The party that left in high spirits returned depleted and bloodied. Carts loaded with freshly harvested wheat and others laden with looted steel and the dead.

The death of his men was not something to mourn. Death was a constant companion to the men of Norsca and held the promise of eternal feast and battle among their forebears.

Nonetheless, it was important that Erik explained what had happened to prevent harmful rumours. And of course, it was never a good thing to lose a chunk of his own men.

‘I will need to find a way to increase my forces. Waiting for new Marauders to come of age takes too long and it’s in poor taste to recruit from the other Warbands…”

“Yeah, making a name for myself and having warriors come to me is probably still the best solution.”

Unbeknownst to him, Erik had sprouted a seed of ambition. He didn’t know to what specific end he wanted a larger force to call his own, but he felt an urge, a need, to command more warriors and to grow his reputation. To be feared by the world and admired by his people.

Sadly, if the loss of 20 men during the skirmish was an inconvenience, what awaited Erik back at his tent made him boil with rage and twitch with torturous intent.

The loot was tallied up, usable items distributed among the participants and while the few surviving serfs were brought back to their shipholds, the captured knights were kept imprisoned separately.

Erik gave his account of what had happened and made the proper arrangements for the dead.

It was then that another Marauder hastily entered the tent and grabbed Erik’s shoulder.

Seeing the odd gaze in his eyes, Erik told him to speak up.

“What is it man? You look like you’ve seen a ghost or something!”

A bit nervous, the man replied.

“Erm, well, there was an incident at your tent. Best you go take a look. Some guys nearby caught the culprit but were too late to take other actions.”

Frowning, Erik followed the man back to his tent.

‘What could’ve happened? Those bitches were chained & fed, I made sure the fire was out and no dangerous objects were left out in the open…’

What had happened became all to clear shortly after. The pair of mother and daughter, chained collars still on their necks, were very clearly dead. A pool of thick, almost black blood had turned the dark soil into mud.

A thrall was being held by two Norscans, pressing him onto the ground as he desperately struggled.

Seeing the carnage, anger rushed to Erik’s head.

“What the fuck happened here?!” – He thundered.

‘I leave in the morning to spend a day outside and I come back to see my nightly comfort bled out like pigs!’

Under the Thegn’s wrathful gaze, even the fearless warriors slightly held their breath.

“So, like, we heard shouting and barking coming from here and when we got close we saw this man here talking to those women, all they did was growl and bark at him. Then he drew a small knife and well, killed them.”

One of the men helpfully explained the chain of events.

Sizing up the Brettonian man held on the ground, Erik hunched before him and yanked his head up by strongly gripping his hair.

“What gave you the bright idea to get close to my toys, huh?

What? You knew them from your village? Judging by your age, they were your wife and daughter?”

Seeing the inferno of impotent rage burning in the man’s eyes as he spoke, Erik couldn’t resist a chuckle despite the annoying situation.

‘I’ve decided. Time to make a bit more of a name for myself.

Hmmm, maybe I can use this to get those knights to talk too? A win-win indeed! I get to blow off some steam and the knights learn what awaits them if they don’t cooperate.’

Having decided on his next actions, Erik calmed down a bit before turning back to the thrall. A cruel light shining in his eyes, Erik decided to begin the torture right away.

“Hmmm, looking at you I can see why her cunt was so worn out. She must’ve been fucking half the town for it to be that loose. Her ass too. I’ve never gone for it myself, but after the third round she almost begged me to stick something up there. You ever done her butt? Don’t think so, you’re just the cuck of the town.

Now your daughter on the other hand was a great deal more fun. Virgin, she was that, but I’m pretty sure she watched her mom do a lot of tricks whenever you left the house ever since she was small. Not to mention she for some reason already knew how to give proper head.

She had a boyfriend? Fiancée? Would love to share some stories with him, just like you found out.”

For the next while, Erik continued to amuse himself by mentally torturing the bereaved husband and father as he excitedly told the story of how the mother and daughter quickly broke under his dick and became bitches in the truest sense of the word.

