Legends Never Die: To Be King (ch. 114)

It was impossible to describe the morale boost that came with our victory. My people knew what I was capable of. The stories had already made the rounds, and I’m sure if I stopped by any fire, I could hear an already impossibly exaggerated version of myself that I wouldn’t recognize. My men had seen me fight before, as had many of the Saxons, as most had fought against Francia. However, many had still trembled before the Danevirke. 

They saw the ditch, the earthworks, and the palisade, and they wondered how we would overcome such a fortification when it was being manned by the largest army our people had ever seen. Then, in the matter of minutes, we were through, and the surrender was taken. Disbelief came first, then awe, and some hours later, as we saw the defending army off towards Alabu, a feeling of invincibility. To them, my presence was undeniable proof that the gods had favored us. 

Which made our victory an inevitability.

That was useful, even if it did have its unique disadvantages. It would help no one if people were so confident that we would win that they let their guards down. I had been setting up a trap for Horrik for years by this point, and it would be a bitter joke if we stumbled into a trap of his merely because we were careless. 

“They took the corpse with them,” Haldur growled as we stood on the Danevirke, gazing out at the retreating army that fled with all haste. I hoped that they wouldn’t splinter too badly. I imagined that there would be a few deserters as they felt as my warriors did -- that it was impossible for Horrik to win -- but so long as the majority of the army remained intact… it would serve my goals well. 

“I’m not surprised. Horrik is going to be wrathful with them as it is. Leaving his son’s body behind wouldn’t help things,” Halfdan replied, leaning on the ramparts. “He was probably already on his way back before we attacked.”

Haldur grunted, dissatisfied with the outcome. I understood his anger well. I could only imagine what was done to the bodies of our father and Havi, our brother. We couldn’t lay them to rest with the proper rites, so we had to appease their spirits with blood. Blood and cruelty. It made me glad that I left Jill behind. She had prepared herself as much as she could hope to, but I didn’t want her to see what we would inflict upon her siblings. 

“He has other sons,” I voiced, and I was surprised by the low growl my voice took. Unbidden, I reached up to the armring that adorned my arm, resting above the nook of my elbow. “Thorfinn. Knud. Rolf,” I listed his remaining sons. I had already slain Grimar, and now Brage. It was Rolf who was the original recipient of the armband that I still wore, as he had been coming of age when I proved myself in battle. 

I had never met him before. I could only imagine what he felt when he learned that his father had given away an armring that was meant for him. 

I suppose it didn’t really matter. How he felt about it wouldn’t really change anything. Though, I suppose it would be right of me to give it back to him before he died. By that time, the armring would have served its purpose -- I wouldn’t need it as a reminder any longer. 

There was a loud silence between me and my brothers at that -- three sons left. One for each of us. Horrik, I imagine, we would kill together. As for the others…

“Hedeby is nearby,” I said, looking off in the direction of the town. City, I suppose you could call it. “Let us march there to rest. It’s an important settlement.”

“Aye. And it’s ruled by one of Horrik’s bootlickers,” Haldur agreed, a hand clenching at his side. There was a fury in my brother that I didn’t recognize. Haldur had always been angry, with that anger usually rooted in jealousy, but this was something else. Something darker. Darker than what I had seen in him when we first reunited in Norway. I didn’t begrudge him it. 

It was just something I would have to keep an eye on. Regardless, it wouldn’t change anything as we had the same intentions for the city. 

Horrik had planted his roots deep, and I intended to work with a clean slate. Which meant this campaign would be a… slow one, I suppose you could call it. I intended to visit every town, every hold, and every village from the bottom up to rip Horrik’s influence out at the root. In turn, I would be placing my own people in charge to prepare the areas for further development. 

“Let's. It'll give that army reason to move a bit faster,” Halfdan agreed with a nod. 

There weren't many spoils to be taken at the Danevirke beyond supplies that had been meant to last the army for months on end if needed. They were a welcomed boon to our stores as we gathered the men to march once more. They were keen to celebrate their victory, but they were keener still on actual spoils and beds to sleep on. 

Hedeby was a town of some note. Ribe was the largest settlement that our people possessed, but it was seated upon the western shore. Hedeby, however, sat on the eastern shore, somewhat inland and alongside a deep river. It wasn't far from the Danevirke either, less than a ten hour journey. It was the second largest settlement that our people had as it was a natural trade route into Denmark. 

