Over the next few weeks the Frost Wolf ships returned from their voyages. Slow from the weight of stolen treasure, lightened by the loss of men and each with a tale of their own. Taking the fight to Norsca’s eternal enemy the Empire by raiding its lands, adventuring far to the south to witness the hot deserts of Araby and the dread Mortis Delta beyond and many other tales were created.
Of course, some ships were lost. Storms, shipwrecks, impossible odds of sheer stupidity could easily cause the death of an expedition. So two weeks before the Third Season was bound to start, Jarl Ingolf organised a feast to mark the end of the Second Season. No grand affair, but an enjoyable event to swap tall tales, boast of achievements and show off the fruits of labour.
“Come Erik!” – Jarl Ingolf invited his favoured son-in-law over.
Downing the dregs at the bottom of his horn, Erik complied and sat together with Ingolf and the other high ranking tribesmen.
Seeing Erik’s empty horn, someone called for a thrall to refill it to the brim.
“A young hero such as yourself should have no problem drinking, right? I’ve heard the tales from around the fires! A summer of incredible profit, taking prize after prize! I envy you, Erik! So I’ll punish you with drink till you fall, haha!” – Each time Erik drained his horn of mead or ale, another Thane would beckon a servant for a refill while good-heartedly saying such things.
They held no malice with their actions. They simply expressed their envious admiration by ‘punishing’ Erik with drink. Perhaps they hoped Erik would eventually refuse or throw up so they could pin a humorous nickname on Erik? Something like ‘Wobble Legs’ or ‘Ale Spouter’?
But each time Erik simply smiled and drank his alcohol while swapping tales back and forth. Taking everything in stride and sometimes answering in kind, punishing an overly boastful leader with even more drink.
Then at one point during the evening, Jarl Ingolf took a moment to talk with Erik away from the rest of the Marauders.
“You have done well, Erik! Very well. The Gods must truly favour you indeed. In just a short couple of weeks you have fought more often and gained more loot than any other.”
Turning to look Erik in the eye, the Jarl subtly changed his tone from admiring to lecturing.
“Do not believe it will always be this easy. And even though Scaldar assures me you are likely to be the strongest warrior of your generation and one of the top five within the whole tribe, do not get conceited with that strength! You’ve faced the blood-drinker. You felt de chasm between it and yourself.
I believe you will continue to grow to the point where you can squash it like a bug, but progress will be slow! There are many exceptionally strong and powerful warriors even among the Tribes, let alone the world! And yet the differences between them and the truly great warriors like Heroes, Grand Champions and the like, is still enormous.”
Turning to look Erik dead in the eye, Ingolf gave his final piece of advice on the matter in a hushed voice.
“I have heard some of how you grow stronger, Erik. I also know the coming period where you will be stuck at home will make it difficult for you to grow in that manner. Use this time well to grow. Not your personal power, but your overall power. Recruit warriors from the roaming tribes, tame beasts, build ships and make those contracts Scaldar told me about. The Frost Wolves have stagnated too long and YOU are the only one I see capable enough to spark our growth and have the tribe soar up high.”
Nodding, Erik carefully listened to his father-in-law’s words and the two continued for a short while longer, discussing among other things how Erik would approach his future recruitments.
Finally, they returned to the feast where numerous competitions were now in full swing. And after the winning champions were crowned and rewarded, it was time for the feast to end.
Yet, just before Erik took his leave, Jarl Ingolf made one final remark:
“I know there will soon be new blood in your home, Erik. I respect you and have high hopes for you, but I also expect you to respect Sigrun as your Wife and to not neglect her for your other children’s mothers. Else, these aching bones still have quite a bit more fight in them left!”
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Two days after the feast the departure for the Third Season was decided. Two more weeks to rest up before the ships sailed once more in search of plunder and food. Supplies were ample for the coming Winter, but with the fields of the south once more ripe with produce it would be a waste not to take it.
Today Erik and Sigrun paid a visit to Helles, who had been working on Sigrun’s cure ever since Erik handed over the ingredients.
“How fast do you think it’ll work? I hope it’s instant… but I also wouldn’t mind if it took another regular cycle! I want to hold my, our, baby soon but I also dread swelling up like Tykira. Not to mention I won’t be able to feel you as well any more for such a long time, especially with Winter coming up! Oh Gods, won’t that be torture? Months of being right next to each other, but unable to have sex… Should I take the cure after Winter? But if I get pregnant during Winter I’ll have our son before the Second Season next year…”
Sigrun was obviously nervous, prattling on and on as her face showed excitement and happiness Erik was only used to seeing after a soft round of intimate exercise.
