It turned out to be perfect timing.

  Not even a league away, they heard lightning strike the town unnaturally.

  “We should get going,” Kara said as she and Karl rode upon a chocolate-colored horse that had belonged to one of the fallen Vikings.

  You could end this in a surprise attack, Fenrir tempted.

  Karl shook off the voice and kicked the horse’s sides, pushing their steed faster to escape.

  When they returned to Visby, Karl realized he had no idea what to do with Magnus.

  The man was still unconscious from Mýra’s potion, but they had to do something with him. Karl had a feeling that if he didn’t keep his old bully close, Björn—or anyone seeking vengeance—might slit the man’s throat while he was away. He ordered Magnus restrained inside Hof Visbýr so they could keep close watch.

  Björn stormed off after they brought Magnus into the warm hall, which was already smoky from the meat Sigrid and Thorstein had cooked for Karl and the others. Mýra trailed behind him, but Karl stopped her before she reached the steps.

  “Thank you for helping me not kill him,” he said, releasing her arm after speaking.

  The Huldra frowned. “You killed many lives to get what you wanted. You didn’t hear how those plants screamed when I poisoned them.”

  She left, her cow tail flicking angrily as she raced down the steps to chase after her lover.

  “Wait!” the Trickster shouted, raising a leafy hand after her as he perched on Karl’s shoulder. “What about my curse?”

  The Huldra didn’t reply.

  “Do you know how weird this is—to be a plant?” the Trickster asked as they joined the others in the hall for the feast.

  “Lettuce eat,” Karl joked, earning a fake laugh from the Trickster.

  “Just you wait,” the vegetable squirrel said, crossing his vine-like arms. “I’m going to slip some of Mýra’s potion into your coffee next, and Kara’s going to have to make out with a cabbage.”

  Karl chuckled as they sat down next to Kara. She was already devouring her dinner beside a silent Glær and an unusually quiet Egil, who only picked at his food.

  “Wouldn’t be so bad,” Kara said, smiling at Karl.

  As pleasant as his company was, Karl found he could hardly eat the steaming, spicy meal before him. The thought of the hungry villagers who wouldn’t be eating tonight made it feel like a mockery.

  It didn’t stop the Trickster from eating, though. He tore apart his meal with his grassy vines for fingers.

  “You should restore your strength,” Thorstein said as he sat beside Karl, across from Kara. “Seems like our friend is waking up.”

  Indeed, Magnus—bound to a chair at the edge of the hall—was stirring from his drug-induced slumber. His bloodshot eyes darted around the room in confusion, then deflated when they landed on Karl, as if remembering his defeat.

  “Did I make the wrong move?” Karl asked, staring at his former bully.

  “Would you have rather seen the light leave his eyes forever?” Thorstein asked, his furry face set in a frown.

  Karl didn’t have to think long. He wouldn’t have wanted to see Magnus slaughtered. Everything felt heavy—the cost, the villagers, the destruction. More and more, Karl realized he didn’t like being a leader. It meant choosing between bad and… also bad.

  Even as he fought against something evil like Viktor, he didn’t feel like the good guy. He’d thought there would be moral clarity in this struggle against his old bully.

  “No,” he finally said, answering the Werebear.

  Egil looked at Magnus. His food sat untouched and cooling before him. “He reminds me a lot of my son,” the poet said, picking at his plate.

  “Your son?” Karl asked, intrigued. Egil rarely spoke about his personal life.

  Egil nodded. “Well, I had two, actually. But he reminds me most of Gunnar, who died of a fever. My other son, Böðvarr—he drowned in a storm. It was unexpected and quick.” Egil sighed, his eyes heavy as he looked at Karl.

  “I locked myself away in my room for a long time,” Egil said, his fingers slowly brushing the alehorn before him in thought. “I starved myself, wanting to go quickly with them to Valhalla. But it was my daughter, Thorgurd, who—after pounding on my door for endless nights—convinced me to open it. She comforted me at that time.”

  He shook his head as he looked down at his food.