He said it not only in Bretonnian, but every now and then Erik caught the rest of the Norscans up on the story too and elicited raucous cheers and laughter.

Finally, Erik tired of talking. Ran out of words to say without falling into repetition. So he ordered the man be brought to the central area of the camp and for the new captured knights to be taken there too.

Then, remembering something, Erik decided on a little game to play along with his goal of hurting the thrall and making the knights more agreeable.

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The world shook and everything was blurry when Isabeau finally fully came too again. She vaguely remembered being captured and tied up, travelling for a couple hours and being deposited like a sack of grain in some kind of crude cell.

Now she was being moved again but she was clear headed enough to make sense of her surroundings.

‘Ah, so I lost. And they captured us alive…’

When she arrived at the destination, a large open area surrounded by thousands of leather tents and a towering wooden palisade encircling them and the enormous ships lying on the water, she arrived at that conclusion.

But she was confused as to why she and the dozen or so other captured knights had been taken to their cells and almost immediately back out again.

Her question was soon answered when the same young warrior that knocked her off her horse walked up on a podium where another figure was tied to wooden posts.

Then, to her surprise, the heathen spoke in flawless, fluent Brettonian as if he was used to speaking at the court in Couronne.

“Welcome, sir knights and lady, to our humble camp. Some of you have only just regained yourselves, so let me explain your current situation. As well as the simplest way for you to survive a little longer, should you be interested.”

“What do you mean ‘if we want to live’?! We are knights of Brettonia! Nobles! Captivity is a risk of war, but to disregard our station like this is unheard of!” – One of the hot headed but stupid knights interrupted increasingly mysterious Norscan.

Isabeau saw the man’s brow twitch slightly as if insulted at the interruption. She then saw him gesture at the knight that spoke out and speak in his own guttural tongue before reverting back to Brettonian while two warriors approached the offending knight.

“I see at least one of you is not willing to cooperate. No matter, there are enough of you.

You will be joining me up on the stage now and… entertain your fellow knights.

Let me be very clear. The only reason the lot of you aren’t chained up in the holds of our ships together with the rest of the slaves is because you lot potentially hold information I want.”

Isabeau wanted to speak, but before she could do that, a gag was placed over her mouth and the other knights’ mouths.

‘If he wants information, then why the need to stop us from speaking? And why hasn’t he told us what he wants to know?’

Unknowingly, a sense of dread welled up within her as Isabeau saw a burning brazier and a rack of oddly shaped tools carried up on-stage.

The knight that had spoken out was tied up next to the one already there and what was about to happen couldn’t be more obvious.

Soon, under the horrified attention of Isabeau, her knights and the smiling Norscans occupying the area, the young leader left the stage and his place was taken by a man wearing clothes of oddly stitched together pieces of thin, lightly toned leather. The man ran his hands over the prepared items before carefully making his selection and began his work.

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Night had fallen and Isabeau was shivering in her cell, little more than a hole in the ground with a heavy wooden lid on the top.

The screams of torture and soul-rending agony still reverberated through her ears and the horrific images kept playing and replaying in her mind.

‘And even after all that, after showing us that horror, their leader never asked any questions at all!’

This was what puzzled her the most.

The last thing that happened before they were put back into their cells was the young man personally stepping up and killing the torturer’s victims. He then simply said a few words to his men and had her and the other knights dragged back.

“What is his goal? No, before that… what will happen to us now?”

Plagued by nightmarish images and uncertainty, Isabeau was unable to sleep as her muscles cramped in the tight confines of her ‘cell’ and the raucous roars of her Norscan captors could be heard in the distance.

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Back in his tent, the blood and bodies having been disposed of, Erik rested on his bed alone. But he did not feel frustrated or pent up. If he wanted to slake his lust, he would simply have to find someone from among the thralls held in the ships or visit ‘that’ corner of the camp.

“Nah, I can wait a while. This little game may prove to be more fun if I hold myself back a bit too, hehehe!”