A few weeks after the return of the Fri, AudOlafsson arrived in Fristad. Oskar’s convoy was just as heavily armed as the annual trading caravan of the Fri, but it was far more uniform. There was no individualistic assembly of looted pieces. Every soldier was dressed in similarly designed armour and helmet. They were sorted into rows based on their weapon of choice. Each soldier was carried by a strong, war trained steed. There were two different breeds. One was sturdy and one was lean. The few dozen leaner horses carried archers and standard-bearers. Barely a cart was in the mix, but there were many pack animals instead. It made the group quick and mobile, but severely restricted their opportunities for commerce.
When the troop rode into Fristad, the inhabitants stopped to look, but it was not a festive reception. The apprehension towards the strangers was tangible. The arriving soldiers glanced around in a mix of curiously and worry as well, but always made sure to stay in formation.
Sylvia joined the sisters at the army stables to welcome their allies. Oskar’s soldiers lined up in the square, each rider staying in their saddle. The standard-bearers presented the AudOlafsson flag.
“Pompous”, Yri hissed under her breath.
“Kingly”, Kaija jested.
Yri masked her laugh with a cough.
Oskar dismounted along with his four guards and approached the sisters. Meeting Una’s eyes, Thorun nodded at her, and Una returned the gesture. Ida nudged her sister teasingly, but Una did not let it bother her.
Oskar bowed his head. “Thorun. Yri. Sylvia. Kvist—”
Thorun groaned. “By Gaia, just get it over with. Oskar. Guards. Who cares? Horses in the stables. Men and women in the inn at the end of the central road. Get a move on.”
Taken aback, Oskar stilled. Yri chuckled to herself and Sylvia clasped a hand over her mouth to stifle a laugh.
“Very well. Let us skip formalities”, Oskar agreed awkwardly.
Tone stiffly turned about and passed the orders on in a shout. The Nordborg soldiers were housed at the Harbour Inn, as well as two nearby establishments which had been cleared out for their benefit. Bread was broken in the downstairs hall. Much beer was consumed and stories were swapped. Weary after the last party at the inn, Sylvia retreated to the library before long. Reaching the square, she noticed Theodorus still standing by the stables. A handful of children had gathered around him.
“Having difficulties finding your way?”, Sylvia asked.
“Not at all. Just entertaining the adoring masses.”
“What happened with the demon?”, a boy urged impatiently.
“Oh. It crept toward me”, Theodorus said ominously. He flexed his fingers toward the children. “For every step it took, its gaze became more painful. It burrowed itself into my eyes, prying me open from within with its magic.” He paused for dramatic effect.
One of the children shied back a step, looking concerned.
“I knew there was only one way to escape. I had to rid myself of the very thing the demon was using against me. My eyes. I took my knife, and…” Theodorus pulled a dagger from under his cloak and hovered it over his mask demonstratively.
Several of the children ran away.
“You are being grotesque”, Sylvia scolded.
Theodorus dropped the act, relaxing his arms, and Sylvia could feel the searching tingle of his gaze on her again.
“What then?”, the impatient boy insisted.
“I gorged my eyes out. It was the only way to stay sane”, Theodorus shrugged.
“Eow!”, the boy called.
Theodorus merely chuckled.
Sylvia frowned at him in disapproval. She shook her head and walked into the library.
Following her through the door, Theodorus returned his dagger to its sheath. “You do not like stories?”
“I like them just fine, but I do not think children need to hear about such violence. Besides, demons do not creep, or move in any way. They are crystals, just as any ordinary god.”
“How do you know?”, Theodorus challenged.
Sylvia stepped behind the counter and looked back at him. “Did you need something?”
Theodorus did not answer. “Where is your sworn?”, he asked instead.
“The inn.”
“I thought Fri never go anywhere without their sworn.”
“You thought wrong”, Sylvia stated.
“Clearly.”
Theodorus went quiet. He did not make a move. He was just standing in front of the door and watching Sylvia with an eerie intensity. Sylvia felt drawn to him again, coaxed by his very presence. His attention was heavy, weighing her down like a thick blanket.