  “It was the strangest thing. It reminded me of the futility of violence, of seeing their lives so tragically taken away.” Egil scoffed, as if realizing something. “You know, I had never once questioned war or fighting or anything else like that. But thinking of my sons, both dead, I couldn’t help but remember my first kill.

  “When I was a young lad, a boy named Grim cheated me in a game. I was enraged beyond belief and grabbed my father’s ax. I hacked him to death with it.”

  Karl was stunned by the image but stayed silent, listening.

  “Life is ever so fragile and quick to go,” Egil said, continuing with a soft but weary smile. “You did not do the wrong thing in sparing another’s life.”

  Even the Trickster didn’t make a joke. His now-green eyes looked solemnly at his food as he shoved it into his cabbage face. Kara, too, along with Thorstein, nodded in agreement at the poet’s words. They had each lost or suffered something, whether in their old lives or in this one.

  “You should go speak to him,” Kara said as she finished her plate, wiping the grease from her rosy lips.

  Karl nodded, kissing her forehead before standing from the table. As he approached Magnus—passing by a few servant girls who giggled as he walked—he pulled up a chair and scooted it close.

  “Have you decided upon my death?” Magnus asked, looking at Karl with a strange sadness.

  Karl shook his head. “I’m not here to kill you.” Just then, he received an update from the System.

  Eliminate Magnus Jordhane (1/1)

  “But you will kill all the others, won’t you?” Magnus asked.

  “If I have to,” Karl said, though he didn’t like how that sounded.

  Magnus’s shoulders slumped. “I’m sorry,” the bully said.

  Karl frowned. “Why are you sorry?”

  Magnus lifted his head, his face still resembling the Trickster’s leafy curse. “It all just seems so pointless,” he said. “I know Viktor liked to tease you and pick on you a lot in school, but this… this seems like a step too far. He’s driven by this obsession to murder you, and I don’t understand it. Some of the others were eager to join him in that quest, but not all of us were.”

  “Who else doesn’t want to kill me?” Karl asked.

  “Well,” Magnus said, “they didn’t say it outright, but I’m sure if you got them alone and asked, they wouldn’t be as bloodthirsty as Viktor.”

  He paused. “I know Signe cares very little for Viktor’s quest. She’s more focused on herself than anything else.”

  Karl thought of the Hnoss-blessed woman. Being chosen by the fertility goddess—and able to control men with her voice—made her incredibly dangerous. He had no idea how to capture her or kill her, whichever the situation demanded.

  “I’ll make you a deal,” Karl said, which caught Magnus’s attention. “I have a giant set of farmlands—terraces within the chasm of our town. They’re producing well, but they could use a green thumb like yours.”

  Magnus didn’t reply, but his expression betrayed him; joy flickered across his face.

  “But,” Karl continued, “I need help taking down the rest of Viktor’s gang before he becomes too powerful. Do you have any thoughts on how I could take down someone like Signe?”

  Magnus frowned, thinking deeply. “Well, she was talking incessantly about this winter festival in one of the nearby towns,” he said. “She’s under strict orders not to leave Viktor’s side, as we all were. But maybe… if you put on something like a beauty competition, she might be compelled to abandon him to prove her beauty as the most divine.”

  “A beauty competition?” Karl asked, startled by the idea.

  Magnus nodded, then gestured toward Kara, who was laughing with Thorstein at the table. “You could spread the word that the most beautiful shield-maiden in all of Gotland will be there,” he suggested. “I’m sure Signe wouldn’t let that slide.”

  Karl thought of spreading the word—perhaps through Egil—that Kara was the most beautiful woman in Gotland, which was true. Knowing Signe, it would be impossible for her to resist.

  “When is this winter festival?” Karl asked.

  “Tomorrow,” Magnus said.

  “That could work,” Karl muttered. But it would mean placing Kara’s life—and possibly an entire village—in danger. Then again, Kara would be thrilled to fight and prove herself in battle, and possibly in her stunning looks.

  Karl thanked Magnus before returning to his friends.

  Kara spotted him first. “I’ll only do it if I can wear armor,” she said before he could speak.

  “What?” Karl asked.

