Tove | A Viking Tale

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The Gods are taunting me.

They taunt me by bringing me this close to The Oathbreaker then they plant the evil seeds of doubt.

With Leif returned, if it is indeed true, he will return with intentions to take his place as Jarl of Ormensthrope. With Leif on the throne he would grant me a Holmgang --unlike his father Jorgensen-- My family's honor restored. But on the sliver of a chance, he doesn't approve it and I leave Kivickstead without the head of The Oathbreaker everything I've done within these last two months will be for not.

If I continue with my plan and end Ivan's life tonight and die in the process -- which is likely -- I'd be dooming the lives of many in Ormensthrope.

The people of Ormensthrope need to know what the Bear Clan is planning.

I remain stoic battling out an internal war as the people of Kivickstead continue to indulge in their food and drink.

I want nothing more than to end The Oathbreaker. It is my duty to kill him.

But the people of Ormensthrope are also my duty. They took me in. Raised me as one of their own after my father and village were slaughtered.

All this weighs heavily on whispers of Leif returning. If they are only whispers and he truly has not returned and I go back I won't get this close again. Our borders will be tighter and we will all be preparing for the pending attack from The Bear Clan, from Ivan The Cruel.

No, I mustn't waver.

I mustn't let the fractured sounds of a whisper have an effect on what is my fate. The Oathbreaker is mine.

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Once the longhouse is filled with good and piss drunk Vikings I take my leave knowing I'd have not only the shadows to work with but also the hazy fog of ale-eyes on my enemies.

Weaving through the crowded longhouse of drunk or sleeping people I slip out, unnoticed. The harsh icy air prompts me to draw my wool hood up over my head and a slam beside me catches my attention. A man and woman, unfazed by the cold are tangled together against the timber wall of the longhouse. Her skirts are drawn up, exposing the pale flesh of her thigh as the man thrusts into her eliciting a sound from her lips felt deep in my gut.

They don't notice me, so I continue onward, stepping over another man face down in the snow beside a discolored pile of vomit.

The elevated lookout points lit by a fire-torch are in the distance. They are manned by an archer each, and these archers won't have ale in their veins clouding their sharp vision.

So, that is my target. The archer in the elevated tower near the north side of the longhouse. It will be my guaranteed escape after I've killed the Oathbreaker.

I reach my first hidden weapons cache. Using the thick foliage of a pine tree as cover from the watchful eyes above I begin to dig, taking a moment to warm my freezing hands with a steady deep breath.

Crouched I pull the leather bag from the snow and dust it off then reach inside withdrawing a seax (knife).

A pleased grin pulls at my lips and before I get lost in my fantasies I remove the cloak and pull off the bulky hangerok (dress) and stuff the material into the bag. Killing takes precision and wearing a ridiculous hangerok will only get in the way.

My thick fur-lined trousers and tunic will keep me warm enough until I take what I need from the archer in the Northside tower. Returning my cloak to my shoulders I draw up the hood and conceal the seax between my arm and body.