Old Honor and Oaths
This time, the envoys from the truly spirited Dragon Horn Tribe showed up in the dead of night. And they wanted to form a marriage alliance with our tribe. But of course, they already knew it was next to impossible to make the engagement happen with me in the picture.
'They're aiming for your proud little brother just like now.'
'Tch, it's so damn pragmatic it pisses me off even more.'
I was, naturally, the next Yarl of the Bear Claw Tribe. Which meant the future of my third brother, Thumstone, had suddenly grown murky. Right on cue, the Dragon Horn Tribe came with a proposal that put them deeply in their debt.
Father knew the situation all too well and closed his eyes, deep in thought. But as expected, he was decisive!!
"We refuse."
"I-is that truly your decision, sir?"
"There's no need to rush the choice."
"No, it's not even worth considering."
Father chuckled softly, propping his chin on his hand.
"You think I can't read your intentions? It's all about that rune hammer anyway."
"But…."
"Enough. The tribe's future belongs to Ulfrik, so our third son deserves a free life."
Damn, that's my old man for you. Clean and straightforward. And with a wink, he handed the floor over to me.
Couldn't pass up a chance like this!!
Smoothly….
"Father's right. Honestly, this is what you really want, isn't it?"
"""!!!!"""
The moment I pulled out Mjolnir, every envoy's gaze locked onto me. These honest bastards would jump on the offer for sure!
"So let's keep it simple, Nord style!"
"D-DrengUlfrik, what in the world do you—"
Whoosh!! Thud!!!
"Cut the crap! Beat me in a duel, and Mjolnir's yours!!!"
The Long House fell deathly silent in an instant. Greed slowly filled the envoys' eyes. They double-checked just to be sure—these guys were easy to read.
"Those words… are they sincere?"
"Spilled water can't be—"
"Forget it! You, front row."
"M-me, sir?"
"Touch Mjolnir, and you'll get why I made this offer."
It was a chance to handle a treasure infused with the authority of the founding king. Risky, sure. But I guaranteed they wouldn't die touching the rune hammer, so after some hesitation, he grabbed it.
Zzzzap!!
"Kyahaaaaack!"
"See? Stealing Mjolnir like that is impossible. And besides!"
Whoosh! Thunk!
"…No matter how far you throw it, the rune hammer always returns to you, Lord Ulfrik."
"Good, you get it. So… what do you say?"
True Nords like us, they couldn't stomach the taunt of 'you scared?' Sure enough, a challenge came the very next day.
***
Ulfrik's declaration was a golden opportunity for the Dragon Horn Tribe. They just needed a moment to talk among themselves, and Ragnar coolly offered them lodging.
"Win the duel, and we legally claim the rune hammer!"
"Plus, we can test that arrogant heir's true skill and reputation."
"But it's a duel. One slip, and…."
"Enough."
The envoys' escort captain, Drick, began sharpening his weapon.
"One way or another, someone's got to do it."
"H-Huscarl sir, are you sure?"
"I've no honor left to lose anyway."
As the Yarl's elite guard—a Huscarl—his lord, the king and Yarl of the Dragon Horn Tribe, was already dead. What was the point of Drick lingering on? Better to reclaim some honor, or at least fulfill his old oath a little. With that, he stepped up.
The next day dawned. Drick calmly gathered his gear and challenged Ulfrik, who accepted without hesitation.
"Didn't expect you'd move this fast."
"No need to drag it out."
"Then follow me."
Word spread that Drick and Ulfrik would duel at the Training Ground, drawing every tribesman.
Woooaaahhh!!!
"………."
"Don't you think that's some serious kiheup too?"
"Can't deny that. No rune hammer, then?"
"You'd bitch about it."
"Fair point…."
Drick sighed at his tribe's pathetic antics, gripping shield and sword. Ulfrik hefted his favored twin axes. The warriors' duel began without a referee.
They circled, eyes locked. When Drick moved with rigid precision—like some knightly figure—Ulfrik smirked.
"What, you convert or something? Anyone'd think you're a knight."
"Rules. Without them, we're no better than beasts."
"True… but!!"
Thud!!!
Ulfrik stomped the ground, closing fast. Drick, anticipating it, wrapped his shield and weapon in mana. They clashed.
Cliiing!!!
"Our ancestors preferred this style!!"
"Ngh?!"
The impact shoved Drick back farther than expected. But as a battle-hardened veteran who'd honed his mana to the limit, he parried Ulfrik's axe swings.
