Macrendil-Ysmir

Chapter 69, nice.

 “So that’s the situation. If you haven’t made plans for your independent command during the Second Raid, I want to implore you to seek out the ingredients for Sigrun’s cure.”

Helles finished reiterating the version of the situation she previously told Sigrun. Her daughter and son-in-law sat opposite her at a table in her quarters and as she took a sip of her imported tea, she cast an approving look at the pair.

Erik had of course heard some of it from Sigrun and Skadi the night before, but hearing the whole situation laid out still had an impact. Worry and care showed obviously on his face, proving to Helles that Erik truly cared for her daughter.

Sigrun had been staring at the table, not daring to look her husband in the eye as she feared to see Erik look at her negatively, or even disgusted. What good was a wife that couldn’t bear children? And why would the husband go out of his way to find an expensive cure when he could simply side-line the wife and take in more concubines to make up for it?

These negative thoughts had plagued Sigrun for a while now, and Ri & Ra’s instigations did little to improve her mood.

Although Erik couldn’t have a full understanding of everything that went on, he was intelligent enough to tell Sigrun was incredibly burdened by this. So rather than try to say a few meaningless words of comfort, he pulled her onto his lap. Hugging, stroking and petting as he assured his beloved wife with his presence.

He then made to speak, but Sigrun broke into sobs and paused the conversation. She didn’t wail and stammer, that was beneath a Champion’s main wife or a Jarl’s daughter, but nonetheless her shoulders shuddered and hidden tears rolled down her cheeks.

Sometime later, 20 minutes or so, the emotional outburst finished and Erik picked up the conversation again as he continued to tightly embrace his wife.

“Okay, I understand. What do I need and where can I find it? I will soon have a ship and a strong Warband to crew it. Plus, I also have a large amount of useless silver and gold stacked in my warehouse, ready to spend. So I have plenty of ways to obtain whatever is needed!”

Helles meanwhile had taken it all in and, again, approved very much of the couple’s closeness.

‘Hmpf, good! My daughter should have such a devoted husband! While unintentional, this whole fiasco might actually have a positive effect on their relationship!’

Then, torn from her thoughts Helles explained to Erik what she thought would be their best bet.

“It is probably best to go to one of the Southerner’s major cities. Their markets are teeming with all sorts of things and it is very likely they have what we need. And even if they don’t, my contact will most likely know where to find it. The list of items and ingredients are…” – Helles then listed over two dozen different items, most of which had outlandish names or sounded disgusting, like a Troll’s placenta or Gryphon’s bile.

“Very well, I honestly prefer the idea of going as a merchant since I wanted to take a look at a real major city for a while now. So what’s this contact of yours called and where can I find him?”

“He is a well-known merchant and a prominent figure in the independent City-State of Marienburg called Bartholomeus Verraad. He is… well-disposed towards us and I’ve had dealings with him in the past. If anyone knows how and where to obtain those items and ingredients, he is your, or rather our, best bet. He is still a merchant, but he won’t try to cheat you more than he does anyone else. Which differs from his colleagues who will try to ‘sell you and have you help count the money’ as an adage he told me once.”

Suddenly receiving such a clear-cut direction for his first independent sea voyage filled Erik’s mind with ideas. The destination and his personal goals may have come about due to a sad reason, but the prospect of visiting a famous metropolis like Marienburg was nonetheless exciting.

Marienburg! A large city built amidst vast marshlands flooded by the great River Reik. Ports, docks, canals, arsenals, guild-owned warehouses and coordinated market plazas. The Warhammer equivalent of a fusion between renaissance Venice and ‘Golden Age’ Amsterdam.

Its markets were full of traders from across the world. Elves, Dwarves, Halflings, humans of Ind and Cathay and obviously the nearby Empire and Brettonia also had presence there. It wasn’t even uncommon for the southern Norscans to sail there to participate in trade.

The tea Erik enjoyed right now for instance could well have been obtained from the markets of Marienburg, though the Kurgan tribes of the vast steppes could also have obtained it during their raids into Imperial Cathay.

In Erik’s mind, Sigrun’s problem was all but solved. All that remained was to enjoy the coming feast, accept his promotion and then rest a short while before setting out on this quest.

Placing a soft kiss on Sigrun’s luscious red hair, Erik softly whispered in her ear, taking care not to be overheard by his mother-in-law.

“You hear that, wife? Just a matter of a few days and we’ll have our own child between the two of us. Well, don’t think just one is going to be enough, I plan to crew a small ship with just my sons alone after all!

Though, I’d personally prefer a few more girls. Boys will always be rambunctious and rowdy while any daughter you give me will undoubtedly be every bit as perfect as you are.

Can you already see it? A flock of little redheads following behind their mommy, quacking and chattering as they go? Hehe, I want to see that!”

