Chapter 122:

Ivano's legs trudged through the fresh wet, snow. The fall had been near constant since returning to the mountains and cold plateaus. Not a particularly good omen, not that Ivano believed in such superstition. What everyone agreed upon was an early winter. And a cessation of raiding the lowlands. For that alone Ivano was glad, the Clansmen trudging beside him would have agreed even more so. A broken arrow stuck out from his back. A Bebbezarian arrow. Their archers were very good and had struck him from several hundred feet away. The arrowheads were different too, sharp hooks on the sides to dig into the flesh. Yet despite the obvious pain, he had yet to remove it.

During their retreat from Thessos Bebbezarian forces had relentlessly pursued them with a zeal he had not seen outside of religious fanatics. This was not suicidal revenge, as he had seen so often from the Kingdoms and Empires. These men were trained and properly equipped for the cold and snow. Ivano's fears were coming true. The Clansmen would soon be facing vengeful retaliation in their land, something not seen in hundreds of winters. Their pursuers had only stopped that morning when the snow had started to fall hard. Their forces were too tired to even think of trying to counter-attack.

"Keep your chin up." Arlid cheerfully patted the wounded Clansmen. "We're almost home."

Arvid held the other side, dangerously close to the arrow. "Then you'll be able to tell all the pretty girls about your brave story. Oh, they'll be swooning when they hear that you protected wounded warriors with your very body." Arvid raised his stump for an arm. "It's not like I can say this is fresh."

The wounded man chuckled. Arlid and Arvid spent a considerable portion of the retreat talking with the wounded and disheartened in an attempt to raise their spirits. At the very least stop them from collapsing into the snow. The memories of the retreat from Qaiviel came back, vivid memories of Clansmen deciding to die in the snow rather than face the shame of defeat. But not this time. None had fallen, not even Dyri, Mord's son. Dyri walked near the rear of the column, his face down and utterly despondent. This was meant to be his chance to shine, to show his father and the clan what a man he was. Now he returned humbled by those they thought as inferiors.

"He doesn't look good," Erik said softly. "Looks like he just wants to fall into the snow and let the cold take him away."

Erik remained the same as ever. He hadn't improved after Thessos but he hadn't turned for the worse. Ivano hoped with a little more time he would get better.

Perhaps a woman. That normally works. But the ones with us aren't exactly...willing.

I'm the middle of the retreating column were the slaves, captives taken from Thessos. They wore very little and many suffered from frostbite. Ivano had pleaded to let them go, to reduce the number of hungry mouths and delay the pursuing forces. His words had fallen on deaf ears. The raid hadn't worked out well and what little spoils could actually be taken were guarded jealously.

However, there was one prisoner that Ivano wasn't about to release. Gavriel, the Bebbezarian Merchant Prince, travelled at the front of the captives wearing a thick coat and boots to ward off the cold. The other captives hungered for his clothes but lacked the strength to take them.

"I just hope this whole thing was worth it," Ivano grumbled.

"How could it be?" Erik brushed the snow from his brow. "We had to drop all the gold and silver. And most of the food too."

"Not that." Ivano smiled bitterly. "I'm not concerned about that in the slightest."

What I want is my wife and children back.

Just the mere thought that they were in danger, being used as a threat and motivator, made his blood boil. For a few moments he couldn't feel the snow whipping his face.

If Arnkel's done anything to them he'll regret letting me live.

"Are you okay?" Erik asked.

Ivano forced a smile. "I am fine." He looked at a despondent Dyri. "I'm just a little bit conflicted over what I need to do next."

"Do you think it will work?"

Ivano laughed. "I'm more worried I won't have any time to rest before I have to fight."