“You are staring again.”
“How would you know?”, Theodorus challenged anew.
“I doubt you are browsing the library”, Sylvia jabbed back.
Smirking, Theodorus walked up to the counter. He braced his elbows on it and leaned toward Sylvia. “You are a peculiar one, Fri. Tell me, what is it that drives you?”
“What drives me?”, Sylvia repeated. She thought about it for a moment. “Curiosity, most of the time.”
“And the rest of the time?”, Theodorus prodded.
“Lately, mostly anger”, Sylvia admitted.
Theodorus nodded. “That seems sensible enough, all things considered.”
The sound of a door opening emitted from further in the building and Theodorus’s focus left Sylvia. It wandered beyond her, exploring the labyrinth of books and paperwork. Sylvia tried to follow it with her attention, but it was slippery.
Dana appeared among the shelves. “A customer?”
“I think I got what I needed”, Theodorus smiled. “Do not let me distract you from your curiosity and anger”, he added teasingly before leaving the library.
“A peculiar looking fellow. Is he one of the Nordborg soldiers?”, Dana asked.
Sylvia nodded. “Yea. Theodorus. Close to Oskar, I believe.”
“Hm. Already making connections, I see”, Dana remarked approvingly.
Sylvia was not sure what exactly she was doing with Theodorus, except exchanging accusations and cryptic commentary. Maybe she was indeed connecting to this odd man. She was certainly investigating him, and it seemed he was doing the same with her.
Sylvia got another chance to make observations the very next day. Sparing matches between the Fri and the Nordborg soldiers were organised in the training grounds. Thorun made a point of using the bonding exercise to test her allies. She called forth her best and strongest, and encouraged Oskar to do the same. Balder faced Ida in an archery competition and had to bow to the younger newcomer. Kaija fared a little better against Una. Armed with training swords, Theodorus was sent forward to challenge Kvist. He got a few quick points before Kvist realised what his strategy was and became more proactive. She swung wide and lunged boldly, keeping the agile man at a distance. Between the two persistent fighters, there was no end in sight. Yri eventually called the match off and Kvist hastily left the grounds.
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“Is she alright?”, Theodorus worried.
“She will be”, Yri nodded. “Your little dance did no harm.”
“Is that so?”, Theodorus mumbled. He glanced in the general direction in which Kvist had disappeared.
Sylvia found that she could pinpoint the moment where Kvist left his mind and his focus returned to the people in his immediate surroundings. She frowned to herself. There was definitely something very strange about this man. His soul was incredibly reactive, yet his body was still. He observed without looking. Maybe he really had gouged his eyes out. Perhaps he had developed a sharper soul sense to compensate. That did not explain why she could feel him so clearly, though. She barely even knew him.
“Enough warm up”, Thorun determined. Grabbing two practice swords, she strode into the middle of the training grounds with slow and deliberate steps. Hooting and chatter erupted around her.
Oskar saw the challenge in Thorun's approach and reached for sword and shield of his own. Tone hurried over to check on his armour, making sure it sat properly. He paid special attention to the helmet. He stood right in front of Oskar while he adjusted the tight fit. They exchanged a few words, too quiet for anyone else to hear. Tone offered a smile and Oskar merely nodded. Determination shone in his eyes. Pushing the visor down, Tone left his side.
Thorun did not bother with any special preparations. Beyond her leather, chainmail, and the sturdy breast plate she always wore on the road, she used an open helmet which she had strapped tight under her chin. She stepped up to Oskar and cocked her head in challenge.
“It is an honour to cross swords with you, Fri”, Oskar said.
“Give it your best, Little Prince.”