  Kara tapped her temple, indicating the Pack Link she had reactivated while he was away.

  Karl sighed with a smile. “Deal.”

  29

  VIKING BEAUTY PAGEANT

  The night before they attended the winter festival—where they planned to lure Signe—Karl took the time to use his alchemy skills to craft a potion that would keep him from falling under her control. He didn’t have enough time or experience to brew enough for the seventy Vikings who would accompany him, as he was bringing three Jarls and their men, but it would be enough for him and his closest companions.

  “Finally,” Ratatoskr said as Karl bent over the cauldron, dropping in some honey as the purplish potion steamed before them. “Does this mean you’ll stop making out with Kara every five seconds?”

  “You better watch out,” Karl said, smirking. “I might lace this into all your meals from Mýra. Then you’ll just be a dumb, passive squirrel.”

  “You don’t want me to lose my vigor, do you?” the Trickster said, leaping from Karl’s shoulder onto the cutting board beside the cauldron.

  “It wouldn’t be so bad,” Karl said with a shrug.

  When he finished, Karl had brewed a powerful potion that he thought would prove useful in tomorrow’s battle. Even if he didn’t need it, seventy Vikings should be more than enough to take down the lustful Signe.

  Item: Draught of Chaste Resolve (Rare)

  Description: Brewed using crushed Silverthorn petals, powdered Ironroot bark, and a drop of wyrd-laced honey, this draught tempers the pulse and cools the blood. Its faint shimmer of frost reveals its blessing: a mortal shield against lust, compulsion, and carnal charm. A swirl of Freyr’s rejected sap adds an earthy bitterness—proof that purity, too, can sting.

  Effect: Grants resistance to physical or magical lust effects, succubus enchantments, and pheromonal control (+85% resistance) for 14 minutes. Dampens emotional heat and restores clarity of mind. Does not block admiration, worship, or artistic fixation on beauty.

  Weight: 0.09 kg

  Worth: 1,600 Gold

  Having brewed the potion, his Health tree also improved.

  Health (+10): lvl 9 (30/100)

  Glory (+20): 1,550

  Level: 33 (20/340)

  “Here’s the salmon you wanted,” Kara said, stepping into the kitchen after returning from outside. Karl had asked her to buy herring earlier so they could prepare another meal for the coming fight. Now that his cooking skills had greatly improved, it would be even better.

  Karl blushed as he took the fish from her hands.

  “Oh, your lover made a potion to make you both impotent,” Ratatoskr said, snickering as he pointed at the purple brew.

  Kara shook her head playfully and laid the herring on the wooden chopping block, shooing the squirrel away.

  “Well, I’ll leave you to it,” the Trickster said, leaping off the table and scurrying beneath Sigrid’s feet as the large chef came bustling in from serving patrons. It was another busy night.

  “Magnus is really settling into his new role as your farmer,” Kara said as she helped Karl scale the fish.

  “Really?” Karl asked, sprinkling juniper and salt.

  Kara nodded, a strand of blonde hair falling over her eyes. “I think you made the right move,” she said. “The farmers were skeptical at first, but he’s already shown tremendous progress with his planting techniques. Plus, he murdered that mushroom monster that almost ate you.”

  “It helps that he’s got a lot of natural enhancements for farming,” Karl said, bottling the rest of his anti-lust potion.

  “You’re not wrong,” she said, handing him the first descaled fish.

  Karl felt relieved that the weird creature was dealt with, too. It wouldn’t help morale if that thing ate all the farmers. Perhaps because of his werewolf nature, he thought briefly what that monster must taste like, before quickly shoving the idea away in disgust.

  The two worked together for the better part of an hour, quietly preparing the herring dish. They listened to the tavern’s noise—patrons drinking, playing games, and listening to Egil’s latest poem about Kara, which made everyone blush, including Karl.

  The poet stood triumphantly on one of the tables, reading from a parchment as Thorstein, beneath him, scowled in embarrassment. Kara couldn’t help but smile.

  “She is more stunning than any shield-maiden!” Egil declared. “Her glance makes all men bed-laden!”

