"… Erik the Red!! Erik the Red is here!"
Artos Pendragon heard one of the Vikings shout his name and all of it started to make sense. Every S-Class general was a one-man army that could only truly be stopped by another of the same level or multiple other legendary generals (namely A ranks) at the same time. And this display of mad strength… proves everything.
"Erik… the Red?" The holy knight chasing Artos Pendragon stopped in his tracks as a surge of uncontrollable fear enveloped his heart. "It can't be…"
Instead of continuing the siege to any capacity, the holy knight turned around and ran away as fast as he could. The strong gusts of wind behind him almost threw Artos to the ground.
'I would run too...'
Artos Pendragon turned to seeing the holy knight running for his dear life and ignoring the livelihood of his own men. For a man who had earned the war god's blessing to run away in such a shameless and cowardly manner… it said everything you needed to know. The difference between the two was so vast that it wasn't even worth it for the holy knight in any shape or form.
Artos Pendragon couldn't help but admire the Viking's great strength... and fear it, just as much if not more.
This was one of the most famed and feared individuals in the continent... Erik the Red.
The man who had also unintentionally changed Artos Pendragon's fate.
~
"Old man… are you alright?"
Artos Pendragon ran over to Egil, who was barely standing with his wounds. Still, he put on a brave face in his presence.
"I haven't felt more alive in some time, boy."
"Your wounds…"
"The bites of a fly." Egil laughed a little, looking towards the sky as he spat out some blood. "You saved my life with great courage. Where every other man stood still, you confronted the holy knight like a fearless warrior and… I couldn't be more proud. Although, you did deny me of Valhalla at that time… there will always be… another day… and another battle..."
"... Old man, you don't look alright…"
Artos Pendragon caught his fall and kept him standing before slowly lowering him onto the ground. He ripped parts of his clothes to bandage the cuts, stopping the bleeding. "Don't you dare to die on me here…"
"Hahaha… I just… need some rest is all." Egil slowly lowered his eyes until they were eventually closed shut.
Jarl Agnar grabbed Artos Pendragon's shoulder reassuringly. "He will be jumping like a rabbit after a few weeks of recovery, don't you worry boy. The warriors with Odin's blessing do not fall so easily."
As such, Egil would receive medical attention immediately. The Nords had some surprisingly effective special recipes that could restore a warrior's strength but that was far from the end of their ability. There were Seers who could see into the future and predict fate, place curses on others and the like. To Artos Pendragon, such people were seen as servants of the Devil previously but now he was growing interested.
~
After the battle was over, the gates were opened to Erik the Red and his warband of vicious wolves that followed. Although these 'wolves' had the appearance of men… Artos Pendragon could tell that said warriors had a large appetite for battle much like their leader. Even your ordinary Viking seemed pretty docile compared to them which was certainly saying something.
When Erik the Red sat down to feast with Jarl Agnar, he was treated like a king since he had single handedly had saved his people. Regardless, Artos Pendragon believed that Erik the Red would be welcome anywhere in Nordic territory. What fool would deny him and risk angering such a force? As the festivities proceeded another batch of people joined them… and that was when, for the first time ever, Artos Pendragon felt dazed just by looking at someone. He had almost dropped his ale, even…
"Father, you should learn how to share a battle…"
Taking the lead was a fierce red haired man just under twenty years of age with the confidence of the sky. His head was held high, reminding Artos Pendragon of his eldest half-brother… however, unlike him, this man seemed to be extremely charismatic and had a strong presence that wasn't irritating. He looked strong, not quite as large as the giant over seven foot Erik the Red but he was still larger than most men.
Meanwhile, to his side was the most beautiful woman Artos Pendragon had ever seen in his life… excluding his mother. Her fiery red hair stole the radiance from the sun and her blue eyes shimmered like Eternia's coast. She did not lack in any area, whether it was her firm bosom or round, distinguished, buttocks. Above all else, she seemed equally as fierce as she was beautiful which only made her more desirable - until she gave you a death stare that could kill.
'I feel like I'm in love…'
Artos Pendragon raised his cup and finished the ale inside within one go. Even after that, his heartbeat was moving at a rapid pace. Even after a deep breath, he felt... anxious.
