Hilde watched the battle unfold in the clearing from the safety of her hiding place. Beside her, Torren remained equally still, his eyes fixed on the clash below as the warriors of the two Magnars hacked and slashed at one another while archers from both sides sent arrow after arrow across the field.
This was already the third battle they had witnessed between Sylas's warriors and Jorund's men since Ivar had ordered them to return and keep watch over the two settlements. They had originally expected to report whether the crows attacked either Magnar. Instead, they had found the two Magnars waging war against each other.
Though each engagement had been little more than a skirmish involving ten to fifteen warriors from either side, it was enough for Hilde and Torren to realize that these were not isolated clashes. During the past few days, they had come across bloodstained snow, abandoned camps, broken arrows, and snow buried corpses scattered throughout the surrounding forests. It was clear that fighting was erupting all across the region, not just in the clearing before them. The crows had not needed to lift a finger. The two Magnars were steadily bleeding each other dry on their own.
Even so, Hilde could not shake the feeling that they should return and report what they had discovered. Ivar had specifically instructed them to notify him if the crows attacked either Magnar, yet this development seemed just as important. If the fighting continued at this pace, it would not be long before the conflict escalated into a full-scale war and she was sure Ivar would like to witness how it would unfold.
She glanced at Torren beside her. He was rubbing his hands together, barely containing his excitement as he watched the battle below. More than once, she had caught him inching forward as though tempted to join the fighting himself. Fortunately, he held himself back.
"Do ye think we should head back an' tell Ivar about this?" she asked quietly.
Torren glanced at her briefly before returning his attention to the battle before them.
"Ivar only told us t' report back if the crows attacked," he replied. "Far as I can see, both Magnars are just skirmishin' with each other. This isn't even a fraction o' either Sylas's or Jorund's full strength. It's only a handful o' warriors. Let's just finish what Ivar sent us here t' do."
Hilde knew he had a point. No matter how many of these skirmishes broke out, they represented only a tiny portion of the forces commanded by the two Magnars. She had seen the sheer size of both settlements with her own eyes and knew they could field hundreds, if not thousands more warriors. Even so, she could not shake the feeling that Ivar ought to know about what was happening.
"But... what if a real war breaks out between them while we're still here?" she whispered. "If Ivar misses it because we didn't report back, won't he be angry with us? I'm sure he never expected the two Magnars t' start fightin' each other instead o' the crows attackin' them."
That finally drew Torren's attention away from the battle. Fortunately, the fighting was already ending. Sylas's warriors had begun retreating into the trees, making it clear they had lost this skirmish. Torren frowned thoughtfully before replying.
"Let's wait a few more days before headin' back. We should see how these fights unfold first. Maybe they'll stop tomorrow... or the day after. Besides, what if the crows finally attack while we're gone? We at least need t' know if that happens."
Hilde watched as Jorund's warriors began stripping the fallen of their weapons and belongings before nodding. "Aye. But after a few days, we really should return. Ivar would be happy t' get all the weapons they're lootin' now."
Torren could not help but stare longingly at the growing pile of captured weapons. For the past several days, they had watched the victors gather the spoils after every skirmish, yet the two of them could do nothing but observe. They simply lacked the numbers to challenge either side. If Ivar had been with them, or if they had brought more warriors, the outcome might have been different. Unfortunately, only the two of them had been sent on this mission.
"Aye," Torren agreed. "We'll keep watch a few more days, then head back an' report everythin'."
As Jorund's warriors continued stripping the dead of their belongings, Torren shifted his attention toward another part of the forest. Hidden among the trees in the distance were several crows, silently observing the battlefield just as he and Hilde were. They had first spotted them the previous day and had seen them watching every clash between Sylas's and Jorund's warriors ever since. Torren had no idea what the Night's Watch was planning or why they had yet to intervene. Then again, thinking much had never been his strength. That was usually left to Ivar and Ulf. His job, and Hilde's, was simply to remain unseen and keep an eye on everyone involved.
Once Jorund's warriors finished collecting the spoils and began leaving the clearing, Torren gently patted Hilde on the shoulder. "Let's go. We're done here. While ye move, make sure the crows don't spot us."
Without another word, he quietly backed away from their hiding place, remaining in a crouch until the trees concealed him once more.