---[]---

The ragged column reached the crest of a snow-covered ridge. Finally they could breathe easy. Brenningr lay before them, a beacon of life in the cold white expanse. Though they had passed little hamlets or huts this was the only place for miles that could house more than thirty people. Brenningr was positioned with defence in mind, not that there were many things that could assault them here, at least that's what Ivano thought until very recently. Stone walls rose twenty feet above the snow while diligent workers pushed accumulating snow off. Unlike Rangarvellir there were no gaps or impromptu ramps made from snow. This was a well-maintained city. Several thick plumes of smoke rose into the sky, obscuring the many smaller trails coming from homes. The city was thriving, compared to so many they passed to the Brenningr, but only because they were effective and unrelenting raiders. Normally they wouldn't go through Thessos, they'd simply head over the mountains but those passes had become treacherous of late and the towns and villages on the other side were either poor or heavily fortified. Ivano did not expect Thessos to be such a fortress.

"So much blood spilt just to get onto the walls." Ivano murmured, not caring if anyone heard.

A horn echoed through the empty white wilderness. None of them wore anything camouflaged, it would be difficult not to see them approaching. Ivano was all but certain they had been stalked by clansmen wearing white furs for some time, at least since the Bebbezarians gave up the chase. Though the column lacked any sense of leadership they continued their trudge through the snow with a more determined step. The promise of safety, food and a warm bed would motivate anyone to put in that extra effort.

Large wooden gates, charred black by some ancient and disgruntled fire mage, rumbled open. Clansmen emerged, many riding horses. These weren't the majestic and powerful beasts of the lowlands, capable of smashing through lines of defenders without pause. These short, stout yet powerfully muscled horses ploughed through the snow like it was water. Their long thick hair collected dustings of snow, staining their brown coats white. Ivano had once questioned an elder why they didn't have normal horses. He still didn't understand it but the elder simply asked why animals in the snow had small ears, while those below did not. Something to do with losing heat to the snow. That part Ivano understood well enough.

"Get your weapons ready," Ivano said to Erik, Arlid and Arvid heard too. "We don't know what they're going to do when they hear the news."

"What happened to you?" Arvid asked.

"They beat me for days, screaming all the time, drenched me in cold water." Ivano smiled bitterly. "And they didn't hate me."

Ivano rested a hand on a hidden dagger as the horses approached. The lead rider, someone Ivano didn't recognize, stopped some feet away. Confusion drenched his face as the column of dirty, tired and despondent Clansmen simply continued walking.

"What happened?" He asked after some considerable time had passed.

He spotted Dyri, the riders face paled when he saw the empty look in his eyes.

"Where is he?" The rider roared.

"That must be me." Ivano chuckled. "Over here!"

The rider kicked his horse forward, pushing clansmen into the snow without any regard.

"You..."

"Yes...Me?" Ivano smiled. "Is something wrong?"

Ivano's flippant attitude caught the man off guard. His hand was already gripped tight around the handle of his sword.

"What happened here?"

"We lost." Ivano shrugged. "Seems to be increasingly common of late."

The rider's eye twitched violently. The Fire Blades Clan always held themselves in high regard, to an almost unnatural level.

"Mord-"

"Mord will be pleased to hear that I have brought him the man that has challenged him so much. While his own son could not."

"What are you doing?" Erik whispered into his ear.

"Trust me." Ivano turned to the fuming rider. "Tell Mord that I wish to speak with him about the quality of the warriors he had under his control."

I need to rile them up, so Mord has no choice but to see me, without being struck down the moment we pass those gates. Or right here. It wouldn't be too hard to hide a body in this snow.

The rider looked to Ivano's friends before bidding a hasty retreat.

"And that was?" Arlid asked.

"Whether or not you like it your lives are now connected to mine. If I die I don't think they're going to just let you go."

Erik's demeanour didn't change, Arlid and Arvid appeared slightly less worried, but still not too the level of a normal person.

Have I surrounded myself with death seekers? No wonder I'm acting a little strange.

The riders continued a quick trot in front of the column. They tried to speak to Dyri, even offering him a ride, but he was mostly unresponsive. The riders glared at Ivano.

By the Old Gods, it must be nice to have someone that you can lump all your blame and failings on. Imagine if I wasn't here? You might have to get creative on whom to blame. But never yourselves, obviously.

Clansmen, armed with javelins and bows, stood on top of the stone wall keeping a vigilant watch. While no army had reached this far in an age there were still marauding threats: bandits, packs of wolves, an enraged bear or the Stone Men. Ivano shuddered to remember them, strange walking near corpses covered in stone armour. If he never saw them again it would be too soon.

