Sigurd and I headed out to the Omvrik Clan's settlement as planned.
Going there empty-handed after causing trouble with them was a terrible idea. So, we loaded up a ton of gifts for Jarl Guthrum—gold, honey, salt, and every valuable item we could pack on our wagon.
There was another guy from Ingmar's group with us that I forgot to mention. His name was Olaf. He was a big guy with a long beard down to his waist. Despite his intimidating look, he was actually pretty friendly.
We set out while the sun was still low, and a thin mist cloaked the forest. The air was bone-chilling, no matter how much sunlight filtered through the trees.
The trip was mostly quiet. Sigurd focused on steering the horse, while Olaf kept himself busy chugging mead.
Meanwhile, I spent the time organizing my thoughts, rehearsing what I'd say to Guthrum when we arrived at the Omvrik settlement.
I didn't know what Guthrum was like—whether he'd be a calm guy with a bad temper like Ingmar or a gruff, good-natured leader who deeply cared about his men, like Varin.
There wasn't much information about Guthrum before he made a name for himself in England. Records of his early life were scarce. Some sources said he had ties to King Horik II.
This was my plan, and if I messed up, I'd have to face the consequences.
If I had any historical info about Guthrum's character.
"You're awfully quiet. You nervous?"
Lost in my thoughts, Sigurd's sudden question snapped me back. The bald guy was still steering the horse, his gaze fixed ahead.
I forgot the fact that I was surrounded by Vikings. Sigurd probably knew a thing or two about Guthrum.
"Yeah. I have no idea what Guthrum's like. I'm worried I'll say the wrong thing and offend him. He could kill me, you know."
Sigurd chuckled when he heard my answer. I wasn't sure if he was laughing at me for being nervous or for misjudging Guthrum. Or maybe both.
"For Odin's sake, I thought you suggested this plan because you know Guthrum. You're sailing blind in uncharted waters, idiot!"
Sigurd laughed loudly as he called me crazy in his own words. But it didn't bother me. I'd take any risk if it meant no one had to die. After all, my whole purpose for living again was to earn good karma.
"So, can you tell me what Guthrum's like?" I interrupted.
"If you're asking me, I would say he's a beast."
Naturally, I raised an eyebrow.
"I'll give you a metaphor," Sigurd continued. "If Ingmar's like a calm sea that can sink a ship, and Asbjorn's a stormy ocean, then Guthrum's a whirlpool. You won't realize how dangerous he is until you're already too close."
Listening to Sigurd's explanation, I still didn't fully get it. To be honest, communication skill wasn't my thing.
The wagon kept rolling toward the Omvrik clan's settlement.
The sun climbed higher, and the thin mist cloaking the forest began to lift. A few animals roamed nearby, watching us through the bushes and trees.
Partway through the journey, I spotted a plume of black smoke. I told Sigurd what I saw, but the bald guy didn't seem interested. Or maybe he already knew it.
The burning smell began to hang in the air. As I focused on the rising smoke, I noticed a large wooden fence. Soon enough, we reached a gate flanked by two towers on either side.
Only one guard stood in front of the gate, while there were two or three men in each tower. One of the tower guards noticed us. He immediately shouted to his buddy down below.
I thought the guy was telling his friend to welcome us. Instead, he summoned a dozen guards. The guards in front of the gate drew their swords and spears on us, while the ones in the towers readied their bows.
"Stop right there! Leave, or you'll face the consequences!" one of the archers yelled.
"We're from the Valgrund Clan. We mean no harm here."
Luckily, we had Sigurd with us. The bald guy stayed calm even with dozens of arrows and swords aimed straight at his face. Thanks to him, one of the guards told his men to lower their weapons.
Still, just in case things went south, I tried to wake up Olaf. But no matter how hard I shook him, the drunk wouldn't wake up. Instead, he hugged his bottle tighter.
"What are Valgrund bastards doing here? You want to attack us, huh?" one of the gate guards barked.
"If we were here to attack, we'd be coming with an army, not a wagon," Sigurd replied.
"Don't expect us to trust you after taking Valka. Get lost while you still can!"
Sigurd chuckled. "So, now you're the ones calling the shots, huh? Not Guthrum?"
The guards were stunned when Sigurd mentioned their Jarl. Finally, they huddled up, whispered among themselves, and sent one of them to fetch him.
Bringing Sigurd with us was definitely the right call. If I had brought Ingrid, things could've gotten messy.
It wasn't long before the gate creaked open, and they let us into the fort.
"We'll keep eyes on you, Sigurd. If you try anything, I will kill you with my own hands."
"Don't worry. I still value my life," Sigurd replied.
My heart pounded as our wagon rolled through the gate. That initial burst of confidence drained out, and nerves started flooding back.
Suddenly, a heat wave washed over my skin, and an orange glow flickered across my face. I turned and saw a massive fire blazing.
My eyes widened at the sight—not because of the fire, but what was causing it.
I saw dozens of men and women lined up, waiting their turn to be slaughtered. Some resisted, while others just stood there hopelessly.
One man tried to escape, but a guard caught him and killed him in the place. The guard dragged his body over and dumped him into the fire.
The whole horrific scene unfolded right in front of me, and all I could do was watch it helplessly.