The rustling of the wind stirred Toure from his sleep, a familiar sound from his childhood in the Savannah. He opened his eyes to find the window open, the cool breeze sweeping through the room, grabbing his sun-kissed cloak, admiring the edges of smooth, silk blue, and draped it over his shoulders.

A servant's knock at the door interrupted his contemplation. "Your majesty, your gift has arrived," the young servant stated, with a formal bow.

"Good. Bring the English woman here."

"Of course, your majesty," the servant replied, the sound of his footsteps echoing like a death knell in the silence that followed. Toure slowly approached the window, the weight of the world heavy on his shoulders. With a deep sigh that seemed to come from the depths of his soul, he looked out at the province he called home - Paris, the city of love. But what good is love in a world so full of pain?

The houses were a far cry from his towering castle that dominated the city, and they made him feel disgusted. The roofs, made of hay, gave off an unpleasant odor that reminded him of his own humble beginnings.The bustling sounds of the city were a stark contrast to the quiet of his chambers. Above, grayish clouds filled the sky, but the dim lights of the city proved that life persisted.

"Not quite," he murmured.

The tranquility of Toure's chambers were broken by the abrupt sound of the door being flung open. "What is it?!" Jeanne cried out, her hand still grasping the door handle. The guard who had been dismissed earlier stood before her, his face twisted in terror.

Toure's eyes were drawn to the box sitting on the ground beside her - it was covered in a white sheet. "I've found something for us to enjoy," he said, gesturing to the mysterious package.

**********

Gwynedd

"We're here." John pointed to the village from atop a nearby hill, a behemoth of a mountain behind them, the cloudy sky reflecting himself. "Vikings, eh?... I don't see any?" Godfrey pointed out, nothing but the explicit ashes of hell laid over the village, like a blanket.

Cold with anger, "Then shall we hurry?" John responded. Deciding to speed up, the group hopped on their horses and rushed down the hill, into the forest. The trees blocked the sunlight, the biggest light source coming from the exit, which is the entrance into John's village. Taking only a couple of minutes, they had arrived before the village, tying their horses on the branches of the trees.

As John stepped onto the parched grass, guilt consumed him like a suffocating fog, causing his legs to nearly give way. Constance's innocent question cut through the heavy silence, "Where is Sir Adam?" John surveyed the dilapidated houses, each one bearing scars of a troubled past, the village forever marked by darkness. Even as he put on a brave face, Constance's cold sweat betrayed his fear.

"Pinch your nose, Constance," Godfrey warned him. Although confused, Constance obliged and gave a nod, peeking around the corner of the house in front of everybody. His eyes widened as did his mouth, a grueling sight before him.

The stench crawled through everyone's hands, their focus distracted by the rows of wooden crosses, the villager's bodies pinned to them. A crucifixion of the entire village.

Blood, like a dark vintage wine, dripped from their lifeless mouths as they hung like grotesque scarecrows, their bodies abandoned to the birds. The light that had once shone in John's eyes was gone, replaced by the bleakness of despair. Across the graveyard he walked, his steps heavy with sorrow, while Constance searched the ruined houses for any sign of his mentor. Alice, her voice soft as a whisper, began to recite a mournful prayer.

John waded through the thick, sticky mud, wishing he could sink into it and disappear.

Finally, he arrived at the last standing cross. A woman who had done no wrong, but had been taken from him nonetheless. "Mother?" His voice barely above a whisper as he knelt, the mud caking his clothes and skin. It felt like so long ago since he had spoken to her, let alone hugged her. He couldn't remember the last time he had said "I love you."

His lips moved soundlessly as he struggled to form the words he had been longing to say for so long. As he tried to stand, his knees felt like they were rooted in the mud, a physical manifestation of his emotional pain.

His eyes, windows to a soul now lost, reflected emptiness. The call of his own demise, once feared, now held a sweet lullaby-like quality. Death's siren song brought calm to his tumultuous mind. All he had were his anguished sobs, a pitiful symphony accompanying the final moments of his people.

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Constance wandered through the remaining houses, his fingers delicately tracing over the remaining wooden walls. "What the hell..." he muttered, unable to believe the destruction that surrounded him.

In an instant, a deep groan emanated from the room next to him, causing Constance to jump in surprise. Slowly, he approached the door and opened it.

"Sir Adam!"

As Constance hurriedly knelt down beside him, he could see the pain etched on Sir Adam's face, his voice barely above a whisper as he managed to utter a single word, "Raiders..." Constance's heart sank at the ominous sign.

