“Uh,” Ratatoskr said, blinking between them, “are you two speaking in each other’s heads right now?”

  “Yes,” Kara said.

  “No,” Karl said at the same time, face burning.

  The squirrel groaned and rolled his eyes. “By the gods, you two are awkward.” He leapt off the table and scurried toward the kitchen, muttering about mortals and their backwards mating rituals.

  Kara stood, leaning over to kiss Karl once more before gathering the glowing core and blueprint. Glær followed at her heel, antlers brushing the ceiling beams. She was so eager that she almost forgot her coffee entirely. Karl laughed quietly as she hurried out the door, the elk clattering behind her.

  She was utterly in her element again, and seeing her that way made him smile.

  Shortly after, Karl stepped out into Visby’s morning. The streets pulsed with life as merchants bartered over bolts of cloth, fishermen shouted prices for barrels of herring, and the clang of blacksmith hammers carried from the forges. Sea wind rolled through the harbor, sharp with salt, fluttering the banners that bore his wolf sigil.

  Some villagers waved when they saw him. Others hesitated, their smiles wary, unsure what to make of him. The children, however, were bolder. Or more careless, depending on perspective. They raced between the stalls, growling and snapping at each other, pretending to be werewolves. One little girl lunged for her brother’s arm, gnawing at his sleeve until he shrieked with laughter.

  Karl chuckled. It was strange to see play built around the thing he had once feared in himself.

  The energy of the town stirred something in him, and he decided to handle one bit of business before the day continued. He pulled up his skill window.

  He had five skill points. That much, at least, felt like progress. After a quick thought, he funneled one into Cooking and two into Charisma. The other two he’d hold back, a reserve for when his archery needed attention. Since he had maxed out his Archery, he would need a master to help him progress. Kara had told him that he would need to save up his Skill Points for mastery abilities. So for now, this would do.

  Skill Points (-3): 2

  Cooking (+1): lvl 8

  Unlocks rare recipes using foraged or hunted ingredients. Meals provide stronger buffs (+15% to all buffs).

  Buff duration from meals increased by 50%. Reduces cooking time by 25%.

  Unlocks “feast recipes” that can buff an entire group (e.g., +5% group damage for 15 minutes). Can identify and neutralize spoiled or toxic ingredients, preventing poisoning.

  Meals restore large amounts of Health and Stamina (+40 HP, +30 Stamina). Unlocks recipes for “specialty dishes” with powerful buffs, like temporary resistance to cold or poison.

  Meals have a 50% chance to grant critical effects, boosting buffs by an additional +10%.

  Unlocks epic recipes that combine food with magical or rare properties. Meals can grant unique buffs, such as increased XP gain (+10%) or faster Stamina regeneration.

  Karl smiled. Finally, epic meals. He wouldn’t have to lean entirely on Sigrid’s skill anymore—though she was still the best cook in the hall. Once he maxed out his cooking, he could pay her to push his craft even further. That was even more reason to keep saving his points.

  Still, curiosity tugged him toward the Charisma branch. New icons branched out in his interface. Four paths pulsed before him:

  Trade Tree: Charisma

  The Jarl’s Path

  Heartbreaker

  Voice of the Gods

  Skald’s Tongue

  He studied them in turn. The Jarl’s Path made immediate sense, as he needed to learn leadership anyway. Heartbreaker caught his attention for other reasons, though. The skill names beneath it sounded… familiar, like shared power, emotional bonds, and so on—things that reminded him of his Pack Link with Kara. His cheeks flushed slightly as he scrolled past some of its “requirements.”

  He forced his focus back, though it was hard to given his desire for Kara.

  Voice of the Gods was for priests; thinking about performing offerings to entities didn’t interest him.

  Skald’s Tongue was tempting, though. He could improve his lies and persuasion to bend others to his will, but Egil was already a master of words. Plus, the more he thought about it, the more icky he felt about deceit.

  That left one clear path.

  The Jarl’s Path (+2): lvl 2

  You can now buy and manage real estate.

