of Sjælland, but he's got some things to contend with. Proving himself as more than just a troublemaker is necessary if the Ting is going to elect him, especially as long as his father is still alive.
He likely has no say in who he marries, though, as long as he stays unwed at his age. It is pretty much a tossup who of him or Ernst would get married off to her if she is used to seal a Norwegian alliance. The Emperor is a legitimate concern to Sjælland's plans, I think. I would be doubly worried due to the initial defeat, giving the Knights more time to plea assistance from the Empire.
Qorten: Well you've got a little time to catch up, so here's your chance!
AlexanderPrimus: I'm sorry, I'm trying my best to get back into a rapid updating schedule, so that this story can actually get somewhere before I've gone grey!
Ilyavania: Harald doesn't love! Love is an unboyishly thing to feel!
Ernst is definitely trying his best to twist and turn people against Harald, but Harald shouldn't be underestimated just because he spends most of his time learning to fight and ride and lead men into battle.Skjalm's lost his second wife but this one actually brought him children. Even if he feels bad, at least the Hvide line lives on, both through him and his brother Auden. As of the last update, Auden has 6 sons (no daughters) and Skjalm has 2 daughters and 1 son. It's going to be a nightmare keeping up with that many characters!
Enewald: Astrid would be the proper, but I let sentimentality and 'prettiness' get in my way and forced my hand into changing it to Astrithr, because it's much prettier.
As for the Slavs/Balts thing, that was a stupid slip, what I get for not proofreading. I've since fixed the mistake. StevetheERB: He's not gonna get himself any cooties...yet. Ernst won't be getting that girl without competition, though, that's for sure!
RGB: Skjalm's luck is pretty bad, yes, although at least he has children now. The Danes definitely underestimated the power of a Knightly order and despite Auctune's familiarity with Order tactics, managed to fall straight into their hands. It's definitely an important event as it's the first time Sjælland has lost a battle since Skjalm Tokesen became Duke.
Gro as you say is correct and incorrect, she sees allies as something seperate to friends and friends as a dangerous, potential liability. It can't help that she tends to associate with violent psychotics like Connor O'Reilly or violent sociopaths like Hans.
General_BT: Harald's definitely big for his age and if it keeps up he'll make every bit the Viking Duke. The Hall experience will have definitely opened his eyes a bit, and helped him to grow up. The arts of ledger are being passed down to him by Cecilie and he's proven his way with words before. He's got everything he needs to be the next leader of Sjælland, but he's got some things to contend with. Proving himself as more than just a troublemaker is necessary if the Ting is going to elect him, especially as long as his father is still alive.
He likely has no say in who he marries, though, as long as he stays unwed at his age. It is pretty much a tossup who of him or Ernst would get married off to her if she is used to seal a Norwegian alliance. The Emperor is a legitimate concern to Sjælland's plans, I think. I would be doubly worried due to the initial defeat, giving the Knights more time to plea assistance from the Empire.
Qorten: Well you've got a little time to catch up, so here's your chance!
Here's the first "weekend" update.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 40 – A Shift in Power
28th of May, 1081 Anno Domini
Throughout the courts of the north, the news spread like wildfire. Emperor Heinrich von Franken (known as Henry IV) had died a month prior, and the Empire had elected his brother, Adolf von Franken, as Holy Roman Emperor. Adolf was the first of the Salian Frankish dynasty to be appointed King of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor simultaneously, and Europe was on the verge of war. His first action had been to demand the French cede Hologast to the Frankish dynasty’s personal demesne, claiming it as Imperial territory. It was unknown what the French response would be, but most were expecting all-out war between the Salians and Capets.
Although this news was very important, Skjalm had other things in mind for the short term. Negotiations regarding the Norwegian alliance had gone poorly – the original plan had been for Ernst or Harald (no decision had been reached) to be married to the King’s daughter, but he had left in a huff during the last negotiations. It was believed that the Hårfagreætta Clan was unprepared to accept a Dane inheriting the throne, and Skjalm had not been able to offer adequate compensation for such an ancient line’s loss. Magnus Haraldsson was determined to keep the Norwegian bloodline pure, he supposed, but this was frustrating as the Norwegian alliance would have given him extra security against the growing paranoia of the Danish King.
That was when the next news reached him, in the form of a messenger. Skjalm’s eyes lazily raised from the papers in front of him to regard the messenger, then with a tired sigh he leaned back. “Go ahead.”
“Chieftain, the news is from the courts. Skjalm Hvide has been requested to attend the great ting at Odense following the death of King Harald Svendsen Knýtling. The people are to decide the next King of Denmark. There is also a request that Harald’s eldest son, Jens, accompany you, as he is to be considered as heir to the Knýtling realm.”
Skjalm sighed louder, then dismissed the emissary again. It seemed he had outlived his rival, and now more than ever he should have been excited, but it seemed that the years had accrued. Slowly, cautiously, he raised his bulk out of the wooden chair and walked over to the window. His bones ached, his skin had begun to wrinkle and sag and now more than ever he had begun to feel the years. No wife would he take on any further, merely focus on his children while he could – he now had to decide whether to bid for rule of Denmark.
Certainly, the votes from Sjaelland and Vendland would be on his side, but whether he could outbid the votes of Skåneland and Jutland was another question. His Baltic holdings meant nothing for the time being, the lands across the sea were in flames and religious disorder caused regular clashes between native Crusaders and native tribes. Additionally, the defeat at the Battle of Kaup had stung Sjaelland’s prestige and left many Danes with a bitter taste in their mouth. Forces were regrouping in the east, but morale was low after the embarrassing defeat.
From here, he could see Harald practicing his swordsmanship, and Ernst and Jens as well. The three were constantly striving to outdo one another, but it seemed to be the Hvide bloodline that was winning out in this case. The Audensen were a quick-growing, strong brood who lacked any fear in their eyes. Jens was a very competent young man now, equal to Harald in age but lacking in his physique. Skjalm paid less attention to the children of the court than he would like, he was dimly aware that Harald had been behind the incident with the stone, and that he and Jens were often in competition to impress their tutors the most.
Slowly, Skjalm made his way to the door, then with a deep sigh, began to make his way down the castle. Perhaps a little youth was what he needed during times like this.
A pack of young boys burst past him, giggling in their pursuit of each other. That was Auden’s younger children, he believed. Erik, Olaf and Hardeknut, their names were. Their youngest brother, Knud, was probably with the nurses, as his own children would be. Skjalm sighed, and let a slight smile reach his lips. Even if he was growing old, at least the children had retained their energy – it was going to be their responsibility one day to take what he had built for them.
Harald practiced the moves under the instruction of the Hersir. With ease, he twisted, turned and pulled Jens off-balance, deftly avoiding the thrust of the wooden sword that in a real fight would have been designed to skewer his heart. With a death grip on his wrist and Jens leaning forward, Harald was easily able to push his smaller cousin’s foot out from under him. The Knýtling boy hit the dirt hard and the sword was twisted out of his hand by the force of the impact. Harald showed no mercy, dropping one knee on his rival’s shoulders to pin, keeping the arm tightly-locked.
“Do you yield, Jens?”
Jens growled, thrashed a bit and then fell limp. “Okay okay, you win!”
Harald grinned and stood up, brushing the dust off his tunic. “Another victory! How many is that?”
“More than I’d like to count...” Jens grumbled, straightening himself out. “You’re definitely the better wrestler, but it’s a much fairer fight if you limit it to just swords.” He looked with a complaining glance at their instructor.
“Real fights won’t be as fair or simple as just swords. Beating your opponent any way you can is the most important thing.” Harald retorted. “I have no guarantee of beating you in a sword-fight, but if I can wrestle you to the ground then why shouldn’t I?”
“I have a reason for you.” A gravelly voice interrupted. The boys turned and saw the tall, wide frame of Skjalm, still proud and strong despite his growing age. Harald admired his uncle and quickly snapped to attention, wanting to hear what words of wisdom the grizzled warrior could pass down.
A smile twitched at the corner of Skjalm’s lips, but he repressed it, content to remain the stern paternal figure. “It is as simple as this, boys. Harald, you may indeed be the better wrestler, as much due to your height as anything, but that means that in this battle, the swordfighting is your weak point. Neglecting the training of your wrestling would be a bad decision, but not learning how to beat an opponent with your sword would be worse. In the chaos of battle you will not often have time for a grab or a throw, knowing how to beat even a skilled opponent from blade’s reach will do you a world of good. If Jens poses you a challenge but he is beatable, then he is an ideal man for you to learn from.”
Harald stared in awe with each word, nodding. Jens too, listened, then jabbed his training partner with an elbow. “See, I told you so...” he hissed.
Harald was about to shoot a reply, but the Hertug interrupted him.
“Jens, I have an important matter to discuss with you, boy. I am excusing you from the rest of your training for today, come with me. Harald, your mother was looking for you earlier, I believe she wishes to speak with you as well.”
Harald frowned. “Mother is looking for me? What could she want, I wonder.”
“Come, Jens.” Skjalm ordered, turning and heading for the castle keep. Harald collected himself and thought where his mother would be.
“Hertug, sir!” Harald called.
“Call me uncle Skjalm, please.” Skjalm said, continuing to walk.
Harald hurried to keep up, and looked up at his elder. “Where is my mother right now?”
“I do not know. You will have to find her.”
Harald cursed silently – this was another of her tests, wasn’t it? Mother was always like that, subjecting him to this trial or that, trying to push him in the name of making him learn. As far as he could tell it was only teaching him how to get really, really frustrated. He wasn’t sure where she would be, and his father was out of town, but he did have an idea. He might not know where she was, but he knew someone who seemed to know everything.
A few minutes later, he burst into the nursery, where Cecilie was overseeing several others, tending the youths. Harald marched up to her and puffed himself up, doing his best to look proud and strong. “Cecilie, I need your help.”
His mentor looked at him up and down, her gaze was stern and discerning as usual. “What is it, Harald? Your lessons aren’t until later tonight.”
“I think mother’s cancelled my lessons. She’s ordered that I meet with her, but I have no idea where she is. Apparently I’m supposed to find her, but this is like an impossible task. I don’t know where she could be hiding, I’ve already checked the obvious places just to be sure but I don’t think she’s in the castle. She never is.” Harald frowned.
Cecilie chuckled, setting down a blanket and placing her hand on Harald’s head. “Okay then. I’ll help you; by the way, have you heard the news?”
“News?” Harald raised an eyebrow.
“King Svendsen is dead, the Kingdom is without a ruler. Skjalm has not announced it yet, I expect Gro has heard about it, probably before any of us. The Hvide Clan will go there and I expect you are old enough to accompany them, if we play our cards right.”
Harald thought about this. “Wait, are you saying...”
“I am. That is your time, if you are there they will definitely be there. What better time?”
Harald thought about this, then nodded. “Yeah, its sounds perfect.” He grinned and let his clenched fist punch his open palm, closing the fingers around his hand. “Thanks, Cecilie.”
“As for your mother, she will be in Søborg village, I expect she has relocated there both for additional privacy and to preserve the secrecy of a certain guest she will undoubtedly have. From what I am aware, she often visits a small inn near the east road, just outside town. Check there for her, but be on your guard. If your mother truly has brought...him...here, then your test has grown severe indeed.”
Harald frowned, Cecilie’s voice was quiet and hushed, and had a serious tone he rarely saw her use.
“Who is this...him?”
“He is...dangerous. You will know him when you see him, and that’s all I can really tell you. I believe his name is Hans, a German by birth but you won’t know him apart from a Dane if you hear him.”
“Hans...okay, I’ll try to remember it. Thank you, Cecilie. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, mother has no reason to hurt me.” He grinned.
Cecilie’s serious look didn’t fade. “No, she doesn’t, but this man is not stable. Do not provoke him, he is like a wild animal on a leash; just a single snap away from bloodshed.”
“That is the end of it, Jens.” Skjalm sighed. “I am sorry.”
“So father is dead...and you want to support me for the throne? Becoming King that...that sounds amazing; but why would you support me? I thought you hated Father?”