Our people raided to the east against the Swedes, Geats, Saxons, and Rus. For that reason, Hedeby was a natural point to offload wares by ship or by foot. It acted almost as the front door for the rest of Denmark as you had to pass through it if you came from the east or south. From there, spoils or trade goods could be sold at its markets, or they could be passed along to Ribe, who acted as another trade hub to the west. Pagans or not, there were many Franks who would part with their silver when trade ships entered their harbor. 

As I imagined there would be many Britons from Britannia who would do the same. Those, I made a note to find. Any information that they had could be quite useful for future plans.  

I had heard of Hedeby growing up. My father spoke of it fondly from the few times he had been there. I built it up in my head as a boy, until Hedeby could have stood next to Constantinople or Baghdad as a peer. I braced myself for disappointment as we completed the ten hour march, nipping at the defeated army's heels. Halfdan had been right on the mark there -- the moment they saw us marching behind them, they picked up the pace until they were practically sprinting. 

They likely had hoped to restock and regroup at Hedeby, but the commanders of the army seemed to sense our destination as they passed the town entirely. Hedeby's confusion was almost palpable in their wake, which only intensified when they saw that we were chasing them. From where I sat upon my horse, I could see the people scurrying about in preparation to defend their home. 

Hedeby itself wasn't an impressive town. Some five or six thousand people dwelled within it. There were no widespread fortifications, at least none that encompassed the entire town. There was a palisade around the longhouse and several buildings near it but the rest was left unguarded. The town had expanded too much and the cost must not have seemed worth it as pesky raiders wouldn't dare attack such a city with few numbers. An army would be needed to take it… and the Danevirke was meant to keep any armies out. 

Shortsighted, but reasonable I suppose. I urged my horse forward with my brothers at my side. 

Hedeby had a degree of organization about it -- the plots of land were divided fairly, and there was ample space between houses to prevent fires spreading so easily. The roads were made of dirt. Well, mud really. Planks were tossed over the worst of the mud, but the roads themselves were concise. The development of the town wasn't just people slapping down homesteads at random then connecting them by dirt paths. 

We rode on at the helm of my army, finding nothing but empty houses. I already knew where I would find the townspeople as I once again found myself before a wooden palisade. From within, I could hear people shouting, children crying, and the general sounds of panic that only grew the closer we got. There were a number of bows being pointed in my direction, but they were wielded by trembling hands with men who had their fear shining in their eyes. 

I took in a slow breath… and introduced myself. “MY NAME!” I shouted into the air, letting the words sweep over the panicked people, “IS SIEGFRIED THE WOLFKISSED!” My name echoed out, and suddenly, six thousand people were as silent as a grave.

I gave them a moment to let that sink in before continuing. “You have been abandoned by Horrik and his armies. They failed to hold us at the Danevirke, and now they retreat to Ribe -- leaving you undefended and at our mercy.” The panic began to swell once more and before it could reach a fever pitch, I continued, “Surrender to me and open your gates -- you have my word that none will be harmed. Any who would dare break this promise will find their death at my hands.” 

There was a stirring from behind the gates before I caught sight of the source. My eyes narrowed as a woman approached the wall, looking down at me with a blank expression. 

She was old. Her hair was stark white, while her face was lined with wrinkles. At some point, she might have been quite tall, but now she walked with a hunch and supported herself with a gnarled walking stick. Her clothes were of fine make, a dark blue with fine embroidery stitched into it. I could only guess at her age, but she had to be in her eighties at least. Most likely, she was older. 

She held my gaze for a long minute before her eyes dipped to look at the cloak that I wore. Another few tense seconds passed before she spoke, “I thought King Horrik was wasting his time with the Danevirke, and it seems I was right. Just not for the reasons I thought. Did they leave a gate open?” She began, her tone light and conversational. 

My eyes narrowed a fraction before she continued. “Since you were polite enough to introduce yourself first, then allow me to return the favor, boy. I am Lagertha Hare-Foot, and Hedeby has fallen to me as Jarl Alf has run with his tail tucked between his legs!” 

