Sword and Spice (Askeladd x OC)(Vinland Saga)

3. (Apr 1002) It begins

A warship loomed on the horizon, swiftly igniting a flurry of whispers throughout the settlement, drawing a crowd to the shore in little time.

As the warship drew closer, Leif joined me by the shore where I stood talking to a young woman who wanted to get the recipe of the dinner I made for her and her family last night.

Having spent the past three month in Iceland, I opted not to intrude further on Thors and his family after they invited me into their home the first two days, and instead found hospitality with Leif and his crew. Despite Leif's occasional eccentricities and childlike demeanor, he proved to be a kind and welcoming evening host, despite the home we stayed at wasn't his home, but one that was very welcoming to Leif and his crew when he visited.

Apparently, Leif owned a farm on Greenland. A home he visited once in the last month, but he declined my request to accompany him, citing outdated notions that women didn't belong on ships, the sexist bastard.

But when evenings came, they were filled with captivating storytelling sessions that often extended into the early hours of the morning, each vying to outshine the other with our storytelling prowess like little girls at a sleepover. That alone made me like him, regardless of his period-typical sexism

Despite his persistent reminders of my imminent return home, Leif and the other villagers remained adamant that I, a mere youth, should hightail it back to my family nest, as Leif likes to put it, especially since I was just a mere girl. I played the part of the attentive listener, nodding along to their well-meaning advice, yet secretly reveling in the amusement of my true age, which rivaled that of most in the village.

Not that I acted my age, but not everyone was perfect...

After all, in that age, most didn't live past the age of fifty. And everyone aged at warp speed, making a forty-year-old resemble a seasoned sage of sixty. Time wasn't just a passage; it was a sprint towards the inevitable gray-haired embrace of old age.

I needed to start moisturizing...

With that said, Leif and I had grown closer over this last month. But I couldn't shake the suspicion that he regarded me as a surrogate daughter, a notion that tickled me more than troubled me. It was endearing at the very least.

And I...enjoyed his company greatly. He was refreshing...if a bit sexist about a woman's role in society.

"What's your take on this, Leif?" I asked, trusting Leif's experience.

"Nothing good. That's for certain," he responded solemnly, his brown eyes fixed on the approaching warship with unwavering focus.

As the impending arrival of the warship drew nearer at breakneck speed, a sudden pang of unease washed over me like a tsunami crashing against the shores of my consciousness. Something was amiss, a discordant note in the symphony of anticipation.

I found myself inexplicably compelled to conceal my presence, as peculiar as that compulsion may have sounded. It was akin to the mysterious force that drew me to Iceland, now tugging at me to hide myself. Well, not entirely myself, but rather, my appearance.

This peculiar urge had only struck me once before, prompting the creation of the infamous shrub poncho that everyone was very interested in knowing how I had created it after the excitement of my arrival had died down.

"I should...I'll be right back," I muttered, turning away toward the house nearest the shore that had all my things. Leif didn't say anything as I left, too focused on the oncoming warship.

A warship?! Were they Vikings? But...this was a free Norse settlement, and it was too soon for the Danish crown to claim Iceland's dependency on them. So, what was their purpose?