Flexing his fingers, Oskar steadied his sword and brought his shield up. Thorun did not move a muscle. She stood with her arms hanging lazily at her sides. Oskar circled her slowly, drawing ever closer. First when he was within striking distance, did Thorun finally move. Sliding one foot forward, she thrust her right sword toward him. Oskar moved his shield up just in time to deflect. He made a strike of his own, aiming his weapon at Thorun's outstretched arm. His sword met the blade of her defending sword with a loud whack. With another slide of her foot and a small hop, Thorun stood out of his reach again. Both her swords were now raised at shoulder height, tipped slightly toward each other, but never touching.
Oskar made the next attempt. He shoved forward and swung for Thorun’s head. Ducking, Thorun slashed for Oskar’s feet. Her swords merely chimed against his armour. Slinking backward, she came to her previous stance once more. Evading another swing, she aimed for his arm next. Her sword again slid off Oskar’s armour.
Impatient, Oskar charged. He moved with surprising speed and pummelled Thorun with the breadth of his shield. He struck her shoulder before she could back away. The attack caused Thorun to drop one sword. Stepping over it, Oskar pushed on. He pushed until Thorun turned to her side and disappeared from view. She landed right by his side and let her left sword meet his armour again. Swiftly picking her second weapon up off the ground, she took two rapid steps back and stood ready.
Repeating his successful strategy, Oskar threw his entire weight behind the shield. He pushed Thorun backward and swung for her hands to disarm her. Sure enough, he managed to force her defending sword onto the ground. This time, he did not let Thorun round him. He kept pushing and swung again. Now he aimed for her head. Thorun brought her right sword up at an awkward angle to defend. She forced his sword down. Gathering all the strength he could muster, Oskar continued his assault. He bashed his shield against Thorun again and swung his sword around over his head to bear down on her remaining weapon a second time. He knocked it out of her hand, disarming her entirely.
Thorun staggered back. Falling, she rolled backwards through the dirt and back onto her feet. She was swift as a cat despite the heavy breastplate and chainmail. Oskar made sure he stood between her and her weaponry. He gave a triumphant huff. Seeing Thorun slouch before him, he lowered his shield and lifted his head. A smile spread over his face. He had defeated Thorun Fri, the Thorun Fri. Pride ran up his spine, making him feel twice as tall.
When Thorun suddenly lunged at him, he brought his shield up just in time to absorb the shock of her body slamming into him. Before he knew it, he was falling backwards. His sword arm was locked in Thorun’s firm grip. The crash of metal rung in his ears when he met the ground. Thorun landing on top of him knocked the air out of him. Gasping, he tried to pull his shield up further only to find Thorun had poked something slender through the slits of his visor. A blunt training dagger was pressed against his nose. Thorun’s eyes were fixed on his with fiery intensity. Oskar did not doubt for a second that she could have taken his nose off or removed an eye even with this blunt instrument if she had felt the urge.
“I win”, Thorun declared.
Cheers roared up around them. People shouted and clapped, hooted in amusement, and discussed with wild enthusiasm, trying to pick apparat what they had just witnessed.
Taking a deep breath and exhaling hard, Thorun removed the blade from Oskar’s helmet. The sun seeped through his visor, blinding him momentarily. Reaching up, he pushed the visor out of his face. Thorun was still sitting on top of him, straddling his chest and holding his right arm in an iron grip. She peered at his elbow like she was still pondering whether to break it or not.
“You are good”, Oskar offered.
“And you are sloppy. Never think you have won a fight before you actually have”, Thorun scolded.
She climbed off Oskar and sheathed the training dagger. Taking her helmet off, she ran a palm over her forehead to catch some sweat. A small bruise was forming on her temple where Oskar’s shield had caught her, but among her scars it was barely of note.
“Come on, get up already. Walk it off.”
Oskar forced himself into an upright position. Ordinarily, he would have bowed to his sparring partner, but he had realised by now that Fri were no fans of formality. He pulled his helmet off as well. The applaud and calls roared up anew, giving him due credit for his part in the match. Holding his sword up, Oskar thanked them wordlessly and the crowd settled back into a murmur of discussion. Thorun also looked pleased with the reception of their little spectacle. She did not smile, exactly, but a smirk was tugging at her, asking to please be allowed onto her face.
