Blood dripped onto the grass, and heavy panting sounds echoed. Ulfric swallowed, his mouth as dry as the Sahara Desert; this was a purely instinctive action, and it seemed as if a blood-red veil hung before his eyes.
"You're bleeding from your forehead." Angr glanced at Ulfric, handing him a piece of linen cloth from her waist for him to wipe the wound on his head.
"All of them are dead." Ulfric took the linen, pressing it against the wound on his head. The stinging sensation made him frown. He looked around; the bodies of the norse warriorss lay on the ground, most of them bearing axe marks.
"As expected of the woman I favor." Vargarr leaned against a large tree, covering his wound with his hand, and said with a loud laugh. But Ulfric could already tell that he was at the end of his rope.
Ulfric walked over, casually untying the belt of a dead norse warriors, and came before Vargarr, pressing his hand on Vargarr's leg. This made the Viking warrior cry out in pain, grimacing and cursing loudly.
"Damn slave, are you trying to torture me to death?" Vargarr angrily swung a punch at Ulfric, but due to excessive bleeding, his fist was weak and powerless.
"If you don't stop the bleeding, you'll probably die." Ulfric tightly bound Vargarr's thigh with the belt, stopping the continuously flowing blood.
"Well done, but we still have a way to go." Angr, who was beside them, re-sheathed her axe at her waist. She walked towards Grünn, who was still squirming on the ground. Grünn had by now crawled to a pile of bushes, a completely futile effort, but the instinct for survival drove him to crawl, leaving a crimson trail of blood on the ground.
"What are you going to do?" Ulfric asked Angr curiously.
"Take him with us." Angr stepped forward and grabbed Grünn's collar, trying to pull him up, but the obese Grünn was panting, his heavy body impossible to lift.
"Oh, wu." Grünn let out a muffled groan of pain.
"What a fat pig." Angr spat at him, reluctantly giving up on pulling him up.
"You support Vargarr, and I'll figure something out." Ulfric seemed to understand Angr's idea. They had to bring back a prisoner, otherwise, they couldn't explain why they had killed the Lord's subordinates in the Black Forest.
In the Black Forest, the four of them walked through the dense woods. Angr wielded her axe, chopping at the bushes in front of them to clear a path. Vargarr, using a stick as a crutch, limped along behind. Ulfric stripped the clothes from the dead norse warriorss, tied them into knots, and made a makeshift stretcher, placing Grünn on it and dragging him along. Although the rough terrain caused Grünn considerable pain, Ulfric told him that if he were left in the forest like this, wild beasts would soon find him by the scent of blood. So Grünn dared not make a sound.
"They're back!" At the forest's edge, many people had already dispersed, as not everyone could leisurely gather there; the Vikings' lives were not that idle yet. However, there were a few who particularly enjoyed a good spectacle. When they saw Vargarr limping out with his stick, they immediately shouted loudly.
"No, why are they dragging injured people? They are injured!" Someone else noticed Ulfric dragging the injured Grünn and immediately shouted loudly, and some people came forward to help Ulfric. They thought Ulfric and the others had been attacked by beasts or bandits.
"We need to see the Lord!" Vargarr, however, roughly pushed away the people crowding around them and shouted to the others.
Inside the Lord's Residence, Hrofr the Heartbreaker sat majestically on his chair. Before him, several Norse farmers were complaining about something.
"My Lord, the weather is too cold. This year's barley harvest has completely failed. If we don't find a solution before winter, we will all starve to death." Norse farmers were freemen; they cultivated the land allotted by the Lord and, besides paying tribute, kept enough food for their families to survive the winter. But recently, dry, cold air had suddenly arrived, causing all the crops to die.
"We beg you to waive this tribute." Another, older farmer respectfully said to Hrofr.
"You must deliver the remaining tribute before winter arrives, otherwise, you know the consequences." But Hrofr mercilessly rejected the farmers' request. He needed this tribute to feed his guards and his entire family.
"This isn't fair! Are you forcing us to leave?" The young farmer said indignantly. They toiled hard but received no benefit, while the Lord could enjoy the fruits of their labor. This made some people begin to doubt Hrofr's authority.
"What did you say? Say it again." Hrofr's eyes turned cold. He stood up, casually picked up his Viking iron sword, and advanced step by step towards the young farmer.