Skjalm chuckled. “Your father and I hated one another, that much is no secret, but you are not your father. He sent you here to grow with us, and alongside my nephews you have become a fine young man. I am too old to become King even if I can convince Jutland and Skåneland to cast their support for me – Auden is too closely tied with the Church for those outside Sjælland.”
“Why me and not Ernst and Harald?”
“Bloodline, mainly – you are Haraldsen yourself, they are boys of Sjælland first, Denmark second. While you have been raised here, they will see you as safety and familiarity. You will be able to call yourself King and with a friend such as Harald in charge of Sjælland you will not see the split through the country that we have today.”
Jens seemed to think about this, then gritted his teeth in determination. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go for it. I’ll become King.”
Skjalm smiled to himself. “Good...”
Harald Audensen Hvide cautiously made his way up the stairs with catlike grace, using all fours to sneak up the wooden construction with only the slightest faint creak from a plank. His influence had gotten him in here, now he just had to find her. He crept up to each door and peered through each keyhole in turn, until at last he found his goal: mother and her companions.
Peering through the gap, he could see his mother sat upon the bed of the innchamber, and the tall Scotsman Connor in a chair nearby. Gro Svendsdatter had taken her sword, and Connor looked ready for a field battle, such was the weight of his equipment. Mother was talking to someone, not to Connor but someone else. He strained to listen, keeping his breathing low and quiet.
“This is an important matter, Sjælland’s future thus far has been dictated by our hands, you cannot deny that the offer is tempeting Hans. I can see it in your eye.” Gro smirked confidently.
The edge of a figure, clothed only in black, was visible for a moment, before footsteps carried it out of sight. What sounded to Harald like perfect, if Jutlander, Danish, became audible.
“Well Princess, you’ve made a very convincing offer, but you’re talking about a lot of money and effort. The scale of what you’re suggesting...what if somebody finds out?” This voice was undoubtedly tempting Hans.
“I’ll deal with ‘em.” Connor grunted.
“Who would believe such nonsense? That a small group of individuals could control so many? Think of it, Hans, we could dictate the future of this country, and in time as we grew, our descendents and successors could rule everything from the safety of the shadows. With no pressure, no expectation, those of us who would have nothing will control everything. We will infiltrate the burghers, the priesthood, the nobles – and we will see to it that all our actions lead to our own profit. It is the perfect plan, I only wish that I had come up with it sooner.” Gro grinned from ear to ear.
Hans scoffed. “Maybe it’s possible, I don’t know and I’m not even sure if I care. That said, the killing...that sounds like fun. If it keeps me in business, then very well. I’m in.”
“You know I am in support.” Connor grunted.
“Excellent...everything is falling into place.” Gro moved towards the window and peered out. “Now where is that boy of mine...I hope I haven’t overestimated him, or the maid for that matter.”
Harald swallowed, trying to comprehend the enormity of what he had just overheard. Slowly, silently, he crept away from the door. Once he had reached the stairs, he crept down to around halfway. Taking a deep breath, he ran up the stairs and called out.
“Mother?! Are you here?”
He rushed over and knocked on a couple of random doors for effect. “I’m going to find you, I swear!”
The door opened and someone peered out. He was a tall man with greasy black hair and a scar across one lip. His eyes were dark and piercing, and he regarded Harald with what could only be described as amusement. “Hey, boy. Your mother’s in here.”
Harald glowered at the man. “Who are you and how do I know she’s there?”
“For god’s sake Harald, just come already.” Gro’s voice filtered out.
Harald rushed past the dark-clad man, a large grin on his face. “Ha, I knew I could find you!”
Gro smiled at her son, legs crossed in a most unladylike manner as she sat back on the bed of questionable quality. Harald crossed his arms and looked at his mother disapprovingly. “Now why have you dragged me all the way out here, mom? And who is this guy? And why are you dressed like that?” His finger extended to prod in the direction of his mother’s rather boyish outfit, including a leather jerkin and a pair of muddy boots.
“Security, my son. People are after my life, or so I believe, and I was not prepared to be caught in a moment of blood wearing nothing but a gown and a silly hat.” She sneered a little at the thought of modern fashion. So unbecoming, she thought.
Harald looked surprised, but was interrupted before he could begin. “I need you to do me a favour, my son, something very, very important... I want you to break into your uncle’s bedchambers while he is out.”
Harald looked astonished. “What? Why?”
“No questions, this is important. I need you to acquire a document which could be very important to the future of our clan, but he has selfishly hidden away and refuses to bring to me. If you do this, your mother will be ingratiated to you.”
Harald Audensen Hvide regarded his mother, Princess Gro Svendsdatter Knýtling, with a long, slow, cold gaze. He was certain this was related to their previous discussions, and he knew he needed to speak with Cecilie about this. She might know more.
“Okay, mother. I will do what you ask, but only on one condition?”
Gro’s eyebrow raised and she leaned forward. “Go on.”
“I want you to take me with you to Odense, when you go. I want to be there when they decide the new King.” Harald’s voice was as strong as he could make it, and he put his foot down a little bit firmly, trying to emphasise how much he wasn’t going to budge on that.
"How did you know about that..." The Princess seemed to consider his request, then chuckled a little. “Okay, it’s a deal. If you bring me the document, I’ll make sure you come with. Your uncle and father have never said no to me before.”
He grinned, this one was a victory for him. “Okay, then. What’s this document look like?”
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 40 – A Shift in Power
28th of May, 1081 Anno Domini
Throughout the courts of the north, the news spread like wildfire. Emperor Heinrich von Franken (known as Henry IV) had died a month prior, and the Empire had elected his brother, Adolf von Franken, as Holy Roman Emperor. Adolf was the first of the Salian Frankish dynasty to be appointed King of Germany and Holy Roman Emperor simultaneously, and Europe was on the verge of war. His first action had been to demand the French cede Hologast to the Frankish dynasty’s personal demesne, claiming it as Imperial territory. It was unknown what the French response would be, but most were expecting all-out war between the Salians and Capets.
Although this news was very important, Skjalm had other things in mind for the short term. Negotiations regarding the Norwegian alliance had gone poorly – the original plan had been for Ernst or Harald (no decision had been reached) to be married to the King’s daughter, but he had left in a huff during the last negotiations. It was believed that the Hårfagreætta Clan was unprepared to accept a Dane inheriting the throne, and Skjalm had not been able to offer adequate compensation for such an ancient line’s loss. Magnus Haraldsson was determined to keep the Norwegian bloodline pure, he supposed, but this was frustrating as the Norwegian alliance would have given him extra security against the growing paranoia of the Danish King.
That was when the next news reached him, in the form of a messenger. Skjalm’s eyes lazily raised from the papers in front of him to regard the messenger, then with a tired sigh he leaned back. “Go ahead.”
“Chieftain, the news is from the courts. Skjalm Hvide has been requested to attend the great ting at Odense following the death of King Harald Svendsen Knýtling. The people are to decide the next King of Denmark. There is also a request that Harald’s eldest son, Jens, accompany you, as he is to be considered as heir to the Knýtling realm.”
Skjalm sighed louder, then dismissed the emissary again. It seemed he had outlived his rival, and now more than ever he should have been excited, but it seemed that the years had accrued. Slowly, cautiously, he raised his bulk out of the wooden chair and walked over to the window. His bones ached, his skin had begun to wrinkle and sag and now more than ever he had begun to feel the years. No wife would he take on any further, merely focus on his children while he could – he now had to decide whether to bid for rule of Denmark.
Certainly, the votes from Sjaelland and Vendland would be on his side, but whether he could outbid the votes of Skåneland and Jutland was another question. His Baltic holdings meant nothing for the time being, the lands across the sea were in flames and religious disorder caused regular clashes between native Crusaders and native tribes. Additionally, the defeat at the Battle of Kaup had stung Sjaelland’s prestige and left many Danes with a bitter taste in their mouth. Forces were regrouping in the east, but morale was low after the embarrassing defeat.
From here, he could see Harald practicing his swordsmanship, and Ernst and Jens as well. The three were constantly striving to outdo one another, but it seemed to be the Hvide bloodline that was winning out in this case. The Audensen were a quick-growing, strong brood who lacked any fear in their eyes. Jens was a very competent young man now, equal to Harald in age but lacking in his physique. Skjalm paid less attention to the children of the court than he would like, he was dimly aware that Harald had been behind the incident with the stone, and that he and Jens were often in competition to impress their tutors the most.
Slowly, Skjalm made his way to the door, then with a deep sigh, began to make his way down the castle. Perhaps a little youth was what he needed during times like this.
A pack of young boys burst past him, giggling in their pursuit of each other. That was Auden’s younger children, he believed. Erik, Olaf and Hardeknut, their names were. Their youngest brother, Knud, was probably with the nurses, as his own children would be. Skjalm sighed, and let a slight smile reach his lips. Even if he was growing old, at least the children had retained their energy – it was going to be their responsibility one day to take what he had built for them.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald practiced the moves under the instruction of the Hersir. With ease, he twisted, turned and pulled Jens off-balance, deftly avoiding the thrust of the wooden sword that in a real fight would have been designed to skewer his heart. With a death grip on his wrist and Jens leaning forward, Harald was easily able to push his smaller cousin’s foot out from under him. The Knýtling boy hit the dirt hard and the sword was twisted out of his hand by the force of the impact. Harald showed no mercy, dropping one knee on his rival’s shoulders to pin, keeping the arm tightly-locked.
“Do you yield, Jens?”
Jens growled, thrashed a bit and then fell limp. “Okay okay, you win!”
Harald grinned and stood up, brushing the dust off his tunic. “Another victory! How many is that?”
“More than I’d like to count...” Jens grumbled, straightening himself out. “You’re definitely the better wrestler, but it’s a much fairer fight if you limit it to just swords.” He looked with a complaining glance at their instructor.
“Real fights won’t be as fair or simple as just swords. Beating your opponent any way you can is the most important thing.” Harald retorted. “I have no guarantee of beating you in a sword-fight, but if I can wrestle you to the ground then why shouldn’t I?”
“I have a reason for you.” A gravelly voice interrupted. The boys turned and saw the tall, wide frame of Skjalm, still proud and strong despite his growing age. Harald admired his uncle and quickly snapped to attention, wanting to hear what words of wisdom the grizzled warrior could pass down.
A smile twitched at the corner of Skjalm’s lips, but he repressed it, content to remain the stern paternal figure. “It is as simple as this, boys. Harald, you may indeed be the better wrestler, as much due to your height as anything, but that means that in this battle, the swordfighting is your weak point. Neglecting the training of your wrestling would be a bad decision, but not learning how to beat an opponent with your sword would be worse. In the chaos of battle you will not often have time for a grab or a throw, knowing how to beat even a skilled opponent from blade’s reach will do you a world of good. If Jens poses you a challenge but he is beatable, then he is an ideal man for you to learn from.”
Harald stared in awe with each word, nodding. Jens too, listened, then jabbed his training partner with an elbow. “See, I told you so...” he hissed.
Harald was about to shoot a reply, but the Hertug interrupted him.
“Jens, I have an important matter to discuss with you, boy. I am excusing you from the rest of your training for today, come with me. Harald, your mother was looking for you earlier, I believe she wishes to speak with you as well.”
Harald frowned. “Mother is looking for me? What could she want, I wonder.”
“Come, Jens.” Skjalm ordered, turning and heading for the castle keep. Harald collected himself and thought where his mother would be.
“Hertug, sir!” Harald called.
“Call me uncle Skjalm, please.” Skjalm said, continuing to walk.
Harald hurried to keep up, and looked up at his elder. “Where is my mother right now?”
“I do not know. You will have to find her.”
Harald cursed silently – this was another of her tests, wasn’t it? Mother was always like that, subjecting him to this trial or that, trying to push him in the name of making him learn. As far as he could tell it was only teaching him how to get really, really frustrated. He wasn’t sure where she would be, and his father was out of town, but he did have an idea. He might not know where she was, but he knew someone who seemed to know everything.
A few minutes later, he burst into the nursery, where Cecilie was overseeing several others, tending the youths. Harald marched up to her and puffed himself up, doing his best to look proud and strong. “Cecilie, I need your help.”
His mentor looked at him up and down, her gaze was stern and discerning as usual. “What is it, Harald? Your lessons aren’t until later tonight.”
