I noticed the Northman woman's aura rolled out in steady, glacial waves, Seventh Circle. It pressed against mine without flinching. Brunna cleared her throat and began speaking. ''Her name is Lagertha. Taken in a skirmish against one of the coastal Counts.''
The blonde's eyes snapped toward the dwarf woman, who ignored her as she continued. ''She killed twenty men before they brought her down with nets and sleep darts. The noble who captured her thought to keep her as a trophy wife. She slit his throat on their wedding night. After that… no one's been foolish enough to try claiming her since.''
Lagertha's gaze locked onto mine the instant I stepped fully into the light. When she spoke, her voice was low and rough, carrying the thick accent of the northern clans. ''You're the Devourer Prince everyone is talking about.''
It wasn't a question. ''I am.''
She tilted her head slightly, sizing me up the way a veteran sizes up a green recruit before a shield-wall. ''They say you devour the strong. That their power becomes yours.''
''Close enough,'' I replied, showing her my sharp teeth.
A short, mirthless huff escaped her. ''Then you should know these chains hold flesh. Not will. I do not kneel for gold or threats.''
I stepped closer to the bars. The Dwarven warriors' heavy footsteps halted behind me; Torvald and Lirael exchanged a glance; Selene's fingers flexed on her sword hilt. ''I don't buy broken toys,'' I told her. ''I buy weapons. Ones that strike true. Ones that don't shatter when the line breaks.''
Her eyes narrowed. ''And what do I gain, prince? A gilded cage? Or the chance to swing steel again?''
''Steel. Blood. Coin when the fighting's done. A place in my ranks until you prove you're more useful free than chained. When Bleakmarch falls, when I march toward the Black Briar dogs and their bodies soak the battlefields and castles. After that… your choice. Stay and carve your name in history beside mine, or walk away with enough silver to buy your own longship.''
Silence hung thick. The lantern swayed, throwing shifting shadows across her face. Finally, she spoke with a big smile. ''Break the chains. Give me an axe. Let me spill blood at your side.''
I chuckled as excitement rose within me. I knew this woman would be loyal once she realised my plans. I was just about to talk, but Brunna interrupted. ''The boss lady has said you can take any merchandise for free, a token of goodwill.''
I turned to the dark-haired dwarf with narrowed eyes. ''What's the catch? No one gives anything for free, especially slaves.''
Brunna giggled before waving me away. ''The boss is the richest woman on Aldoria; a few slaves are nothing to her.''
''You didn't answer my question,'' I retorted.
''Boss wants you to know that she has no grudge against you,'' Brunna revealed. ''Despite Verona and Baldurkar's current frosty relationship.''
''Oh, the Mountain Wars,'' I muttered, remembering the history lessons Selene gave me during training.
I waved my hand. ''I have no grudge against dwarves, by what I know, they are an honourable folk and are not conniving like the other races.''
Brunna's face lit up, and the warriors chuckled as one of them spoke. ''Seems like a smart prince, this one.''
''Yes, I'm not petty like my brothers,'' I replied, grinning. ''Other races interest me in many ways.''
''Wait until you meet the cat folk prince!'' Another dwarf said. ''They will drive you wild.''
Everyone chuckled as Lagertha's restraints clattered to the ground, but the laughter died instantly the moment she moved. She became a blur until she suddenly stood inches from my face. A beautiful pair of piercing, frosty blue eyes locked onto mine, ancient and unnervingly cold.
''My Master,'' she whispered, her voice like cracking ice. ''Future Slayer of Demons. Devourer of Empires. I've heard what the Old Hag whispered about you before Ulfrgardr fell… and I want a piece of it."
My eyebrow rose as Selene appeared beside us in a flash, the edge of her blade already pressed against the blonde's throat. Lagertha didn't flinch. ''Before my kingdom fell,'' she said quietly. ''She foresaw a young man who would burn the world while devouring his enemies.''
''What makes you think I'm this person?'' I asked.
Lagertha's lips curled into a sly smirk. ''Because you can eat magic. Magic is a strange thing… but you, master, will change Aldoria more than anyone in history, and I will follow you.''