  Karl and Kara chuckled as they continued cooking.

  “I don’t think Signe’s going to like that poem,” Kara said.

  “I like it,” Karl said. “I think it’s accurate.”

  Kara flashed her eyes at him with delight. Maybe it was a good thing Karl had brewed the anti-lust potion—it might help him stay focused in tomorrow’s battle.

  When they finished the herring dish, they learned that Egil’s poem had already spread throughout Gotland, including a version that had reached Viktor’s town, still reeling from the destruction of its farms. Karl could guess what Signe’s reaction would be—anger, like a jealous queen discovering that Snow White, not she, was the fairest of them all.

  Knowing Signe, she wouldn’t tell Viktor that she planned to attend the winter festival where Kara would appear to claim the title of the most beautiful in Gotland. But she would be there. Her pride wouldn’t allow otherwise.

  “You forgot the glaze,” Sigrid said, pulling Karl from his thoughts. The busty woman wiped her sauced hands on her apron and drizzled spicy honey over the herring.

  Karl noticed the glaze glowed faintly with embers.

  “This is the fire and lightning resistance drizzle,” she explained.

  “I almost forgot,” Karl said, helping her finish glazing the dishes. “Thank you.”

  Sigrid grunted, though it was more motherly than stern, pleased with her protege’s work.

  Item: Hrafn’s Ember-Smoked Herring x6 (Epic) — Restores +80 HP / +60 Stamina. Grants “Raven’s Reflex” effect: +18% Dexterity, +30% Stamina Regen, and +5% Group Damage for 1 hour 30 min. Provides +15% Lightning Resistance and +10% Fire Resistance for the duration. When combat begins, automatically dodges the first physical attack. Feast Bonus: All party members gain +5% Accuracy and +10% Morale for 30 minutes.

  Karl almost devoured the dish right then, but restrained himself. Instead, he wrapped the herring to distribute among his crew, joining him tomorrow against Signe. This time, he’d be bringing Thorstein—he had a feeling he’d need the Werebear’s steady claws against such a lustful foe.

  Health: lvl 9 (40/100)

  Glory (+20): 1,570

  Level: 33 (40/340)

  Thankfully, Karl got a good night’s rest before the winter festival.

  He spent the evening talking late into the night with Kara, who seemed relieved not to think about her sister or her personal quest to become a Valkyrie. Karl mostly listened, growing sleepy as they leaned against each other, watching the northern lights while sitting beside a fire outside.

  It would have been the perfect night if not for the nagging fear that crept into his mind whenever he thought of Viktor’s growing power. Nor the memory of Kara’s supposed future death by none other than the Roman Emperor. Still, Kara’s warm, steady presence made him feel like he could conquer the world.

  And perhaps what warmed Karl’s heart most was seeing the Trickster sitting calmly on Glær’s antlers, gazing up at the northern lights. He held the calming Pearl of Still Waters in his hands, its glow amplified by the elk’s gentle aura. The squirrel looked almost sedated beneath the peaceful shimmer of the magic, which made Karl feel a flicker of guilt.

  But seeing that serenity reflected in the squirrel’s faintly glowing red eyes made the guilt fade away. The Trickster needed respite from his dark thoughts, too.

  Even Glær didn’t seem to mind Ratatoskr’s presence—at least until the Trickster farted on him. The elk promptly bucked his head, launching the squirrel face-first into the snow.

  Karl and Kara couldn’t help but laugh. It felt good. For a moment, it made him forget the ticking clock that was his bully—racing toward godhood.

  The next morning, they waited by the town wall, preparing to depart.

  As they waited, Karl was relieved to see that his barracks had been successfully upgraded thanks to the three teams of Jarls he had assigned the previous day.

  Quest Completed: Steel in the Blood

  “You actually managed to turn three territorial Jarls, a half-drunk forge crew, and a pile of half-measured blueprints into a functioning military complex. The Dvergr are (mostly) impressed.”

  Rewards:

  Barracks Capacity: +300

  Training Speed: +30%

  Casualty Rate: –15%