The people inside Brenningr's walls were happy and cheerful, unlike those in Rangarvellir. That jubilation quickly faded. Their warriors had not returned as heroes and victors but a pathetic band of defeated rabble. No one spoke a word as they eyed each other, one with confusion, and the other with an emptiness that longed to be filled.

"Come to the longhouse." The lead rider said. "We have food, beds and drinks."

If the warriors were grateful they definable didn't show it as they shuffled through the snow. Ivano took but a single step before he was reprimanded by a hateful glare. He smiled in return, unbalancing the rider, and waited for him to speak.

"I suppose we should go see Mord?" Ivano asked. "Explain what happened?"

"Yes...I think that would be best."

The riders stopped Dyri from following the others. He was still damaged from the hit he took from that...Knight. Or whatever that horror was. It certainly wasn't right.

Erik, Arvid and Arlid were brought along with Ivano, confirming his thought that they would share in his punishment. As if that would help in any way.

The city streets deeper into Brenningr were so different from Rangarvellir. Here traders actually traded with happy and smiling women, money and goods flowed freely. This is what Ivano wanted to see, even down to his small village. It was just a shame that the only way they could emulate the lowlanders was to steal and plunder. These people too recognized Dyri, unsurprising given that he was their clan leaders son, but their expression soon faded when they his state. A few glances were spared for Ivano but most were reserved for Dyri. Ivano overheard that this was his chance to prove himself to his father, something he had always dreamed of. And now he returned like this...

The rider dismounted his stout horse before the largest building in Brenningr. He commanded everyone to wait outside in the falling snow, even Dyri.

Does he fear what will happen to him?

Four clansmen guards stood outside underneath the shade of an awning. They opened the door for the rider, revealing a brightly lit room full of laughter and feasting. At the very back, Ivano saw Mord, his great red beard practically glowing against the large fire before him. In one hand he held a giant wooden mug overflowing with beer, the other a young woman wearing exceeding little. She was probably from Bebbezzar, near the border with Seocuria judging by her deeply tanned skin and black hair. Mord leaned in for a kiss, her face spoke only of utter revulsion. Mord snarled and punched her in the guts, hard. Hard enough for her to splutter great wads of spit onto the floor. He threw her down and planted his foot on her back. What she was doing he couldn't see, probably cleaning up the mess she had made with her tongue.

There's being an ass and then there's this. No wonder everyone hates us. I'm sure even the Seocurians do.

A dull groan echoed through the silent air as the door was shut. Ivano saw the faces of the guards, they would much prefer to be inside and away from the cold.

Arlid snuck past his brother and tapped on Ivano's back. "Really though, how bad is it?"

The faint raucous laughter stopped suddenly.

"Pretty bad," Ivano mumbled.

Slowly the guards backed away from the door. Ivano's hand hovered over the handle of his axe. One door opened and the rider flew out, his face bloody and an arm bent to a sickening angle. He careened down the icy stone steps, his jaw cracking loudly with every step until he eventually stopped but a few feet from his terrified horse.

"That bad." Ivano almost smiled. "Hope none of you regret anything you've done over your life."

Mord strode out into the snow, his large muscular framed moved with the confidence of a man that nothing had ever had the strength to stop before. Behind his red eyebrows, he was furious. Ivano could not determine exactly who it was directed at the moment.

It'll soon fall on me though.

"What happened, my boy?" Mord asked angrily as hurried to his son's side. His son looked up at him with empty yet tear-filled eyes. "I gave you some of the best warriors we had and you return broken. With...Him. Still alive."

So you were going to have me killed, probably during the height of the battle. Or just after so you could tell Arnkel that I fell then away from my bodyguards. Not a bad decision.

"How did that happen?"

Dyri averted his eyes. "They were ready for us." He spoke very softly, a slight tremor in his voice.

"Of course they are." Mord slapped his sons head extremely hard. "They always know that we could be coming. Always. But even if they were you lost everyone and came back with nothing. A true Clansmen would never run. So why did you? Why did you think to shame me like this?"

