Eadric mind was spinning... Was Osberht’s entire speech really just a play?

"You look like a lost puppy." Ulf grunted, grabbing Eadric by the collar of his tunic.

Before Eadric could protest, he was hoisted into the air.

"Hey! Put me down...!" Eadric yelped, flailing his one good leg.

Ulf tossed him into a large cart filled to the brim with scratchy, dry hay.

"Keep quiet~" Ivar whispered, leaning heavily on his crutch as he hobbled to the front of the cart. "If the guards hear you, they’ll make you count coal for the rest of your miserable life."

Eadric shuddered at the thought. He buried himself deep into the hay. He held his breath as the cart suddenly jerked forward, pulled by two draft horses.

The night sky was dark, but the great city was illuminated by the orange glow of the iron foundries in the distance.

Those infernal machines... They represented everything that had stolen his kingdom.

He was once Lord Eadric, a proud Saxon noble who owned vast green lands. Now, he was a one-legged criminal hiding in horse feed, relying on the mercy of a rival Viking.

"Halt!" a gruff voice echoed through the night air.

"State your business, traveler." the guard demanded.

"Just delivering some late-night hay for the royal stables, friend," Ulf replied casually.

"Let me see..."

"Ah, don’t bother poking around in the dirt." Ivar’s smooth voice cut in. "We have a token from Chief Minister Leofric himself. Urgent supplies for the new horses arriving tomorrow from the southern kingdom."

A heavy silence hung in the air.

"...Very well. Move along." the guard finally sighed. 𝐟𝗿𝐞𝚎𝚠𝐞𝚋𝕟𝐨𝚟𝐞𝕝.𝕔𝕠𝚖

The cart jolted forward again. Eadric let out a breath he didn’t know he was holding.

He couldn’t believe it. Ivar had connections everywhere, even forged tokens from the Chief Minister.

After what felt like hours of slow travel, the cart finally stopped. The hay was pulled back, revealing a dimly lit barn on the outskirts of the city.

Ulf grabbed Eadric’s arm and hauled him out. Eadric stumbled, leaning on his crude stick.

"Welcome to our humble abode, Lord Eadric~" Ivar smiled warmly, gesturing around the vast barn.

Several other men in dark cloaks were sharpening swords, fletching arrows, and loading heavy crossbows.

Eadric collapsed onto a stool, "I... I don’t understand."

Ivar walked over, he poured a large cup of mead from a barrel and handed it to the Saxon.

"Drink," Ivar ordered gently.

"Gyda knew that if you stayed in that cell, you would eventually become a martyr. A symbol for the Saxons to rally behind. A brave noble who lost his leg fighting the mighty Iron Kingdom" Ivar began.

"But..." Ivar raised a single finger. "If you suddenly abandoned your righteous cause for a warm meal and a desk job... you become a traitor to your own people. A coward who sold out for some coal and a paycheck."

The cup slipped from his hand, "That..." Eadric whispered. "She wanted me to ruin my own name? Osberht was just playing his part to trick me into giving up..."

"Exactly." Ivar nodded, looking pleased. "And King Ragnar is the worst of them all."

"Do you know the truth, Eadric?" Ivar spat, pacing around the room.

Eadric shook his head, leaning in closer. "What truth?"

Ivar bowed and said, "Do you know that Ragnar’s little sister told me that he raped a woman at the age of sixteen, then killed her in cold blood and buried her under the sacrificial offering? This man cannot possibly be alive."

Edric frowned deeply. The great King Ragnar, a man worshipped by thousands, was a monster in his youth?

"Ivar the Boneless..." Eadric murmured, "How could we kill such a king? After all, even after what you’ve said, the fact of his weapons remains undeniable."

Ivar threw his head back and laughed. "No, my friend," Ivar smiled, "We have nothing left to lose, which makes us the most dangerous men in the kingdom."

Ulf walked over, tossing a burlap sack onto the table.

"Show him." Ulf grunted.

Ivar untied the sack and dumped the contents onto the rough wood. Eadric gasped out loud.

It was a massive pile of pure gold coins, mixed with strange glass vials filled with a glowing green liquid.

"What is this?" Eadric asked, his eyes wide.

"This is our ticket to City Titan~" Ivar smirked.

Ivar delicately picked up one of the glass vials. "This is a highly potent alchemical fire. One drop of this in the wrong place, and his city will burn brighter than a thousand suns."

Eadric felt a thrill of excitement shoot down his spine.

"But what about his brother?" Eadric asked nervously.

"Ah, don’t worry about him." Ivar waved a hand. "Bjorn is stuck babysitting a bunch of unruly warriors in Calais."

Eadric felt a surge of hope. "So, the capital is vulnerable?"

"More vulnerable than they realize..." Ivar confirmed. "They rely too much on their ledgers and their supply chains."

The men in the barn raised their weapons, letting out a low cheer.

"It seems I have to help you, Ivar." Eadric declared.