“I think mother’s cancelled my lessons. She’s ordered that I meet with her, but I have no idea where she is. Apparently I’m supposed to find her, but this is like an impossible task. I don’t know where she could be hiding, I’ve already checked the obvious places just to be sure but I don’t think she’s in the castle. She never is.” Harald frowned.
Cecilie chuckled, setting down a blanket and placing her hand on Harald’s head. “Okay then. I’ll help you; by the way, have you heard the news?”
“News?” Harald raised an eyebrow.
“King Svendsen is dead, the Kingdom is without a ruler. Skjalm has not announced it yet, I expect Gro has heard about it, probably before any of us. The Hvide Clan will go there and I expect you are old enough to accompany them, if we play our cards right.”
Harald thought about this. “Wait, are you saying...”
“I am. That is your time, if you are there they will definitely be there. What better time?”
Harald thought about this, then nodded. “Yeah, its sounds perfect.” He grinned and let his clenched fist punch his open palm, closing the fingers around his hand. “Thanks, Cecilie.”
“As for your mother, she will be in Søborg village, I expect she has relocated there both for additional privacy and to preserve the secrecy of a certain guest she will undoubtedly have. From what I am aware, she often visits a small inn near the east road, just outside town. Check there for her, but be on your guard. If your mother truly has brought...him...here, then your test has grown severe indeed.”
Harald frowned, Cecilie’s voice was quiet and hushed, and had a serious tone he rarely saw her use.
“Who is this...him?”
“He is...dangerous. You will know him when you see him, and that’s all I can really tell you. I believe his name is Hans, a German by birth but you won’t know him apart from a Dane if you hear him.”
“Hans...okay, I’ll try to remember it. Thank you, Cecilie. Don’t worry, I’ll be fine, mother has no reason to hurt me.” He grinned.
Cecilie’s serious look didn’t fade. “No, she doesn’t, but this man is not stable. Do not provoke him, he is like a wild animal on a leash; just a single snap away from bloodshed.”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
“That is the end of it, Jens.” Skjalm sighed. “I am sorry.”
“So father is dead...and you want to support me for the throne? Becoming King that...that sounds amazing; but why would you support me? I thought you hated Father?”
Skjalm chuckled. “Your father and I hated one another, that much is no secret, but you are not your father. He sent you here to grow with us, and alongside my nephews you have become a fine young man. I am too old to become King even if I can convince Jutland and Skåneland to cast their support for me – Auden is too closely tied with the Church for those outside Sjælland.”
“Why me and not Ernst and Harald?”
“Bloodline, mainly – you are Haraldsen yourself, they are boys of Sjælland first, Denmark second. While you have been raised here, they will see you as safety and familiarity. You will be able to call yourself King and with a friend such as Harald in charge of Sjælland you will not see the split through the country that we have today.”
Jens seemed to think about this, then gritted his teeth in determination. “Okay. Okay, I’ll go for it. I’ll become King.”
Skjalm smiled to himself. “Good...”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald Audensen Hvide cautiously made his way up the stairs with catlike grace, using all fours to sneak up the wooden construction with only the slightest faint creak from a plank. His influence had gotten him in here, now he just had to find her. He crept up to each door and peered through each keyhole in turn, until at last he found his goal: mother and her companions.
Peering through the gap, he could see his mother sat upon the bed of the innchamber, and the tall Scotsman Connor in a chair nearby. Gro Svendsdatter had taken her sword, and Connor looked ready for a field battle, such was the weight of his equipment. Mother was talking to someone, not to Connor but someone else. He strained to listen, keeping his breathing low and quiet.
“This is an important matter, Sjælland’s future thus far has been dictated by our hands, you cannot deny that the offer is tempeting Hans. I can see it in your eye.” Gro smirked confidently.
The edge of a figure, clothed only in black, was visible for a moment, before footsteps carried it out of sight. What sounded to Harald like perfect, if Jutlander, Danish, became audible.
“Well Princess, you’ve made a very convincing offer, but you’re talking about a lot of money and effort. The scale of what you’re suggesting...what if somebody finds out?” This voice was undoubtedly tempting Hans.
“I’ll deal with ‘em.” Connor grunted.
“Who would believe such nonsense? That a small group of individuals could control so many? Think of it, Hans, we could dictate the future of this country, and in time as we grew, our descendents and successors could rule everything from the safety of the shadows. With no pressure, no expectation, those of us who would have nothing will control everything. We will infiltrate the burghers, the priesthood, the nobles – and we will see to it that all our actions lead to our own profit. It is the perfect plan, I only wish that I had come up with it sooner.” Gro grinned from ear to ear.
Hans scoffed. “Maybe it’s possible, I don’t know and I’m not even sure if I care. That said, the killing...that sounds like fun. If it keeps me in business, then very well. I’m in.”
“You know I am in support.” Connor grunted.
“Excellent...everything is falling into place.” Gro moved towards the window and peered out. “Now where is that boy of mine...I hope I haven’t overestimated him, or the maid for that matter.”
Harald swallowed, trying to comprehend the enormity of what he had just overheard. Slowly, silently, he crept away from the door. Once he had reached the stairs, he crept down to around halfway. Taking a deep breath, he ran up the stairs and called out.
“Mother?! Are you here?”
He rushed over and knocked on a couple of random doors for effect. “I’m going to find you, I swear!”
The door opened and someone peered out. He was a tall man with greasy black hair and a scar across one lip. His eyes were dark and piercing, and he regarded Harald with what could only be described as amusement. “Hey, boy. Your mother’s in here.”
Harald glowered at the man. “Who are you and how do I know she’s there?”
“For god’s sake Harald, just come already.” Gro’s voice filtered out.
Harald rushed past the dark-clad man, a large grin on his face. “Ha, I knew I could find you!”
Gro smiled at her son, legs crossed in a most unladylike manner as she sat back on the bed of questionable quality. Harald crossed his arms and looked at his mother disapprovingly. “Now why have you dragged me all the way out here, mom? And who is this guy? And why are you dressed like that?” His finger extended to prod in the direction of his mother’s rather boyish outfit, including a leather jerkin and a pair of muddy boots.
“Security, my son. People are after my life, or so I believe, and I was not prepared to be caught in a moment of blood wearing nothing but a gown and a silly hat.” She sneered a little at the thought of modern fashion. So unbecoming, she thought.
Harald looked surprised, but was interrupted before he could begin. “I need you to do me a favour, my son, something very, very important... I want you to break into your uncle’s bedchambers while he is out.”
Harald looked astonished. “What? Why?”
“No questions, this is important. I need you to acquire a document which could be very important to the future of our clan, but he has selfishly hidden away and refuses to bring to me. If you do this, your mother will be ingratiated to you.”
Harald Audensen Hvide regarded his mother, Princess Gro Svendsdatter Knýtling, with a long, slow, cold gaze. He was certain this was related to their previous discussions, and he knew he needed to speak with Cecilie about this. She might know more.
“Okay, mother. I will do what you ask, but only on one condition?”
Gro’s eyebrow raised and she leaned forward. “Go on.”
“I want you to take me with you to Odense, when you go. I want to be there when they decide the new King.” Harald’s voice was as strong as he could make it, and he put his foot down a little bit firmly, trying to emphasise how much he wasn’t going to budge on that.
"How did you know about that..." The Princess seemed to consider his request, then chuckled a little. “Okay, it’s a deal. If you bring me the document, I’ll make sure you come with. Your uncle and father have never said no to me before.”
He grinned, this one was a victory for him. “Okay, then. What’s this document look like?”
Last edited:
O_O
Gro is talking to Hans...I think she disagrees with Skjalm about who the next king should be.
And yes, Harald should train his weak points too. Such as swordsmanship and not getting caught in bloodshed in his preteen years.
Gro is talking to Hans...I think she disagrees with Skjalm about who the next king should be.
And yes, Harald should train his weak points too. Such as swordsmanship and not getting caught in bloodshed in his preteen years.
Wow, major conspiracies are on the horizon apparently. Looking forward to the Odense updates and finding out what the document in question is.
EDIT/ While here, may I invite you and the readers to the renewed Central bAAR for some civilized AARland-related discussion and smalltalk?
EDIT/ While here, may I invite you and the readers to the renewed Central bAAR for some civilized AARland-related discussion and smalltalk?
Finished my second update of the weekend, as promised. I worked it out with outlines and I'll need another two updates to finish what I have in mind, then comes the interlude. I'll be giving us a nice tour of what's been going on in the rest of Europe (in brief summary, history book style) and make some nice pretty maps before returning to your regularly scheduled hijinks. But first, the conspiracies and Odense!
RGB: Jens isn't exactly Gro's favourite candidate for the throne, no!
Qorten: I'll keep the bAAR in mind, when I have some time. Conspiracies are definitely afoot, that much I can say (as is obvious), but you'll have to wait and see what is truly happening.
Enewald: I'm working on it! The rest of the Kingdom...well, there's the usual rush for power in the vacuum, I think Sjælland at least is glad that the Emperor seems more interested in picking a fight with France than helping the Knights fight them.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 41 – The Document
29th of May, 1081 Anno Domini
The silence of the morning had been lovely for most of the residents of Søborg – rarely had such tranquillity visited the halls of the Danish Castle. News still had not publically broken of the death of King Harald III, but most of the aristocracy were aware and busy making their preparations. Peace and calm was the order of the day, or so it had seemed – the tranquillity was doomed not to last, for the conflict that erupted was not only inevitable but sought out by both parties.
“How dare you!” Skjalm exclaimed.
Harald peered out from around the corner of the great hall’s doors. Mother had distracted the Hertug, as promised, and now it was his time to move. Spinning on his heels, he rushed up the stairs, leaving the argument behind. The pair was relatively isolated, and all the servants had been ushered away in the heat of the moment.
“You should have told me.” Skjalm hissed at Gro. His expression was one of a man hurt and betrayed, his wrinkles were showing more than usual.
Gro glared a little. “I should have? It was hardly my responsibility, I took the steps that were necessary to protect this land.”
“You should have consulted me, you should have told me – regardless of that fact, I deserved to know of all people.”
“What did you deserve, Skjalm? Ever since Signe all you could think of was conquest and killing pagans, even if I was to tell you what would it have done? You’ve been on a one-man quest for vengeance, would you have even cared if I had told you then?”
Skjalm’s fist smashed into a table, sending a platter flying. “You’re damn right I would have! This is of incredible importance. At least you’re admitting the offense, but to think I had to find out about it like this?”
“You deserve to know about him, he’s getting older now. We can’t forget about him forever, or shunt him aside.”
Skjalm’s teeth gritted. “Auden needs to know about this.”
“No!” Gro’s face betrayed momentary panic. “He can’t know, no matter what happens. He needn’t be involved in all of this.”
“So you expect me to lie to him?”
“You don’t have to lie, but if you care about your brother you won’t tell him. This news would crush him.” She glared at the Hertug. “Think of his feelings!”
Cecilie peered in cautiously from around the corner, then took the time to listen under the pretense of cleaning a trail of dirt from the entrance hall. The sounds drifted out to her, and as she observed them a long sigh escaped the maid’s lungs. “I knew this would come to pass...I hope Harald is ready. Our preparations must continue...” she thought to herself.
Her gaze slowly glanced up the stairs, following the invisible trail she was sure Harald had already followed. Gro’s choice to reveal this information now was an interesting one, but she had certainly occupied Skjalm’s attention. This was where Harald would take part in his agreed task, she had no doubt, and also where his rival was likely to come into play. She busied herself with cleaning and spying, a smile playing at her lips. The older they grew, the more Harald would blossom and overshadow his peers. This was going to be a victory for her pupil, she was certain of it.
Harald hid himself in a shadow for a moment as the sound of a crash became faintly audible through the door. As soon as it was clear none had seen him, he moved up to the crack and peered in, trying to see who was making all the ruckus. His teeth and fists clenched together as a violent urge pressed at the back of his mind, but he repressed it momentarily. Ernst was already here, it seemed, and already messily ransacking Skjalm’s room. No grace, no style.
