Far north, north of all ‘Civilized Peoples’, there was a peninsula. This peninsula was frozen year-round and was known to the world as “The Hinterlands”. Here, a people un-tamed by the dominant and authoritative Empire of Keystone dwelled, clinging to their barbaric culture and ways of war. In the ever-frozen land of the forbidden, there were twenty-seven tribes, to each their own claim to the kingship of the Hinterlands. Of these twenty-seven tribes, three were ruled by the iron fist of a High-Chief their own, the remaining twenty-four fighting amongst themselves to stand shouldered to these few giants.

       Of these twenty-four lowly Chiefs, one, young and spry, could be found marching through a forest to the further northern boundaries of the barren land, followed by the warriors of his tribe. Every man wore an expression of unabated anger, with a hint of anticipation playing about their lips. A fury like no other could be discovered in their eyes as they put one foot in front of the other towards a common location.

       As Aelrich marched forward, a sense of unease welled up within him. He had not expected to transmigrate into such a situation, or to even transmigrate at all. These past several hours, he had been sorting through the memories of his two lives that had been clashing violently, creating tremors within his mind. On one hand, he was a man in his early thirties who had created an income from stock investing, spending most of his overwhelming amount of free time reading fantasy novels, how-to guides, ‘for-dummy’ books, and many other things, along with the occasional video-game.

       On the other hand, he was a chief of a tribe that closely resembled the early Norse of his previous life. According to his newfound memories, which greatly influenced his actions unbeknownst to him, he truly was filled with concern toward his people but, coupled with the xenophobia towards outsiders most tribes carried, he was also exceptionally cold-blooded to those that offended him and his kin. This resulted in his shockingly spontaneous decision to war the bordering tribe led by Chief Ebinferr, as well as his iron-willed resolve in carrying out this decision even when he had merged with Desmond, reflecting his vengeful, stubborn, and caring nature in its own colorful way.

       Regardless, he found it more than interesting that such a conflict in fact did not result in a multiple personality disorder of any sort. It was more-so a situation where he could clearly make decisions on the surface, but his gut would urge him, suggesting whether it was a good, bad, smart, or stupid one. And so far, going to battle gave him one of those “I’m not so sure” urges, one only a coward would feel.

        Spending all his efforts to quell this fear, he set aside his thoughts and listened in on the conversation occurring behind him.

       “I’m gonna show that lot what they have comin’ to ‘em.” A deep, burly voice echoed amongst the fifty-odd men followed by a round of laughter.

       “Asbjorn, my brawny friend, not ten men together could best you, but you dare not slay a single one lest your loving heart shatters, yet you still utter these words? Hahaha!” A resounding and straightforward voice playfully jeered.

       “I find death a heavy consequence none should bare unless it is well deserved, as should you Arne. Blindly slaying my foes brings no glory, only loss of another life. But these vile miscreants we march to hold no morals, thus no one can shame me for returning few in kind!” Asbjorn retorted.

       “Bah, you’re no fun at all! Though I do agree, we should return an offense as it has been offered! I can only imagine the count of women awaiting us!” Arne threw his hands up in triumph as he turned to his fellow warriors, eliciting a round of applause and yelps of excitement.

       “There will be no such thing!” Just then, a sour voice shattered the mood as the atmosphere tensed. A gloomy, dreary-eyed, spear-spined man stopped at the front of the crowd as he stared at Arne with unveiled contempt. The jovial spirit in every man involved was extinguished as they laid their eyes upon the chief’s brother, Halstein, who’d just lost his beloved to the opposing tribe. “Should I see anyone of you defiling a lady, I shall rip your life away, should the gods not reach you first.” It was quiet, but with the area as silent as it was, his words were as loud as a lion’s roar. The entire time, his gaze had not left Arne, as despise could be found on every inch of his face.

       Before anyone could respond, a deep and relaxed tone woke everyone from their stupor, “It is as he says. No man shall defile nor deflower any woman.” Aelrich paused for effect, “However, Halstein, you should not allow such words to exploit a weakness in your heart. They meant only humor by what was spoken. This being said, let’s drop the argument, and carry on, we only have a short while before we reach our wrongdoers.” He tried quickly to redirect the topic and focus their attention elsewhere. The last thing everyone needed was morale to be low due to a few words spoken from their own people.

       As he said this, everyone visibly relaxed as the almost tangible tension in the air dissipated at a visible rate. As everyone resumed their conversations, following Aelrich’s lead, they continued to march toward their objective.

       Further ahead, Aelrich continued to sort his mind as he thought about the history of the three who’d led the argument just before. Asbjorn was the first person he’d met when coming to this world, the burly bear man whose innocent smile radiated brighter than the sun, and whose morals were upright. He was rumored never to have told a lie in his life and was the eldest of the three aforementioned. No matter where he was seen, or what he was doing, one could always find his seven-foot spear lying around nearby or strapped to his back.

       Beside him was Arne, who was known as a man that closely followed the will of his base instincts. He was the only one known within the tribe to have actually become a berserker, someone who could essentially lose their minds on the field of battle by unleashing their fury and exploding their personal combat effectiveness by several-fold, while still somehow retaining the ability to distinguish friend from foe. He was the youngest of the three and was known to be extraordinarily selfish. But when the matter involved the tribe, he would set aside his self-gratifying desires as much as needed and help with all he could offer, always being the first to sacrifice his own needs for the better of the clan. Aside from all this, he would always have two hand axes buckled on his belt to be used in any event.

