Supreme Viking System-Chapter 97: Wives

The gates of Skjoldvik opened without ceremony.

They did not need to announce him.

The city felt Anders before it saw him.

Steam vents hissed along the outer walls as pressure bled safely into channels cut years ago by his own hand. Rail lines glimmered faintly under torchlight, iron ribs humming softly as night trains rolled to their rest. Towers of stone and timber rose in concentric rings, banners hanging motionless in the still air—broken spear over shattered shield, the sigil now recognized from the Baltic to England.

This was not a city that waited.

It endured.

Anders passed beneath the inner arch on foot, cloak dusted with road-grime, armor stripped away for the journey home. Behind him, chained but upright, walked Sophia—Theodoric’s daughter. Her wrists were bound in iron rings linked by a short chain. Her chin was lifted in defiance, even now.

Citizens paused as they recognized him.

Not cheers.

Not bows.

Hands to chests. Heads lowered. Silence spreading like a held breath.

This was not the silence of fear.

It was recognition.

At the far end of the avenue, the inner keep doors opened.

Freydis came first.

She did not walk.

She strode.

Golden hair braided thick over one shoulder, eyes sharp as drawn steel, her presence cut through the night like a blade. Anne followed half a step behind, calmer, observant, already taking in the scene with a tactician’s eye.

And then—smaller figures.

Two boys.

David ran first, feet slapping against stone, laughter unrestrained. Thanders followed more carefully, serious eyes locked on Anders as though memorizing him.

Anders knelt without thinking.

David hit him like a thrown spear, arms wrapping his neck. Thanders reached him more slowly, placing both hands against Anders’ chest as if checking that he was real.

Anders exhaled.

Grounded.

Human again.

Freydis reached them and stopped short—because she saw the woman behind him.

She blinked once.

Then laughed.

A sharp, delighted sound.

"Oh," she said, looking Sophia up and down. "Our husband brings gifts now."

Anne tilted her head, eyes flicking from the shackles to the bruising on Sophia’s wrist. "I suppose months away from home makes a man... nostalgic for company."

Freydis snorted. "Missed the touch of a woman, did you, Anders?"

They were smiling.

Sophia stiffened.

Anders rose slowly, brushing David’s hair back before placing Thanders gently behind him.

"No," Anders said calmly. "She tried to kill me."

The laughter stopped.

Freydis’s smile vanished as if cut away.

Anne’s expression sharpened—not shocked, not frightened. Focused.

"She is Sophia," Anders continued. "Daughter of Theodoric. Sent to assassinate me in my sleep."

Sophia lifted her chin higher. "I would have succeeded if—"

Freydis moved.

It was not a strike born of training.

It was rage.

Her fist drove straight into Sophia’s abdomen—hard, clean, devastating.

Sophia doubled with a sharp, breathless gasp, knees buckling as the chain snapped taut.

Freydis grabbed her by the hair and hauled her upright.

"You came into my city," Freydis hissed, emerald eyes blazing, "and crept into my husband’s bedchamber with poison?"

Anne stepped in immediately, hand on Freydis’s arm—not restraining, but grounding.

"Enough," Anne said softly.

Freydis’s chest heaved. She released Sophia with a shove that sent her stumbling.

Anne turned her attention fully to the would-be assassin. Her smile returned—slow, deliberate, and profoundly unsettling.

"There is a punishment," Anne said pleasantly, "for those who raise a blade against the Emperor."

Sophia swallowed hard.

"And it is not death," Anne added.

Freydis laughed again—this time low and satisfied.

Anders watched them for a long moment.

Then he spoke.

"She will see what she tried to destroy."

His gaze moved past the keep walls, toward the city beyond.

"She will walk the academies. See the hospitals. The rail yards. The children who sleep without hunger or fear."

Sophia looked up at him then, truly looking for the first time.

"And then," Anders continued, voice calm as stone, "she will decide who she really served."

He turned back to his wives.

"She is not a toy," he said. "She is a lesson."

Freydis nodded slowly. Anne’s eyes gleamed with understanding.

David tugged at Anders’ sleeve. "Papa... is she bad?"

Anders crouched again, meeting his son’s eyes.

"She made a choice," he said. "Now she will live with it."

Behind them, the capital of Thorsgard breathed—pipes humming, lights glowing softly without flame, the empire’s heart beating steady and unyielding.

Sophia stood shackled in its shadow.

And for the first time since stepping onto the Salted Bear, she felt something colder than fear.

She felt small.

Sophia expected a cell.

Stone. Darkness. The stink of rot and old blood.

What she received instead was light.

Morning came to Skjoldvik not with horns or shouts, but with motion. Steam vents along the avenues exhaled white breath into the cold air. Rail carts rattled awake, iron on iron, carrying grain, timber, and people to places she could not yet name. Bells rang—not alarms, not prayers—but shifts changing, academies opening, foundries beginning their work.