"You allow an Eternian to drink in your halls, Jarl?" The red-haired man, Leif Eriksson, turned to Jarl Agnar who laughed a little. "You've become quite accepting."
"He fought for us and he fought well." Jarl Agnar replied, smiling as he did so. "Egil has taken him as his own as well."
".. The old wolf Egil has chosen a son?" Erik the Red was suddenly in a better mood which sort of frightened Artos Pendragon. "Hahaha… you must be something, eh? Make the square with me after, I'd like to see the warrior that he'd raised!"
'Make the square with you… after what you did to that army? I'd have to kindly walk away!'
"He is still a budding warrior, Erik. You would squash him before he could grow his wings!" Jarl Agnar laughed. "Despite his youth, however, he is fearless even when faced with one of those holy knights. Threw the one who attacked off the wall like a battering ram… haha, you should've seen it!"
"Oh?"
All of a sudden, he was the main attraction of the room. Everyone who fought on the ramparts knew it to be true… and, as such, every gaze turned to him. Artos Pendragon felt like he had to speak. However, he believed his language barrier would make him look like a fool. Still...
"Uhh… Egil hurt by Eternian. Me protect Egil."
He stated plainly.
'I will master this damned language, I swear it. It has caused me too many troubles.'
"Not the best with our tongue... but can you fault a boy for trying?" Erik the Red walked towards him and wrapped his arm around his neck, almost unintentionally choking him out in the process. "You should join my company in the war against Eternia with Egil. There will be plenty of plunder to take, some women to fuck and even more Eternians to kill!"
"... Me like village." Artos Pendragon replied, trying to shake his head out of Erik choking him. 'Does he not realise how strong he is? He's going to kill me!'
"Hum." Erik the Red let go. "What village?"
"He doesn't look like a warrior to me." The red-haired girl, Freydis Erikdottir, remarked as she took a rather strong bite out of an apple. "He looks like a sweet maiden."
"Yes, he does have a fair face and soft features... but faces can be deceiving. Like yours, sister." The red-haired man replied, smirking a little.
"And what do you mean by that, sweet brother?" She reached for her axe, brandishing it with clear ease as if she had done so a thousand times before.
"Heh... nothing much. You're the most beautiful girl in the world."
"That's what I thought."
BAM.
With one strike of her axe, she broke the table and turned to Artos Pendragon who was pretty damn shocked and frightened at that moment. He had even jumped.
"Stare at me one more time and you will regret it, Eternian."
"Sorry." Artos Pendragon stated in Nordic, without saying much more. 'Understood, my lady, just don't cut me in half...'
"And this is why you'll never have a husband." Her brother chuckled, shaking his head.
"I have no need for one."
"Do not mind my troublesome offsprings... think on my offer instead. I am always looking for good, loyal and brave men to accompany me." Erik the Red smiled, grabbing his shoulder. "Eternian or not, I don't turn away good men."
After that, he let go and continued his partying.
It was safe to say that Artos Pendragon, despite somewhat being on the same side as those three, felt intimidated and scarcely frightened for his life. That spoke volumes on their fierceness. Artos Pendragon wouldn't sit around for long, going to see Egil.
~
"Those two you met were Leif Eríksson and Freydís Eríksdóttir, both capable leaders in their own right. Leif is the more strategic, careful, of the two while Freydis is just as fierce and ruthless as her father. It is said that she is still a virgin because she scared all of her suitors off..."
"I can see how."
Egil remained in his bed, smiling slightly as his eyes observed his expression. "Did you fall for her, young prince?"
"... No." Artos Pendragon scoffed, recalling his humiliation. "She's completely barbaric and unlady-like. She just happens to be... pleasing to the eye."
"So you did." Egil chuckled, coughing up some blood. Seeing Artos Pendragon's worried expression, he shook his head. "It's nothing."
"You need to rest, old man."
"I am resting." Egil countered, looking up to him. "Did... Erik mention me?"
"He did seem to know you in some way."
"Aye, I knew him since he began making a name for himself during King Ragnar's second Great Heathen invasion fifteen years ago."