He looked down at the envelope in his hand and then frowned. Cecilie had given this to him, told him it would be important for his mission – what was she thinking? Suddenly, it struck him – Ernst was probably looking for the document just as he was, meaning this was just another test. Harald grinned and kept the envelope close, then quickly moved into the adjacent room. This used to be Jadwiga’s chambers, now they lay empty and unused after her demise. It didn’t take him long to find a pen and vial of ink, and soon he was scribbling onto the envelope’s smooth face.
Grinning, he sealed it in wax and then broke the seal. Hurrying himself, he stepped into the Hertug’s bedchambers, calling out casually to his adopted brother. “Looking for this, Ernst?”
Ernst turned and scowled at the envelope in Harald’s hand. “Give me that, Harald!”
“Ah ah ah, that’s not polite...” Harald shook his head. “I found it, you didn’t. It’s mine, now.”
Ernst picked himself up, turning beet red. “That belongs to mother, I’m going to give it to her so give it up!”
Harald placed the envelop on a table between them. “Okay, Ernst...you want it, you can fight for it. If you beat me you can have the document.”
Ernst spat and put up his fists. “I’m gonna pummel you you stupid, useless brat.”
Harald calmly stepped forward and readied himself. The two circled for a moment, but Harald could see the fear in his eyes. Ernst had grown a little taller but Harald was training every day of his life and was the stronger, fiercer and meaner opponent. It was obvious who would win the battle of fisticuffs. Audensen took a half-step forward and swung from the left, causing Ernst to clumsily stumble back and aside. Harald took the moment to step forward fully and swing his leg, connecting a boot with Ernst’s stomach.
“Ach...” Ernst choked in pain and clutched at his stomach, grabbing onto the table for support and then bringing himself up to his feet. The adopted son of Hvide grinned darkly and seized the envelope.
“Hey, what are you doing?!” Harald protested.
Ernst laughed and turned to run, calling back. “The real loser is the one who falls for it, Harald!”
Harald listened as the footfalls disappeared, then turned and quickly got to work searching the scattered envelopes and papers. “Yes, Ernst...that is the case.”
He worked quickly and as efficiently as a boy of eleven could, trying to find what he could. Skjalm could return any moment, this affair had wasted time and he only hoped that his mother could keep the Hertug distracted long enough. Being caught in the act was the worst thing that could happen. At last, he found a victory. Seizing the envelope his mother had described, he checked the name, then quickly opened it and gave it a quick scan. He would not fall pray to the same trick as his brother, after all. It read something about his mother’s trip to Lübeck twelve years ago – strange, he thought. Shrugging, he slipped it down his tunic and quickly made his getaway.
Cautiously peering around the corner, Harald saw no one watching and quickly moved away. Using the corners as cover with each movement and paying close attention to sound, he soon found himself home free. Sighing in relief, he kept the real document safe and hidden – he would give it to his mother as soon as he could, before Ernst tracked him down. Somewhat casually, he made his way down the stairs.
Cecilie glanced at him but continued scrubbing dutifully at the floor, cleaning it as best as she could. The argument was, as far as he could tell, still in full force, but he could not make out the words from here. He walked up to Cecilie and placed his hands on his hips somewhat defiantly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, with a frown.
Cecilie gave him a look as if to be quiet, but he just continued frowning at her, until at last she sighed and conceded. “It was for your own good, to think on your feet. I gave you the tools necessary to find a creative solution. It worked, didn’t it?”
“Too well, almost like it was planned. Ernst took the bait and the hook with it, but I’m totally suspicious of how easy it was. No one can be that stupid.”
His nursemaid shrugged and continued scrubbing. “Ernst is still a child, and has not had the benefit of my tutelage, nor of the pressures your mother has placed upon you. You are simply superior to him, and he is not the most clever of children. I fully believe that the statue incident was not his idea, and that someone has been pulling his strings – to what purpose I am uncertain.”
Harald glared at the floor. “I gave him a few bruises to remember, anyway, before he made off with the fake. When Mom’s done, I’m gonna see to it that she gets the real letter. I’m not sure what it’s about, but...”
Cecilie smiled a little and stood up, dropping the washrag. “I’m done here...perhaps we should retire somewhere quieter. I’d like to have a look at that, if you don’t mind.”
Harald raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Sure.”
“So that’s it? You’re just going to show him the letter, there’s nothing I can do to convince you?” Gro’s face wrinkled and her forehead was heavily furrowed. “You really care so little about the future of this place?”
“Sjælland can survive such things, but upon my honour as a man, as a Hvide and as Chieftain I have to make such things clear. My brother deserves that much.”
The Princess scowled at Skjalm and thought of a million ways she would like to break him into pieces. What she had ever seen in him, she did not know, but no longer was there any lingering attraction towards the Hertug. His will was like iron, and even she couldn’t manage to twist him around her finger. A long sigh escaped her lungs, and she straightened herself up.
“Fine...then about Jens...”
“I thought we settled the matter of Jens?” Skjalm rolled his eyes. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“No, this is important. If the child Jens can be there, then so too can my own brood. I demand that Ernst and Harald be allowed to go to the Ting. They are old enough to understand such things now, and Jens is like a brother to them. Jens will appreciate the company and our own future will continue to grow.”
“Come now, is it really appropriate for them to be there? Do you think Auden will approve, after he knows?”
“Then show him the letter after, but let them be there!” She hissed. “I want to ensure they understand the greater scope of Danish politics, not just what happens within the walls of Søborg.”
Skjalm glowered, seemed to think, and then gave out a long sigh.
“Fine...they can be there. But that will be the end of it, understand?”
Cecilie exhaled sharply and leaned back as she refolded the letter. “The evidence is damning. Before you go, I’m going to make a copy of this. It could be important in the future.”
Harald tried to peer over her shoulder, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Cecilie chuckled at him. “Not yet, this is for your own sake. You wouldn’t understand it anyway, not for awhile anyway.”
“I’m not a child!” Harald crossed his arms.
“Please, Harald, just trust me. I only have your own best interests in mind.” She smiled widely and gave her pupil a hug, feeling him squirm a little uncomfortably. Harald had become the closest thing she had to a child after all these long years, and that he had grown to trust her more than anyone touched her quite genuinely. He would be more than just a tool, but like a son and a trusted ally.
Harald frowned deeply. “Okay...but as soon as you’re done I’m taking this to her. I want that trip to Odense so badly – I know Ernst will be there and I can’t pass up this opportunity to show him up in front of all those important people!”
Cecilie chuckled and began scribing. “I know, Harald...I know. Just be patient, this will only take a few minutes. Copying is something I’m rather good at...”
Princess Gro Svendsdatter frowned deeply as she opened the envelope and found nothing but blank parchment inside. She turned to check the other side, and then peered into the container to look for more. Where was the letter? Her dark eyes looked up at Ernst with a scowl and she threw it to the floor in frustration, picking herself up and standing over the adopted boy.
“What in the hell is your problem, Ernst? Is this sort of thing supposed to trick me? I told you to get me the document!”
Ernst cowered in confusion and fear, shrinking away from his angry mother. He didn’t notice Harald enter until he calmly greeted his mother, then walked forward. With a broad smile he offered her the envelope in his hand. Gro ran an appreciative hand across it, then smiled and kissed her eldest blood child on the forehead. “Good boy, Harald, you didn’t let me down. Run along now, ask Cecilie to help you prepare for the journey. I’ll make sure Skjalm lets you go, okay?”
Harald grinned and ran off without a word, leaving Ernst in shock, tears running down his face. He had been betrayed...the letter Harald held was fake all along, and he was turning mother against him. Hatred and rage burned up from Ernst’s stomach until he felt he was going to pop. He wanted to kill that stupid boy, with his stupid cheeky smile and the stupid gap between his front teeth. It wasn’t fair!
“Mother, I’ve been-“
“You have been inducted into our order.” Gro interrupted. “You will often be tasked with important missions. Mistakes cannot be afforded, if you want to survive in this world. Learn to be more perceptive.”
“But the letter was-“
“No excuses!” She snapped at him. “Once we have a little more free time, I’m going to see to it that you have lessons more lessons with Hans. I had hoped that his guidance thus far in teaching you would serve you well, but it seems as soon as you are left to your own devices you fall apart. Clearly you have not learned enough.”
Ernst looked down at the floor, ashamed. So Hans had come up with the statue trick, it wasn’t his fault...Harald had tricked him. Gro got up and left him to his tears, and Ernst sat there, quiet in his corner. He had been beaten this time...but next time...next time, Harald Audensen would pay.
RGB: Jens isn't exactly Gro's favourite candidate for the throne, no!
Qorten: I'll keep the bAAR in mind, when I have some time. Conspiracies are definitely afoot, that much I can say (as is obvious), but you'll have to wait and see what is truly happening.
Enewald: I'm working on it! The rest of the Kingdom...well, there's the usual rush for power in the vacuum, I think Sjælland at least is glad that the Emperor seems more interested in picking a fight with France than helping the Knights fight them.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 41 – The Document
29th of May, 1081 Anno Domini
The silence of the morning had been lovely for most of the residents of Søborg – rarely had such tranquillity visited the halls of the Danish Castle. News still had not publically broken of the death of King Harald III, but most of the aristocracy were aware and busy making their preparations. Peace and calm was the order of the day, or so it had seemed – the tranquillity was doomed not to last, for the conflict that erupted was not only inevitable but sought out by both parties.
“How dare you!” Skjalm exclaimed.
Harald peered out from around the corner of the great hall’s doors. Mother had distracted the Hertug, as promised, and now it was his time to move. Spinning on his heels, he rushed up the stairs, leaving the argument behind. The pair was relatively isolated, and all the servants had been ushered away in the heat of the moment.
“You should have told me.” Skjalm hissed at Gro. His expression was one of a man hurt and betrayed, his wrinkles were showing more than usual.
Gro glared a little. “I should have? It was hardly my responsibility, I took the steps that were necessary to protect this land.”
“You should have consulted me, you should have told me – regardless of that fact, I deserved to know of all people.”
“What did you deserve, Skjalm? Ever since Signe all you could think of was conquest and killing pagans, even if I was to tell you what would it have done? You’ve been on a one-man quest for vengeance, would you have even cared if I had told you then?”
Skjalm’s fist smashed into a table, sending a platter flying. “You’re damn right I would have! This is of incredible importance. At least you’re admitting the offense, but to think I had to find out about it like this?”
“You deserve to know about him, he’s getting older now. We can’t forget about him forever, or shunt him aside.”
Skjalm’s teeth gritted. “Auden needs to know about this.”
“No!” Gro’s face betrayed momentary panic. “He can’t know, no matter what happens. He needn’t be involved in all of this.”
“So you expect me to lie to him?”
“You don’t have to lie, but if you care about your brother you won’t tell him. This news would crush him.” She glared at the Hertug. “Think of his feelings!”
Cecilie peered in cautiously from around the corner, then took the time to listen under the pretense of cleaning a trail of dirt from the entrance hall. The sounds drifted out to her, and as she observed them a long sigh escaped the maid’s lungs. “I knew this would come to pass...I hope Harald is ready. Our preparations must continue...” she thought to herself.
Her gaze slowly glanced up the stairs, following the invisible trail she was sure Harald had already followed. Gro’s choice to reveal this information now was an interesting one, but she had certainly occupied Skjalm’s attention. This was where Harald would take part in his agreed task, she had no doubt, and also where his rival was likely to come into play. She busied herself with cleaning and spying, a smile playing at her lips. The older they grew, the more Harald would blossom and overshadow his peers. This was going to be a victory for her pupil, she was certain of it.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald hid himself in a shadow for a moment as the sound of a crash became faintly audible through the door. As soon as it was clear none had seen him, he moved up to the crack and peered in, trying to see who was making all the ruckus. His teeth and fists clenched together as a violent urge pressed at the back of his mind, but he repressed it momentarily. Ernst was already here, it seemed, and already messily ransacking Skjalm’s room. No grace, no style.
He looked down at the envelope in his hand and then frowned. Cecilie had given this to him, told him it would be important for his mission – what was she thinking? Suddenly, it struck him – Ernst was probably looking for the document just as he was, meaning this was just another test. Harald grinned and kept the envelope close, then quickly moved into the adjacent room. This used to be Jadwiga’s chambers, now they lay empty and unused after her demise. It didn’t take him long to find a pen and vial of ink, and soon he was scribbling onto the envelope’s smooth face.