I knew of her, I realized. Lagertha Hare-Foot… anyone who had ever heard a story about a Shield Maiden, then odds were the tale was about her. She was half the reason why Astrid had become a Shield Maiden in the first place. The stories about her were varied -- she was the daughter, niece, or aunt of a king who swore off marriage to dedicate herself to the arts of war. She had many an adventure, fought in countless battles, and now presided over an unofficial order of Shield Maidens. 

I thought she was dead. I had never heard about how she died, but when my father would talk about the stories he heard when he was a boy, I just figured that she was. 

“Well met, Hare-Foot,” I returned politely. Astrid would give a thrashing if I ended up killing her childhood idol. It would be best if I could settle this peacefully. For everyone's sake. “And I cannot say I'm surprised that Jarl Alf fled. I take it he didn't leave alone?” 

“That's quite the thing to ask a fortress you're besieging, isn't it?” Lagertha questioned, her lips becoming a thin line. 

“This is no fortress, I'm afraid,” I replied evenly. “This is a bunch of sticks planted in the dirt during your great-grandfather's time, by the looks of things.” 

That got a snort from the old woman and there was a spark of amusement dancing in her cold blue eyes, “You're right. Not much of a wall,” she agreed. “If the Danevirke fell to you, then I doubt this palisade will do much good. But none fight harder than a cornered rat, Wolfkissed. And Horrik has given these people plenty of reasons to fight you to the last.” 

“My quarrel is with Horrik for his crimes against my family,” I stated sternly. “He had my brothers and father killed, and drove the rest of my family into hiding. For that, he and his sons shall die. However, I have no quarrel with the people of Hedeby. Not unless they side with him and try to get in my way.” I held her gaze as I said the words and she didn't look away. 

“And if all of Hedeby were to stand against you?” She asked pointedly and, to that, I could only offer a small shrug. 

“I would hope the people of Hedeby would not be so foolish,” I told her, my intent going unspoken but not unheard. I needed to preserve as much of my people's strength as I could, but history had shown time and time again that sometimes examples went a very long way to get a message across.

“And if they were?” Lagertha pushed, and I fought off a frown. 

“I would ask that they reconsider. Politely,” I said flatly. “And should that fail, I would be… less polite.” 

She searched my face for any hints of deceit before she snorted softly, “Rare be it a man who bothers to speak softly when he already has such a big stick in hand.” I wasn't sure if she meant that as a compliment or not before she continued. “Aye, Hedeby surrenders to you, Wolfkissed. We made the decision before you arrived,” she admitted. Then this was just to get my measure. 

I inclined my head to her as the bows lowered and City Builder activated, allowing me to examine the city of Hedeby in greater detail. 

Happiness: 20%

Quality of life: 3/10

Population: 7,845

Population growth: 1.5% increase per year

Wealth: 30,700

Security: 20% per pop

Education: 6% per pop

Religion: 98% Norse Paganism, 2% Norse Christianity 

The population was higher than I expected, but the rest was generally in line with my thoughts. The happiness was so low for a number of reasons, but it was mostly because they were terrified that they would be attacked. As for the ‘Norse Christians’… that was something I was hoping that I could ignore, but it was likely something I would have to confront. The rest could all be explained by Jarl Alf, the ruler of the city, pulling out and joining the retreat, likely with his hird and wealth.

Halfdan clapped me on the back as the gates opened. There, I saw that the interior of the palisade was full to the point of bursting. All the same, I ushered my horse forward to the Longhouse. We were joined by a contingent of guards, while King Hoffer and King Widukind would be following us shortly. The details of the surrender would be handled by my brothers, but I expected an easy transition.

The crowd parted for us as we moved forward, looking up with wide eyes. There was fear in many, and I could only imagine all the things that Horrik had said about me to inspire such a reaction. They looked at me like I was about to start grabbing children to roast them over a fire for supper. I ignored it as I reached the longhouse, dismounting to find that Lagertha was already waiting for me. She barely came up to my stomach. 

However, she was flanked by Shield Maidens -- some wore chain mail, but most wore gambesons while they wielded shields and spears. Astrid would be keen to meet them, I thought, noting the callused hands they had and the lean muscle. They had dedicated themselves to a warrior's path, however few they might be. 