Shield met axe, blade met axe—endlessly. The duel heated up, and the crowd roared.
Then Drick's foot twisted oddly mid-exchange. His shield dipped blocking an axe, and his sword struck like a serpent at Ulfrik's wrist.
The seasoned warrior's technique nearly severed Ulfrik's hand—but he twisted his axe, deflecting the blade.
──Crack!!
"Hngh!!"
"Close one!"
The ground split like firewood from the sheer force. The counter missed, but Ulfrik thrilled, his feral kiheup aura surging. Drick, sensing it, advanced boldly anyway. Ulfrik met him head-on.
Cliiing!!
Now empowered by kiheup, Ulfrik's axes hit harder. Drick's shield held, but his feet slid back.
His eyes burned undimmed.
"Hoo…."
As Drick caught his breath, he accelerated, sword thrusting like a spear—for Ulfrik's throat. One desperate gambit to turn the tide.
But his foe was more monstrous than feared.
Crunch!!
"Hahaha! Yes!! That's the skill I expect!"
"Berserk…!"
Drick's sword missed the neck but pierced Ulfrik's left chest. Yet he stood unfazed—and his axe crushed Drick's shoulder.
Crunch!!!
Cold iron bit deep. But Drick shrugged it off, bashing Ulfrik back with his shield. Their clashes painted the snow red.
***
A Huscarl was a Huscarl after all!! Way better than those empire knights. And maybe because I took that last hit on purpose?
The envoys, sweating bullets, gaped in horror. No more annoying assassins from them, that was sure.
No reason to tank hits now. Time to end it—I unleashed my full kiheup.
BOOM!!!!
"The rumors of his battle spirit were true!"
"Royal blood doesn't fade!"
They even knew about kiheup! Why didn't the royals use it? Baffling, but I focused on the duel.
Overwhelmed by my kiheup, I crushed him.
Shivering… Thud!!!
"Cough… cough…."
"That's it."
Barring the intentional hit, total victory. The crowd erupted.
With the duel over, time to decide the loser's fate. Solid fighter in battle, but blinded by old oaths.
I glanced at Father and Helga Grandma; both nodded grimly. Kiheup surged into my axe again.
In his final moment, his last words came.
"…Truly grateful."
"Good warriors go first. Farewell."
Slash!!!
***
A Huscarl solid to the end. The envoys were shell-shocked, but Helga Grandma praised me lavishly.
"This duel let him reclaim a shred of lost honor."
"Grandma, can this warrior reach our ancestors?"
"Really took to him, huh?"
She said a proper funeral would get him there eventually. I nodded. Or maybe he'd isekai like me?
I asked her to handle the Huscarl's rites.
"Hohohoho, of course~ Those lost lambs want it too."
"You've had a rough time visiting our tribe. Thanks."
"This much is nothing."
After Grandma and Father spoke to the empire-like envoys, they bolted. Polar opposites, those guys.
Like the duel, we loaded the Huscarl's body onto a small boat. Overkill for an outsider warrior? My call.
Amid silent tribute, a red trail streaked the sky.
"The ancestors are pleased."
"Good."
It's not how you live, but how you die that endures. That oath-blinded warrior would ascend in time.
Funeral done, I turned—my new corporals grinned.
"Hohohohoho, we Nords don't wallow for the departed."
"Right you are, Great Shaman!!"
"My blood!! It's boiling!!"
"Give us a mock battle like that too—!!!"
These pumped-up Vikings left me no choice!
"All of you, come at me!!"
"""Raaagh!"""
***
As Ulfrik bonded with his Vikings, the empire north's overlord and top noble, Duke Nerban Erben, reeled from reports.
"T-they're… wiped out?"
"Yes!!"
"Even Sword Master Valtein seems dead!"
Communication with Marquis Rosian's expedition had cut off. Magic checks confirmed: all notables gone.
Tragic enough, but Erben knew Nord culture.
"What's the chance those barbarians come for revenge?"
"V-very high."
"Honor killings and blood feuds are their way. They'll ravage the empire for sure."
Foolish loyalty games had weakened the north. Barbarians would overrun it.
Erben prepared.
"Hire every free knight now. Full wartime readiness. Recruit every available mercenary band."
"Yes!!"
"Understood!!"
"And finally…."
Pride stung, but he needed aid. The duke would petition the capital.