Grinning, he sealed it in wax and then broke the seal. Hurrying himself, he stepped into the Hertug’s bedchambers, calling out casually to his adopted brother. “Looking for this, Ernst?”
Ernst turned and scowled at the envelope in Harald’s hand. “Give me that, Harald!”
“Ah ah ah, that’s not polite...” Harald shook his head. “I found it, you didn’t. It’s mine, now.”
Ernst picked himself up, turning beet red. “That belongs to mother, I’m going to give it to her so give it up!”
Harald placed the envelop on a table between them. “Okay, Ernst...you want it, you can fight for it. If you beat me you can have the document.”
Ernst spat and put up his fists. “I’m gonna pummel you you stupid, useless brat.”
Harald calmly stepped forward and readied himself. The two circled for a moment, but Harald could see the fear in his eyes. Ernst had grown a little taller but Harald was training every day of his life and was the stronger, fiercer and meaner opponent. It was obvious who would win the battle of fisticuffs. Audensen took a half-step forward and swung from the left, causing Ernst to clumsily stumble back and aside. Harald took the moment to step forward fully and swing his leg, connecting a boot with Ernst’s stomach.
“Ach...” Ernst choked in pain and clutched at his stomach, grabbing onto the table for support and then bringing himself up to his feet. The adopted son of Hvide grinned darkly and seized the envelope.
“Hey, what are you doing?!” Harald protested.
Ernst laughed and turned to run, calling back. “The real loser is the one who falls for it, Harald!”
Harald listened as the footfalls disappeared, then turned and quickly got to work searching the scattered envelopes and papers. “Yes, Ernst...that is the case.”
He worked quickly and as efficiently as a boy of eleven could, trying to find what he could. Skjalm could return any moment, this affair had wasted time and he only hoped that his mother could keep the Hertug distracted long enough. Being caught in the act was the worst thing that could happen. At last, he found a victory. Seizing the envelope his mother had described, he checked the name, then quickly opened it and gave it a quick scan. He would not fall pray to the same trick as his brother, after all. It read something about his mother’s trip to Lübeck twelve years ago – strange, he thought. Shrugging, he slipped it down his tunic and quickly made his getaway.
Cautiously peering around the corner, Harald saw no one watching and quickly moved away. Using the corners as cover with each movement and paying close attention to sound, he soon found himself home free. Sighing in relief, he kept the real document safe and hidden – he would give it to his mother as soon as he could, before Ernst tracked him down. Somewhat casually, he made his way down the stairs.
Cecilie glanced at him but continued scrubbing dutifully at the floor, cleaning it as best as she could. The argument was, as far as he could tell, still in full force, but he could not make out the words from here. He walked up to Cecilie and placed his hands on his hips somewhat defiantly.
“Why didn’t you tell me?” He asked, with a frown.
Cecilie gave him a look as if to be quiet, but he just continued frowning at her, until at last she sighed and conceded. “It was for your own good, to think on your feet. I gave you the tools necessary to find a creative solution. It worked, didn’t it?”
“Too well, almost like it was planned. Ernst took the bait and the hook with it, but I’m totally suspicious of how easy it was. No one can be that stupid.”
His nursemaid shrugged and continued scrubbing. “Ernst is still a child, and has not had the benefit of my tutelage, nor of the pressures your mother has placed upon you. You are simply superior to him, and he is not the most clever of children. I fully believe that the statue incident was not his idea, and that someone has been pulling his strings – to what purpose I am uncertain.”
Harald glared at the floor. “I gave him a few bruises to remember, anyway, before he made off with the fake. When Mom’s done, I’m gonna see to it that she gets the real letter. I’m not sure what it’s about, but...”
Cecilie smiled a little and stood up, dropping the washrag. “I’m done here...perhaps we should retire somewhere quieter. I’d like to have a look at that, if you don’t mind.”
Harald raised an eyebrow, then shrugged. “Sure.”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
“So that’s it? You’re just going to show him the letter, there’s nothing I can do to convince you?” Gro’s face wrinkled and her forehead was heavily furrowed. “You really care so little about the future of this place?”
“Sjælland can survive such things, but upon my honour as a man, as a Hvide and as Chieftain I have to make such things clear. My brother deserves that much.”
The Princess scowled at Skjalm and thought of a million ways she would like to break him into pieces. What she had ever seen in him, she did not know, but no longer was there any lingering attraction towards the Hertug. His will was like iron, and even she couldn’t manage to twist him around her finger. A long sigh escaped her lungs, and she straightened herself up.
“Fine...then about Jens...”
“I thought we settled the matter of Jens?” Skjalm rolled his eyes. “You’re just trying to distract me.”
“No, this is important. If the child Jens can be there, then so too can my own brood. I demand that Ernst and Harald be allowed to go to the Ting. They are old enough to understand such things now, and Jens is like a brother to them. Jens will appreciate the company and our own future will continue to grow.”
“Come now, is it really appropriate for them to be there? Do you think Auden will approve, after he knows?”
“Then show him the letter after, but let them be there!” She hissed. “I want to ensure they understand the greater scope of Danish politics, not just what happens within the walls of Søborg.”
Skjalm glowered, seemed to think, and then gave out a long sigh.
“Fine...they can be there. But that will be the end of it, understand?”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Cecilie exhaled sharply and leaned back as she refolded the letter. “The evidence is damning. Before you go, I’m going to make a copy of this. It could be important in the future.”
Harald tried to peer over her shoulder, but she wouldn’t let him see it. Cecilie chuckled at him. “Not yet, this is for your own sake. You wouldn’t understand it anyway, not for awhile anyway.”
“I’m not a child!” Harald crossed his arms.
“Please, Harald, just trust me. I only have your own best interests in mind.” She smiled widely and gave her pupil a hug, feeling him squirm a little uncomfortably. Harald had become the closest thing she had to a child after all these long years, and that he had grown to trust her more than anyone touched her quite genuinely. He would be more than just a tool, but like a son and a trusted ally.
Harald frowned deeply. “Okay...but as soon as you’re done I’m taking this to her. I want that trip to Odense so badly – I know Ernst will be there and I can’t pass up this opportunity to show him up in front of all those important people!”
Cecilie chuckled and began scribing. “I know, Harald...I know. Just be patient, this will only take a few minutes. Copying is something I’m rather good at...”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Princess Gro Svendsdatter frowned deeply as she opened the envelope and found nothing but blank parchment inside. She turned to check the other side, and then peered into the container to look for more. Where was the letter? Her dark eyes looked up at Ernst with a scowl and she threw it to the floor in frustration, picking herself up and standing over the adopted boy.
“What in the hell is your problem, Ernst? Is this sort of thing supposed to trick me? I told you to get me the document!”
Ernst cowered in confusion and fear, shrinking away from his angry mother. He didn’t notice Harald enter until he calmly greeted his mother, then walked forward. With a broad smile he offered her the envelope in his hand. Gro ran an appreciative hand across it, then smiled and kissed her eldest blood child on the forehead. “Good boy, Harald, you didn’t let me down. Run along now, ask Cecilie to help you prepare for the journey. I’ll make sure Skjalm lets you go, okay?”
Harald grinned and ran off without a word, leaving Ernst in shock, tears running down his face. He had been betrayed...the letter Harald held was fake all along, and he was turning mother against him. Hatred and rage burned up from Ernst’s stomach until he felt he was going to pop. He wanted to kill that stupid boy, with his stupid cheeky smile and the stupid gap between his front teeth. It wasn’t fair!
“Mother, I’ve been-“
“You have been inducted into our order.” Gro interrupted. “You will often be tasked with important missions. Mistakes cannot be afforded, if you want to survive in this world. Learn to be more perceptive.”
“But the letter was-“
“No excuses!” She snapped at him. “Once we have a little more free time, I’m going to see to it that you have lessons more lessons with Hans. I had hoped that his guidance thus far in teaching you would serve you well, but it seems as soon as you are left to your own devices you fall apart. Clearly you have not learned enough.”
Ernst looked down at the floor, ashamed. So Hans had come up with the statue trick, it wasn’t his fault...Harald had tricked him. Gro got up and left him to his tears, and Ernst sat there, quiet in his corner. He had been beaten this time...but next time...next time, Harald Audensen would pay.
Last edited:
I sure like where this is going. So, it's Cecile vs Hans now? That will prove to be very interesting indeed, although I have no doubt that Harald will come out victorious, he is the better of the two after all.
Skjalm does seem rather pissed off at Gro, though. Wonder what she told him...
Skjalm does seem rather pissed off at Gro, though. Wonder what she told him...
I see; Gro is playing both sides with Harald and Ernst, or at least hoping that both would be ready tools for her to employ.
I have a feeling she may have a surprise with Harald, actually, as time goes on.
I have a feeling she may have a surprise with Harald, actually, as time goes on.
Training both tools against each other? That's asking for some really good tools that are really focused on getting rid of each other...
Intruige worthy of a Greek courtier. Guess one tool is used to sharpen the other...
Wow, this has been far too long. I’ve been so busy moving around and looking for a job that I forgot all about this for awhile, and now somewhat hesitantly pick it back up. I’m doing a good job of losing my steady readers just as I pick them up again! I hope someone is ready to still read this.
I’ve got a set end-date for Piety in my mind, somewhere not too distant in game terms, because I’m thinking of settling the story and then restarting it when Crusader Kings 2 comes out. I don’t know exactly how far I will get, but I’ve decided I’m going to try and finish the story I’m currently telling before then. Wish me luck!
Ilyavania: Harald is definitely the more talented of the two, something I’ve tried to show in how I write them, but Ernst DOES have a very capable backer in Hans, who is pretty much a more sinister, Germanic Ezio...
RGB: A little sibling rivalry never hurt anyone! </irony>
General_BT: Things are definitely getting heated up, and I’m really enjoying my writing of the two as they clash with one another.
Enewald: Well, isn’t that the whole point?! If I wanted you to know what the trouble was about I’d have shown you the letter.
FlyingDutchie: Poor Skjalm will have been unprepared for this. Such skulduggery is not his forte. You’re right that there’s sharpening going on, the real question is who will be sharper in the end.
And without any further ado, update’s away.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 42 – To Crown a King
5th of July, 1081 Anno Domini
The people of Denmark converged upon Odense, gathering at the capital to begin the tedious process that awaited them. Representatives of distant communes, jarls, greves and hertugs, wealthy merchants – the city was buzzing with activity as everyone sought to make their voice heard or to exploit all of the wealth centralizing into one settlement for this week. Peddlers of luxury goods had travelled from as far as Novgorod, Brugges and Perth for what was one of the most promising events of this lifetime. It was not only Danes, but Vends and Germans as well who arrived to speak up as citizens of the Danish Kingdom. They whispered too that the King of Norway was to attend, supposedly to try and gain support to have himself placed upon the throne of Denmark – a move which had brought about mixed feelings from the Danish elite.
In the midst of all of this turmoil and emotion, a single star shone brighter than all – the hero of the Crusades, who rode through the gates and down the city street with his delegation. They were dressed humbly despite their victory, for the cost of the wars had been great – they wore the same linens they had for generations, simple but elegant, and the men were garbed in armour that suited their military successes. Each noble was escorted by two of the finest Huskarls, each equipped with the finest arms a Danish man could buy, and saddled upon an even finer horse. Though the Hvide Clan was low on funds, the soldiers that served under them had grown rich off the spoils of war.
The Hvide had gone from a reputable if small family in central Denmark, to heroes beloved by the people. It touched Skjalm’s heart as the commoners cheered them on – for they were indeed legend amongst the people as heroes who fought the pagans to bring God and Salvation upon Denmark. Even for those less Catholically inclined, they evoked every bit the image of warrior princes, reminiscent of the Kings of the past – tall, strong, brave, who fought to the death to earn their place in Valhalla. Who could not be captured by the Nordic romance that stood before them?
As they reached the castle, Skjalm found himself immediately greeted by the first one he wished to see – an old friend, none other than Knud Knýtling, Prince of Denmark. The wrinkles and gaunt figure of the man betrayed the sickness that had overcome him, while Skjalm’s own rock hard muscles had declined in growing age and idleness. It seemed that their generation grew steadily older, while it was up to the youth to replace them.