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Your son is alive. You should be grateful, and yet you only care about your ego. How does any woman put up with you? Judging by that Bebbezarian woman you force them to.

"I-It wasn't me." Dyri blurted out. "It was him." Dyri pointed at Ivano. "I was unconscious and he-"

Mord's eye twitched as he picked his son off the ground by his collar, Dyri's weak fingers grasping at his father's wrists. "You let yourself get knocked out by a bunch of lowlanders?"

"There was something different in Thessos." Dyri blurted out, barely a hint of recognition flashed over Mord's face. "They had some sort of small Stone Man with them."

"There isn't a type of shit lowly enough to describe what's coming out of your mouth." Mord snarled. "I'll deal with you later."

Dyri winced but didn't speak another word.

"And you." Mord snarled at Ivano. "You've returned a second time a coward."

Rile him up so I challenge him to a Blood Duel. He's already a bit drunk so that makes things a little easier.

"Twice alive too." Ivano smiled. "If it weren't for me your son would be dead. And so would every Clansmen that you sent. I know you don't appear to care for your flesh and blood but I know that many here would. They would prefer to have their husbands and sons alive and by their side, rather than dying in some Bebbezarian prison.”

Like I nearly did.

The muscles on Mord's neck pulsed as angrily as he was. He was but a hairs breath from snapping and charging at Ivano. Annoyingly Ivano wasn't sure if he could win yet. He needed to be angrier, angry people were easy to deal with. Creativity evaporated in the face of rage.

"Not to mention all your subordinate clans that are now pissed at you." Mord raised a red brow. "They were promised riches and glory, not death and dishonour. What sort of leader are you?"

"What?"

"I could lead your clan better." Ivano laughed. "A blind pig would do better."

Mord roared in anger. "I'm going to cut every bit of you apart, you stupid, arrogant little man."

"Oh.” Ivano leant towards Arlid. "I think that's the most complicated word he's used in a long time. Look how proud he is."

Arlid and Arvid chuckled, the way one laughs in the face of imminent death. Mord took a moment before he fully understood what Ivano said.

Mord turned to the guards waiting near the open door. "My axe! Now!"

One nodded furiously before running inside. Those feasting moved so they could watch the spectacle unfold. None looked even remotely concerned as they continued to eat and play.

The guard returned with a giant two-handed axe. The edges of the otherwise unremarkable axe glowed red and emitted tremendous heat.

"I'm going to cleave you in two you little shit. I-"

"Wait!"

Mord barred his teeth, turning around to see a shaman approach. The elderly man had a young boy at his side, an apprentice, to help support him across the icy floor.

"Mord. You know that if you cut down this man in cold blood, a man belonging to another clan, and as you are a chieftain, will be tantamount to a declaration of war. A war that will decimate the Deweth Clans."

"I will not let this man breathe another breath!" Ivano exhaled loudly, allowing the fog to form great plumes around his mouth. "If you keep pushing your shit I might just consider war."

"Even as my chieftain, Mord, I cannot turn a blind eye to this."

But I still need to kill you. Who knows what Arnkel will do to my wife if I don't.

Ivano raised his hand but the Shaman stopped him.

"Unless...Unless you were challenged to a Blood Duel." The Shaman stroked the stringy hairs of his beard. "Then it would be acceptable, so long as Ivano agrees."

Did Arnkel pay you off or do you think I have no chance of winning? Maybe you're involved in the betting I can see going on behind you.

Mord snorted like an angry bull. "If it lets me kill this idiot then I agree."

"You understand what that means?" The Shaman asked. "If you lose-"

"I won't lose! Now shut it you stupid old goat." The Shaman smirked ever so slightly. "Now. Ivano. Agree, and let me wipe your stain from the Clans."

Ivano drew his axe and brushed his other hand against his thigh, four hidden daggers more than capable of puncturing the toughest hide.

"So long as you fight the way you please women then I won't have a problem." Ivano smiled at The Shaman. "That's a yes by the way."

Mord paused as he mulled over his words, Ivano raised a brow and stifled a laugh.