  Tribute Caravans bring +15% more gold. Negotiation with merchants and Jarls costs 10% less gold or materials.

  Karl grinned. “Now that’s useful.”

  Less cost meant less begging, and fewer sleepless nights counting gold he didn’t have. It also meant progress—real, visible progress—toward making Visby more than just a patchwork of survivors.

  By the time he reached the kitchen, the scent of roasted boar and an array of fresh herbs filled the air. The room glowed with morning light, steam curling from copper pots. Sigrid worked fast, her sleeves rolled up as she moved through a dizzying rhythm of chopping, searing, boiling, and sprinkling seasonings.

  Karl tied an apron around his waist to join her; though it was tighter than he remembered, his growing Strength straining the strings. The old Andhrímnir’s Cookbook materialized in his hand at his summoning.

  “All right,” he murmured. “Let’s make something worth the gods’ time.”

  He flipped open the pages, and the old magical pages shifted to match his upgraded skill. Ingredients rearranged themselves into new patterns, new recipes glowing faintly at the edge of comprehension.

  After choosing several that were both advantageous and delicious, he and Sigrid worked side by side. Soon, the clang of pans blended with her humming, a melody of work and confidence.

  And yet, as Karl stirred the first pot, unease crept into the back of his mind. The hall felt too calm. Maybe it won’t go as smoothly as I hope, he thought. But maybe that’s just the pessimist in me.

  But, wasn’t that how he always felt when cooking a big dish? He would have to do his best and trust that it would be enough.

  Maybe leadership and cooking weren’t so different after all.

  “Quit daydreaming!” Sigrid shouted, pointing a knife at him. “Use your divine speed blessings to help me cook faster.”

  “Sorry,” Karl said, blushing. He shook his head from his thoughts, took a deep breath, and unleashed his cooking prowess.

  20

  DWARVEN ARMOR

  For almost ten hours, Karl forgot about Viktor entirely. The memory of Viktor faded under the rhythm of knives, and that ever-so-sweet sound of crackling fire roasting his pots. Cooking had always been his passion, but today it became more of a frenzy.

  Thanks to his Sleipnir’s Stride tattoo and the blessing of Ullr, he moved through the kitchen in a blur, faster than any mortal chef had a right to be. The air shimmered with heat, steam rising in waves from the cauldrons. Sweat rolled down his spine as he whisked, chopped, stirred, and darted out of Sigrid’s path by centimeters.

  “I can see you’ve leveled up,” Sigrid said with a laugh, humming as she skinned salmon on a broad plank. Stray curls of her red hair stuck to her cheek, glistening with steam. “Let me know when you max that skill. I’ll show you how to really cook then.”

  “Will do,” Karl said, grinning as he dropped diced roots and garlic into a heavy pot. The Wolf’s Heart Pottage hissed as fat met the burning surface. Immediately, the scent of marrow mixed with herbs filled the hall.

  By the time dusk fell, the kitchen looked like the aftermath of a glorious battle. Utensils lay scattered on almost every surface, counters were dusted with flour, and the air was rich enough to taste, maybe even get a Health point or two from. They had cooked enough to feed several hundred mouths. Karl could only hope that Harald would be successful in his hunt, as they used up practically all the food they had for this feast.

  He opened his menu and smiled as the feast list unfurled before his eyes.

  Item: Wolf’s Heart Pottage Feast (Epic)

  Item: Northern Salmon Crown Feast (Epic)

  Item: Mead of the Allfather Feast (Epic)

  Item: Golden Elk Rib Feast (Epic)

  Item: Spirit-Fennel Broth Feast (Epic)

  Item: Skyberry Tart Feast (Epic)

  Item: Valkyrie’s Bread Feast (Epic)

  Karl’s pulse quickened as the System chimed of his increased power.

  Health (+100): lvl 9 (20/100)

  Health is now 140/140

  Glory (+220): 1,080

  Level (+1): 31 (10/320)

  Skill Points (+1): 3

  He laughed softly. Finally, close to maxing it. For the fun of it—and to see what came next—he invested his newest point straight back into Cooking.

