CH-8
Haraldson couldn't believe his ears after hearing his men's reports.
Was this actually the Svein he knew?
Why did it feel like one of those lauded, mythical characters from their culture's folktales?
Also, what in the gods was this ability to disappear under pursuit after he successfully maneuvered to slip behind a tree or any other obstruction in the way?
It did not sound like Svein, but rather like some god of mischief playing tricks on his men.
Slam!
Haraldson slammed, banged the armrest of his imposing throne chair and raised his voice in the great hall, furious,
"You're a bunch of useless men, all of you!"
"..."
The room fell silent with stillness and apprehension.
The earl continued with the same anger,
"Your mothers should never have fed you all; you've grown up to be so big but so worthless!"
"Where is Svein now?? I need you to find his whereabouts for me, so I can work out what he's up to!"
"Since you're all of such little help, I'll personally give you directions on how to catch him next time!"
Haraldson scorned great men and those with secrets… Svein appeared to have a big secret, which Haraldson sought to uncover.
Why did he suddenly become a criminal?
Was it because he wanted to steal the chieftain's seat now that he seemingly had mysteriously received strange powers and blessings from the gods?
Or was Svein a sorcerer in disguise all along, playing a game and scheming on him?
"My lord, we have been unable to locate his current whereabouts; he vanishes like mist and white smoke after we begin chasing him deep into the forest and mountains."
"Once he does that, it's impossible to track his footprints and continue to seek where he is or what he does… It is as if his tracks completely cut off at the exact spots where he goes missing."
One of the men, bowing in fear and tension, responded.
He spoke honestly and had nothing to hide.
He had done his best to pursue and hunt down Svein, as had everyone else here.
But he was still fearful.
This was due to the Earl's distrustful nature.
Getting out of this room safely and unscathed, with the earl not suspecting them of conspiring with Svein, would be an excellent outcome already.
"Even his footprints cannot be traced?"
Haraldson inquired in surprise.
"Yes, My Lord. It may strike you as inconceivable, but all of us here are witnesses to the fact."
The man, bowing his knee, responded.
He redirected the attention to his comrades, who began upsetting, puzzling Haraldson further, as they all concurred to his words and swore on their honors and lives, petitioning that the gods strike them dead if they were lying right now.
A select few of them already had injuries on their faces, vulgar things like penis and balls drawn on their faces with a cutting tool, or had become lame. They appeared to have little to lose in comparison to dying, and dying seemed like a good thing.
Those who were most willing to give up their lives had unsightly lacerations on their faces that resembled the letter Z.
None were serious other than being humiliating and unattractive.
"..."
Haraldson was suddenly at a loss because the people he was trying to scare were asking to die.
He was so upset, but also so helpless, that he ordered them all to leave the great hall without punishing or searching for a traitor.
When he was finally alone again, his wife stepped out from their cozy rooms in the back and asked,
"Husband, what are you going to do? Do you think what they say about Svein is true? It's concerning if it is the case..."
He sneered dismissively, seeking to reassure, appease himself and his own paranoia,
"Do you really believe fat Svein could do everything they say he did? Something is obviously wrong here; I just need to discover what…"
He didn't fully trust his own words, though.
"I don't see any justifiable reason why your men would willingly subject themselves to torture and severely disfigure their own faces."
"Townspeople at the street fair gossiped about Svein being outside the town and provoking the guards at the gates…"
"It may actually be the truth."
"... But whatever he's up to, you must understand it quickly; we cannot allow the masses to be led to think that they can rebel against you and go unpunished."
"What Svein is doing is more than just defying you; he is a rebel and should be treated as such; you must take him seriously and crush him like a quail with the strength of a giant."
Siggy, his wife, said as she approached to massage him and lighten his stress.
She valued power, status, and a comfortable lifestyle, and she did not want her husband to lose them.
They were spouses on the same boat right now, and she did not want to see it sink.
She was a woman who implanted many ideas in her paranoid husband's mind…
Ideas, sweet suggestions that she assumed would be of assistance to him, as if he lacked his own brain.
Haraldson appeared to despise it, but he couldn't help but listen to her, especially when she made him recall the memory of his dead sons, the vengeance he needed to enact, and the fate that awaited their family if they weren't harsh enough in dealing with people who tried to take advantage of them and lower their guard.
XX
Over in Gotland.
Rollo was completely settled in his new room at the inn.
He was no longer used to spending days without doing some form of exhausting exercise, so he was naturally drawn to a place where men practiced the arts of war and weapons.
As soon as he went out, before deciding to have a satisfying meal, he wanted to work out some sweat by training.
If he needed to refuel calories after a great workout, the food would only taste better.
Rollo was going to prepare to eat that delicious course of food.
With patience.
CREATORS' THOUGHTS 
daoistgingerale
daoistgingerale Like it ? Add to library！
Have some idea about my story? Comment it and let me know.
Creation is hard, cheer me up!
Weekly Power Status
-- Power
Ranking 
-- Power
stone