After finishing his lamb chops, Vig wondered where to spend the night. It happened that a family nearby was repairing their roof and hired him to do some work. The reward was a small bag of salt, including two days' food and lodging.
After dinner, he helped cut and saw wooden boards by the fire. The owner's family did not rest at this time either. The husband was sharpening an iron axe, and the wife and daughter were sitting by the fire making butter. There was a thin film on the surface of the goat's milk in the clay jug. The wife first skimmed it off with a long-handled wooden spoon, and then stirred it with a wooden stick...
As time went on, the lord's longhouse nearby became more and more lively, as if a feast were being held there. Vig pricked up his ears and found Lord Olaf singing loudly, praising Ragnar's plundering of Britain and calling him a legendary hero.
Remember the domain name of the first site 𝕥𝕨𝕜𝕒𝕟.𝕔𝕠𝕞However,
, I don't know when the laughter started, and eventually it turned into an argument:
"You're just a lucky mercenary, renting my ship and taking my men out to plunder. What qualifications do you have to set conditions for me? Twenty percent of the harvest is already a gift, what else is not enough for you?"
Then Ragnar's voice rang out, mixed with uncontrollable anger: "We agreed to split 30% and 70% before the spring departure, why do you regret it now?"
...
The argument continued for several minutes, and Vig couldn't help but lean towards the crack of the door to observe, and found that there was a circle of men with shields and axes standing outside the longhouse, about 40 people, six of whom were equipped with iron armor.
Hongmen Banquet? Looking at this posture, I'm afraid the lord doesn't want to give even 20%.
Soon after, Vig watched as Ragnar and fifteen of his companions walked out of the longhouse, each carrying a small bag of belongings, with an angry expression on their faces that was difficult to dispel, cursing and disappearing at the corner of the street.
"Is it over?"
He was a little unbelievable. The owner shook his head and casually told Ragnar the important information:
Ragnar is 34 years old this year, born to a commoner family, with three sons. In recent years, he has been hired by local lords to go out to sea to plunder in the spring and return to port to settle accounts in the fall. In this way, he has accumulated a great reputation. The entire Scandinavian region knows that this man exists.
However, in the end, he is just a humble commoner. When faced with local snakes like Lord Olaf, he can only endure this humiliation in silence.
"That's all," Vig touched his chin thoughtfully. Ragnar's group is more like a labor outsourcing team. They are known, but they are essentially Side B and must act in accordance with the face of Side A (Olav and the other lords).
"It seems that this legendary figure is not living well."
As soon as the voice died down, a scream suddenly came from the outside world, followed by screams and shouts. The male owner hurriedly asked his wife and daughter to hide in the basement, while he held a shield and an axe to guard the house.
Seeing this, Vig also pulled out an iron axe from his belt and watched the battle situation through a crack.
After a brief panic, Olaf emerged from the longhouse with a two-handed iron axe. He was wearing chain mail, a thick black woolen cloak, and a simple Germanic helmet.
"Gather, form a shield wall!"
At his cry, about forty men formed a shield wall and advanced. To increase their momentum, they rhythmically hit the shield with the back of their axes as they walked, causing an indescribable feeling of oppression.
In front of the shield wall, Ragnar led his comrades back. In the moonlight, his face was deathly pale, his eyes sharp as eagles. "Why did you send archers to ambush me?" "
Odin's will, he wants you to serve the gods in Valhalla." Olaf pulled out a lame excuse and ordered the shield wall to continue to advance.
At that moment, the group of mercenaries abandoned their last fantasy of peace and silently formed a wedge formation. Ragnar was at the tip of the wedge, performing the function of breaking the formation.
"Odin!"
The next moment, sixteen mercenaries shouted in unison, charging at an enemy twice their size, like an iron axe piercing a tree trunk, easily breaking through the shield wall.
The enemy formation was broken, and Ragnar did not have time to kill the soldiers next to him. He rushed straight at Lord Olaf, but on his way
he was stopped by four shield bearers. The first of them was struck in the shoulder by a sword, and the sound of breaking bones was clearly audible. The man screamed and fell to the ground, motionless.
The second enemy swung his axe, and he ducked and struck his opponent in the femoral artery with the back of his hand. Blood gushed and splashed on his face, warm and stinking.
The third hesitated for a moment, clutching his round shield and cowering. Ragnar kicked him to the ground, then turned to meet the fourth shield-bearer. The man tried to block the attack with his shield, but Ragnar was too strong and split the round shield in half with his sword, severing the shield-bearer's left arm.
In the blink of an eye, four shield-bearers fell to the ground. Ragnar stood gasping, the iron sword in his hand still dripping with blood. All was quiet, except for a biting cold wind with a hint of strong blood.
Under the gaze of those breathtaking eyes, Olaf felt a chill rise from the soles of his feet. "Whoever kills Ragnar, I will reward him with thirty pounds of silver!"
Money is attractive.
Under the temptation of great wealth, the morale of the remaining shield bearers increased significantly, and even more than a dozen civilians ran out of their houses on both sides to try to seize the prize.
The battle was again unfavorable for Ragnar. After cutting down several more soldiers, he began to pursue the fleeing Olaf, and the two figures rushed into the darkness one after the other.
...
"What clever skill."
Vig swallowed hard. Ragnar's fighting style was fierce and sharp, without any hesitation, and at the same time had the brute strength of a bear and the agility of a fox.
"A big guy, 1.9 meters tall, but he can skillfully dodge his opponent's blows, quiet as a virgin, and fast as a rabbit. Is this the best fighting force in the Viking Age?"
Watching this sudden fight, his heart couldn't help but beat. After watching for a while, his mouth felt dry, so he turned around to find water in the house.
Sip, sip.
The moment he put down the cup, a loud noise came from behind him. Two bodies broke through the door and fell into the house to fight. It was Ragnar and Olaf.
After the hard fight, Ragnar's physical strength was greatly exhausted. He and Olaf grabbed each other by the neck, and neither of them could do anything to the other.
"Quick, two humble farmers, help me kill this mercenary, and there will be a great reward later."
Seeing that both were scared to death, Olaf was forced to concentrate on fighting Ragnar. Soon, using the advantage of his own weight, he pressed the exhausted Ragnar to himself, and with his left hand reached for his waist, feeling for the magnificent short blade hanging from his belt.
"Cursed mercenary, may Jormungandr devour your soul."
The lord raised his short blade and was about to strike, when Vig instinctively grabbed a piece of wood from the fire pit and threw it, hitting his opponent in the face, then swung his short axe to chop off the man's wrist, removed his iron helmet and drove the axe deep into his skull...