Assistant Instructors and the Valegard Melee
The Viking council this time led to the creation of a new role: assistant instructors. And the saying "the position makes the man" turned out to be spot on. The moment they donned those red hoods, the assistants' eyes changed completely.
"If you just follow this instructor's orders, there won't be any problems."
"If you've got complaints, let's settle it with a Maggora."
"Dare to sigh?! You little shit… Kiyol!!!"
I never imagined the drill sergeant archetype from my wildest dreams would come to life like this! Sure, as first-timers, they were a bit rough around the edges. But that's what I, the head instructor, was there to cover for.
As I trained the assistants while shaking down the recruits, the time came.
"So we're finally setting off today?"
"It'll take about a week to get there, so make sure you're fully prepared."
Preparations to head to the site of the Viking council, the Thing, were complete. I was a little worried about leaving the tribe for a week, but with the assistants in place, it should be fine.
I bid farewell to my mother, who would handle the tribe's internal affairs in our absence.
"Mother, I'll be back."
"Ulfrik… serve your father well."
"Hahaha! Just leave it to me!"
Mother glanced at me and Father with a face full of worry. But she was a heroine known as the shield maiden, the Jarl's consort and vassal. With the Thegns assisting her, there shouldn't be any issues even without us.
Finally, the youngest approached us.
"B-Brother Ulfrik! Have a safe trip!!"
"Yeah, Thumspin. Don't skip the training I taught you."
His eyes sparkled so intensely it was almost burdensome. Father chuckled, clearly amused by the sight.
"Heh heh heh… the little one's still idolizing you."
"What, jealous?"
"Nah, just a bit regretful."
For a fleeting moment, regret flickered in Father's eyes. Sensing he was lost in useless thoughts again, I spoke up immediately.
"Skal running away wasn't your fault, Father."
"Still, I can't help thinking it would've been better if he were here."
It was the clichéd tale of a second son so consumed by jealousy toward his older brother that he ran off. But being at the center of it made my fists itch. I hadn't even compared us that much, yet he'd exploded in frustration all on his own—and driven a spike into our parents' hearts before leaving, that ungrateful punk. If I ever see him again, I'll beat the crap out of him, I thought as I mounted my horse.
Along with the Jarl's elite guard, the Huscarls, we set off.
Our region was bitterly cold, and as a battle-loving people, the roads crawled with desperate bandits trying to make a living.
"Charge!!!"
"""Waaaaah!!!"""
They probably outnumbered us, so they got cocky. But they'd picked the wrong prey.
The Huscarls stepped forward, ripping into the charging bandits barehanded and crushing them under shields and axes.
"Huscarls live up to their name."
"They raided with me back in the day, so this is par for the course."
The Jarl's guard wasn't just for show. With Father and me joining the fray, the bandits were torn apart effortlessly.
"Keh heh… today's haul is gonna be fat!"
"Hahaha! Damn right! Hey, you lot—pick it up quick!"
""""Yes sir!""""
We'd traveled quite a ways, turning the tables and looting the bandits ourselves, when a massive wooden palisade came into view in the distance.
"That's…"
"Valegard, where the Thing is held."
I hadn't expected to reach the city so soon. They must've been expecting us, because entry was swift.
"Son, impressive, isn't it?"
"It's huge, yeah."
As the hub at the center of the tribes' territories, it was a logistics hotspot. It was worth seeing, but honestly, it all looked the same to me.
"Heh heh… doesn't quite measure up in your eyes."
"Call it big ambitions."
"Of course! That's how a man should be!"
We unpacked at the house provided in the city, shook off the travel fatigue, and soon the Viking council was upon us.
"Uh… you mean the Thing's held here?"
"What, did you think Jarls like us would hold it in a field like freeholders?"
The council convened inside the massive Thing Hall in the city center. So all the elite's rituals are the same, I thought, just as the Jarls leading their tribes filed in. Loathing any dawdling, they jumped straight into the Thing.
The eldest-looking Jarl explained why we'd gathered.
"As you all know, a coward sold everything to Chaos this time. Anyone with opinions, raise your hand."
"""………"""
"No other views? Then we'll proceed to execution."
Typical manly council—things moved at a brutal pace. Naturally, no Jarl spoke up for the coward.
The traitor was brought out for execution right away. But his ravings were horrifying.
"Grraaarrgh?!"