       Lastly, standing a distance in front of the two was Aelrich’s younger and only brother, Halstein. He was always a quiet person, often regarded as an observant realist. He was also quite selfless and, in fact, commonly accepted as Arne’s opposite. He would never be caught looking out for his own interest, as he frequently set aside his own needs and wants to further the betterment of the tribe. When people’s homesteads fell apart, he would be the first of the first to offer a hand of assistance, even when his own home was in tatters. Of all people to offer a word to speak, as shown before, his words carried the weight of silver pennies, and were respected third only to Aelrich and the three sages respectively. Just as the other two, he carried a tool of war at all times. But unlike the other two, it was a weapon rarely found in the northern lands. A sword, an arming sword at that. It was of rather poor condition compared to those weapons of the empire, but he’d maintained it rather well.

       Among the crowd of fifty-some men, these three were the most notable for one simple reason. They were the Chief’s Huscarls. They were entrusted with the greatest respect and responsibility of the tribe and were allowed to act in the Chief’s name. More importantly, in the battlefield, they were the Chief’s personal guard, and were expected to go to hell and back should the Chief embark on such a journey. In terms of standing, it went Asbjorn, Halstein, and Arne respectively. Although Halstein was the Chief’s brother, Asbjorn was entrusted to Aelrich by the previous Chief before he passed, and Halstein was pronounced a Huscarl far after, thus his standing was paradoxical.

       As Aelrich was sorting out these thoughts at great length, Halstein finally reached his side. He could feel his younger brother’s curious gaze intensifying as they continued to walk without word. After a few more seconds, Aelrich couldn’t take it anymore as he cautiously questioned, “Yeees?”

       “… You’re acting different is all. You’re much more reserved than usual, and even this morning you seemed to be out of your wits, what with the collapse and all…” His observant gaze intensified before relaxing as he finally finished his last word.

       ”I’m simply on edge. A lot is about to occur and, should we fail to deal with this event appropriately, many problems will follow.” Aelrich turned to glance at his younger brother meaningfully.

       Halstein seemed to understand as he slowly nodded his head, “I’ll ensure everything goes the way it should.” He quickly ended the conversation as he followed along Aelrich quietly. The silence between the two was unusually serene, as a keen understanding sparked amongst them. Only the laughter of the crowd behind them could be heard as the group traversed the dense, snow covered forest, recreating the jovial atmosphere.

***

       Before long, the assembly of warriors made their way atop a ridge. They came to a halt as every man absorbed the scene before them. Several hundred meters away was a cluster of buildings. Among them was a longhouse of a much greater size and condition as compared to Aelrich’s own. The group went silent as they overlooked such an unusual scene. It was quite uncommon for the peoples of a tribe to gather their homes together. Most tribes would have their people spread their homes about and claim a section of land, where they would have exclusive rights to hunt. There was no known crop that could easily survive agriculture in such a place, as it was cold year-round, so the people of a tribe would rarely group their homes like so. Among other reasons, including sewage and lumber, it was simply a foolish idea.

       As the crowd eyed the five or six buildings and ten or eleven people that walked about, they couldn’t help but collectively scoff. Aelrich couldn’t help but do so as well. He was impressed by the courage it required to gather like so, but in a few months or, unlikely, years, other issues should abound.

      Regardless, Aelrich shrugged it off as he waved his Huscarls over and spoke to the crowd, “These few and I will hold an audience with Chief Ebinferr to announce the time and location of battle. The rest of you shall stay behind and encamp this ridge. We will return within ten minutes.” Saying this, Aelrich began to walk down the slope, his three Huscarls closely following behind.

      As they neared the village, the alarm in everyone’s eyes was clear to see as they began retreating into their homes, a few of the men running to the longhouse while the remaining stood guard on the outskirts.

      Disregarding these few men, Aelrich marched to the longhouse. Two guards blocked his way stating that he “Needed to wait for an audience with the Chief”, but he simply pushed them aside and threw open the doors. “Ebinferr! You coward! I know you’re in here you swine! Come and meet me!” Aelrich shouted with a grand reverb flowing about the longhouse.

      Several seconds passed before a much older voice responded weakly, “The Elders and I figured you would respond shortly to our request, but we did not expect your response to be so rash… Speak, what is it that you want?” From a side door, likely the Chief’s bedroom, Aelrich noticed a man emerge who was nearing his later forties or early fifties and was slightly hunched over, resembling his remarkable test of time and labor. His hair was beginning to grey, yet his shoulders were no less stout than Aelrich’s own.

      Noticing the man already present, Aelrich huffed before growling, “Here, at dawn, my men shall meet yours in a test of arms.” He paused. He could see the deceit in the old man’s eyes sparking as he spoke, obviously thinking of a way to turn this around on him in some sort of verbal spar, but he continued before Ebinferr could speak, “You shall gather your men and follow one of two courses of action. Either present all offenders to my tribe for execution or disregard your tribes’ crimes and fight to the last man.” After this declaration, Aelrich turned about, throwing open the door yet again and marching back to the camp, leaving Chief Ebinferr and his Elders to wrap their minds around what to do.

       After arriving at the camp, he stopped in the center next to a lit campfire, scanning his surroundings silently. As everyone noticed him, they stopped and turned their attention to him. After a short silence, he nodded.

       “Today, we eat. Tomorrow, we repay our offenders…”

***