Skjalm offered a glance at the “youth” he mentioned. The Hvide Clan had brought three children to this event, each of which seemed ready for the growing responsibilities placed upon them. First was Jens, son of the late King, who he had brought for his own strategy. Then there was his eldest nephew Ernst, whose gangly physique left much to be desired, but who seemed to be Gro’s favourite. Last there was his eldest blood nephew Harald, who filled him with much more confidence. The boy was tall and strong for his age, and radiated confidence and strength, despite being slightly shorter and weaker than either of his two comrades.
“Skjalm! It’s wonderful to see you again. Tell me, how have you fared these long years?”
“They have been kind, the plentiful bounties laid upon our house have become known to all the realm, or so I have heard.” He grinned at Knud.
“It seems your plan was perfect.” Knud grinned back.
Skjalm unsaddled himself and the two men met in a friendly embrace and pat on the back. “It’s good to see you again my friend, far too long have I rode apart from Odense, and now at last I return. With your brother’s death, it seems we have a major decision ahead of us.”
Knud nodded wistfully. “Were I younger and healthier, I would certainly try to take the throne for myself, but alas, I fear I lack the strength to convince the ting that I am a worthy successor. Too many of my Clan are ambitious in their own right, and I hear that Norway is pushing to form a union. It seems that your growth beyond the Baltic has sparked fears that the Empire will turn its bulk north towards us, and the Yngling Clan wants us to support them for mutual defence.”
Skjalm scoffed. “How convenient. I don’t intend to give them the pleasure, even if it threatens our marital hopes.”
“Marital hopes?”
The hertug nodded solemnly. “We’ve been trying for awhile now to arrange a marriage between Princess Estrid – or Astrithr depending on who you ask, the poets apparently prefer the pagan variant. Anyway, she’s a fine specimen and we think she’d make a wonderful wife for my nephew Harald. It’s been difficult convincing them, of course – they seem to have mixed feelings about such a wedlock, the only reason they entertained it to begin with was to secure an alliance against your brother.”
“The schism ran that deep, eh?” Knud chuckled. “He spoke ill of you on numerous occasions, and only the wisdom of his court and the love of our sister kept him from finding some excuse to attack.”
Skjalm’s eye twitched slightly and the corner of his mouth curled down at the mention of Gro, but Knud did not seem to notice it.
“This schism has gone on far too long, Skjalm. We must reunite the realm if we are to secure Denmark’s future in the world.”
“I agree, which is why I came up with a plan.” He grinned. “Tell me, how divided is the Knýtling brood? Do you not squabble amongst yourselves over who should be King in Harald’s death?”
“Oh certainly.” Knud chuckled. “You should hear the arguments when we held a clan meeting.”
“I wish to unite all of my own family’s holdings to vote in support of a Knýtling – the boy, Jens. He is the son of Harald and has the best claims to his land and clan. He was raised at Søborg and is a good friend of our own children – they will give us a future peace in Denmark so that we can focus on uniting against any and all threats.”
The Hertug grinned, and Knud stared for a moment, then returned the grin. “You are audacious and unpredictable as always. Here and everyone is expecting you to push for the throne yourself, and you offer to give it away?”
Knud Knýtling laughed heartily, and Skjalm Hvide joined him. Their deep laughs rang through the courtyard for a moment, then trailed off. Knud leaned on the wall for support and wiped a tear from his eye. “The looks on my brothers’ faces alone will be worth it. I suppose you have a reason for this?”
“It’s simple. If I take the throne myself, the Knýtlings will still rule most of Denmark itself and will be ill pleased to boot. Jens is a friendly, sympathetic boy who will reign positively towards my own family and end these tensions between us.”
“Aye, that makes sense. Very well then, Halland shall support Sjælland’s bid to place my nephew upon the throne – may he live long and bring us prosperity.”
Harald Audensen swallowed hard as he found himself alone, with only his personal guard to escort him, with all of his delegation having spread out. He was not afraid, mind you, but tense – to execute these plans, he would have to work on his own without any advice or aid from Cecilie. He glanced up at the huskarl, who gazed stoically ahead with focused eyes. The two men were huge, coated in fine mail with Hvide tabards draped over them. Sword, axe and spear were all at hand, and they continuously scanned and watched every detail around them. Better guards he could not ask for – as long as they were near, he should be safe, for their loyalty was unquestionable.
He took a moment to unfold the letter, and scanned it over again. The plan he had laid out with Cecilie’s help should work, it was timing more than anything that would matter. He would make sure that the nobles of the ting took him seriously, for she warned that he would be treated like a child and they would seek to ignore him. He would have to show confidence and strength, so that they would respect him and his demands when he presented them. They would have to treat him like a real noble, just like the rest of them.
As night fell over Odense, the discussions began anew. First the great feast began, with roasted meat, fruits and vegetables of many varieties, pastries, bread, wine and mead and a thousand other luxuries. There were minstrels, comedians and actors and a party unlike many had seen in their lifetimes. Such was the way of the aristocracy – any great event was usually an excuse for festivities, and the larger the event, the larger the festivities were likely to be. Underneath all of this, a layer of intrigue awaited. It was a chance for the normally cloistered women of the courts to be seen and to meet potential suitors. It was an opportunity for nobles to discuss politics and make deals; and underneath the guise of a party, a network of relations was playing itself out.
But that was not what concerned Harald the most. Tonight his plans would be played out one way or another – here, where everyone could see it. Danes would often grow rowdy at parties, so he had plenty of excuse, and at an event as high profile as this. Through the many discussions, he had not expected the sea of noise to part as he came face to face with an angel. Her soft face, her dark, curly hair – it was her, the girl he had seen before.
She smiled and curtsied politely at him, and he bowed in return. “Hello there, who might you be?” She said. It took him a moment to understand it through the thick accent – it was immediately clear that she was not of Danish background, but he already knew that. This was the girl he knew as Astrithr, the Princess of Norway.
“I am Harald Audensen of the Hvide Clan. And you would be Astrithr, daughter of the Yngling Clan, would you not?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I heard about you. You’re the troublemaker, aren’t you? The one whose family my father brings me to visit?”
Harald felt instantly deflated. “T-troublemaker? Who told you that?”
“Your brother, Ernst. He’s an...interesting boy.” She giggled. “He told me all about you, how you like to cause ruckus and don’t do what you’re told.”
Harald felt his cheeks burn red in shame. His rival had already struck here? How could he have known? “I...”
She smiled. “It sounds exciting, I like my men brave and tough. You must be to do the things you did.”
“Listen, I didn’t do those things! Ernst framed me to make me look bad! And I’m gonna make sure everyone knows right now!”
He turned and stormed off without giving her a chance to respond. He dodged a servant and his head shot around until he found his goal: Ernst. Without giving the boy a chance to respond, he balled his hand into a fist and struck him in the face, knocking him back into another servant, who crashed to the ground in a heap, dropping a platter of fruits noisily. A lull fell across the meeting and all eyes turned to stare at Harald. He felt like a million burning coals were piercing him from all sides, but an anger and a rage had steeled his heart and made him determined. He quickly climbed up onto a table so that he would be more visible.
“HEAR ME DENMARK!” Harald bellowed at the top of his lungs.
There was nothing but silence as the congregation simply stared. There was no music and no words were said for the first time that night.
“This boy Ernst Pedersen is a dishonourable rat who has wronged me personally! He has framed me for crimes I did not commit and stained my reputation far and wide! I will not tolerate this! He is not worthy of my clan or my respect, and I make my vendetta public to all! I challenge him to defend his honour in combat, if he has any shred of decency left in his blood, that I might prove my innocence!”
There was another silence, then one of the Knýtlings laughed and stood up. “Boy, do not waste our time, we have more important things to deal with!”
Another man, a jarl of lesser stature, stood up defiantly. “Hold that thought, this boy comes to us as a man and speaks his thoughts so bravely, you would deny him his rights?”
“He is a boy, not a man!”
Another Knýtling banged a table with his fist. “We do not have time for this nonsense, we have real issues to discuss!”
Skjalm slowly stood up, and all those at his table turned to gaze at him. From his deeds, he was probably the most respected man in Denmark, and the most feared, and there were few with the guts to interrupt the man who defied the King and won.
“My nephew has raised his issue in a proper manner, and challenged his foe to battle – it matters not if he is a boy or a man in body, none here can or should deny his spirit. One day these boys will sit where we are now, let them fight and let them learn – we make no formal decisions until the morrow.”
“Hear hear, Skjalm is right! The boys deserve their fight!”
Soon a chorus of men in favour of the fight were pounding the table. “Give us some entertainment!” One cried out.
The Knýtling opposed glared, then sat down, clearly displeased by this child’s show. Harald Audensen could only grin and jumped down from the table, giving a devilish look at a shocked Ernst. Soon there was a rush of excitement as the nobles began to bet on the outcome, muttering and discussing the matter with themselves. It seemed they were split down the middle on who would come out on top, but the young warrior did not care. He knew that he would defeat Ernst – the boy may be his elder, but he did not know how to fight the way Harald did.
The adults soon helped them get ready, removing their shirts and shoes and explaining the fight to them. As they were only children this would not be a fight to the death, merely that the first one to lose consciousness or to give up would be beaten. There were no other rules, they could fight with their bare hands however they pleased.
“Harald?” A girl’s voice interrupted his focus, and he looked over to see the girl he had stormed away from looking concerned. “You’re going to fight that older boy?”
“Of course.” He said, gritting his teeth. “He’s stained my reputation.”
She frowned. “Be careful, he told me how he always beats you in fights, I don’t want you to get hurt...”
Harald felt dumbfounded, he almost wanted to laugh, but he just shook his head. “I won’t lose. Won’t even get hurt. He’s done for.”
Astrithr seemed to think about this, then smiled and revealed a ribbon in her hands. “Here, I want you to wear this into battle. For me.”
The young Audensen boy looked at the ribbon, then back up to the girl, then smiled, his cheeks slightly red. “Alright, I will. This fight is in your honour, your highness.” He bowed respectfully.
He took the ribbon and tied it around his head before taking a deep breath. “What do you think, Sten, how does it look?”
His huskarl companion grinned. “You look like a warrior, Harald. Remember what I taught you in our last training session and you’ll get him for sure.”
Harald beat his chest with a single fist. “You bet!”
He turned towards his opponent and stepped forward into the area cleared for them. The grass and dirt tickled his bare feet, but he paid it no heed. The excitement was beginning to build as the ting pounded the floor with their feet, slapped tables and chanted old norse tunes, building up the fight. Most seemed to be drinking, and eagerly watching on as last-minute bets were made. Scandinavians liked nothing more than a good fight to finish a day on.
A pot-belled noble stepped into the circle and looked to the two boys, glaring at each other like hungry wolves. “Are you ready to fight?”
“Aye!” Harald barked.
“I am.” Ernst muttered.
His hand came down, and Harald immediately rushed forwards to meet his opponent in the centre of the circle. Their heads butted harshly as they gripped each other, wrestling for a moment, but although Ernst had grown a bit since their last fight and was slightly taller, Harald was wily and dangerous. He swept his own leg behind Ernst’s and pulled it out from under him, pushing on his chest to topple his opponent over. The older boy fell onto his back with a cry of pain and Harald delivered a sharp kick to his side, wincing as he stubbed his toe but rewarded with a yell for his efforts.
Ernst rolled to his side and back onto his feet just in time to dodge a blow from Harald, who overstretched himself with the effort. A sharp knee collided with his sternum and Harald cried out in pain himself, surprised by the blow. He staggered for a moment and Ernst’s fist connected with his cheek, sending him tumbling to the ground. He was surprised, clearly his opponent had been practicing as well, and he underestimated him.
The boy dragged himself to his feet and glared at the grinning face of Ernst. He felt blood trickle from his lip and down his chin, and he was coated in sweat. The ribbon around his head fluttered in front of his face, and he carefully pushed it to one side. He had a purpose for fighting – he would prove his innocence and prove himself to Astrithr.