Hilde cast one last glance at Jorund's warriors and then toward where the crows were hidden before silently following after him.
The two of them continued observing the central part of the haunted forests for several more days, carefully watching both the movements of the crows and the repeated clashes between the warriors of the two Magnars while making sure they remained hidden from everyone. During that time, the fighting never escalated beyond small skirmishes involving a few dozen warriors at most. Neither Jorund nor Sylas committed the bulk of their forces, and despite shadowing the battles from afar, the crows made no attempt to intervene or attack either settlement.
After two more days with nothing changing, Hilde and Torren finally agreed that they had seen enough. Since the Night's Watch had yet to make a move and the conflict between the two Magnars showed no sign of developing into a full-scale war, they decided it was best to return to their settlement first, report everything they had witnessed to Ivar, and await his instructions before taking any further action.
—----------
Ivar reined in his horse as he watched the sun slowly dip below the horizon, its last light fading into the distance.
"We'll make camp here fer the night," he said. "Boroq, ye'll take the first watch."
His companions immediately let out quiet sighs of relief, slumping against the side of the wagon to catch their breath before beginning the familiar routine of setting up camp. Boroq gave a firm nod in response before moving off to survey their surroundings.
They had been traveling for nearly a sennight, yet they still had not reached the Thenns' settlement. This was the farthest north Ivar had ever ventured, and it kept him constantly on edge. He could not shake the thought of encountering the wights and White Walkers, the very horrors this land was infamous for. Fortunately, they had seen no sign of them so far. Even if the timeline he found himself in was still far from the ending of the story he remembered from his previous life, it was far wiser to remain cautious. There was no telling whether those creatures had already begun roaming the far north long before they were meant to appear.
Sliding down from his horse, Ivar took a moment to study the surrounding terrain, his eyes scanning every shadow and treeline. Only after satisfying himself that he had chosen a good location for a camp did he walk toward a nearby boulder and sit upon it. From there, he quietly observed his companions as they went about their tasks, some tending to the horses clumsily as they fed them, others preparing their camp, and a few already working together to raise his tent.
This time, he had brought a considerable number of warriors with him, enough to ensure the Thenns would not look down on his group. Make no mistake, he intended to trade with them, but he also understood that, beyond the Wall, strength spoke louder than words. If the Thenns did not recognize what his people were capable of, negotiations might never begin. After all, raiding was far more common than trade in these lands, and the memory of the ambush the Thenn warriors had once laid for him was still fresh in his mind.
Their only wagon was not nearly as full as it had been when they traveled south. He still did not know what goods would interest the Thenns, so he had brought a modest assortment of whatever his people could spare, salt, a small quantity of furs, river-salted fish, and several low-quality bows carved from weirwood trees which they have on the many, something he personally considered wasteful, but which might still hold value to others.
He pulled a strip of jerky from his fur pouch and chewed on it thoughtfully. What if they had somehow lost their way?
He dismissed the thought almost immediately. Days before reaching this area, he had sent his shadowcats ahead to scout. They had found a large settlement and were now guiding them toward it. Of course, his beast companions could not speak, but after being fed with his essence, they had grown far more intelligent and stronger than ordinary animals. With the training he had given them, they could now understand simple instructions and even grasp concepts like "settlement," and "people" after repeated exposure during their journeys south.
Ivar could only hope that the place his beast companions had found truly belonged to the Thenns. Still, he had also come across signs of habitation along the way, tracks, worn paths, and other traces of human activity, so he was confident they were heading in the right direction, or hoped so.
His thoughts broke as the shadowcats emerged from the trees, their sudden appearance causing his companions to step aside warily. The beasts padded straight toward him without hesitation. When they reached him, they pressed close, licking his face like overgrown cubs. Ivar chuckled softly and fed them the jerky he had prepared, indulging their affection.
What disappointed him the most, however, was that he had yet to achieve any real breakthrough in seeing through their senses. He knew it was possible as he often dreamed of doing so while he slept, but he still could not control it at will, like entering and leaving their perspective as he pleased. But he knew he was getting there. For now though, he could only be content with what he had, while continuing to push himself in hopes of mastering the ability someday.