“Before you enter, Wolfkissed -- know there is someone waiting for you inside,” Lagertha warned me as she gestured for the doors to open. They revealed a fine longhouse, and I was pleased to see a cut stone floor rather than dirt. A long hearth filled with hot coals ran the length of the longhouse, which ran straight to a throne. A carved wooden chair that had pelts layered upon it with the skull of a great bear at the top of the throne. 

The longhouse wasn't empty. I was greeted with a handful of people, some servants, but most were those that Jarl Alf had left behind. Or those that stayed behind for whatever motive -- one was revealed to be an agent of Horrik as True Sight marked him as red. 

Another was blue, who stood near the throne with a look of joy upon his face. 

“Garald,” I greeted him as I strode into the longhouse, ignoring the others for a moment and the man instantly bowed, dropping to a knee. 

“My Lord -- I can't begin to tell you what a relief it is to see you again. And I must beg your forgiveness for not returning as promised.” The man began, and I saw time hadn't at all diminished his reverence for me. If anything, it sounded strengthened. Solidified. Garald spoke like a man who had his faith proven rather than someone who spoke of faith alone. “I saw an opportunity to diminish your enemy and I acted.” 

I walked the length of the hearth, feeling the eyes on me. When I passed Garald, I placed a hand on his shoulder. 

“You have no cause to apologize,” I told him, despite not being entirely happy with what he did in my name. But that was a conversation to have in private, not with such an audience. “You have done well,” I told him, moving past him, though I nearly paused when I heard the man sob. 

I looked down at the high chair for a moment before realizing that it wasn't big enough for me. So, reaching out, I tore the arms of the chair off, tossing them to the side before I sat down. Looking out at the faces in the hall, I saw what effect the action had. Impressed didn't begin to cover it- though Lagertha seemed more amused than anything. 

That was the scene the others walked into -- King Hoffer and King Widukind at the helm while Astrid and Thorkell followed behind them. Astrid looked like a child who was given a handful of silver to spend on treats, while Thorkell looked like he was trying not to laugh. The doors closed behind them. 

It was then that Lagertha stepped forward once more, “Hedeby answers to you, Wolfkissed. You have won the city bloodlessly. However, not entirely through your own efforts.” She began and I tilted my head as the room shifted ever so slightly. 

Garald was quick to elaborate, “Upon my arrival in Denmark, I found the land ripe with discontent. There were many Jarls who felt cheated by Horrik as they were being punished by him for their alliance to King Godfrey. There was an attempted rebellion shortly after my arrival… alas, it did not go the way in which we hoped. Several Jarls proved to be traitors to the cause -- the chief of them was Jarl Alf, who was awarded Hedeby.” That much I already knew as I heard it from the Jarls who fled South with the migration. 

“However, the resistance against Horrik is still alive and well. For the past two years, we have found allies in various places. Men and women who see through Horrik’s lies and those who have… political differences with him.” Garald continued, glancing pointedly at Lagertha. Meaning that she was one such ally. 

That was good. Very good. Lagertha was far better known than I was, with a fine reputation. Her standing on my side would lessen whatever damage Horrik had tried to do to my reputation. 

As if she had sensed my thoughts, Lagertha spoke. “I didn't help your man because of you. In truth, I didn't much care who you were. Still don't,” she added with a grin that lasted all of a second before it fell. “I did it to help my own kin.” 

Less pleasing to hear, but still acceptable. “And who would that be?” I asked with a certain edge in my tone. 

The person in question had been waiting for that exact question to be asked, as it so happened, as he stepped out of a room to enter the hall. He was a man in his mid twenties, a dark groomed beard and neatly cut hair that was pulled back. A bear pelt hung from his shoulders but most interesting of all was the crown that sat on his brow. 

I had absolutely no clue who he was, so the reveal fell a little flat on me.

That wasn't the case for King Widukind, whose eyebrows sharply rose with surprise. “King Godfrey?” He asked, naming the man. “I- I heard that you were killed in battle,” he added, glancing in my direction. 

I had never met the man, but I had heard of him. And as I searched his features, I found that he did look familiar, somewhat. He had a resemblance to King Sigfred, his father, who I had known during the start of the war against Francia. The king that Horrik had deceived me into believing was responsible for my brother's death. 

He was the King who had fought against Horrik when Horrik claimed his father's throne. The man who fought and lost. A man who all thought were dead.