Meanwhile from the sidelines, two interested figures watched the fight – Skjalm and Olaf Yngling, the King of Norway. Olaf’s eyes in particular were locked on the ribbon around Harald’s head, which he had seen his own daughter give up freely.
“They get along well, don’t you think?” Skjalm commented with a smile.
“Surprisingly, given we did not introduce them. Perhaps they may find true love.” Olaf scoffed dryly at the thought. “I know you certainly seem to hope for it. Astrid is my only child, you realize I will not marry her away lightly.”
Skjalm nodded to himself. “I understand, of course...just as you understand that I cannot give up my Clan’s bid for her hand so easily. An alliance between our two Clans would be mutually beneficial.”
“Then perhaps you should think about my offer. We have less to gain from Hvide as an ally than you do from us. You will have to make it worth my while, Skjalm, I will not accept this marriage on your reputation alone.” The King seemed irritated.
Skjalm sighed wistfully. “You’re asking a lot of me, to abandon my own plans in support of you. Is it not enough to know that our two families can unite in one bloodline to rule?”
“Such a thing appeals, aye, but I also understand the simple fact that the Yngling gain that benefit either way, but that I will not rule Denmark otherwise. The Normans are strengthening their hold on England and we lack discipline – sooner or later we will have to launch an invasion or else they will just continue to strengthen themselves. They are not just Kings of England but Norman holdings stretch as far north as Eire and as far south as Sicily; you should join us in crushing their growing Empire.”
Skjalm shrugged. “Then perhaps we should consider that the throne of England is lost and we cannot wrest it from them. They say the Kings of France themselves tremble in fear at the growing Norman strength, and that King Robert has designs on the French throne. Sounds to me like something we shouldn’t get involved in.”
Olaf scoffed. “Your lack of ambition disappoints me. After the great conquest of the Baltic you quail at the thought of fighting the English?”
“It is because of that conquest that I do not wish to fight the English, your Majesty. Much of Sjælland’s strength is tied up in the occupation and we are fighting a constant battle against heretics and heathens. Furthermore, we are beset by conflict on all sides – the Knýtlings, the Russians, the Teutons...a campaign against England, you ask too much of us, I am afraid.” Skjalm shook his head. “It is impossible for us to take part in such a thing.”
Cries of encouragement rang out as Harald’s fist connected once, twice, then thrice with Ernst. The older boy staggered back and Harald pounced like a hungry wolf, bellowing a warcry as he brought both fists down onto Ernst’s head. The older boy crashed to the ground limply and did not move again, leaving a bloodied and bruised but happy looking Harald standing alone. He planted his foot on Ernst’s back and raised both hands in the air and yelled triumphantly, and the ting erupted in applause and cheers of congratulation. Harald Audensen had won.
Skjalm noted the lack of King Olaf two mornings later, and grinned slightly to himself. He was disappointed that the marriage between Harald and Astrithr would fall through, but happy that his plans went through perfectly. He watched with a sense of pride as young Jens was crowned King, and each of the nobles – himself included – gave their vows of loyalty. When Skjalm had presented Jens as a candidate, many of the nobles were impressed and surprised – they had earned a clear majority, for it represented the perfect neutrality between the Clans of Hvide and Knýtling that would unify the realm again. None could complain about the result, except perhaps for King Olaf and the support he had spent so long building up within Denmark itself.
As the ceremonies concluded, Jens and Harald exchanged silent nods of respect. Each had won great personal victories today, and they would not forget the time they spent growing up together. Harald would see to it that he kept in touch with Jens – having the King as a friend would be beneficial to his future plans, for he wished to become the Chieftain of the Hvide Clan, and Royal support would surely benefit him above all else.
The sun set that night on celebrations for the victorious, and the battle of politics was won – but as ever, it would return. The defeated Ernst slinked off into the dark, avoiding the shame his public defeat had brought and seeking solace in a darkened alleyway. There, a raspy voice greeted him.
“That didn’t go very well, Ernst...”
Ernst shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hans. I tried my hardest, but he was too strong.”
“No matter, your greatest battles will never be won in the circle. Come with me, we will continue your training. I will see to it that you are ready for your revenge.” The German grinned and placed a hand on the shoulder of Ernst. “We will make a victor out of you yet, my apprentice.”
I’ve got a set end-date for Piety in my mind, somewhere not too distant in game terms, because I’m thinking of settling the story and then restarting it when Crusader Kings 2 comes out. I don’t know exactly how far I will get, but I’ve decided I’m going to try and finish the story I’m currently telling before then. Wish me luck!
Ilyavania: Harald is definitely the more talented of the two, something I’ve tried to show in how I write them, but Ernst DOES have a very capable backer in Hans, who is pretty much a more sinister, Germanic Ezio...
RGB: A little sibling rivalry never hurt anyone! </irony>
General_BT: Things are definitely getting heated up, and I’m really enjoying my writing of the two as they clash with one another.
Enewald: Well, isn’t that the whole point?! If I wanted you to know what the trouble was about I’d have shown you the letter.
FlyingDutchie: Poor Skjalm will have been unprepared for this. Such skulduggery is not his forte. You’re right that there’s sharpening going on, the real question is who will be sharper in the end.
And without any further ado, update’s away.
---- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Chapter 42 – To Crown a King
5th of July, 1081 Anno Domini
The people of Denmark converged upon Odense, gathering at the capital to begin the tedious process that awaited them. Representatives of distant communes, jarls, greves and hertugs, wealthy merchants – the city was buzzing with activity as everyone sought to make their voice heard or to exploit all of the wealth centralizing into one settlement for this week. Peddlers of luxury goods had travelled from as far as Novgorod, Brugges and Perth for what was one of the most promising events of this lifetime. It was not only Danes, but Vends and Germans as well who arrived to speak up as citizens of the Danish Kingdom. They whispered too that the King of Norway was to attend, supposedly to try and gain support to have himself placed upon the throne of Denmark – a move which had brought about mixed feelings from the Danish elite.
In the midst of all of this turmoil and emotion, a single star shone brighter than all – the hero of the Crusades, who rode through the gates and down the city street with his delegation. They were dressed humbly despite their victory, for the cost of the wars had been great – they wore the same linens they had for generations, simple but elegant, and the men were garbed in armour that suited their military successes. Each noble was escorted by two of the finest Huskarls, each equipped with the finest arms a Danish man could buy, and saddled upon an even finer horse. Though the Hvide Clan was low on funds, the soldiers that served under them had grown rich off the spoils of war.
The Hvide had gone from a reputable if small family in central Denmark, to heroes beloved by the people. It touched Skjalm’s heart as the commoners cheered them on – for they were indeed legend amongst the people as heroes who fought the pagans to bring God and Salvation upon Denmark. Even for those less Catholically inclined, they evoked every bit the image of warrior princes, reminiscent of the Kings of the past – tall, strong, brave, who fought to the death to earn their place in Valhalla. Who could not be captured by the Nordic romance that stood before them?
As they reached the castle, Skjalm found himself immediately greeted by the first one he wished to see – an old friend, none other than Knud Knýtling, Prince of Denmark. The wrinkles and gaunt figure of the man betrayed the sickness that had overcome him, while Skjalm’s own rock hard muscles had declined in growing age and idleness. It seemed that their generation grew steadily older, while it was up to the youth to replace them.
Skjalm offered a glance at the “youth” he mentioned. The Hvide Clan had brought three children to this event, each of which seemed ready for the growing responsibilities placed upon them. First was Jens, son of the late King, who he had brought for his own strategy. Then there was his eldest nephew Ernst, whose gangly physique left much to be desired, but who seemed to be Gro’s favourite. Last there was his eldest blood nephew Harald, who filled him with much more confidence. The boy was tall and strong for his age, and radiated confidence and strength, despite being slightly shorter and weaker than either of his two comrades.
“Skjalm! It’s wonderful to see you again. Tell me, how have you fared these long years?”
“They have been kind, the plentiful bounties laid upon our house have become known to all the realm, or so I have heard.” He grinned at Knud.
“It seems your plan was perfect.” Knud grinned back.
Skjalm unsaddled himself and the two men met in a friendly embrace and pat on the back. “It’s good to see you again my friend, far too long have I rode apart from Odense, and now at last I return. With your brother’s death, it seems we have a major decision ahead of us.”
Knud nodded wistfully. “Were I younger and healthier, I would certainly try to take the throne for myself, but alas, I fear I lack the strength to convince the ting that I am a worthy successor. Too many of my Clan are ambitious in their own right, and I hear that Norway is pushing to form a union. It seems that your growth beyond the Baltic has sparked fears that the Empire will turn its bulk north towards us, and the Yngling Clan wants us to support them for mutual defence.”
Skjalm scoffed. “How convenient. I don’t intend to give them the pleasure, even if it threatens our marital hopes.”
“Marital hopes?”
The hertug nodded solemnly. “We’ve been trying for awhile now to arrange a marriage between Princess Estrid – or Astrithr depending on who you ask, the poets apparently prefer the pagan variant. Anyway, she’s a fine specimen and we think she’d make a wonderful wife for my nephew Harald. It’s been difficult convincing them, of course – they seem to have mixed feelings about such a wedlock, the only reason they entertained it to begin with was to secure an alliance against your brother.”
“The schism ran that deep, eh?” Knud chuckled. “He spoke ill of you on numerous occasions, and only the wisdom of his court and the love of our sister kept him from finding some excuse to attack.”
Skjalm’s eye twitched slightly and the corner of his mouth curled down at the mention of Gro, but Knud did not seem to notice it.
“This schism has gone on far too long, Skjalm. We must reunite the realm if we are to secure Denmark’s future in the world.”
“I agree, which is why I came up with a plan.” He grinned. “Tell me, how divided is the Knýtling brood? Do you not squabble amongst yourselves over who should be King in Harald’s death?”
“Oh certainly.” Knud chuckled. “You should hear the arguments when we held a clan meeting.”
“I wish to unite all of my own family’s holdings to vote in support of a Knýtling – the boy, Jens. He is the son of Harald and has the best claims to his land and clan. He was raised at Søborg and is a good friend of our own children – they will give us a future peace in Denmark so that we can focus on uniting against any and all threats.”
The Hertug grinned, and Knud stared for a moment, then returned the grin. “You are audacious and unpredictable as always. Here and everyone is expecting you to push for the throne yourself, and you offer to give it away?”
Knud Knýtling laughed heartily, and Skjalm Hvide joined him. Their deep laughs rang through the courtyard for a moment, then trailed off. Knud leaned on the wall for support and wiped a tear from his eye. “The looks on my brothers’ faces alone will be worth it. I suppose you have a reason for this?”
“It’s simple. If I take the throne myself, the Knýtlings will still rule most of Denmark itself and will be ill pleased to boot. Jens is a friendly, sympathetic boy who will reign positively towards my own family and end these tensions between us.”
“Aye, that makes sense. Very well then, Halland shall support Sjælland’s bid to place my nephew upon the throne – may he live long and bring us prosperity.”
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
Harald Audensen swallowed hard as he found himself alone, with only his personal guard to escort him, with all of his delegation having spread out. He was not afraid, mind you, but tense – to execute these plans, he would have to work on his own without any advice or aid from Cecilie. He glanced up at the huskarl, who gazed stoically ahead with focused eyes. The two men were huge, coated in fine mail with Hvide tabards draped over them. Sword, axe and spear were all at hand, and they continuously scanned and watched every detail around them. Better guards he could not ask for – as long as they were near, he should be safe, for their loyalty was unquestionable.
He took a moment to unfold the letter, and scanned it over again. The plan he had laid out with Cecilie’s help should work, it was timing more than anything that would matter. He would make sure that the nobles of the ting took him seriously, for she warned that he would be treated like a child and they would seek to ignore him. He would have to show confidence and strength, so that they would respect him and his demands when he presented them. They would have to treat him like a real noble, just like the rest of them.
As night fell over Odense, the discussions began anew. First the great feast began, with roasted meat, fruits and vegetables of many varieties, pastries, bread, wine and mead and a thousand other luxuries. There were minstrels, comedians and actors and a party unlike many had seen in their lifetimes. Such was the way of the aristocracy – any great event was usually an excuse for festivities, and the larger the event, the larger the festivities were likely to be. Underneath all of this, a layer of intrigue awaited. It was a chance for the normally cloistered women of the courts to be seen and to meet potential suitors. It was an opportunity for nobles to discuss politics and make deals; and underneath the guise of a party, a network of relations was playing itself out.