  Cooking lvl 9

  Can prepare legendary feasts that grant powerful buffs for extended durations (e.g., +25% damage, +20% movement speed for 30 minutes).

  Can “flavor infuse” dishes to provide unique effects based on ingredients, such as fire resistance or enhanced night vision.

  He exhaled, satisfied. No more relying on Sigrid to carry the kitchen. Once he mastered this, death would be less terrifying than it was with the horde of buffs he would receive from his foods.

  “Thank you for today,” Karl said as they scrubbed the last pots clean.

  Sigrid wiped her hands on her apron and smiled wide enough to light the hall. “You did most of the work, Jarl.”

  Before Karl could answer, the tavern doors swung open. Thorstein ducked inside, followed by Egil, both grinning.

  “It was a massive success!” Egil crowed, waving a parchment. “Every Jarl we spoke to agreed to attend—even the ones already siding with Viktor.”

  Karl froze. “Isn’t that dangerous?”

  Thorstein shook his shaggy head. “Not with the new walls. Björn finished the last stones this afternoon.”

  “That fast?” Karl asked, impressed.

  The Werebear chuckled. “Brokk’s Hammer helped.”

  Right on cue, Björn arrived—arm wrapped around Mýra’s waist, both of them laughing for some reason. “We’ll be ready for them,” Björn said proudly. “Those bastards won’t breach a pebble.”

  Karl brought up the Visby Settlement Menu in his vision and grinned at the changes glowing before him.

  Defense (Strength)

  Progression: Expand stone walls, engrave Dwarven runes, reinforce battlements.

  Current: Stone Walls (Durability 200/200)

  Bonus: +65% total Defense (Stone + Rune + Dvergr combined)

  New Effect: Runed Battlements (Tier II Defensive Aura) — Automatically triggers a 2-minute “Shield of Stone” buff during raids, granting +20% resistance to siege and elemental attacks.

  Next Upgrade: Runefort (Tier III) — Requires 400 Stone, 200 Iron, 100 Gold, and a Divine Blessing from Thor.

  He scrolled further.

  Morale: 65% — Villagers encouraged by construction and growing resources. Rumors persist of the Wolf-Jarl’s terrifying power—and his defeat by Viktor—but hope outweighs fear for now.

  Karl closed the screen, shoulders easing.

  For the first time in days, Visby felt alive. And Björn, who could hardly contain himself, showcased it. He practically carried Mýra out of the tavern, his arm around her waist as he dragged her toward the outer wall. “Come on, Jarl,” he called, grinning wide enough to split his beard. “You’ve got to see this!”

  By the time Karl followed, dusk had settled into a violet haze. The new walls caught the last light of the sun, each rune-etched stone pulsing faintly with blue radiance like the Dvergr Dungeon had. Archers lined the parapets with their bows gripped in their hands. Frostlight shimmered along every string, and when they loosed a practice volley, the air hissed with cold, leaving trails of silver mist that drifted into the night.

  Dozens of villagers gathered below, murmuring with awe. The old timber palisades were gone, replaced by sheer stone that rose twice as high.

  Even the town had transformed. Mýra’s touch was everywhere: flowers wove through the rafters of homes, and vines climbed the doorframes. The redheaded Huldra had turned the gray of Visby into color. Candles flickered in carved wooden sconces, giving off a cozy coffee shop vibe.

  Karl blinked at the transformation. “You did all this in a day?”

  Mýra shrugged, brushing a leaf from her hair. “You’d be surprised what roots will do if you whisper nicely.”

  Just then, a small figure sprinted across the square, the girl Freya, who was no taller than Karl’s hip. The once mute girl wrapped her arms around Mýra’s leg without hesitation.

  “This is the best ever!” she yelled with glee.

  The Huldra froze, her cow’s tail flicking upright in surprise. A few of the older villagers frowned from the edge of the crowd, muttering about witchcraft.