Sophia stood on a balcony overlooking it all, wrists still bound, chain fixed to a bronze ring set cleanly into the stone floor.

She had not been thrown into a dungeon.

She had been placed above the city.

Anne stood beside her, hands folded behind her back, posture relaxed. Freydis leaned against the parapet a few paces away, arms crossed, eyes sharp and unblinking.

Anders did not come.

Not yet.

"Eat," Anne said mildly, gesturing to a tray set on a small table behind them.

Bread. Cheese. Stew that smelled—damnably—good.

Sophia turned her face away.

"I will not," she said hoarsely.

Freydis snorted. "Stubborn. At least that part makes sense."

Anne did not argue. She simply nodded to a nearby guard.

"Very well," Anne said. "Then you will walk."

Sophia frowned. "Walk... where?"

Anne smiled.

They took her through the city.

Not dragged.

Not paraded.

She walked between two Enforcers in blue cloaks with silver stars at their throats—silent men and women whose eyes missed nothing. Citizens stepped aside as they passed, not staring, not jeering.

Some looked at Sophia with curiosity.

Others with something closer to pity.

They passed the academies first.

Children—children—trained in orderly yards. Not beaten. Not screamed at. Corrected. Guided. Older men—scarred veterans by the look of them—walked among the lines, adjusting stances, offering quiet instruction.

"Those are former raiders," Freydis said without looking at Sophia. "Men who once burned villages like yours."

Sophia swallowed.

"They teach now," Freydis continued. "Because Anders decided strength without purpose rots."

They moved on.

Hospitals next.

Clean. Whitewashed stone. Warmth flowing through pipes set into the walls. Sophia froze when she saw a man with half his face scarred laugh as a healer adjusted a brace on his leg.

"No chains," she whispered.

Anne nodded. "Why would we chain those who serve?"

They passed rail yards where engines hissed and pistons moved with steady rhythm. Workers coordinated by hand signals, not whips. Food distribution centers. Storehouses so full they overflowed into secondary depots.

Finally, they stopped before a wide square.

At its center stood a statue.

Not of a god.

Not of Anders.

It depicted a man and a woman standing shoulder to shoulder, hands joined—not rulers, not conquerors. Builders. The plaque beneath it was simple.

Strength builds. Fear destroys.

Sophia’s breath caught.

"This is what you tried to kill," Anne said softly.

Sophia turned on her, eyes burning. "You think this makes him righteous? You think conquest wrapped in stone and steam is mercy?"

Anne met her gaze evenly.

"No," she said. "I think mercy is what comes after power is secured."

Freydis stepped closer then, voice low.

"You come from a world where men kill to be remembered," she said. "Here, they live to be useful."

Sophia shook, anger and confusion warring inside her. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"You’re lying," she said. "No empire lasts without terror."

A new voice answered her.

"You’re right."

They turned.

Anders stood at the edge of the square, hands clasped behind his back, expression unreadable.

"Every empire uses fear," he said calmly. "The question is what kind."

He approached slowly, Enforcers stepping aside.

"Fear of pain?" he continued. "Cheap. Short-lived."

"Fear of loss?" He gestured to the city. "More effective."

Sophia met his eyes, hatred flaring anew. "You murdered the Tchuds."

Anders did not deny it.

"Yes," he said. "Because they would not stop killing their neighbors. Because they taught their children to die screaming."

He stepped closer.

"And because if I allowed them to remain," he added quietly, "ten thousand more would have died in the next decade."

Silence stretched.

Sophia’s voice broke. "You don’t get to decide that."

Anders inclined his head slightly.

"No," he agreed. "I chose to."

He looked at her chains.

"You came to kill me," he said. "For your father. For his fear."

She said nothing.

"I could execute you," Anders continued. "Publicly. It would be easy. Satisfying for some."

Freydis’s jaw tightened.

"But instead," Anders said, "you will stay."

Sophia stared at him. "As what? A hostage?"

"As a witness," he replied.

He gestured toward the city.

"You will eat when you’re ready. Walk where we tell you. Learn what we teach. And when you finally understand what this place is—what it costs to build it—you will choose."

"Choose what?" she whispered.

Anders’ eyes hardened, just a fraction.

"Whether you return to your father," he said, "or stay here and live with what you tried to undo."

He turned away.

"And if you try again," he added over his shoulder, "there will be no lesson the third time."

Sophia stood shaking as he walked back into the city, the sound of steam and steel swallowing him whole.

For the first time since Nordreach, since the Salted Bear, since the night she raised a poisoned blade—

Sophia wondered if dying would have been easier.

And that thought terrified her more than any chain.