But that was not what concerned Harald the most. Tonight his plans would be played out one way or another – here, where everyone could see it. Danes would often grow rowdy at parties, so he had plenty of excuse, and at an event as high profile as this. Through the many discussions, he had not expected the sea of noise to part as he came face to face with an angel. Her soft face, her dark, curly hair – it was her, the girl he had seen before.
She smiled and curtsied politely at him, and he bowed in return. “Hello there, who might you be?” She said. It took him a moment to understand it through the thick accent – it was immediately clear that she was not of Danish background, but he already knew that. This was the girl he knew as Astrithr, the Princess of Norway.
“I am Harald Audensen of the Hvide Clan. And you would be Astrithr, daughter of the Yngling Clan, would you not?”
She raised an eyebrow. “Oh, I heard about you. You’re the troublemaker, aren’t you? The one whose family my father brings me to visit?”
Harald felt instantly deflated. “T-troublemaker? Who told you that?”
“Your brother, Ernst. He’s an...interesting boy.” She giggled. “He told me all about you, how you like to cause ruckus and don’t do what you’re told.”
Harald felt his cheeks burn red in shame. His rival had already struck here? How could he have known? “I...”
She smiled. “It sounds exciting, I like my men brave and tough. You must be to do the things you did.”
“Listen, I didn’t do those things! Ernst framed me to make me look bad! And I’m gonna make sure everyone knows right now!”
He turned and stormed off without giving her a chance to respond. He dodged a servant and his head shot around until he found his goal: Ernst. Without giving the boy a chance to respond, he balled his hand into a fist and struck him in the face, knocking him back into another servant, who crashed to the ground in a heap, dropping a platter of fruits noisily. A lull fell across the meeting and all eyes turned to stare at Harald. He felt like a million burning coals were piercing him from all sides, but an anger and a rage had steeled his heart and made him determined. He quickly climbed up onto a table so that he would be more visible.
“HEAR ME DENMARK!” Harald bellowed at the top of his lungs.
There was nothing but silence as the congregation simply stared. There was no music and no words were said for the first time that night.
“This boy Ernst Pedersen is a dishonourable rat who has wronged me personally! He has framed me for crimes I did not commit and stained my reputation far and wide! I will not tolerate this! He is not worthy of my clan or my respect, and I make my vendetta public to all! I challenge him to defend his honour in combat, if he has any shred of decency left in his blood, that I might prove my innocence!”
There was another silence, then one of the Knýtlings laughed and stood up. “Boy, do not waste our time, we have more important things to deal with!”
Another man, a jarl of lesser stature, stood up defiantly. “Hold that thought, this boy comes to us as a man and speaks his thoughts so bravely, you would deny him his rights?”
“He is a boy, not a man!”
Another Knýtling banged a table with his fist. “We do not have time for this nonsense, we have real issues to discuss!”
Skjalm slowly stood up, and all those at his table turned to gaze at him. From his deeds, he was probably the most respected man in Denmark, and the most feared, and there were few with the guts to interrupt the man who defied the King and won.
“My nephew has raised his issue in a proper manner, and challenged his foe to battle – it matters not if he is a boy or a man in body, none here can or should deny his spirit. One day these boys will sit where we are now, let them fight and let them learn – we make no formal decisions until the morrow.”
“Hear hear, Skjalm is right! The boys deserve their fight!”
Soon a chorus of men in favour of the fight were pounding the table. “Give us some entertainment!” One cried out.
The Knýtling opposed glared, then sat down, clearly displeased by this child’s show. Harald Audensen could only grin and jumped down from the table, giving a devilish look at a shocked Ernst. Soon there was a rush of excitement as the nobles began to bet on the outcome, muttering and discussing the matter with themselves. It seemed they were split down the middle on who would come out on top, but the young warrior did not care. He knew that he would defeat Ernst – the boy may be his elder, but he did not know how to fight the way Harald did.
The adults soon helped them get ready, removing their shirts and shoes and explaining the fight to them. As they were only children this would not be a fight to the death, merely that the first one to lose consciousness or to give up would be beaten. There were no other rules, they could fight with their bare hands however they pleased.
“Harald?” A girl’s voice interrupted his focus, and he looked over to see the girl he had stormed away from looking concerned. “You’re going to fight that older boy?”
“Of course.” He said, gritting his teeth. “He’s stained my reputation.”
She frowned. “Be careful, he told me how he always beats you in fights, I don’t want you to get hurt...”
Harald felt dumbfounded, he almost wanted to laugh, but he just shook his head. “I won’t lose. Won’t even get hurt. He’s done for.”
Astrithr seemed to think about this, then smiled and revealed a ribbon in her hands. “Here, I want you to wear this into battle. For me.”
The young Audensen boy looked at the ribbon, then back up to the girl, then smiled, his cheeks slightly red. “Alright, I will. This fight is in your honour, your highness.” He bowed respectfully.
He took the ribbon and tied it around his head before taking a deep breath. “What do you think, Sten, how does it look?”
His huskarl companion grinned. “You look like a warrior, Harald. Remember what I taught you in our last training session and you’ll get him for sure.”
Harald beat his chest with a single fist. “You bet!”
He turned towards his opponent and stepped forward into the area cleared for them. The grass and dirt tickled his bare feet, but he paid it no heed. The excitement was beginning to build as the ting pounded the floor with their feet, slapped tables and chanted old norse tunes, building up the fight. Most seemed to be drinking, and eagerly watching on as last-minute bets were made. Scandinavians liked nothing more than a good fight to finish a day on.
A pot-belled noble stepped into the circle and looked to the two boys, glaring at each other like hungry wolves. “Are you ready to fight?”
“Aye!” Harald barked.
“I am.” Ernst muttered.
His hand came down, and Harald immediately rushed forwards to meet his opponent in the centre of the circle. Their heads butted harshly as they gripped each other, wrestling for a moment, but although Ernst had grown a bit since their last fight and was slightly taller, Harald was wily and dangerous. He swept his own leg behind Ernst’s and pulled it out from under him, pushing on his chest to topple his opponent over. The older boy fell onto his back with a cry of pain and Harald delivered a sharp kick to his side, wincing as he stubbed his toe but rewarded with a yell for his efforts.
Ernst rolled to his side and back onto his feet just in time to dodge a blow from Harald, who overstretched himself with the effort. A sharp knee collided with his sternum and Harald cried out in pain himself, surprised by the blow. He staggered for a moment and Ernst’s fist connected with his cheek, sending him tumbling to the ground. He was surprised, clearly his opponent had been practicing as well, and he underestimated him.
The boy dragged himself to his feet and glared at the grinning face of Ernst. He felt blood trickle from his lip and down his chin, and he was coated in sweat. The ribbon around his head fluttered in front of his face, and he carefully pushed it to one side. He had a purpose for fighting – he would prove his innocence and prove himself to Astrithr.
Meanwhile from the sidelines, two interested figures watched the fight – Skjalm and Olaf Yngling, the King of Norway. Olaf’s eyes in particular were locked on the ribbon around Harald’s head, which he had seen his own daughter give up freely.
“They get along well, don’t you think?” Skjalm commented with a smile.
“Surprisingly, given we did not introduce them. Perhaps they may find true love.” Olaf scoffed dryly at the thought. “I know you certainly seem to hope for it. Astrid is my only child, you realize I will not marry her away lightly.”
Skjalm nodded to himself. “I understand, of course...just as you understand that I cannot give up my Clan’s bid for her hand so easily. An alliance between our two Clans would be mutually beneficial.”
“Then perhaps you should think about my offer. We have less to gain from Hvide as an ally than you do from us. You will have to make it worth my while, Skjalm, I will not accept this marriage on your reputation alone.” The King seemed irritated.
Skjalm sighed wistfully. “You’re asking a lot of me, to abandon my own plans in support of you. Is it not enough to know that our two families can unite in one bloodline to rule?”
“Such a thing appeals, aye, but I also understand the simple fact that the Yngling gain that benefit either way, but that I will not rule Denmark otherwise. The Normans are strengthening their hold on England and we lack discipline – sooner or later we will have to launch an invasion or else they will just continue to strengthen themselves. They are not just Kings of England but Norman holdings stretch as far north as Eire and as far south as Sicily; you should join us in crushing their growing Empire.”
Skjalm shrugged. “Then perhaps we should consider that the throne of England is lost and we cannot wrest it from them. They say the Kings of France themselves tremble in fear at the growing Norman strength, and that King Robert has designs on the French throne. Sounds to me like something we shouldn’t get involved in.”
Olaf scoffed. “Your lack of ambition disappoints me. After the great conquest of the Baltic you quail at the thought of fighting the English?”
“It is because of that conquest that I do not wish to fight the English, your Majesty. Much of Sjælland’s strength is tied up in the occupation and we are fighting a constant battle against heretics and heathens. Furthermore, we are beset by conflict on all sides – the Knýtlings, the Russians, the Teutons...a campaign against England, you ask too much of us, I am afraid.” Skjalm shook his head. “It is impossible for us to take part in such a thing.”
Cries of encouragement rang out as Harald’s fist connected once, twice, then thrice with Ernst. The older boy staggered back and Harald pounced like a hungry wolf, bellowing a warcry as he brought both fists down onto Ernst’s head. The older boy crashed to the ground limply and did not move again, leaving a bloodied and bruised but happy looking Harald standing alone. He planted his foot on Ernst’s back and raised both hands in the air and yelled triumphantly, and the ting erupted in applause and cheers of congratulation. Harald Audensen had won.
----- -=-=- ----- -=-=- -----
7th of July, 1081 Anno Domini
7th of July, 1081 Anno Domini
Skjalm noted the lack of King Olaf two mornings later, and grinned slightly to himself. He was disappointed that the marriage between Harald and Astrithr would fall through, but happy that his plans went through perfectly. He watched with a sense of pride as young Jens was crowned King, and each of the nobles – himself included – gave their vows of loyalty. When Skjalm had presented Jens as a candidate, many of the nobles were impressed and surprised – they had earned a clear majority, for it represented the perfect neutrality between the Clans of Hvide and Knýtling that would unify the realm again. None could complain about the result, except perhaps for King Olaf and the support he had spent so long building up within Denmark itself.
As the ceremonies concluded, Jens and Harald exchanged silent nods of respect. Each had won great personal victories today, and they would not forget the time they spent growing up together. Harald would see to it that he kept in touch with Jens – having the King as a friend would be beneficial to his future plans, for he wished to become the Chieftain of the Hvide Clan, and Royal support would surely benefit him above all else.
The sun set that night on celebrations for the victorious, and the battle of politics was won – but as ever, it would return. The defeated Ernst slinked off into the dark, avoiding the shame his public defeat had brought and seeking solace in a darkened alleyway. There, a raspy voice greeted him.
“That didn’t go very well, Ernst...”
Ernst shook his head. “I’m sorry, Hans. I tried my hardest, but he was too strong.”
“No matter, your greatest battles will never be won in the circle. Come with me, we will continue your training. I will see to it that you are ready for your revenge.” The German grinned and placed a hand on the shoulder of Ernst. “We will make a victor out of you yet, my apprentice.”
Yay, another update!
And so the battle between Ernst and Harald continues, and Harald continues to come out on top. Even the princess fancies him now. He will yet be King of Denmark, this boy, mark my words!
And so the battle between Ernst and Harald continues, and Harald continues to come out on top. Even the princess fancies him now. He will yet be King of Denmark, this boy, mark my words!
Silly wabbits, drunken brawls are for adults!
Astrid gave him a favour awwwwww.
I sense there's an assassin in the training somewhere in the story but can't figure out where exactly
Astrid gave him a favour awwwwww.
I sense there's an assassin in the training somewhere in the story but can't figure out where exactly
Excellent update Sai! Good to see this story is back again!
Oh, and I spotted a Knud Knytling! And he's a genuis.
Oh, and I spotted a Knud Knytling! And he's a genuis.