Moments later, she took a step backwards, then another, until the space between us vanished. She stopped just short of arm's reach. The waves of her Seventh Circle aura rolled against mine once more, steady, cold, and unafraid. Then, without a word, she dropped to one knee.
The motion was nothing like a submission. It was the controlled descent of a warrior choosing her battlefield. Her blonde braid slid over her shoulder as she bowed her head for a single heartbeat before lifting her gaze to lock onto mine again. ''My axe is yours, Arthur Verona, Third Prince of the Verona Kingdom,'' she said, voice low and rough with that thick northern accent. ''From this moment until the day I fall. I swear it on the blood of my fallen kin, on the frozen seas of my homeland, and on the Old Hag's prophecy that still echoes in my ears.''
Her right fist pressed firmly over her heart, the other resting on the hilt of the axe Brunna had just handed her. ''I will not kneel for gold. I will not kneel for fear. But I kneel for the Devourer. For the man who will burn kingdoms and devour empires. If you will have me, I swear to fight at your side, to spill the blood of your enemies, and to carve our names into the bones of Aldoria itself.''
She paused, the corner of her mouth curving into that same sly, dangerous smirk I'd seen earlier. ''When Bleakmarch falls, and all the outlaws choke on their own banners, you will see what kind of weapon I truly am. And when the time comes… if you prove worthy of the prophecy, I will follow you into the jaws of hell and laugh while we tear it apart.''
The air felt heavier, charged. Her aura pressed harder against mine, not in challenge this time, but in alignment. I felt a slow grin spread across my face. ''Rise, Lagertha,'' I said, my voice steady despite the excitement surging through my veins. ''You're no longer a slave. You're mine now. My shield, my axe in the dark.''
She stood in one smooth motion, towering with that same unyielding pride, axe already comfortable in her grip. ''Then give me blood to spill, my master,'' she whispered, eyes gleaming like ice under moonlight. ''And I will make the world remember why they feared the North.''
''There will be more than enough time for such things,'' I reassured, then turned to Brunna. ''Do you have anyone specialised in logistics? Who can get me stuff my legion needs?''
The dark-haired dwarf nodded, a smile crossing her face. ''Yes, the boss lady is sending someone to aid you, but there's a condition to said gift.''
''And what's that?''
''She wants a meeting in two weeks,'' Brunna revealed.
I sighed and agreed. ''Tell her to visit me at the fort south of the city. I'll be there for another month before moving toward Bleakmarch.''
''I shall tell her right away!'' she responded, clearly pleased.
Following that, we were led outside as the dwarf warriors left to do their duties. Selene appeared beside me. ''Are you sure you don't want any more warriors?''
''You, Lagertha, Torvald and Lirael are enough for now,'' I replied, looking at the silver-haired Ranger. ''Get General Bloodaxe, and bring her to the gates of Tidewater.''
''Yes, my prince!'' she saluted before vanishing into the crowd.
That's when I noticed Selene looking at me with a questioning expression, so I explained. ''I promised Sahara a drink, and I'm keeping that promise.''
The brunette was about to speak, but Lagertha interrupted. ''I'm coming with you,'' she said firmly. ''There are many people out there who want your head, master.''
''Alright,'' I said before making my way to the gate as people moved out of our way.
Lagertha turned to me. ''I need some axes, I can fight with my fists, but prefer metal,'' she asked.
''Wait until we find a blacksmith,'' I responded.
We reached Tidewater's south gate and settled in to wait for the orc beauty. As time stretched on, my eyes drifted to a nearby blacksmith. With a quiet breath, I drew out a small pouch, the last of my silver, and pressed it toward Lagertha. ''Here. Buy yourself some weapons.''
She blinked, startled, her gaze flicking from me to the pouch. ''That's your coin, master. I can't take it.''
I tossed it into her hands before she could protest further. ''I'll earn it back when we deal with the outlaws. Right now, I need you armed, before the next assassin decides to try their luck.''
Lagertha hesitated only a heartbeat longer before closing her fingers around the pouch. Then, with a sharp nod, she turned and strode off toward the blacksmith, her pace quickening into a purposeful rush. ''You're just letting her spend your last coins?'' Selene's voice drifted up beside me, laced with curiosity.