The ruthless marauders had been ransacking villages and towns, leaving a trail of devastation in their wake, and now they were knocking on their door.

"When did they leave?!" Constance looked at Adam. "Ah, what're you thinking, Constance. Let's just focus on getting you out of here Sir, Adam" Constance said urgently, helping his knight to his feet, cutting the rope his hands were tied to.

The air was thick with the stench of smoke and the sound of crackling flames as they made their way out of the ruined house, each step punctuated by the creaking of splintered wood.

The group, excluding John, had been strolling the outskirts of the village when they stumbled upon the devastating scene. Astonished, Alice devoted most of her time to prayer. Marie, on the other hand, turned to Godfrey, seeking his thoughts on why the Vikings would have destroyed such a seemingly unremarkable village.

Godfrey pondered the situation, feeling that something about this particular attack was off. When Alice proposed they return to check on John, Godfrey suggested she go alone, as he had a premonition that it was best not to disturb him.

Alice agreed to head back to the village and check on John, leaving Marie to observe Godfrey's behavior. She watched as he examined the area with growing suspicion, his calm demeanor replaced by one of alertness.

Marie couldn't help but wonder if her earlier questions had caused this sudden change in his behavior. "What's wrong?" she asked, noticing the deep crease on his forehead. "Who's still here?" Godfrey remained silent, his focus solely on a set of footprints in the dirt. Marie couldn't shake the feeling that something wasn't right, and she anxiously waited for Godfrey to explain himself.

"Someone's still here."

Marie's heart skipped a beat at Godfrey's words. She had been feeling uneasy ever since they arrived at the village, and now, his confirmation only intensified her fear. She glanced at the footprints on the ground, trying to decipher their origin. "Who do you think it could be?" she asked, her voice trembling slightly.

Godfrey shook his head, his eyes still fixed on the tracks. "It's hard to say. It's more than likely a Viking, but we can't take any chances," he replied, his voice firm and resolute. Marie nodded, understanding the gravity of the situation. They needed to be cautious, especially with John and Constance still in the village.

"Did Adam teach you how to track?"

"Sorta."

"Then you should be able to decipher this, right?" Marie nodded. "The front is the most noticeable part, yet there is a sort of lump at the back. So?"

Marie crouched next to him, taking only a second before giving her response. "They were running. Must've been in a hurry. If they were in a hurry then…"

"Correct, the person probably saw us and left. And if they left, then I think we can assume what type of person they are."

"A Viking."

***********

As soon as Alice found John, she could sense the anger and fury radiating off of him. "We need to go," she said firmly, taking his arm and trying to pull him away from the village. John's grip tightened on his weapon as he muttered about revenge, but Alice remained resolute in her determination to get them out of harm's way.

While dragging him, they encountered Constance who was aiding Adam in mounting his horse. "John?" Adam groaned in agony, clutching his stomach. John remained silent, his mud-smeared face making it difficult to discern his expression. Yet, one thing was certain; John continued to murmur.

With great effort, Constance lifted Adam onto the horse, ensuring he was securely seated. As Adam caught sight of John, his already grim expression grew darker, and he opened his mouth to speak. However, Constance was resolute in his mission to escort Adam out of Wales and back to their country, "let us leave, sir!" He rushed.

And before he could muster something up, his horse began to follow Constance' horse. "We too must leave." Alice said. John nodded his head in agreement, lazily mounting his horse.

While preparing to follow Constance and Adam, the two were startled by a deafening scream emanating from behind them.

********

Five minutes earlier

"I just can't make sense of it." Godfrey scratched his head. "This guys good at covering his tracks."

"Is it possible for him to be sloppy?"

"What do you mean?"

"Did we not find his tracks back there? What if he intended for us to find it?" She suggested, her face back to looking apathetic.

"A…trap?

TAP!

He was suddenly disrupted by the sound of rain, along with the accompanying flashes of lightning and claps of thunder.

"Must this happen now of all times?" Godfrey grew annoyed. Marie on the other hand simply put her hand out, feeling the rain.

Although Godfrey wanted to follow the tracks, fate would have it that they would come to him.

SNAP!

Godfrey jumped at the sound, a figure emerging from the shadows of the forest. With every step he took, the man's hair and beard grew longer, and their colors became more pronounced, evoking the hues of Autumn.

The man swung his ax over his shoulders, an unknown emblem embedded in the cheek of it.

"It's been a while, Godfrey."

Taking a moment to respond, Godfrey took his sword out of its sheath, aiming it at the man.

"BJØØØRNE!!!!!"