As for his cultivation, he trained and meditated whenever he had the time. Yet the progress he made after breaking through to the third level of body cultivation was so minimal that, at times, he wondered if he was advancing at all. Even so, he could only begrudgingly accept the slow pace. Stopping now was not an option if he ever hoped to achieve another breakthrough in the future. His current strength might place him above most men if his assumptions were correct, but it was still far from enough to stand against an army of thousands, let alone tens of thousands. So he had no choice but to persevere.
"Ivar! Yer tent's ready!"
He was pulled from his thoughts when he heard Maera call out to him.
"Aye. Thanks," he replied.
He then walked toward his tent, his shadowcats following close behind, and stepped inside to rest while waiting for their evening meal.
—--------
The next morning came quietly, the pale light of dawn creeping over the horizon and stirring the camp to life. One by one, his companions rose from their bedrolls, shaking off sleep as they began preparing for the day ahead. Fires were rekindled, a simple meal was shared, and the horses were fed and readied.
Once everything was packed and the camp cleared, Ivar mounted his horse and gave the order. "Let's move."
"Aye."
"Aye."
They traveled for most of the day without incident. The land grew harsher, and the trees thinned the farther north they went. Even the wind felt sharper here even though it was still summer, cutting through fur and leather alike, but they pressed on regardless.
By the time the sun began its slow descent, casting long shadows across the land, Ivar suddenly raised a hand. His shadowcats had sent a signal through their connection.
The group halted at once.
Ivar took a moment to sort through the vague, instinctive impressions from his beasts before understanding what they meant, humans or two feets.
He acted immediately and looked at his companions.
"Detach the horses from the wagon," he ordered. "We'll pull it from here on out."
He scanned the group, then fixed his gaze on Boroq. "Boroq, take five men with ye. Watch over the horses. Bring them back to the last night's camp and wait for us there. Understood?"
Though clearly puzzled, Boroq nodded after seeing the seriousness in Ivar's expression. "Aye."
Maera, however, frowned slightly, her curiosity getting the better of her. "Why are we leavin' the horses, Ivar?"
"I don't want the Thenns seein' us with them," Ivar replied without hesitation. "They might take a liking to 'em and I'd rather not give 'em a reason to try getting 'em from us by force."
"Are we near, then?"
"Aye."
Maera and the others accepted his reasoning and moved quickly to carry out his orders.
Once the horses were sent away, the group continued on foot, pulling the wagon themselves.. The pace slowed, but no one complained.
An hour later, Ivar finally saw them, the first group of Thenns he had encountered since the journey began. Their bronze weapons gleamed faintly, and some wore ornaments of the same metal, much like the warriors who had ambushed Ivar and his companions before.
The Thenns reacted immediately upon spotting them, moving forward with clear intent, some even had their weapons raised.
Ivar raised his hand at once, signaling for a white flag to be brought forward. It was lifted and waved hurriedly as he stepped ahead of his group, raising both hands in a gesture of peace.
"Oi! Oi!" he called out. "We came here to trade!"
"Ahh!"
The group of ten continued their charge despite his attempt at a peaceful approach. Seeing that they had no intention of stopping or listening, Ivar let out a quiet sigh before turning his head slightly toward his men.
"Don't make any moves that'll kill 'em," he ordered calmly. "We're here to trade, after all. These fools are just the bad apples of their clan, me think. Just defend yourselves if any of 'em get past me. That's all."
With that, he stepped forward and charged to meet the fools head-on.
His sudden advance caught the Thenn warriors off guard for a brief moment, but they quickly regained themselves and pressed on.
Ivar didn't even bother to draw his sword. The first man reached him, weapon raised, but before the blade could fall, Ivar seized his arm, twisted it sharply, and disarmed him in one smooth motion. A quick strike to the throat followed, leaving the man choking and stumbling backward. The second barely had time to react before Ivar's fist crashed into his face, sending him sprawling into the snow. The third fared no better. Ivar drove a kick straight into the man's groin, dropping him instantly as he curled up and writhed in pain. The rest of the charging warriors finally hesitated, their momentum faltering as they took in what had just happened.
Seeing that they were no longer rushing forward, Ivar stopped as well. He didn't strike the nearest man who was already shaking from fear, choosing instead to let the silence settle for a moment before speaking.