“King Widukind,” Godfrey greeted in return, inclining his head to him. “That was a deliberate measure, I'm afraid. After the betrayal that we suffered, that rumor nearly became the truth. Since then, I have been in hiding. Waiting to strike back at that snake Horrik while I gathered what allies I could. My great aunt has sheltered me for the past two years.” 

Lagertha nodded slowly, her gaze firmly affixed to me. “I did. Those old stories did me some good for once -- most people have forgotten that I was sister to Harald Wartooth, King of Denmark. Heh. People are so used to calling me Hare-Foot that they forgot my true last name! Funny given that I can't even outrun a turtle across the room anymore,” she laughed at her own expense. 

“And now,” I spoke and the attention shifted to me, “you see the opportunity you were waiting for. For me to aid you in regaining your title as king.” I spoke slowly and deliberately, mulling over the revelation and it felt… strange. 

Godfrey stood tall, meeting my gaze and he said the words I expected him to say. “That is correct, Lord Wolfkissed.” 

I wasn't quite sure how to say it, but it felt like I was catching a glimpse of a different life. A life that I could have lived.

There was a point in time where I would have accepted this. After the war in Saxony, I had the strength to return home and exact my vengeance from Horrik. I hadn't wanted to be a King at that point. Not really. To me, the crown and title were an instrument of my vengeance. I wanted Horrik to achieve his long-held ambition so I could have the pleasure of taking it from him because that would surely hurt so much more than being so close to his dream but never achieving it. 

If I had decided against sailing to Constantinople and returned to Denmark sooner, I imagine I would have had this meeting with Godfrey years ago. 

And I would have accepted this. I would have accepted whatever terms he intended to offer- and I had no doubt that he had plenty to offer. I would have been ignorant of the true vastness of the world at the time, so I would have accepted, and Godfrey would have become King. I'm sure I would have received a title for my efforts. Likely a marriage and some lands, possibly the lands that Horrik ruled over. 

I would have been a powerful Jarl. Possibly too powerful. I had no way of knowing what that future would have held, but I suspected it could have followed a similar path as Horrik’s. The flower that stood above all others found enemies in those who were trapped in its shade. But I would have been content. My family would be restored, my vengeance fulfilled, and I would have lived my life completely ignorant of what I could achieve.  

“No,” I uttered flatly, holding his gaze. 

He didn't seem surprised exactly, but he was caught off guard by my blunt refusal. “Horrik is an enemy of us both. I am sure that there is an arrangement that can benefit us both,” he said, and he was prepared to negotiate with me. Because he was under the belief that there was a path that would lead to my answer changing to a ‘Yes.’ “There is much that I can offer, Lord Wolfkissed. Men, spies, supplies, legitimacy…” 

“I will speak plainly, King Godfrey,” I said and I could feel the room holding its breath. King Widukind seemed a bit sad, but also like he knew what was coming. I recalled he had a friendship with Godfrey’s father, who had sheltered him after his initial failed rebellion in Saxony. “It is my intention to become King of Denmark.” 

The confident expression slipped ever so slightly. “I am aware that you have… ambitions, Lord Wolfkissed. And, perhaps, I can aid them as King elsewhere. In Denmark, I'm afraid, you do not have the legitimacy. You… you are the son of a farmer. The Jarls and Thegns will not accept it.” A note of urgency entered his voice as I remained unflinching. 

“I wasn't going to ask their permission,” I admitted to him. “As I have no need for it. The Jarls and Thegns who support Horrik will all be replaced. As, I suspect, the Jarls and Thegns who support you. In their place, coming up the Dnieper River, I have a migration of some forty thousand men and women, guarded by another ten thousand of my warriors. Among them are their replacements.” I informed him flatly, watching as the mask started to crumble entirely. 

He licked his lips, his gaze darting to Lagertha, who wore an expression of resigned acceptance. There was no surprise to be found in her weathered features, which told me that this plan had come from Godfrey himself. He then looked to King Widukind, who looked away from Godfrey -- his expression was one of shame. Without support, he started to flounder, looking back up at me with a growing ire in his eyes. “You can’t do this. My ancestors are the ones who forged the idea of Denmark with steel and blood!”