If I'm going down might as well have fun with this.

"I noticed that your son doesn’t look very much like you. Were you unable to satisfy your wife so badly that she had to take comfort in the arms of a gangly troll or perhaps a cripple?" Ivano really wasn't thinking too hard on his insults and just let them fly with reckless abandon. "That's why you had to punch that slave. Your hands don't seem to know how to handle a woman properly. Just what I'd expect from a little impotent man like you."

What am I even saying anymore?

Mord roared again, raising the axe above his head and charged straight at Ivano. Those around him ran for cover, even the riders backed away, while Ivano stood still.

The axe is heavy and will kill me instantly, but he won't be able to hit me. I just hope I've got the strength.

Ivano waited until Mord began to swing down before he darted to his right. The axe slammed into the ground, the red edges slipped through the stone and just missed Ivano’s feet. Mord smiled like it was a close call but he was nothing compared to the bizarre Bebbezarian Knight. At least when they fought him it was four against one.

Ivano drew a dagger and plunged the thin, narrow into Mord's shoulder joint. Mord smirked, thinking that such a small blade could not hurt him, but Ivano wasn't a small man. Ivano held the handle with one hand before slamming his other hand onto his first, using all his strength to drive the slim blade deep. Furs ripped, metal clanked and scraped as it tore deep into his joints. Ivano felt something tear, something that spelt the end of a warrior.

Mord screamed and kicked Ivano away. He was ready for it and travelled with the kick, giving him so breathing room without injury.

Mord ripped the blade free. A bad decision, it was a special Bebbezarian blade taken from one of their pursuers. The blade had small notches that dug into flesh and ripped through the remnants of his tendons. Mord inflicted more damage to himself than Ivano had.

"This isn't a real fight!" Mord tried to raise his left hand but couldn't, his face paling in equal amounts fear and anger. "This is not how two men fight." Mord looked to his riders. "Kill him."

"No!" The Shaman barked. "To interfere now would only bring vile curses upon you and your family for taking such a cowardly action."

The riders hesitated at the Shaman's words, serving only to infuriate Mord.

"If you don't want me to kill you and your family you'll stop being stupid and kill him! Now!"

Ivano let out a short, sharp whistle. "We're not done yet, Mord."

Ivano brandished his smaller axe and advanced on Mord. Mord immediately forgoed the use of his large axe, his left arm was still useless, and took an axe from behind his back. Ivano, having both hands, had the advantage but Mord wasn't about to go down without a fight. Mord charged at Ivano, for a moment Ivano wondered if he knew any other move, while Ivano took another dagger and held it flat against his wrist. He pretended to be ready to receive Mord's strike but bent his legs ready to dash forward. Mord began to swing down, spittle-drenched teeth barred in anger. Ivano dropped his axe and lunged forward, driving the small blade into his heart.

Mord fell to the ground as Ivano pushed him over, his axe clattering away to Dyri’s feet. Somehow the man was still alive, not that there was much left in him. Ivano unceremoniously drove his axe deeply into Mord's head. The man fell limp as he breathed his final ragged breath.

What a waste.

Ivano looked to the Shaman.

"Let everyone know that the Gods have spoken. Ivano of the-"

"No!” A shriek came from the building. A woman, the same red hair as Mord, ran out, her eyes streaming with tears. “What have you done?!"

Ivano stepped aside. She ran to Mord’s still body reached for the axe embedded in his skull. There was simply no way he could have possibly survived that.

"You killed him." She's whispered. "Thank the gods."

Ivano raised a brow as the woman stood up and kicked the axe handle upward, twisting and splitting the skull further.

"Thank you." The woman smiled warmly at Ivano. "Thank you. That man was a pig. He would sleep with dozens of women but not his wife. Can you believe that?"

Ivano didn't reply. She wasn't ugly but nor did she have the build that interested Ivano. He didn't want a twig that would break the first time they tumbled.

"But now that I'm chieftain things are going to change. Firstly-"

"Wait." The Shaman raised his hand as he gently walked down the icy steps. "Wait, please...There we go. Your husband agreed to a Blood Duel."

"So?"

