The next morning, I woke up feeling sore all over. Every part of my body ached, especially my neck. I'd slept sitting up, tied up all night.
When I tried to blink my eyes open, something fell off my face. It was green and had a weird smell.
"What the hell is this?"
For a second, I thought some animal shit was stuck to my face, but then I realized I didn't feel any pain on my face.
"Herbal ointment?"
That was my best guess. Vikings were a war-loving people, so they must have had herbal remedies for injuries.
But the question was, who did this? I didn't remember Ingrid coming back after arguing with her brother last night. I passed out as soon as Ingmar left the stable.
As I tried to recall what happened last night, the stable door creaked open. A red-haired woman appeared in the doorway, holding a tray of food.
"Morning, sunshine," she said, her voice dripping with sarcasm.
Without saying much, she set the food down in front of me. Oatmeal, berries, and some smoked fish. A pretty weird combo, if you ask me.
For a moment, I thought she'd make me eat it like a dog, but instead, she untied me.
"Here's your food. Ingmar told me to feed you before you meet Jarl Varin," she said.
Ingrid then untied my hands. The marks from the ropes were still red on my wrists.
It would be sweet if Ingrid were my wife, and we were in a bedroom. But no, this was probably the worst thing that's ever happened to me.
And why the hell am I imagining Ingrid as my wife?
Standing right before me, she looked down at me with disdain.
"I'm supposed to eat here?" I asked.
"Why do you think I brought the food here? Thralls shouldn't complain too much."
I snorted in response.
The stable reeked. Even though I'd spent the night in here, I still wasn't used to the smell and probably never would be. But did I have a choice? Of course not.
But my stomach was killing me, and I felt weak. I hadn't eaten anything since yesterday. If I refused to eat, I wasn't sure they'd give me another meal.
I took a bite of the oatmeal. It tasted as bland as it looked, but strangely, I devoured everything despite the stench of horse manure hanging in the air. I was starving.
After breakfast, Ingrid led me to the longhouse.
It felt refreshing to breathe in the morning air after spending all night in that stable. The settlement looked more alive than it had the night before.
Viking life didn't seem too different from how medieval European life was often portrayed. I saw some women herding goats. A few men carried nets from the beach. And children were running around, playing in the streets.
What set Viking life apart from medieval Europeans was their hairstyles. I had to admit, Vikings had some seriously cool hair, like they had their own personal stylists.
I saw tons of people wearing reverse mullets and undercuts. Some women had punk-style shaved heads, though most wore their hair in braids.
It's funny to think modern hairstyles were inspired by a people who once terrorized Western Europe.
When we reached the longhouse, Ingrid stopped me. She looked me dead in the eyes.
"Remember, you're a thrall. Inside, it's all warriors. Don't cause trouble, even if they start it, got it?"
I nodded like a puppy.
Taking a deep breath, I gathered my courage to step inside. If Ingrid, someone who clearly despised me, went out of her way to warn me, something serious must be going on in there.
As soon as Ingrid opened the door, the lively atmosphere of a feast hit me.
Laughter echoed through the room. The tables were overflowing with food and booze. People were raising their cups and dancing. Animals like dogs and goats roamed around freely. Female servants darted between tables, serving drinks.
In one corner, a man was loudly telling a story while a group of women listened intently. Others were arm wrestling, and some were even wrestling on the floor.
A full-blown feast in the morning. Something I could never have imagined but was normal for the Vikings.
What shocked me the most, though, was seeing my patients partying with everyone else. Just yesterday, they'd had surgery, and now they were partying. It was honestly mind-blowing.
Normal people wouldn't be able to stand properly, let alone move, but they were dancing and laughing. Vikings really were a different breed.
Still, I couldn't help but worry their stitches might tear if they moved around too much.
"Why are you just standing there? Follow me."
I was so captivated by the scene in front of me that I hadn't noticed Ingrid was already five meters ahead. Quickly, I followed her through the lively feast.
At the far end of the long table, I spotted Ingmar chatting with a chubby, bearded man. The chubby man was the first person I saved in the burning village yesterday. He was Birna's father.
"Ha ha ha, Ingrid! Where have you been? Your brother is so boring! Come, sit with me."
"Sorry, Jarl Varin, but I had to step out for a bit to bring the person you wanted to meet."
Jarl Varin looked at me, and a wide smile spread across his face.
"My savior! You're the one who saved me and my people. Birna hasn't stopped talking about you since I woke up. Your name is Maikal, right? Oh, Maikal, this must be fate. But what happened to your face?"
I knew he'd ask about that. I showed up with my face covered in herbal ointment. Ingrid didn't bother telling me to clean it off. I felt like an idiot.
"Ah, I tripped and accidentally hurt myself yesterday," I lied. I didn't want to ruin the mood.
"Oh, for Odin's sake! My savior is a fool! But I'm still very grateful to you, Maikal."
I wasn't used to receiving both gratitude and insults at the same time, but I'd take it. This guy seemed nice enough.
"Maikal!"
A familiar voice called my name. I turned just in time to be hugged from behind by Birna.
"Are you okay? I didn't see you all night."
"Ha ha ha, I'm fine."
"But what happened to your face?"
Like father, like daughter. Birna asked the same question, and I gave her the same answer I gave her dad. But Birna was too smart to believe my dumb excuse. Maybe her dad didn't buy it either.
For a moment, she looked puzzled, then shot a glare at Ingrid. The red-haired woman pretended not to notice.
"You and my daughter seem close. She's never been like this with a stranger before," Jarl Varin said with a smile.
Honestly, it didn't surprise me. Since my time as an intern in the hospital, I was always popular with kids, even though I wasn't a pediatrician. Some of the staff joked I should've worked in a kindergarten.
Maybe that same aura from my previous life carried over into this one.
"Well, since you're here, come join us, Maikal."
Ingmar raised his cup, acting like a welcoming host. But, of course, his discriminative sister wasn't too thrilled with his decision.
"But brother, he's just a thrall. This guy doesn't deserve to sit at the same table as us."
Honestly, her words stung a little, but what Ingmar did next impressed me.
"Sister, let's forget about petty things like that for now. He's the hero of this feast."
"Really?" Ingrid scoffed. "He's a thrall. If the other thralls see us—"
BAM!
Before Ingrid could finish, Ingmar slammed his cup onto the table. Ingrid immediately fell silent.
"Sister, can't you read the room for once?"
Just when I thought it was only Ingmar who was tired of her attitude, I glanced at Jarl Varin. His expression had turned serious, and his eyes were piercing. I hadn't noticed it until Birna gripped my clothes tightly.
"Is it true that my savior is a thrall?" Jarl Varin's voice was deep and wise, completely shifting my view of him. "Didn't you say your father took all the thralls to Iceland?"
"Yes, Jarl Varin. He was one of those meant to go to Iceland. But due to an incident, he stayed here. Perhaps this is part of Odin's plan to save your life."
"Hmm, Odin's plan. You may be right."
For some reason, I could feel a tension between them, even though they were speaking normally.
Jarl Varin stroked his beard while looking at me. Occasionally, his gaze shifted toward Birna.
"How much?" he asked.
"Excuse me?" Ingmar narrowed his eyes.
"How much do I need to pay to buy him?"
Did I hear that right? Is he planning to buy me?