Ragnar grinned as he walked out to the yard behind the smithy built for testing equipment, stepping into the centre of the court to face the dummy while clearing out a space for him to swing the sword unimpeded.
Everyone else filtered out into the clearing behind Ragnar, staying nervously quiet, as they gazed upon the gleaming golden sword in anticipation.
A grunt signified the beginning of the trial as Ragnar slowly swept his leg out in a half circle to sweep away the dust and the loose particles before steading his stance. Foreleg bent slightly at the knee, with the rear kept behind him in a lunge position.
The massive Norman then took a hefty breath as he lifted his curved sword up and back into the newly minted scabbard around his waist to simulate a quick draw.
The beautiful backdrop of the golden sky gave Ragnar a regal hue as all silence descended upon the opening.
Ragnar tensed as the blade shot out of his sheath with incredible speed, a clean and smooth whistle-like sound echoed as he sent the sword straight for the straw dummy.
With a clean swipe too strong for the dummy's disposition, its bulky frame got sliced clean through the midriff before falling over in a pile of straw beside.
Marquise, who stood behind the young Finan with his arms on his shoulder, noticed the incredible skill it took to be able to cut through wood and straw on your first attempt without knowing the grain of the blade.
A high pitched whistle rang out as Erika cat called in appreciation of the muscular Norman. His muscles nearly ripped the seams of his shirt as he twisted and flexed into the motion, causing Erika and Eve to blush furiously at the thought of his shirt coming undone.
Ragnar ignored all the attention on him, purely focused on the feel and nature of his sword. Trying to understand every detail of the unique blade as he pulled back before dancing an intricate series of forms.
Sweat beading on his forehead as the blade swiped the air with ease, allowing Ragnar to feel comfortable with its curved nature after only a short period.
Bjorn, the blacksmith, grinned in appreciation of his best work going to a man who not only appreciated such a unique weapon but was also worthy of wielding such a blade.
Ragnar ultimately finished with a series of stabs into the stump of the dummy, cutting deep into the wood as he pulled back in finality. Lifting the sturdy golden sword back into his scabbard.
The warrior bowed to the blacksmith, "Truly, a sword of magnificence, Bjorn. I am honored to wield a blade that is the first of its kind. Through quelching, I can tell that the steel is hard and strong, yet through heat tempering, the blade is flexible and capable of going over shield walls. Mark my words, this weapon will bring you fame, Blacksmith Bjorn."
Bjorn waved his hand in dismissal, "Bah, don't tell me stories like that. Too many people who I make swords for foretell of great promises that lead to their death."
His sunken and soot splattered face then looked up to Ragnar, "I want you to be safe, boy. I can tell that you are naturally skilled, but do not let it go to your head," as he approached the young man, he put a palm on his shoulder to ground him back to reality.
The blacksmith gazed deep into the eyes of the warrior for a couple of seconds before slowly nodding his head. "Umu, I believe you, Ragnar the 'Almighty'. True to your moniker, this sword will die the sands red."
Ragnar felt as if the blacksmith had seen through his very soul, leaving him bare before the eyes of the old man. "Your words will come true, Bjorn. But before I leave, I believe that we can come to a mutual agreement about our futures. I will find a way to procure steel and give you designs for forthcoming swords. In exchange, I want to equip my men with superior armor and weapons."
The blacksmith's eyes shone at the next opportunity to make money, "Ah, of course, milord! Why would I not accept such a kind offer? You have to realize that I'm getting old sitting here, hammering away at the same Ulfberhts and Axes, day in and day out. You will need to send word soon, or I will die of boredom." He said as he grabbed the hands of Ragnar in joy, a small spark lit in the eyes of the old man.
Ragnar grinned, happy to see the joyous expression on the face of the blacksmith, "Your wish is my command, old man." He teased with a small bow as he walked out of the smithy.
The group broke out into the crowded streets of Le Havre once again as Finan ran up beside Ragnar with his jaw dropped to the floor. "Where did you learn to use a sword like that!" he questioned as his small hand tugged the muscular arm of Ragnar's, begging for an answer.
Ragnar chuckled, before pinching the kid's cheeks, "I've had excellent tutelage under my father, the current Marshal and soon to be Baron of these lands."
Finan pouted as he held his now stinging cheeks, "Will you teach me then, milord? I wish to serve in your retinue as a warrior." He said as he ran up in front of Ragnar, halting the man in his place.
"I'll——"
Just as Ragnar was about to answer Finan, a huge horn rang out as a runner sprinted through the streets of the Barony shouting, "The traitor's execution is about to begin! Clear the streets of people! I repeat, make way for the execution!" as he ran past Ragnar and his crew, blowing the horn repeatedly to draw everyone's attention.
Over the din of the horn, Ragnar got close to Finan as he whispered in his ears, "I'll make the dead Earl regret ever turning you into a slave."
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