I glanced at her. ''I am.''
She tilted her head slightly, eyes narrowing. ''Why didn't you take weapons from the Baldurkar Company? I'm sure they had plenty.''
I let out a quiet breath, my gaze lingering on the forge where sparks leapt into the air. ''Because I don't want to own anything apart from a meeting.''
Selene nodded. ''It's a good sign that Theodora Medici wants to meet you. She's one of the wealthiest and most influential women on Aldoria. Her support could open a lot of doors for your cause.''
''Yes… it would,'' I muttered.
''She intends to offer funding for the Bleakmarch invasion,'' Lirael said.
I turned toward the ranger as she continued. ''Word of the Third Prince's plan to invade Bleakmarch has spread across the entire kingdom. Duchess Theodora is no fool. She's known for her sharp mind and sound judgment. She sees the same potential in you that we do… and she wants to be part of it.''
''Interesting,'' I replied. ''Funding would be good, and maybe some of the heavy Dwarf units. We could smash through the toughest lines with those on our side.''
Everyone laughed, but Selene shook her head. ''The Bardurkar Dwarves won't fight for a Veronian Prince, My Lord. They hate us with a deep passion.''
''I know, they hate our kingdom after father took some of their land in the last war.''
''Yes, the kingdom conquered all their farmland,'' Torvald added. ''Resulting in them going underground to produce food.''
Now it makes sense, I thought.
Following that, I spotted Lagertha approaching, holding two bearded axes that hummed with mana. The blonde stopped in front of me and spoke. ''Thank you, master. These weapons will serve me well.''
''Good,'' I replied.
Just then, Torvald interrupted. ''My Prince, would you like to have a warm-up drink? A battle of ale before the general arrives.''
I noticed the older man was looking at a nearby tavern and laughed. ''Let's go, Tors. Victory will go to me!''
The tavern was already alive with noise when we stepped inside: laughter, shouted boasts, and the clatter of tankards meeting wood. Torvald wasted no time, slamming a few coins onto the counter and calling for the strongest ale they had. ''None of that watered-down swill,'' he added, grinning as the barkeep raised a brow. ''We're celebrating early.''
Outside, Selene and Lagertha took their posts without question. The brunette warrior leaned casually against the wall near the entrance, blue eyes scanning every passerby with quiet intensity. The blonde stood a little further out, axes resting at her sides, her posture relaxed but her grip firm.
Inside, Torvald shoved a brimming mug into my hand. ''To victory,'' he said.
''To victory,'' I echoed, and we drank.
One mug turned into two, then three. Torvald roared with laughter as he slammed his empty tankard down. ''You've got a strong arm, my Prince, I'll give you that, but you're not beating me in a contest of ale!''
''You're already slowing,'' I shot back, though the warmth in my chest was beginning to spread pleasantly.
Outside, the mood was far less jovial. A pair of city guards had wandered down the street, their armour clinking softly as they approached. One of them slowed when he spotted Lagertha, his eyes lingering a little too long. ''Well now,'' he said, smirking. ''Didn't know they let barbarians wander this close to the inner district.''
Selene's gaze flicked toward him, sharp and warning, but she said nothing. Lagertha didn't react at first. Her expression remained still, almost indifferent. The guard took another step closer, emboldened by her silence. ''And who are you waiting for, hmm? Some half-blood warlord? Or that so-called fat prince people whisper about?''
That was enough. In a blur, Lagertha moved. Her hand shot out, grabbing the man by the front of his armour, and before he could react, her fist drove into his jaw with a dull, heavy crack. The guard dropped instantly, crumpling to the ground like a puppet with its strings cut.
The second guard froze, eyes wide. Lagertha leaned in slightly, her voice low and cold. ''You will speak of my master with respect.''
Selene straightened, a faint smirk tugging at her lips as she glanced at the unconscious man. ''You're going to cause a scene.''
''He deserved worse,'' Lagertha replied flatly, stepping back into position as if nothing had happened.
Inside, oblivious to the brief chaos outside, Torvald raised another mug. ''Come on, my Prince! Don't tell me you're yielding already!''
I smirked, lifting my drink. ''Not a chance.''