"Stay still!!"
"How dare you glare at the Jarls?!"
His skin was blackened and red, grotesque tentacles writhing here and there on his body. He even growled like a beast.
"Father, do all who fall to Chaos end up like that?"
"No, normally they'd retain human form. But this one's taken in too much Chaos power."
Why bargain with Chaos if it turns you into that? We couldn't fathom a coward's dishonorable mind. Soon, the executioner arrived.
"Harcon Bedias on, execute your son yourself."
"……"
Shing—!
To preserve what little family honor remained, the traitor's father stepped up for the deed. But the Chaos-tainted wretch insulted his own sire.
"This is all your fault, Harcon!!"
"Ignore him, Harcon. Your son's not in there anymore."
"…I know."
The father's face twisted in sorrow, but he prepared stoically. The traitor thrashed, refusing to go quietly.
"You barbaric dogs!! Think your ancestors and this land's spirits will protect you forever?!"
Crack!!!
"Soon, the great Chaos will creep into this place!!"
The curse echoed through the Thing Hall. We and the other Jarls just snorted.
"Bring it if you dare."
"Heh heh… this ain't some weak Empire."
"No cowards who fear you lot here."
"Harcon, ready?"
"…Yes."
"Begin."
"Nooooooo!!"
And so the coward met a swift end. In a way, we Vikings were the bulwark shielding the far north from Chaos.
The most critical enforcement of law at the Thing, where Ulfrik and Ragna participated, was over. What remained were minor matters.
Unsurprisingly, the biggest topic was Ulfrik.
"Damn, I'm jealous."
"If he were my son, I could die in peace…"
"Jealous? Just make more."
"Cut the crap, Ragna."
The massive raid Ulfrik led last time had become huge news among the other Jarls, naturally piquing interest in his training methods.
"You lot having problems too?"
"This generation's warriors are pathetic weaklings."
"Why are they getting worse…"
The Jarls sighed, feeling the generational gap today as well. And the far north had one pressing issue.
"Chaos power's thickening. We're holding for now, but our weakened heirs are the problem."
"We need to whip the current warriors into shape… it's daunting."
"Ragna, care to share that method?"
"I'd love to, but you know how it is."
The Bearclaw Tribe had only recently infused with Marine spirit. Ragna wasn't sure how to explain it, but he had one idea.
"Why not dispatch your people to us for training?"
"Whoa, Ragna… you trust us too much?"
"Your Bearclaw techniques could leak."
"Hahaha! Try it if you can!"
Thanks to the bold Ragna Bearhandson, the Jarls burst into laughter. Thus, the spark was lit for hot Marine literature to spread across the frigid far north.
It had been a short while since Father chatted with the other Jarls. The Thing was done, and a festival raged outside—but
"Tch… when's he coming?"
"Lord Ulfrik, leave the Jarl to us and enjoy the festival."
"Gotta party while you're young to avoid regrets."
The Huscarls winked, advising me to cut loose. But in this world, fun was just the usual stuff—!
"Fight!! It's a brawl!!"
"Then count me in!!!"
Vikings through and through!! Fistfights at festivals were national tradition. With the brawl underway, they decided to make it an official tournament.
"I, Ulfrik Ragnarson of the Bearclaw Tribe, propose we find this city's strongest warrior!!"
""""Waaaaah!!!!""""
With an authority figure leading, everyone went wild. Soon, the city was ringed with arenas everywhere.
"Wh-What's going on?"
"Brawls breaking out all over…"
"Civilians, get out!!"
"Today, this city's a battlefield!"
"For real!? Warn us ahead!!"
"I'm joining too!"
And so, as a grand fistfight tournament for all of Valegard kicked off, challengers flocked to me, as expected.
"Ulfrik Ragnarson!! They call you Drengr in Bearclaw, right? Prove you're a true one!!"
"Bring it!! Come at me!!"
The challenger charged right away! Pathetic, trying orthodox stand-up fighting against me. But this new technique would change his mind!
I slipped his punch by half a step, flowed to his side, wrapped his neck with one arm, leaped forward, and slammed down!!
BOOM!!!!
"RKO!!!!"
"Gaaahhh!!"
The challenger, hit with the pro-wrestling move RKO, had his head driven straight into the ground from mid-air. Had becoming a pro wrestler paid off? My fight zone turned into a ring, drawing endless challengers and spectators.