"That means that everything belongs to the winner." the Shaman smiled. "Including his role as chieftain of the Fire Blades Clan."

"So..." The woman looked to the clansmen. "So what happens to me?"

The Shaman stroked his beard. "Normally you would belong to the victor, as is tradition."

She scowled at Ivano. If there was to be any consolation he felt the same way about her. He already had one wife. That was more than enough.

"But I believe that Ivano would not take that offer. That makes you a free woman, free to do as you please. But, Asfrid, you are not Chieftain. Nor is your son. "

Dyri stared at the axe at his feet. Ivano knew Erik kept an eye on him but an extra pair wouldn't hurt. The boy didn’t budge but Ivano knew it was only a matter of time before his mind started moving again.

“What?” Asfrid screeched. “After everything we’ve been through-”

“I’m sorry, Asfrid. But those are the consequences of your husband agreeing to the Blood Duel. And as it was witnessed by me no one can defy the will of the gods.”

“So now I’m Chieftain?” Ivano asked the Shaman. “I can do what I want?”

The Shaman stroked his wry beard. “Within reason, yes.”

Asfrid approached him, taking deliberate effort to sway her thin hips and flutter her eyelashes. Ivano’s wife had taught him not to be fooled by such obvious attempts at affection. She despaired at how many men still fell for a woman with a few sweet words.

“If you are going to be the new Chieftain you’ll need a person that knows the land and the people. Someone like me.”

She reached out, her fingers dancing lightly for his chest but Ivano stepped back. He had no interest.

“Forgive me, but I am already married.” Ivano watched Asfrid’s face fall. “And I have no interest in a mistress or concubine."

Asfrid stopped in the snow, slowly the small flakes built on her hair, as she stared at the ground. Now she looked truly lost, his wife had taught him to know what someone was being genuine or not.

“I cannot have you living in this city any longer, for my safety as well as yours.”

“My safety?”

“Yes. If we come to blows you will lose. And I won’t hesitate to kill someone that threatens me.” Asfrid’s face remained calm despite his threat. Ivano turned to the Shaman. “What sort of wealth did Mord have?”

“A considerable hoard of gold.” The Shaman smiled. “I’m sure that no one would begrudged some of it entering the hands of his widow.”

Ivano nodded and turned to the guards. “You work for me now, understood?”

“Yes, Chieftain.” The guards, even the riders, snapped to attention.

It’s so stupid that you would follow me after what I’ve done. So stupid.

“Allow Asfrid to take whatever gold she can carry,” Ivano ordered. “Put that into a cart and set off for a prosperous town near the Seocurian border. Once she and her son have a house you are to return immediately. Understood?”

“Yes, Chieftain.” The guards raced inside, stepping over the rider still resting on the steps. Another rider, a much younger man, crouched over him.

“T-Thank you.” Asfrid bowed her head. “I will not forget this.”

“I suggest that you put your money into something where it will grow.” Ivano waved her into the longhouse. “One where you don’t kill and plunder the lowlands. I think a fishery would be a good idea. You could make a good amount of coin with that. I’m sure that you could live a very comfortable life.”

Asfrid said nothing and followed the guards. Arlid gently kicked the axe away from Dyri’s feet.

“Kid.” Arlid wrapped his arm around Dyri’s shoulder. “You’ll get through this. You need to keep your head up and look after your mother. That’s what you need to do from now on. Right?”

Dyri glumly nodded. His father, a person he hoped to impress, lay dead in the snow. He hadn’t taken his eyes off of his split skull even, when his mother kicked it open.

“I…” Dyri began to fall limp, Arlid supported him until he regained his feet. “I can’t…”

“Let’s sit you down somewhere.” Arlid waved over his brother. They took him to the longhouse and rested him against the wall.

Ivano approached the young man crouched over the rider. Instantly he knew that he was dead. The young man didn’t seem to know. Ivano crouched next to him, he was completely stupefied and gently rocked the body, trying to turn him over. Before Ivano could speak Asfrid exited the still silent longhouse with the guards behind carrying a large chest. It wasn’t exactly what he said but Ivano was going to let it slide. Asfrid took her son into her arms, he didn’t resist her touch even though she essentially attacked his dead father, and pulled him down the stone stairs.

