Jarl Ingolf and the other Marauders returned a couple of days later and while there were many carts filled with food and other loot, it was far less than before. The farmers had run away en masse, leaving fields unattended and their homes tearfully left behind. Only a few isolated villages or strong headed people remained.
It was the time where the raiders had to make a decision: To try and find the place everything was now hoarded together and attempt to siege it, to dismantle the camp and either sail home with half-full holds or find a new area with fresh targets until they too ran away.
Erik, as a commander, was of course invited to speak at the meeting. And after the previous events he had made some rough plans to present to the other leaders.
‘If it works, I’ll increase my reputation. If it fails, hehe, it won’t.’
But before the meeting begun, Erik organised a special show for all Marauders to enjoy and to begin the next phase of his ‘game’.
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During the time in between the executions and the Jarl’s return, Erik had been visiting the captured knights one by one. He didn’t immediately ask about Sainte Denise, which he assumed was where everyone on the east bank of the river had run off to. The map he got from the first place he raided was at least detailed enough to give that away.
Instead, Erik opted to first ask after their family, their grievances, what they would do ‘when’ they got back home. After that, he would take the prisoner out for a short walk and there would just ‘happen’ to be a darting match going on.
Using this and similar other methods, Erik whittled away at the knights’ resistance until one by one, they began to talk about Sainte Denise’s defences all on their own.
Sewer outlets, weaknesses in the walls, which gates had heavily rusted hinges and all manner of other useful information was gleaned from the ever more panicky knights while Erik dangled their freedom in front of them. Like a piece of meat before a pack of starving hounds.
For the female commander, who Erik had learned was called Isabeau from her disgruntled subordinates, he took a different approach.
Erik didn’t lie to himself that he was somewhat attracted to the non-conventional woman. All the women before then had either been thralls, the meek Tykira, the lustful Daemoness Skadi or the direct (but not militant) Norscan women like Sigrun.
The tomboy knight with her obviously defiant attitude seemed to fuel a fire within him, a desire to see what happens if she were to fully or partially surrender.
So Erik spent a bit more time walking around the camp with her. A big difference in treatment though was that the other knights received a bit of water and soggy gruel as food while Erik made it a point that “Isa”, as he insisted on calling her, received good, proper food from his hands.
She still received the water and gruel for the morning meal, but enjoyed quite a luxurious spread for dinner together with Erik.
Other luxuries Erik allowed her through his favouritism were toilet amenities, an opportunity to wash in privacy and other little things. But she was never told she was being treated better than her retinue while the other knights were shown her treatment, making it all the easier for them to start talking.
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All commanders sat at the table, surrounded on all sides by their men as was their custom. They waited for the Jarl to join them, but everyone was curious about a certain spot where Erik’s men had reserved an empty plot.
Finally, Ingolf arrived.
“Good, all here. Then let’s get this over with: Home, move or assault? Three options, easy vote.
Actually, going home isn’t an option anyway because we simply need more food first. So, will we try to attack a fortress for glory or move to new raiding grounds to get the same result but less honour?”
This accurately grasped a paradox of the Norscan beliefs. Death is something all men fear, even when they are secure in the knowledge of paradise after a glorious death. But why do people treasure their short, mortal lives then?
It is a matter of responsibility and ‘greed’. Responsibility to the tribe, which needs to endure even after you yourself died a glorious death. And greed not for money or treasure, but for reputation. The longer you stay alive in the mortal world, the more opportunities you have to gain glory and build your reputation so that, when you eventually die, your rank in the afterlife is the highest it could be.
A heated debate started among the Thanes and Thegns, the vote roughly 50/50.
Old veterans ready to risk it all and hot-blooded youngsters lusting after quick success were in favour of assaulting a fortress.
The more considerate elders and ambitious youngsters (or cowardly, although that is a very unlikely trait for leaders to have) were in favour of relocating and gradually filling up their ships.
When the debate almost threatened to erupt into a fist fight, honestly not an uncommon occurrence during such meetings, Erik slammed the table to get everyone’s attention.
*Bam!