"The invasion where the Great Holy Knight Maximmus fell?" Artos Pendragon questioned, his eyes widening slightly.
"Erik was quite the axe, even then... though he lacked the mind to effectively lead his men. That was where I advised him." Egil smiled slightly, seemingly reminiscing. "Those were the days... old stars falling, new ones rising."
"You were leading the invasion that conquered much of Northern Eternia?" Artos Pendragon's eyes widened further. "Only when the Knights of the Round Table banded together..."
"I played my part for my people, aye." Egil nodded. "Quite the warriors... those Knights of the Round Table. Lancelot most of all. Noble Lancelot spared Erik when he had him surrounded and defeated. Erik would only grow more formidable after his fall, raiding and looting from West to East, North to South. Do you wonder if he regrets his decision?"
"He spared Erik?" Artos Pendragon raised an eyebrow. "It was said that Erik ran with his tail between his legs."
'If he did, then... truthfully, he harmed the Eternian Kingdom.'
"I suppose, in a way, he did." Egil chuckled. "They have quite the strange bond, Lancelot and Erik. Neither can seem to find it in themselves to kill the other. Nevermind the history lesson, you should not associate yourself with him or his family. Though disciplined to a degree, Erik is not the type of Viking that you would be fond of. He has killed many Eternians without much reason... although, his wife is one."
"Erik's wife... is Eternian?" Artos questioned, looking at Egil with a surprised expression.
"And his children half-breeds, yes." Egil nodded. "Do they disregard their other half?"
"... Somewhat. It seems so to me, at least."
"A strange family, that one." Egil managed to sit up, sighing. "Gods be good, I despise being wounded and old. One, I can deal with. But the both together? Only agony..."
"It's alright." Artos Pendragon managed a smile. "I'll look after you. You... don't have to do a thing except rest."
"... Aren't you a good child?" Egil layed back down with a smile. "You will be representing me in most things moving forward, until I am well enough to stand. The village was razed, as you so keenly observed. That leaves the villagers with two options; to move someplace else or rebuild. Jarl Agnar may be kind but he will find little use in farmers eating his food and filling his hall without providing much in turn."
"So what will we be doing?"
"We... eh? We will be rebuilding." Egil chuckled. "Well... you will be!"
"Rebuilding..." Artos Pendragon acknowledged. "Won't that take many months, if not years?"
"Aye. War... it takes years to build such places and a day to burn it all down." Egil's lips curled into a smile, a sad one at that. "I'm a man of great sentiment, Artos Pendragon. I won't allow the memory of the village Hafr to fade away. It stood since I was a boy and it will still be standing when I draw my last breath. At least... I can leave behind some legacy. I have no wife, no children and I am too old to make any more. This is the last great thing I can leave behind."
As Artos Pendragon heard Egil's resolute speech, he couldn't help but feel inspired... and rather downcast at the same time. He was an old man with little left. By now, all of his old friends had reached their Valhalla, his wife had died from illness alongside his only child and his village had been burned recently.
"I will help that happen." Artos Pendragon promised, nodding. "I'll do whatever I can to make sure Hafr is rebuilt. It'll be even better than before, I swear it. It was the Eternians who burned it down and it will be an Eternian prince who'll restore it to greatness."
"Ha..." Egil let out a short laugh. "You are a brilliant young man, Artos Pendragon. I wish I had the strength to aid you... but this old wolf-"
"Don't worry about it. You do what you need to." Artos smiled. "I want to see you alive and well for many years to come."
"I... will struggle as long as I can." Egil reassured him. "Now, tell the Jarl of my decision. He will surely convince the others to aid in Hafr's restoration."
Artos Pendragon nodded. "I'll tell him."
...
And so, Prince Artos Pendragon would further align himself with the Kingdom of the Nords. Much of it had been because he was forced to rather than of his own free will. However, the more time passed, the more decisions he found himself making in favour of his new neighbours...
Where will this lead? To battle against his homeland... against his own blood?
Although, one thing has yet to change; his desire for peace.
But... could peace truly be accomplished, with these four distinct and vast nations having been fighting each other for over two millennia?
The future is left uncertain as the young Dragon walks his own path.