“Thank you, Ivano.” Asfrid bowed her head. “We won’t forget this.”

And that’s the problem…

Ivano nodded as the guards directed them away from the Longhouse and into the snow. “Get them a good cart, one that doesn’t rattle or bounce. They shouldn’t have to walk through this snow.”

“Understood, Chieftain.”

Ivano knelt beside the dead rider, the younger man was slowly starting to realise that he was gone.

“I’m sorry.” Ivano patted his shoulder. “I don’t think he’s with us anymore.”

The young man looked at him, his eyes red and tear-filled. “My brother…Who’s going to look after his wife and children? They’re so young, she can’t work enough to feed them all. She can’t fight or raid…”

Ivano heard the rattling of a large cart. It wasn’t ornate or something befitting a widow of a chieftain but it would have to do. The guards and riders assisted them onto the cart and passed out an extra set of blankets.

“Asfrid’s the wife of Mord, the person that killed your brother,” Ivano spoke softly, holding the young man’s shoulder tight. “And his son, Dyri. There’s a chance they could come back and rule over Brenningr again. Do you think that Dyri, after witnessing the death of his father, is just going to run and hide? He’ll come back when you and your brother's children are becoming adults. And then…”

Ivano nodded to the broken body.

“What are you saying?”

“They have a chest filled with gold.” Ivano patted his shoulder. “Gold that your families, and those going with them, could really use. Judging from your cheeks you aren’t exactly well fed, despite all the wealth in the city. The journey will be long and harsh…”

Ivano tapped the axe at his side. The young man understood. His face hardened as he gripped his small axe tight.

“I understand.”

“But make sure the others understand.” Ivano patted his shoulder as he stood up. “They’ll receive an equal share. But if someone were to stumble upon the bodies…”

“There’s a lake to the south about a days’ walk.” The young man took a final glance. “I think we’ll head that way.”

"Good man." Ivano patted his shoulder again and leant close to his ear. "But I'll want proof that it's been done. Think of something that proves they are gone."

Ivano gently pushed the man forward to join the small escort. Asfrid gave a curt nod to Ivano as the cart began to rumble away. Ivano forced himself to no betray any of his emotions. He wouldn’t risk something happening to his kids because of his actions this day.

“Anything we need to know?” Arlid asked Ivano.

“No.” Ivano looked at the Shaman. “Time to clean up a few things. Someone take those bodies and ensure they receive their proper rites and funeral pyre.”

Ivano sighed and stepped towards the longhouse. The guards gave him a slight bow and opened the door.

“I want everyone out,” Ivano said to the guards. “Now.”

The guards nodded and began to remove Mord’s former patrons. Looks of scorn and hate, others with jubilation and excitement, passed him by as they were thrown out into the cold. Ivano watched them wade their way through the ankle-deep snow and back to their homes.

“Everyone is gone.” A guard said. “Except for the slave. What do you want done with her?”

The Bebbezarian slave remained huddled over near Mord’s chair. She had followed Mord’s wishes, the entire area around her feet was clean with a faint sheen of wetness. Ivano grumbled at the sight.

“Erik? Go look after her.”

Erik raced up the steps and into the longhouse. He gingerly stepped around the large fire and the many plates bursting with food and approached the woman. She recoiled and raised her hands to shield herself but quickly looked up. She breathed easy seeing upon realising it wasn’t Mord. They were too far away for Ivano to hear but he knew they were talking.

She probably needs a comforting face right now. And I don’t think Arlid and Arvid are the right choice, even though they might get a smile from her.

“So what now?” Arvid wrapped his arm around Ivano’s shoulder. “Who would have thought, when you took us from freezing to death on the streets of Rangarvellir, that you would have become Chieftain of one of the most powerful clans there is.” Arvid snapped his fingers. “Just like that.”

“I actually was a chieftain,” Ivano grumbled. “But they took it away since I lost.”

“Bahh.” Arlid wrapped his arm around Ivano’s other shoulder. “And now you’re back at the top. And not some honorary position too that they’re going to take away the moment you were back.”