“That was not a very traditional sparring match”, Oskar said in amusement.
Thorun scoffed. “Did I say spar like it is a dance? No. I said give it your best.” Pulling her belt down a little, she revealed a real dagger to him, sharp and true. “If this is your best, you are not going to last long, Little Prince”, she warned.
Oskar swallowed hard. “Noted.”
Thorun pointed at Tone. “You should train more with your guard. He seems to have a better grip on footwork.” Pointing at Theodorus next, she added, “And I am sure that one could teach you a thing or two about the dangers of daggers against heavy armour.”
“Very well. I will take that into consideration”, Oskar agreed.
“It fascinates me that someone can survive battle and still be this naive”, Thorun commented. “You have been in battle before, right?”
“Yes.”
Thorun frowned at him and shook her head before gathering her equipment and leaving the training grounds.
Oskar clenched his jaw. He glared after the rude woman. Tone came to his side and began untying the straps of his armour.
“She merely wants you to be better, to be ready”, Tone offered softly.
Oskar clicked his tongue.
“Yes”, Tone agreed. “She is right, though. I also think you could benefit form more diverse training. You are strong, but not agile. Both may count.”
“So you think I am sloppy?”, Oskar asked sharply.
“Frankly?”
“Great”, Oskar grumbled.
“I have a question”, Sylvia interrupted
“What is on your mind?”, Yri asked.
“Why do you think Thorun attacked his armour? She did it several times. It had to be intentional. But that is no way to win, is it?”
Yri chuckled. “Thorun merely showed him what she could do.”
Oskar sighed audibly. “Yea. I got the hint.”
While Yri took the opportunity to wind Oskar up further, Sylvia looked to Afi for more information.
“There is a gap between sabatons and greaves. As is there between vambrace and rerebrace, and between breast and back plate. Striking there can disable your opponent, if you get the angle right. A defective ankle can either break balance or render the opponent stationary. An arm disables weapon or shield. The side might kill you, or at the very least decrease your range of motion”, Afi elaborated, pointing at his shoulder and hip.
“Then why not take the strike? Why not angle in and win this way?”, Sylvia questioned.
“With a training sword?”, Afi challenged. “Hardly. You want something sharp to pierce the underlying leather and cut the flesh to make it stick.”
“So it was just teasing”, Sylvia concluded.
“Essentially”, Afi agreed. “Did you notice he never let her get close to the same spot twice?”
“It was educational”, Yri mocked.
“That it was”, Oskar agreed.
Yri clapped him on the shoulder. “You will get there, Little Prince.”
She paused long enough for Oskar to respond, but he did nothing of the sort. He merely forced a smile in answer.
“You stink. Let me show you the bathhouse. I think you will like it. It is Eshein design”, Yri said, and led the way.
Theodorus’s attention snapped to Yri at the mention of Eshein. He followed his liege out of the training grounds.
Sylvia frowned. Why was Theodorus’s curiousity so invasive? Sylvia eyed Afi. He was amused. The feeling nudged Sylvia softly, coaxing her to share in it, but it was gentle. She shook it off with ease, and then allowed it back again. Looking in the general direction that Theodorus had left, she hummed. “Afi? You can feel my emotions, right? Since the oath?”
Afi looked around shortly to make sure that they were alone before he answered something so personal. “To some extent, yes.”
“Have you ever experienced that with anyone else?”, Sylvia asked.
Afi averted his eyes. Pointedly staring at his feet, he made an uncomfortable noise.
“Not presence, chest to chest. I mean emotions specifically, without touching someone, without feeling their soul. Have you ever noticed someone staring without having to look at them? Or found that you know what they are focusing on?”
Afi thought for a moment and then shook his head. “Not that I can recall. Have you?”
“Yea. Recently.”
“Curious. Maybe it is a side effect of your casting. It would not surprise me if you are developing a stronger sense for all things magical, as much as you are practising lately”, Afi suggested.
Sylvia hummed again. “Maybe.”