  Mýra’s pupils narrowed to slits for a heartbeat. But when she looked down at the child again, her expression melted. She crouched awkwardly, unsure what to do with the affection. “Of course, little one,” she said softly.

  Karl smiled at their moment.

  Around the chasm that split the farmlands, the town’s festival heart was already beating. Dozens of booths stood along the ridge, strung with flowers and paper charms that glowed faintly in the twilight. Merchants arranged trinkets while cooks stoked fires for the following day’s feast.

  Out of the corner of his eye, Karl spotted a flash of red darting through the crowd. Ratatoskr was zipping between booths in a frenzy, his eyes wild, fur bristling. Even from a distance, Karl could smell the earthy, sharp tang of mushroom dust on his lips. The squirrel was clearly high again.

  “By the gods,” Karl muttered.

  A shriek of laughter erupted from a group of boys chasing the Trickster down the road. Ratatoskr clutched something in his teeth—a folded parchment—and bounded toward Karl. He took a sprint off a barrel and leaped onto his shoulder for safety. The boys jeered after him, shouting about how he smelled like old fungus.

  For once, Ratatoskr looked genuinely wounded. His ears drooped, though he quickly masked it with a smirk. “The System thinks you’re Jarl Daddy now,” he said, thrusting the paper toward Karl.

  Karl took it warily, trying not to breathe in the reek of mushrooms that clung to the squirrel’s fur. “What’s this?”

  “Your new toy,” Ratatoskr said. “You already own Visby, technically. But since you unlocked business management, the System now lets you buy things too. You can collect tributes and set prices, squeeze the fat merchants for more gold. It’s very Jarl-like.”

  Karl unfolded the parchment. A list scrolled across the page:

  Available for Purchase (Visby Holdings)

  1. Knut’s Smithy

  Cost: 1,500 Gold

  Description: A roaring forge by the east gate where sparks fly like fireflies. Knut and his apprentices craft blades, nails, and tools for warriors and farmers alike. The clang of iron never sleeps here, nor does Knut after watching his father Hakon become a werewolf.

  Daily Profit: 20 Gold

  2. Sigrid’s Hearth

  Cost: 2,500 Gold

  Description: The beating heart of Visby. Sigrid’s tavern glows with hearthlight and laughter, serving roast venison, root stew, and her infamous “Storm Mead.” Every night, warriors crowd shoulder-to-shoulder, toasting the Jarl’s name.

  Daily Profit: 40 Gold

  Bonus: +5% Morale settlement-wide when feasts are held.

  3. Freya’s Garden

  Cost: 3,000 Gold

  Description: Draped in furs, lanterns, and silks from Miklagard, this discreet house of pleasure sits near the harbor. Its matron claims her girls are blessed by Freya herself, with beauty and comfort under one roof (free of charge to you, of course).

  Daily Profit: 100 Gold

  Bonus: Increases overall Happiness by +5%. Minor decrease in Crime due to a “satisfied” populace.

  4. Bjornolf’s Shipwright

  Cost: 3,500 Gold

  Description: The dockside yard where keels rise and oars are born. Bjornolf’s craftsmen carve runes into every mast for speed and strength. Merchant ships, longboats, and tribute vessels all owe him their bones.

  Daily Profit: 60 Gold

  Karl’s brow furrowed. The brothel’s entry was circled three times in sloppy, smudged ink. “Did you circle this?”

  “Of course not,” Ratatoskr said with a straight face—then immediately snickered.

  Despite the Trickster’s depravity, Karl winced when he remembered Knut in seeing his business. In all the chaos since becoming a werewolf, he’d completely forgotten the poor blacksmith. I’ll check on him later, he promised himself.

  He opened Visby’s stats window to see how the settlement was faring.

  Resources

  Population: 312

  Happiness: 83% (Relieved; proud of new terraces)

  Morale: 50% (Rumors of “Karla the Cautious”)

  Food Stores: 22/100 (Terraced Fields producing +10/day)

  Wood: 0

  Stone: 150

  Iron: 112