First, Sigrun felt relieved and happy at the imminent relief. Then, as Erik began to softly quack in her ear as if to joke around, she quickly turned red in the face.

“My mom is watching…” – She softly complained.

“So what? You’ve been sitting in my lap like a good girl for the past hour or so and now you’re getting embarrassed?” – Erik teased back.

Hearing this, Sigrun made to struggle free of the embarrassing position but Erik would have none of it and ‘firmly’ kept her in place as they jostled around.

In the end, Sigrun gave up and stayed in place as Erik and Helles discussed some more matters regarding the mission. During these talks Erik also mentioned the four cryptic verses he had received as ‘Divine Missions’ and asked Helles for her input, but the verses were simply too vague.

“My suggestion is to just live life and see what comes on your path. The Gods left you those words for a reason, so their meaning will undoubtedly become clear to you when the time comes. Still, I will keep it in mind and if ever I think of a potential meaning, I will let you know.”

Then their time was up, the drums summoning the tribesmen to the feast sounded from the square. It was time to leave behind the plans for the future and instead focus on the feats of the past and celebrate the prevention of starvation for another year.

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If the trophies of the Winter Hunt made for large mountains, the loot gathered from the First Raid would simply fill the square all on its own. Every year the Marauders raided the world for resources, but rarely did they manage to completely fill the hulls of their ships to bursting as the Frost Wolves had.

After the sack of Sainte Denise and when the warriors carted back everything of value to the ships, they actually left behind an enormous pile of scrap iron and lit the food they couldn’t bring on fire as a form of farewell.

If preserved well, the food alone would last them for far longer than the usual year. This meant no tribesmen should fear starvation once the Deep Winter arrived. In turn, this meant that for the first time in decades there should be close to no deaths among infants and young children, promising a boom in population when they matured.

This may not sound like a big deal, but for the Norscans this had incredible implications.

Life is harsh in Norsca and children are not exempted from this harshness. If a fifth of all births result in stillborn, half the children wouldn’t make it to their teens. Hunger, disease, accidents and infections were just the most common causes of death.

The high infant mortality forced the Norscans to try and keep up their population by any means. Thrall-born bastards with strong Norscan blood and harems for those warriors capable of supporting them were common to keep up the birth-rate.

If hunger was no longer a factor for just one year, it meant a large amount of children could safely grow and become stronger, having a higher chance of reaching adulthood.

Sigrun for example only had a handful of adult half-brothers and –sisters, but even the Jarl could not stop half his children succumbing to sickness.

Now, with a lavish feast laid out before the tribe, the Jarl swiftly addressed the formalities: Honouring the dead and those who showed great valour or contributed heavily to their success and at the same time confer titles, gifts and standing to them.

Erik was the first to be summoned, because he had undeniably provided the greatest contributions.

“By my right as Jarl, I name you Thane of the Frost Wolves! It’s the greatest honour that’s within my power to grant. I grant you the right to attend the Witan and to command your personal Dragonship across the seas in search of plunder and glory. I also grant you this weapon from my personal armoury, to serve as your badge of office.

I’ll also notify my guards of your new title. Wouldn’t want them to think you’re part of the common rabble, now would we?”

Erik was surprised. He had expected the title of Thane and command of a ship, but to be given one of the huge and strategically important Dragonships was outside of his expectations. Additionally, the weapon Jarl Ingolf presented to him was not just a random weapon hastily pulled from the Pile of Blades, but a finely crafted masterpiece from the main Skaeling tribe’s master blade-smiths.

Roughly 1,3 meter (~4’3”) in length, the weapon was a vicious looking axe made of black steel, edged and inlaid with a red-glowing metal reminiscent of blood and hafted with wood from an ancient hallowed Great Oak. The wide axe-blade adorned with upswept, spike-like ends truly gave it a horrifying visage.

Long enough to be wielded with either one or two hands, Erik immediately fell in love with it and gently stroked the slightly glowing edge. He already had a complete set of weapons consisting of the Slaanesh Messer, old Empire Greatsword and the black steel Glaive. But the Greatsword had proven… less than ideal. It had become too light and frankly, the Glaive did better in open areas while the Messer was perfect for close-quarters. The Greatsword had become obsolete, but this Khornite Axe could fulfil a great purpose as Erik’s third weapon.

It provided a longer-reaching weapon for situations where the Glaive was undesirable, could easily hack through thick wooden doors or other obstacles and, as an aside, finally completed Erik’s look as a real Marauder (if the distinct lack of a beard and long hair was disregarded).

Erik was so immersed in his new weapon that he didn’t pay attention to the other lauded and rewarded warriors. It was only when the feast truly let loose that he finally took his eyes off the magnificent weapon and joined in, instantly downing a full horn of strong mead to get into the mood.