“They did,” I agreed with him. Harald Wartooth had unified the petty Jarldoms and warlords under a single banner. The kingdom that he forged shrunk after his death, but his legacy was secured and, until now, his blood ruled over Denmark. “And it is you who lost it.” He flinched as if I struck him, telling me that the words had hit on a thought he tried to bury. 

“I owe you nothing, King Godfrey,” I continued sternly. “I have no need for your aid in seizing the title of King. However, I hold no particular ill will against you either. I have ambitions for Denmark and beyond it. There can be a place for you in those plans, should you wish it -- but the Kingdom of Denmark is mine.”

In that other life, I would have been ignorant. I would have been blinded to what our people could achieve. What life we could live. But I didn’t live that life. I had made the choice to sail to Constantinople, and it was there that I had my eyes opened. It was there that I learned everything that I could, and an ambition settled in my chest. 

I would forge an empire.

“I won’t accept this. I am not some beggar that you can toss a coin to on your way!” Godfrey snapped, earning a sharp look from his great aunt, but he was heedless of it. I didn’t blame him for snapping. Not really. I couldn’t, when I understood him so well.

Godfrey had bet it all on this. He had hoped and prayed desperately that when I returned, I would help him. He convinced himself that he could convince me to restore him and his bloodline to the throne. For three years, he had clung to that hope like a lifeline. He clung to it as he endured years of fear of being discovered and the humiliation he was forced to hide and slink to the shadows. He survived it all because he believed that he could convince me. And he couldn’t. He never had a chance of it in the first place. 

“Well,” I said, my tone even. “That is unfortunate.”

I looked at Thorkell and gave him a small nod. He stepped forward and seized Godfrey, who immediately thrashed in his grip but couldn’t break it. The crown fell from his brow as he began to shout, “You can’t do this! You can’t do this! You’ll never get away with this!” He hollered for all to hear as Thorkell dragged him away, unbothered. 

His shouts left a loud silence in their wake. I then looked to Lagertha, who wore a flat expression, her lips pressed into a thin line. She was unhappy but not surprised. “You remind me of my brother,” she noted, clenching her walking stick tightly. “He too thought he could make the world yield to him with unrelenting force. What makes you think you’ll fair any better than he did?”

“I don’t have any proof for you,” I replied. “They say I am chosen by the gods. Others say that I am one. But I cannot know what that means for my future. For all I know, Loki is setting me up to be the butt of a great jest that will echo out for centuries and I will be remembered only for being a fool.” It was a thought that troubled me more than I cared to admit. 

“As I cannot know, I shall move forward with my plans and ambitions to realize them. I will build buildings so large that this longhouse look like a hovel. I will build cities so vast that a million souls can dwell within them. It is my intention to unify our people in a way that goes beyond what your brother dared to dream of. And with that unity, I shall completely and irrevocably change our people’s way of life in accordance to what I believe is the best path forward.”

Most were enraptured by what they were hearing, but Lagertha’s gaze was as sharp as a blade. “I cannot know if I will succeed. Only the Norns know what the future holds. But, regardless of my fate -- those are my intentions. My ambitions. I shall move forward with or without your aid, regardless if you choose to be friend or foe. That choice is yours,” I finished, holding the legendary Shield Maiden’s gaze. 

There was silence in the wake of my words before it was broken by Lagertha. Slowly, she bent her knee with the help of a Shield Maiden and her walking stick and bowed her head. 

“All hail King Siegfried!” She announced her support, and I was mildly surprised to see that True Sight marked her as blue. It was a soft shade of it, but it still marked her as a true ally. What I said must have resonated with her, but I would have to find out what later. 

Many followed suit after her -- her Shield Maidens were first, beating Garald only by a half second. The other Thegns followed their example, echoing her calls, until the only two left standing were King Hoffer and King Widukind. Both had unreadable expressions on their faces as they looked over the scene before their gazes found me. I offered nothing as a reaction, hiding my thoughts from them, just as they hid their thoughts from me. 

All the same, the gods gave their response. 

Title Gained!

King of Denmark

Status: Contested

Partial Reward: Territories under your domain will be revealed on your Map.

To gain the full reward, eliminate your rivals to the throne.

I leaned back into my throne, letting the hails wash over me as I was formally proclaimed king by the people of Denmark. My gaze lingered on the last sentence of the message from the gods and I offered a humorless smile in response. 

Oh, I intended to.