Vikings were the elite force for a reason. Every man, Warden or not, was battle-trained from childhood.
They moved as one body, every step in sync with the next. Orders were not questioned. Commands were not delayed. They acted, and they conquered.
Isabella proved herself to be a seasoned commander. Under her sharp voice and gestures, the first wave of attackers was neutralized within a minute.
Ragnar led the charge, carving through enemies with unrestrained ferocity. The Vikings behind him needed only to finish the remnants.
Isabella and the four initiates had not even drawn upon their skills yet. Ragnar and the fourteen ordinary Vikings were already drenched in the blood and glory of victory.
"HURRAH!"
The war cry rose like thunder across the High Watch, echoing down the mountain walls. It was not merely triumph. It was a signal to every scouting group nearby.
"Captain, what now?" Ragnar asked, his chest rising with steady breaths.
"We go in," Isabella answered.
It was the only reasonable course. Retreating without discovering the cause of the disturbance would endanger the entire North Wing and the county. They advanced through the barracks.
The scent of blood thickened. Beneath it, the bitter reek of something charred. Fire marks scorched the stone walls, black streaks spidering across the wood beams.
The attacker had possessed fire manipulation. Judging by the residue, likely an Apprentice mage.
Isabella drew her wand. Unlike swordsmen, mages required a conduit to anchor and shape mana.
The initiates near her formed a loose protective ring: two shield bearers, a spearman, and a bow user.
Ragnar nodded to them and took point, supported by the fourteen ordinary Vikings behind him.
They swept through the barracks, room after room, yet no further attacks came. The silence was thick, unnatural.
The only path left was the dungeon carved into the mountain's rock.
The entrance door had been blasted apart. A gaping hole yawned where reinforced iron should have been.
Ragnar looked to Isabella. She met his gaze and gave a silent approval. One of the shield-bearing initiates dismounted.
He approached Ragnar and returned his nod. Together, they entered the dark passage.
The air changed immediately. The smell of burnt flesh was stronger here, sharp and recent.
The intruders had gone deeper.
Ragnar remembered this dungeon well. He had once been chained in its first level. The worst criminals were kept below, on the second floor.
If the enemies were down there, there should have been sounds of struggle or screams. Yet there was only quiet. A quiet that felt wrong.
"Keep moving," Ragnar murmured.
They descended the stone steps. The second floor was completely empty. But the burning odor here was different, newer, heavier. It smelled of human fat melting over flame.
The tank stiffened. Ragnar's jaw clenched.
"What is your name?" for some reason Ragnar felt like asking.
"Rio. Rio of the Vikings."
"Ragnar. Ragnar of the Vikings."
"I know." The initiate grinned. The atmosphere felt warmer now for maybe multiple reasons.
Anyway, Ragnar learned that the dungeon of the High Watch not only consisted of two floors but, considering the way sound came to their ears, it might even have more than five floors.
Then what were the Imperials hiding down here? Surely not just the county's criminals.
The answer waited below.
Faint footsteps echoed behind them. The Vikings had entered the dungeon since they didn't get any response otherwise.
Ragnar and the initiate waited until the squad reached them, letting relief wash over their shoulders.
"Is it done?" Ragnar asked.
"No squads answered. I doubt..." Isabella had an ugly look on her cold face.
"Should we go down? It seems dangerous. And unknown," he asked.
"Aren't you curious?"
"Fuck it. Let's go down."
Every Viking mirrored that emotion. If there was one thing Vikings loved doing other than raiding the Snowlands, it was exploring dangerous and unknown places. Especially this kind of place.
And so the group started their descent.
As they started to climb down, it became clear that all the floors had cells, and all these cells had inhabitants, and all the inhabitants were now ash.
The only skill the intruders used was fire-type. And the style was the same. Meaning the intruder was a single person.
Since they could eliminate all the High Watch guards, they would be in the high Apprentice ranks.
They canceled the possibility of them being an Adept because the power of Adepts didn't need multiple strikes to destroy cells on each floor. One was enough.
After they climbed down the eighth floor, they finally heard a sound. It was distant, similar to a mourning voice. Then there were sounds of angry flames and terrified screams.
The Vikings increased their pace. And finally, they reached where the sounds came from.
A man stood on the tenth floor. Flames danced around him. The cells before him were on fire alongside the people inside. But that didn't terrify the Vikings.
However, what terrified them was how the strength of the flames around him seemed to be at a level which surely wasn't Apprentice.
Then they all noticed the cells in this room had all burned together.
"Rio!" Ragnar didn't have to shout as Rio activated all his skills and placed his shield in between. The second tank also rushed to support him.
Isabella started summoning the ice, while the archer aimed his bow. The fourteen ordinary Vikings had already retreated back and, as per the order, they rushed back to the entrance.
The spearman jumped near him and both of them gave a hard nod.
"My fire… my fire. It's thirsty…" the man mourned. Ragnar tightened his grip on his sword so hard, his knuckles turned white.
"Imperio de la Montaña… deserves nothing more than death." The man's mourning turned to hysterical roars. Isabella gave a command and the Vikings took action.
A single arrow shot through the air. It reached the crying man. And then disintegrated, together with the head of the archer.
"What the fuck," cursed Ragnar as he sprinted to Isabella and pulled her away from her current position. Or so he thought.
Because there was no relief on Isabella at him rescuing her from death, but rather the horror of seeing a comrade die. Just like she had shown when the archer died.
Obviously, he was trying to save her, since the man was targeting long-range attackers. Did his calculations fail?
That man didn't attack long-rangers, but went for the tanks instead?
Ragnar tilted his head to the side. The tanks were fine. The spearman was also fine. But they all looked at him like he was the one who died.
Surely his sprint allowed him… glurgh. What?
Ragnar looked down. Half of his body was missing. His internal organs were pooled on the ground.
"So it was me. His second target." was all he thought before dying.
[You have been killed by a-sword slash.]
[Congratulations! You have obtained a common Skill: Sword Slash 1]
Morning came with the hiss and pop of frost melting from the roof. Ragnar opened his eyes wide and scrambled to touch his lower half. He was intact.
'So that was a dream?' A bit reluctantly, he called his system screen.
* * *
Name: Ragnar Frostborn
Age: 17
Title: Sword Initiate
[Path and Skills:]
Path of Sword:
Sword Thrust 10 (Initiate)
Sword Slash 1
Miscellaneous:
Sprinting 8
Intimidation 5
Physical fitness 9
Focus 9
* * *