I would have preferred someone more qualified to be a ruler than whoever can hit the hardest and kill the previous ruler. It keeps the ruler physically strong but that’s it. No real intelligence, just muscle. No wonder the lowlanders are now winning.

As Ivano entered the room he felt the refreshing warmth wash over him, eliciting memories of the hot spring that he used to frequent back home. He gingerly stepped around the haphazardly tossed and abandoned plates of food, stopping and staring into the fire.

"Arlid. Send a message to Arnkel. Tell him that I have ownership of the Fire Blades Clan. And make sure that he knows I want my wife and children in my arms again."

"Is that even going to be possible?" Arlid asked. "You did just kill their chieftain. If anything I thought you might want to scoff down some food before they come back here, axes and spears raised amongst a sea of angry torches."

"And burn us all alive." Arvid grimly noted.

"That won't be a problem." The Shaman, no longer supported by the young boy apprentice, staggered into the longhouse. "I have already sent my apprentice to tell the others what transpired before the eyes of the Gods. And how you emerged triumphant, while Mord had clearly lost all favour with the gods. Attempting to strike down a man in cold blood, in his position, is a truly shameful act."

"I see."

"But, do not be worried." The Shaman smiled a toothy grin. "I'm sure that Arnkel will be pleased to hear you not only survived but succeeded."

Ivano forced himself to keep his face flat.

Now it makes sense. Arnkel's paid you off, somehow. You were awfully quick to try and have us fight under a Blood Duel. I wonder if you made sure Mord drunk his full of beer before the fight. Just to give me that extra edge.

"Since it looks like I'll be here a while I really should know your name."

"Kollskegg. And my apprentice is Aki."

"Stay close, Kollskegg. I might need you when the people come knocking on my door."

Kollskegg smiled faintly and moved to a chair near the fire that was high enough that he could simply slide down and stand. Evidently, he was as old as he looked.

"Arlid. See what you can do. And Arvid. Bring Gavriel here. I want to speak with him. Before the other captives tear him apart."

"What's going to happen to them anyway?" Arvid asked, his good arm resting on the door while his brother ducked out into the cold to speak with the guards.

"See what you can do to make their lives comfortable," Ivano ordered. "They aren't to be left in the snow or mistreated in any way. I would have preferred them to back in the hands of our pursuers but no such luck. As it stands I'll have them returned in the spring. Not even we want to be moving during the height of winter."

"The omens say that this will be a particularly harsh winter." Kollskegg raised his feet towards the flame. "If we aren't prepared we won't survive. Well, we will. But there are a number of small villages and hamlets that will suffer."

"Hmm." Ivano nonchalantly walked to Mord's seat and threw his backside upon it. Immediately he regretted his decision. Not only was he tired but the chair itself was unbelievably uncomfortable. How Mord could have been a great warrior and rest his rear on this seat Ivano had no idea.

"That's why I want Gavriel. He knows a lot more about this than I do."

Kollskegg frowned as Ivano took several fur rugs and placed them over the chair. "Is that a wise decision? He is your enemy. And you destroyed his city after all."

"I didn't. It was Dyri and Mord, not that we have to worry about them now. Besides, I intend to release him as well during the early spring. Maybe we can put an end to this conflict."

Kollskegg said nothing, his eyes tried to discern if Ivano was lying. Eventually, he shrugged and returned his attention to the flame.

It definitely will be tricky to convince Clansmen that have spent their whole lives raiding and pillaging that there is another way. A way where we survive on our own merits, and not some extension of the lowlander kingdoms. Or simply destroyed in a few winters.

Ivano leant back into his chair, now actually comfortable, and allowed his tired muscles to rest.

To think all this happened because I wanted to become a Chieftain. If I hadn't though...I'd probably be lying down dead in Qaiviel, burned to a crisp. Still, my path is set for now. For now, I must recover my strength so that I can hold my wife and children tight when I see them next.

Ivano’s brows furrowed in anger.

Arnkel had better kept his hands off them. I’ve already killed one Chieftain. Another one won’t hurt.