"I said we came here to trade, not to kick yer asses," he said, his tone flat but edged with annoyance. "D' ye lot speak a different tongue or somethin'? Now, who's yer leader so I can reason with him?"
The warriors exchanged glances before pointing toward the man Ivar had just kicked in the groin. He was still sprawled in the snow, clutching himself and rolling in pain. Ivar could only smile wryly at the sight.
Seeing that the man was in no condition to stand anytime soon, Ivar turned to the others. "Go back to yer settlement and bring someone who has the authority to trade and negotiate with us," he said calmly. "Leave yer leader here, along with a few men to watch over him and the others. It'll take a while before they're back on their feet."
He paused, letting his gaze harden slightly. "But if ye return with too many warriors, we'll be gone before ye arrive and I can't promise yer companions here will fare well."
The Thenns hesitated, suspicion plain on their faces. Ivar exhaled softly and added, "Think about it. What d' ye reckon would've happened if I'd used me blade earlier? Haven't ye noticed I fought ye all with me bare hands? If I wanted ye lot dead, none of ye would still be standin' here."
That seemed to give them pause. Their eyes widened slightly as they realized the truth of his words. After a brief, hushed discussion among themselves, they finally sent two of their number running back toward their settlement.
Watching them go, Ivar let out a quiet breath of relief. He then gestured for his companions and the Thenns who remained to move, leading them toward a position that offered a clear escape route should things turn against them once the Thenns returned.
—---------
Stenn sat upon the high seat in the largest hall of his settlement, watching as his wives tended to his sons and daughters. Lately, a persistent headache had plagued him. Their only salt mine had collapsed a fortnight ago, and despite the efforts of the men he had sent to clear it, they had made little progress. The hardened soil and rock choking the entrance refused to yield. They had told him it would take moons before the mine could be worked again. The men buried beneath the collapse were no longer even a concern. They had already been written off. What mattered now was the loss of salt as their current stockpile would only last them for a moon at most.
With a weary sigh, Stenn covered his face with one hand as he searched for a solution. After a long moment of thought, only one answer remained, raid south of the Wall and take what they needed. It had been some time since they last resorted to such measures, as their land had long provided most of what they required, bronze for weapons, salt, and game from the surrounding wilderness. But now, it seemed they would have to return to raiding far sooner than he had expected.
He was reluctant to send his warriors south as two Magnars had risen up recently which made travelling south dangerous but it seemed he had little choice. He reached for his cup of mead to drink when a voice suddenly called out.
"Stenn! Stenn!"
He lowered his hand and looked toward the source of the disturbance. The man who had entered was clearly out of breath, which eased his irritation somewhat as this must be important.
"What is it?" he asked, his tone edged with annoyance. "It better be important, Kjell."
Kjell paused to catch his breath before speaking. "Varn and some of his band… they've been captured by some brat not far from the settlement. One of his men ran back to tell us what happened."
"The gall!" Stenn rose to his feet at once, anger flashing across his face. He stepped down from his seat and strode toward Kjell. "Come. I want to hear this from the man himself how it happened, and who dares lay hands on my warriors."
He narrowed his eyes slightly as he strode past Kjell and out of the hall. "Are you certain they're still alive?"
Following behind him, Kjell nodded. "That's what the man said. He nearly passed out rushing back here. He's by the entrance of the settlement, catching his breath."
Word had already begun to spread. Some of their clansmen, having heard what had happened, were now gathering near the warrior who had returned. By the time Stenn arrived, a small crowd had formed. It quickly parted as he stepped forward, his presence alone enough to silence the murmurs.
He stopped before the exhausted man, who was still breathing hard, and spoke in a firm voice. "Tell me everything that happened and how many men had the gall to attack my warriors so close to our settlement."
The man did as ordered, recounting the entire encounter.
As Stenn listened, his anger eased somewhat. The attackers had not killed any of his warriors. Instead, they had only fought to stop their charge. Even so, the matter could not be ignored.
He gave his orders at once. Ten of his best warriors would accompany him to meet these so-called traders. Others were to position themselves half a league away, ready to act should anything go wrong, whether the strangers attempted to flee or harm the men left behind.
