Chapter 28: Destiny has Spoken
Ragnar's knife flitted through his finger's rapidly, a cool little trick that he hadn't known Ragnar knew, as he listened to his father's explanation.
"We're related to the current King of Norway?" Ragnar's eyes widened, knife clattering to the floor in revelation.
Harald grunted in annoyance, "That bastard will be the bane of my life. I've heard he's a mighty warrior, part of the Royal Varangian guard for the Byzantine Emperor at one point. Having spent much of his life in wars against Arab pirates and Muslims in Jerusalem. Decorated for his service, becoming a Mosynopolis. A highly sought after distinction in the Byzantine Empire. It will be a tough fight to face the warlord when the time comes, and I'm certain it was his father, Sigurd Syr, who turned the enemy clan on my uncles, killing them out of jealousy," as he looked out of the window towards the river running beside the hill upon which the Manor rested.
Ragnar's mind was hard at work, attempting to process his previous life's events with the events of this one. William's reign, now not being as secure as it once was, would mean that Harold Godwinson knew that he didn't have to worry about the threat across the English channel, allowing himself to focus on the incoming threat of Harald Hardrada.
On the other hand, his relative might not die early in the battle of Stamford Bridge, as York wouldn't surrender this time, only to be later reinforced by Harold Godwinson's troops.
With this many changes, there could be an offhand chance that Harold Godwinson, Harald Hardrada and William the Conqueror are all on English soil simultaneously.
The epics that would be sung of such a glorious occurrence made Ragnar grin in anticipation of the prestige to be won, turning to pat Eve on the head in happiness.
Eve didn't know what Ragnar was so jovial about but flushed red all the same as she leaned into Ragnar's coarse yet warm palm, feeling the calming effect of the soothing motion.
Beside Eve, Erika watched on in disgust at the affection shown by Ragnar. Still angry at her father for being foolish enough to invite these brutes into camp.
If it were her, she'd have killed these men the moment she saw their hulking figures approach their encampment. These giants were too strong for their own good.
Everyone snapped out of their reveries as Harald coughed once again to bring everyone's attention to him.
"I wanted both my sons to know this beforehand. I've strived for this populous and important Barony for over ten years, and though it was always just an arm's length away, we've finally given the Sigvald family a chance to seize it within its grasp. Therefore I'd like to announce that after laurdag tomorrow, we'll head off to the Dukal capital of Rouen."
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Laurdag was another term for washing day, known in the current day as Saturday. The Vikings would regularly comb their hair while washing once every seven days communally, and such a tradition had continued with the Normans due to their Norse pagan roots.
Harald smiled in pride as everyone broke out with applause, "I'll be sending a messenger today to send word that the Marshal of Le Havre seeks an audience with the Duke. And by tomorrow evening, we should have our reply."
The Marshal's voice then turned cautious as he prepared to broach a sensitive topic, "As for who will succeed me and become the next Marshal of this Barony …."
The silence stretched on as Ragnar looked towards his brother, who sneered in return.
Thorkell gazed into his brother's inhumanly cold emerald eyes as a sweat broke out on his forehead, and the previously healed scar that ran along the side of his face burned once more.
Every time he looked at his brother, the same memories of pain and anguish flashed in his mind, depicting the only time when Ragnar had ever truly lost his cool.
The pain flared for a brief second, Thorkell's expression turning to one of shock as he touched his face, the feeling of blood and sizzling heat still on his face. Glancing up towards his brother, who roared in disapproval.
With a snap, the vision vanished, and Thorkell reappeared in the war room, still sneering at Ragnar.
Harald looked between the two of them, noticing their exchange and sighed. "Regardless of who I chose to be the next Marshal, the other one will disapprove of the choice. But I've thought this through carefully and have concluded that Thorkell would be better suited as the next Marshal of our lands."
Thorkell roared in happiness as the chair he was sitting on flew back, slamming against the wall as he stood up in victory.
On the other hand, Ragnar's entourage was silent, waiting and watching to see how Ragnar would react to the news.
A dark shadow covered Ragnar's visage as he looked downwards with a frown, his wild mane surrounding his face like a waterfall, hiding his expression from everyone else's view.
Ragnar took in a deep breath, struggling to control the rage breaking out. The calm of fresh oxygen flooded his blood and his mind, giving him peace and taking him back to his long hours on the job as an officer alongside his men.
He suddenly looked up, noticing his father's surprise as Harald studied the boy's features, anticipating an ensuing argument.
Nodding once at his father, Ragnar turned to congratulate Thorkell, who also stood in shock at the composed expression of Ragnar, "If I may humbly ask, father. Why have you given Thorkell the position of Marshal when it was I who devised the successful plan that saved hundreds of our men's lives and brought our family victory?"
Harald's eyes became vacant as he thought of a valid explanation that wouldn't hurt the feelings of either son.
Struggling between saying the truth and a watered-down version, Harald sighed as he steeled his eyes, ready for what was next to come, "Because the gods have spoken, you are destined for greater things, Ragnar."
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My destiny has spoken as well XD
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