To calm her down, Erik simply took hold of her arm and had her lean against his firm chest, but this act that usually created a sense of comfort, closeness and happiness was wholly ignored by the distracted woman.
‘Oh boy, I have no idea what she’ll be like when we finally get our kid. I suppose she’ll be the most temperamental and whimsical pregnant lady thus far? And I’m sensing a severe case of “helicopter mom” for the future…’ – Erik inwardly lamented.
Still, he couldn’t deny his own excitement. The birth of his firstborn was coming closer and closer, more were well on their way and the first love of his life had proven quite… creative in their recent bedroom activities.
Many of the things Erik had brought back home had found their respective owners before he had a chance to distribute them. Well, the more forward girls took most of the outfits, toys and trinkets while making sure the more docile ones also fitting items. The only ones left out were Ri & Ra who were being quite openly ostracised within the household.
They still carried Erik’s children so he kept an eye on their health and mental wellbeing, but while they themselves believed Erik to be incredibly attentive towards them, they were effectively under house-arrest.
“He cares so much about us he even provided us with personal staff, room and kitchen! And he hasn’t called on us at night either simply because he is worried he might hurt our children, unlike with those vulgar thralls and the, plegh, Beastwoman.”
It showed quite clearly just how little truly went on in their heads. Even the death of their full-blooded brother only took them a single crying session and two days of moping to get over it.
But thinking about his increasingly complex family circumstance wasn’t the goal of this trip. Well, it heavily tied into it but it’s different, okay?
Half an hour later Erik, Sigrun and Helles once more gathered in Helles’s private chambers. A small fire burned in the corner to keep the place warm and a small clay pot sat on the middle of the table. The cure made from all those weird ingredients Erik exchanged for with Bartholomeus.
‘Come to think of it… I don’t remember hearing how Helles determined Sigrun’s ailment… Is this cure just some kind of blanket-medication like antibiotics? What if she needs a specialised cure because Sigrun has some kind of unique or rare condition? Could this medicine potentially aggravate her ailment instead?
Or… does Helles know more than we do about her daughter’s situation? I don’t think some of the ingredients on the list would be for common medicine, right? There were some very specific and expensive items on the list to the point one of the most prominent merchants and political figure of Marienburg didn’t have it on hand…’
Gazing lovingly at her daughter, Helles seemed to be without fault or blame as she explained the use of the medicine.
“The pot contains pills for you to swallow, Sigrun. The pills will dissolve in your body and take care of whatever is preventing you from conceiving. Just take one every day after dinner for five days in a row, pause for two days and then we’ll have a check-up. It might work in one go or require multiple repetitions but it will definitely work.”
Hearing her mother’s assuring words Sigrun couldn’t help but let out a small tear as she intimately hugged her mother.
Meanwhile Erik slightly narrowed his eyes at the sight as he felt his suspicion grow, determining Helles’s words to be a little too certain for the situation.
A short time later, the couple was back on their way home. Sigrun tightly clasped the medicine jar in her hands, unwilling to let go of it no matter what.
Sighing at the sight, Helles took a moment to ponder as she softly whispered to herself:
“With this it will be fine right? My dear daughter gets cured, I undid my wrong and no one is any wiser? Well, the Daemoness might have sensed something…
And Erik’s gaze just now was quite *shudder* intense. No wonder all those girls flock to him and even my clearheaded, stubborn Sigrun fell for him… If I’d been a couple years younger and there was no husband in the picture…”
‘Oh Helles, girl! At your age? Have some decorum! That’s your son-in-law!’ – She internally chided herself but couldn’t help herself as she moved to a small cabinet near her bed.
Clicking open a hidden compartment, she took out a few things that would be eerily familiar to Erik’s household by now.
“I can’t believe Erik had dozens of these and similar things made just to play… I might have to find an opportunity to thank Skadi for giving me these. She said this one was for the front, the weird bulbous one for behind and these odd needles and ‘earrings’ are for… oh gosh, if only that moron Ingolf bothered to visit I wouldn’t be plagued by this!”
The troubles of being the most respected, yet also oldest member of a Jarl’s harem had obviously worn at the attractive, middle-aged woman.