"Quickly apologize to the Lord! You're just being misled by Loki." The other farmers quickly said to their companion.
"I'm speaking the truth. Some rumors say the Lord has lost his former ambition; he cannot bring us food or wealth." But the young farmer seemed to have made up his mind. He loudly declared to the others in the hall.
"Gods, how dare he say that!"
"Tsk tsk." Most of the people in the hall were female slaves and Hrofr's subordinates. They dared not defy Hrofr's authority, but privately, they often grumbled. Hrofr, once a Viking warrior, now seemed keen on lingering in women's beds, completely devoid of the adventurous Viking spirit.
"Hmph." Hrofr's gaze swept across the hall. From the people's eyes, he seemed to discern their thoughts. Such thoughts were very dangerous; if people believed he was weak, his authority might be jeopardized.
"My Lord, please forgive him." The older farmer quickly pleaded, but Hrofr paid no heed. He swung his iron sword and struck the young farmer hard in the chest. As the man turned in pain, trying to flee, Hrofr lifted his foot and kicked him flying to the ground.
"Oh, ah." The young, stubborn farmer finally realized the horror of the situation. He crawled a short distance on the ground, attempting to stand up, but Hrofr had already stepped forward, drawing his sword. With a crisp sound, the sharp iron sword slid from its sheath. The blade was engraved with intricate patterns and nyiru runes, and the hilt was inlaid with turquoise.
"Pfft." Hrofr deftly swung his sword. The young farmer's head was severed, rolling a few times on the ground. Blood gushed from the neck, and the headless body fell to the ground, convulsing violently.
"Ugh." The scent of blood instantly filled the entire hall. The female slave Heide couldn't help but cover her mouth and nose, turning her face away.
"No one can disrespect my authority." Hrofr raised his blood-stained iron sword, looking at everyone in the hall and proclaiming loudly to them.
Under this bloody display, everyone lowered their heads. Several subordinates came forward to carry away the body, while the female slaves brought wooden buckets and used brushes and water to clean the bloodstains on the floor.
Just then, Hrofr heard a commotion outside and couldn't help but frown. Things seemed unusually busy today. Vargarr, Angr, and Ulfric entered together, bringing the injured Grünn, followed by a crowd of Norsemen eager to watch the spectacle.
"What happened?" Hrofr inserted his sword into its sheath, adjusted his bearskin cloak, and asked Vargarr and the others.
"Ah." Vargarr said nothing more, pushing the injured Grünn forward. The slave overseer, whose back had been slashed, now collapsed to the ground, his face pale and lifeless.
"Hmm?" Hrofr was very surprised. He hadn't expected his slave overseer to clash with the Viking warrior Vargarr.
"Esteemed Lord, your slave overseer ambushed me with his men in the Black Forest. If not for the help of these two, I would surely be dead. What is going on?" Vargarr said, his face serious, staring at Hrofr.
"Is that true?" Hrofr's brows furrowed. Grünn hadn't told him anything before acting, so this was the first he'd heard of it. He stepped forward, turning Grünn over with his foot. But the wound on Grünn's back made him scream in agony, and he actually fainted.
Hrofr paid no attention. He waved his hand, and a subordinate brought a bucket of water and poured it over Grünn's head. The cold water immediately revived Grünn.
"Oh, oh, where am I? Gods above, I saw the Goddess of the Underworld!" Grünn, like a drowned rat, shouted and yelled in the hall. This pathetic sight made everyone else burst into laughter.
"Grünn, tell me the truth, or I will personally send you to meet the Goddess of the Underworld." Hrofr said to Grünn.
"Lord, my Lord, save me! They want to harm me!" The moment he saw Hrofr, Grünn immediately understood. He instantly rushed forward, hugging Hrofr's leg, and desperately shouted loudly.
"What?!" Hearing Grünn's words almost made Vargarr's nose twist out of shape. He stepped forward, wanting to kill this vile liar, but Ulfric reached out and stopped him.
"Let him finish." Ulfric's eyes signaled Vargarr to calm down. If he were to act in front of the Lord now, whether justified or not, it could displease Hrofr. Moreover, judging by the fresh bloodstains on the ground, the Lord's mood today seemed particularly foul.
"Hmph." Vargarr snorted, no longer advancing. He simply watched Grünn, who was hugging Hrofr, with cold eyes.