“Friends, I have an idea!” – He started, but did not continue speaking until he was sure all eyes were on him and Jarl Ingolf interestedly leaned forward.
“Good, now I have your attention.
In previous meetings I showed you that the place likely to have the most loot is a fortress city called ‘Sainte Denise’. And a couple days ago I captured some knights that came from Sainte Denise.
They confirmed my suspicions independently from one another, so there should be more than enough spoils hidden behind their walls to fill us up to full!”
Then, when Erik paused to breathe, one of the Thegns known to be in the ‘opposition’ against Jarl Ingolf spoke up.
“All well and good, but we can’t get in there without losing an inglorious amount of warriors! The might of the tribe would be greatly reduced if we were to attack them head on”
“Ah yes!” – Erik replied. “Attacking head on would be foolishness. Hence why I carefully questioned my captives and found multiple ways to attack the prize without such dishonour!”
Making a gesture with his hand, Erik had all the knights dragged out from the crowd and had Isabeau pulled close so she could enjoy the show that was soon to come.
“I remember the Vikti speaks and understands Brettonian? Would you mind translating for the rest as I question my captives once more?”
Shrugging, the horned shaman stood up and walked closer. Do not be deceived by his old age and spiritual occupation, Scaldar was a mighty warrior in his own right and led one of the more powerful Warbands in the tribe. Not to mention their boosted lethality caused by the Vikti’s spells.
Turning towards the knights, Erik confirmed once more what they had already told him, enjoying the horror stricken face Isabeau made when she saw the utter betrayal of her retinue.
“How many peasants ran to Sainte Denise?”
“Thousands, lord! Everyone took their possessions and fled to safety! The city is literally filled to bursting with people, animals and their treasures!”
The knights hurried to reply, feeling pressure from their surrounding former companions.
“Entrances and exits into the city?”
“The west gate was recently replaced, so it is in pristine condition. But the south gates are old, the hinges covered in rust and the wooden gates themselves are half rotten on the inside.”
“Exits besides the gates?”
“Eh, ah yes! The sewage system! The city is built upon the ruins of an old Elf colony and the sewers underneath are like another city. Many prominent houses have converted part of it into storerooms and there was a rising problem of serfs using the system for illegal casinos!”
Erik continued to question them, making them repeat every useful detail there was to know about the city. And with each reply, Isabeau’s face became paler and paler as she now fully understood the gravity of the situation.
Seeing her tremble slightly, Erik softly whispered:
“Do you know why they are so cooperative?”
She froze, not understanding what Erik implied.
Louder, Erik asked a final question.
“Why did you decide to cooperate so well with me, your enemy, and place your countrymen in danger?”
At this, the mentally pressured, physically exhausted and greatly anxious knights all aimed deathly stares at Isabeau.
“It’s her! She just got thrust upon us as a Countess and threw everything into disarray! We could have just waited for you and your raiders to take your fill and move on, peasants enough to replace the losses! But she insisted on seeing everything for herself, deluded by blind faith in The Lady.
The same Lady that only protects those already talented and capable knights going on their Errants and Quests. The Lady that does not care a tit about us rural nobility! We too are knights! We too deserve salvation!
Why then does a such a young person, a woman above all, simply get appointed as ruler? Enjoy the boons of a Blessed artefact?
And even when, through her strong headed actions, we all get captured after losing our old friends. Even then, she still enjoys the best treatment. She gets to bathe, she gets to eat warm meat and fine bread while we are forced to wallow in our own filth and feed on food fit for naught but pigs and serfs!
If telling you just this bit of information can grant us freedom, we would be fools not to take the chance!”
As the knights became increasingly impassioned, cursing their bad luck and Isabeau with increasingly vulgar insults unfit for a knight, Scaldar laughingly continued to patiently translate for the other leaders to hear.
Not a single one of the Marauders that heard the contents of the discussion did not have a wide smile on their face as they enjoyed the internal conflict obviously provoked by Erik’s actions.
Meanwhile, Isabeau was shivering uncontrollably as her mind numbed from the shocking betrayal.
‘Okay then, seems about time to conclude this stage of the plan and to get rid of some pests.’ – Erik’s thoughts concluded after taking everything in.
