𝑨𝒓𝒅𝒊𝒕𝒉 | ✔️

6 | Under-Siege

Summer, 5th June 864 AD - Night

I wandered through the village, lost in my own thoughts.
The moon illuminated the velvet night sky, accompanied by its countless shimmering companions. Both the stars and moon provided a beacon of hope through the dark for the lost and weary travellers.

Families huddled around the warmth of the fire inside their cabin homes, exchanging conversations about their daily adventures.

In my hands, the sword Fletcher had given her, shone against the glistening moonlight. I found it surprisingly lightweight, and felt its cool metallic touch brushed against my skin.
Beautiful and strong, the long sword had gathered some glorious scars over the years. The edges were blunt, and they were in desperate need to be sharpened.

I wonder how long the sword had lasted in mighty battles. More importantly, I wonder how such a prized artefact had fallen in the hands of merchants. Surely the deceased owner's family thought this weapon was worth a valuable price.

Tonight, sentries patrolled the town's square. Torches clasped in their hand, spears held firmly in the other. They gave respectful nods as I walked past.

Usually sentries patrolled around this time in case East Anglia encountered any unexpected attacks or intruders trespassing. The town might be secure with its superior defences, but the people remained weary and vigilant. That was why the king made sure his army of Valiants were well-equipped and ready for anything.

I ambled down a cobblestone path, lined with stalls and stores currently closed for the night. It was a narrow, winding road which led towards the docks down below. From here, the scent of the salty sea filled my nostrils. My boots squelched against the muddy puddles that stained the soles.

Living in a place where the ground was mushy, East Anglia was prone to receiving constant rain, especially during the spring and summer seasons. During this time of year, it would rain every day, leaving around muddy puddles and people having to wait endlessly for their clothes to dry.
It was unbearable; but enduring so much rain was a trivial matter when there were far more serious situations. Like trying to fend off incoming Viking attacks.

When I reached the blacksmith's shop, I peered through the window, searching for signs of Bradwin anywhere. Inside, I could make out weapons and tools cluttered over the floor. The mess reminded me of a wild animal that had gone on a rampage. Yet, the blacksmith wasn't in sight.

Could he already be closed around this time? Maybe I should come back tomorrow morning.
Still, I couldn't help but have this lingering feeling something was wrong. So I rapped on the window.

"Hello? Anybody there? Bradwin? Are you still open? I was wondering if you could mend something for me."

Silence.

Odd. Usually when Bradwin closes for the night, he wouldn't leave all his belongings all over the place. He was an organised man who made sure all the weapons and tools were stowed back in their racks and shelves.
Seeing the disarray of items made me question whether this wasn't a typical behavior of his.

I came around the backdoor. I clutched my hand around the brass handle, pushing it downwards. To my surprise, the door swung open.
When I stepped inside, I could see the fire still going; giving sufficient light in the darkened store. The flames were still enough to help me navigate through the darkness. I passed one of Bradwin's benches, seeing a bow with a broken string. I picked up the bow, inspecting it closely.
Hmm, it must be one of the locals needing it repaired.

Tucked in the corner, hidden behind a mess of hay and scrap metal, was a round wooden shield crafted from pine with an iron disc in the centre. Painted around the shield was a golden bird; a symbol of courage and strength for the people of East Anglia. Intricate symmetrical designs adorned around its wooden surface.