When Stenn and his chosen warriors reached the location, he was surprised by what he saw. The group that had supposedly attacked his men now stood waiting, a white flag raised, their expressions calm, almost friendly, some he even saw were smiling.
He then glanced toward his own warriors. Aside from a few who still showed signs of pain, they appeared unharmed.
Cautious, he moved forward. The red-haired brat also stepped out to meet him, closing the distance as well. When they were close enough to speak, Stenn halted and he unstrapped his sword from his waist in case these strangers were to attack him.
"What d' ye want?" he asked bluntly.
One of his hardheaded warriors called out to him, "Why are ye talkin' to them, Stenn? We should just cut them down right here and be done with it."
Stenn frowned and barked back, "Shut up! I'll hear them first since they didn't kill any of our own." He turned his gaze back to the red-haired brat. "Don't test my patience, brat. I said, what d' ye want?"
Ivar pouted slightly. He had meant to answer earlier, but the interruption had broken his momentum. Still, he spoke quickly this time. "We came here to trade. We heard that the great Thenns were camped somewhere in this area, so we came to see if ye'd be willing to deal with us. We brought goods that might interest ye. And for what it's worth, we didn't kill any of yer men, we only taught 'em a lesson. They rushed at us without even tryin' to talk first."
Stenn's grip on his sword loosened slightly as he studied the stranger. "Where d' ye come from, and how d' ye know where our settlement is?"
"From the southeast from here, about a sennight's walk," Ivar replied. "As for yer settlement, we didn't actually know where it was. We were just wanderin', hopin' to find yer settlement, and were near ready to give up when we ran into yer warriors." He spread his hands in a gesture of openness. "Look. We mean no harm and we only want to trade. We brought salt, furs, and salted river fish." He gestured toward the wagon behind him.
At the mention of salt and fish, Stenn paused. The offer caught his interest, but he did not let it show too plainly. "Release my warriors first," he said. "Then we'll speak of trade."
Ivar let out a quiet breath, noting the slight easing in the man's stance. "O' course."
He turned and gave a quick order. The Thenn warriors were released at once and hurried back to their side.
"Satisfied now?" Ivar asked.
Stenn waited until his warriors had fully regrouped behind him before replying. "Show us what ye have."
"Gladly," Ivar said with a smile. He gestured for his men to pull the wagon towards them and display their goods.
The Thenns quickly moved in to inspect the contents. Some of them smiled upon discovering the low-quality weirwood bows, clearly intrigued despite their craftsmanship. However, Ivar quickly noticed that their leader's attention lingered on the salt. It seemed that salt held far greater value here than he had expected. I might make a killing trading salt with them, he thought.
What followed was a tense round of bargaining between Ivar and the man who introduced himself as Stenn, the leader of the Thenns. Ivar had hoped to acquire some of their bronze swords, but Stenn refused to part with them under any circumstances and the man reasoned that the quality of the salt is different from the usual salt they usually mine. In the end, Ivar settled for several bronze spearheads, which were still a worthwhile gain. Perhaps, with time and continued trade, they would become more willing to offer their prized weapons.
Despite that, Ivar was satisfied with what they had gained from this exchange.
They were preparing to leave as the Thenns did not yet trust them enough to invite them into their settlement when Stenn suddenly called out, his expression turning serious. "Wait a moment. Have ye seen a band o' ours wanderin' near yer lands? They've been gone for moons now, and we've been searchin' fer them. One of them is my daughter."
Ivar shook his head, keeping his expression steady, though he could feel sweat gathering along his back beneath his thick furs.
"Nay," he replied evenly. "Though one of yer bands did come to our settlement some time ago, askin' the same question. We told them then that we hadn't seen any sign of yer people." He paused briefly before adding, "But don't worry. If we find any trace of them, I'll make sure ye hear of it when we trade again."
Stenn studied him carefully, searching for any sign of deceit. When he found none, he let out a slow breath and waved a hand.
"Alright. Ye can go. Show the bronze ornament I've given ye next time, so my men know not to attack."
"Aye," Ivar replied with a smile.
He turned and led his group away without another word. Beneath his heavy furs, his back was damp with sweat, but he gave no outward sign of it as they departed.
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A/N: Please don't forget to rate and review the story after reading. And if you want to read ahead. You know where to look.