Carefully placing a warm arm around Isabeau’s shoulders to comfort her, slightly pulling her into an embrace as she still reeled from the shock and didn’t struggle, Erik spoke to the gathered leaders.
“As you just heard, we have the fortress by the balls. All we need to do is squeeze and everything they so laboriously gathered in one spot can be picked up by us in one fell swoop!
So, great warriors, do we let this opportunity to crack a fortress go?”
The answer, unanimously, was of course a resounding: “NO!”
“Good! Then, to commemorate the occasion and as a sacrifice to the Gods for granting us this opportunity, I will ‘release´ the knights!”
Then, after covering Isabeau’s ears, he told the knights what they were desperate for:
“I promised I would release you. Your usefulness to me has ended, so I will honour my word.
But… I cannot simply let you all go just like that, my men would ridicule me! So instead, I will need one of you to prove himself to be better than the rest!
Fight! Kill each other and to the last man standing, I swear no Norscan will harm you and I will free you from captivity!”
And the knights, already half mad from verbally releasing their pent up grudges and angry with their erstwhile companions for competing to provide information for freedom, immediately followed suit.
Punching, kicking, biting… they began to maul each other while the gathered Marauders gleefully watched this carefully prepared entertainment.
Meanwhile Erik ensured that Isa, having calmed down a little after sitting in his lap and enjoying his smell and warmth, had a good look of the bestial rage with which her former oh-so noble knights now fought each other.
Sweetly, like a Daemon, Erik softly continued to whisper into her ear:
“They betrayed you for their selfishness. I won’t! I will make sure to cherish you, pamper you. Want to earn glory? I can give you glory. Want to be protected? There’s no safer place than at my side…”
The first knight fell to the ground and didn’t get back up, his face swollen and obvious scratches and bite-marks covered his exposed flesh while his neck stood at an odd angle.
And all the while, as the knights fell one by one, Erik continued feeding his poisonous whispers into the fragile ears of a shattered Isabeau.
“They are not knights, but wild beasts. And wild beasts must be put down. After all, if they can savage their best friends like this, what would they do to others?”
Finally, there was only one knight left as he desperately continued to hammer his fists on the bloodied remains of another.
Erik decided the game should be about finished and as he continued to whisper encouragement and promises, he handed Isabeau his Messer.
“The Lady abandoned you and your men betrayed you. Why not… give in to your rage and tell them of your feelings, your anger? It is THEM that let YOU down, so why not seek out a more worthy patron?”
The purple lines on the blade seemed to flash briefly at the unfamiliar touch, but Isabeau seemed to calm down soon after holding the Daemonic weapon.
The Jarl and the other commanders watched carefully as Erik began the climax of his game, one of the final steps before he considered himself to have ‘won’.
Erik led Isabeau towards the last knight who was dazedly looking around him and seeing he was the last man standing and that Erik came near, a wide smile broke out on his face as he began to laugh madly, cackling like a crazy person.
Facing Erik from his kneeling position on the ground, the last knight spread his arms as if to welcome his saviour.
But instead of salvation, he felt the torturous pain of a purple-lined sword stabbing through his chest.
“W- Wh-y-hii?” – He gasped.
“Well,” Erik said amused. “You are the last MAN standing and no NORSCAN has touched you. I simply promised safety to the final contesting knight and SHE just killed you to get the prize!”
Gasping, the knight slouched over onto the ground, dead.
And when he did, Isabeau’s glazed eyes regained a hint of sharpness as she screamed in horror before feinting, right into to warm, safe and comforting arms of her plights orchestrator.
And as the thousands of watching Marauders erupted in loud applause and multiple notifications once more rung out, Erik silently thought to himself:
‘The belief in her people should be thoroughly shattered now. It won’t be long before she is fully reliant on me and fully submits in both body and soul. Ah, I cannot wait to finish this game!’
GIMMI THE HORNY
no.
i love this more more more!!!
@Macrendil-Ysmir he is one evil bastard.... The chaos gods must have LOVED that.
@Blizzisme Obviously. Erik is changing more and more to 'perfection'.