"Amazing!" Ivar grinned. "Our first step is to secure a ship, but not just any ship."

Eadric’s eyes widened. "The city garrison patrols there every hour. We could never sneak past them."

"That is where you come in, my friend." Ivar chuckled, patting Eadric on the back. "You are going to walk right up to Osberht tomorrow morning... and you are going to accept that job."

Eadric frowned, "What? But you just said—"

"You will be our spy on the inside. Here’s what you’ll do... You’ll smile at Osberht, and you will learn the patrol schedules for the eastern docks." Ivar interrupted.

"They won’t suspect a thing?" Eadric whispered.

"Why would they?" Ivar replied smoothly, "To Osberht and his garrison, you are just another peasant begging for a few coppers. A man broken by Ragnar’s heavy taxes. You are completely invisible, Eadric."

Ulf let out a low grunt, "Just play the terrified fool. It shouldn’t require much acting."

Eadric ignored the insult, his gaze still caught by the glow of the green liquid on the table.

He swallowed the dry lump in his throat and gave a firm nod. "I’ll do it."

"Excellent." Ivar purred. He began packing the vials of alchemical fire back into the burlap sack, treating them with more reverence than he did the gold coins.

"Once we secure the ship, we slip out with the midnight tide. By the time Ragnar’s generals realize what has happened, City Titan will be drowning in a sea of green flames."

Suddenly, the doors of the barn rattled.

The low cheers of the men instantly died in their throats.

Swords were drawn from their scabbards, and Ulf kicked the lantern over.

A mocking clap drifted through the gaps in the walls, followed by a voice from the darkness outside.

"...tell me, Ivar, when Ragnar’s little sister told you all those sweet little secrets, did she happen to mention that I was already listening?"

Clap...

Clap...

Clap...

The slow sound of hands clapping cut through the low murmurs of the armory.

"My, my, my... what a beautifully dramatic speech, Ivar." a chillingly calm voice drifted down from the shadows.

"I almost want to clap louder, but I wouldn’t want to startle the horses... or the little one-legged Saxon."

Ivar’s playful smile vanished. "Who is there? Show yourself!"

"Oh, I think you already know who I am, Ivar." the voice purred.

From the shadows of the upper loft, a figure dropped down, landing on the hay-covered floor without making a single sound.

He was a tall, unnervingly slender man dressed in a dark leather coat. He simply stood there, brushing a stray piece of hay off his shoulder with a gloved hand.

Ivar had heard rumors in the dungeon... whispers of ghosts who hunted in the dark for King Ragnar.

"Oden..." Ivar breathed out, "Oden the Ormr..."

"In the flesh." Oden smiled, "The Fourth Head of the Royal Spies, at your service. Honestly, Ivar, I expected better security from you. A barn? Really?"

Before Ivar could shout an order, the doors of the barn were kicked off their iron hinges.

Eadric shrieked, stumbling backward on his stick and falling hard onto his rear.

Ten men marched into the barn.

They were holding long tubes of polished steel and carved walnut wood. They raised the strange weapons, resting the stocks against their shoulders, the hollow muzzles pointing directly at Ivar, Ulf, and the other rebels.

Muskets... The thunderous weapons of the Iron Kingdom’s elite guard.

"Don’t move!" Ulf roared, drawing his massive sword and stepping in front of Ivar. The other rebels raised their crossbows, their hands shaking.

"I wouldn’t do that if I were you, big guy." Oden sighed, "My men are holding the new Mark-III muskets. They can put a lead ball through your skull before your brain even registers the sound of the blast."

Ivar leaned heavily on his brass crutch.

He spat, his hand hovering close to the burlap sack filled with alchemical fire. "Gyda’s little traps won’t save you from the fire I can unleash right here, right now!"

Oden let out a mocking laugh. He took a few slow steps forward, ignoring the tension in the room.

He walked right up to the edge of the table, his eyes locking onto Ivar’s gaze.

Oden tilted his head, his smile widening into something truly sinister.

Eadric gasped, his eyes darting between the two men. He now understood the first thing the spy had said.

Ragnar’s little sister?

"Oh, please, don’t act so offended." Oden mocked, wagging a gloved finger.

"look..." Oden gestured grandly around the barn. "...Here you all are. Sniffing the cheese."

"And we even caught a little crippled mouse who tried to run from his job." Oden added, "Lord Osberht will be so disappointed, Eadric."

Eadric looked at the burlap sack on the table. He looked at Ivar’s hand.

"Ivar!" Eadric screamed, "The fire! Use the fire!"

Ivar snapped out of his shock. With a roar, he lunged forward, his hand diving into the burlap sack to grab a vial of the glowing green liquid.

"Fire!" Oden commanded sharply.

The deafening roar of ten muskets firing shook the foundations of the barn.

A massive cloud of acrid white smoke filled the air, smelling sharply of sulfur.

Eadric screamed, throwing his arms over his head as splinters of wood, dirt, and blood rained down around him in the blinding smoke.