Chapter 18: North to Freedom
Three days on the northern road, and Paul felt lighter than he had since awakening on that merchant ship with salt on his tongue and impossible visions burning behind his eyes.
The weight he'd carried—of secrets, of obligations, of watching Ragnar's legend calcify into something harder and less human—had lifted somewhere between Kattegat's gates and the first night's camp. The cold wind that cut through his cloak felt like absolution, each mile north a step away from the careful dance of court politics and toward something cleaner.
"This is what freedom feels like. Not safety, not certainty, but the right to choose who you stand beside when the world goes dark."
Lagertha rode at the column's head with the easy competence of someone born to leadership, her spine straight despite the grief that still shadowed her eyes. Behind her, a dozen warriors followed not from obligation but from genuine loyalty—Astrid with her scarred hands and bitter smile, Gunnar whose laugh could be heard three settlements away, Harald who'd never spoken a word Paul understood but communicated perfectly through nods and shared mead.
Bjorn rode beside Paul, still processing the wreckage of his parents' marriage with the particular confusion of children caught in adult catastrophes.
"Do you think he loved her?" Bjorn asked suddenly, his voice carrying the weight of questions he'd been afraid to voice.
Paul considered lying, offering the kind of comfortable fiction that made difficult truths easier to swallow. But Lagertha's son deserved better than pleasant deceptions.
"I think he loved what she represented," Paul said carefully. "Strength, loyalty, the kind of partnership that made him feel invincible. But love and need aren't the same thing, and your father has trouble telling the difference."
Bjorn was quiet for a long moment, processing the distinction with the serious attention of someone learning to navigate the gap between childhood certainty and adult complexity.
"What about you?" he asked finally. "Why did you choose her?"
"Because she doesn't need saving, and that's exactly why she deserves someone who stays."
"Because she's strong enough to stand alone, which means choosing to stand beside her actually means something."
That night they made camp beside a stream that chattered through stones worn smooth by centuries of water and weather. The warriors settled into their routines with the efficiency of people who'd done this many times before, but Paul could sense the underlying tension—they were committed to Lagertha, but uncertain about what that commitment would cost.
As the others settled into sleep, Paul found himself sitting beside the fire with Lagertha, both of them staring into flames that painted her face in shifting gold and shadow.
"Why did you really follow me?" she asked without preamble, her voice carrying the particular directness of someone who'd run out of patience for careful diplomacy.
Paul considered his options—comfortable lies, partial truths, the kind of strategic vagueness that had served him well in Ragnar's court. But something about the firelight and the weight of the choice they'd both made demanded better.
"Because every vision I've had of you shows strength," he said quietly. "But also because I've seen what Ragnar becomes. The way legend calcifies into something that forgets what made it worth celebrating in the first place. I'd rather build something new than watch greatness corrode."
Lagertha studied his face with the particular intensity she reserved for evaluating genuine threats or unexpected truths.
"You see my future?"
"Fragments. Enough to know you don't need me, but maybe want someone who stays anyway."
Her hand found his across the small space between them—brief contact that carried more weight than words. Not quite acknowledgment, not quite promise, but recognition of something growing between them that neither had quite named yet.
"This. This is what I chose over safety and legend and all the comfortable certainties of Ragnar's shadow."
The next morning brought them within sight of Jarl Sven's holdings—Lagertha's father's lands, inherited through blood and maintained through the kind of stubborn determination that kept small territories independent in a world of expanding kingdoms.
The settlement was smaller than Kattegat, its defenses adequate rather than impressive, its people carrying the particular wariness of those who lived close enough to borders to understand that safety was always temporary. Paul catalogued details with system-enhanced perception—walls that needed repair, guards who looked more worried than confident, the subtle signs of a community that had been tested recently and found wanting.
Jarl Sven emerged from his hall to greet them—an elderly man whose resemblance to Lagertha was visible in the set of his jaw and the calculation in his pale eyes. But where his daughter radiated controlled strength, Sven carried the particular fragility of someone whose authority had been eroded by age and circumstance.
"Daughter," he said, embracing Lagertha with genuine warmth before his gaze settled on Paul with uncomfortable intensity. "Who is this southerner? Another of Ragnar's cast-offs?"
The insult landed with surgical precision, designed to test Paul's response and gauge his relationship to Lagertha. Paul felt his hand drift toward his seax handle, then caught Lagertha's slight headshake and forced himself to stillness.
"He is MY choice," Lagertha replied, ice crystallizing in her voice. "Test him if you doubt, but do not insult him in my hearing."
"MY choice. Not Ragnar's discarded advisor or convenient ally, but something she claimed deliberately."
Paul activated Success Rate Analysis while maintaining his expression of respectful attention.
[QUERY: PROBABILITY OF LAGERTHA SUCCESSFULLY CLAIMING THIS TERRITORY]
[RESULT: 68%]
[FACTORS: FATHER'S DECLINING HEALTH (SUCCESSION NEEDED), RECENT RAIDS (TERRITORY WEAKENED), WARRIOR LOYALTY (HIGH TO LAGERTHA), RIVAL CLAIMS (JARL ERIKSSON INTEREST: 73%)]
[MANA COST: 3 MP - REMAINING: 21/24]
Sixty-eight percent. Good odds if they acted decisively, but the 73% interest from Jarl Eriksson suggested complications incoming.
Those complications materialized before they'd even settled into guest quarters. A messenger arrived under Eriksson's banner—a young warrior whose swagger suggested he'd never been tested by anything more dangerous than tavern brawls.
"Jarl Eriksson sends word to the woman who calls herself Lagertha," the messenger announced, his voice carrying to every ear in the settlement. "He challenges your right to inherit these lands. Claims you are Ragnar's discarded wife, unworthy to lead warriors who deserve stronger guidance."
The insult was calculated perfectly—questioning not just Lagertha's political legitimacy but her personal worth, delivered publicly to ensure maximum humiliation. Paul felt the crowd's attention shift like a physical weight, assessing how Lagertha would respond to having her divorce weaponized against her.
"He demands holmgang," the messenger continued. "Ritual combat to prove worthiness. Victor takes disputed territory and loser's honor."
"Of course. Trial by combat, because Vikings solve everything with sharp metal and spilled blood."
"Tell Eriksson—" Lagertha began, but Paul stepped forward before she could finish.
"I accept," he said clearly, his voice carrying across the suddenly silent settlement. "Tomorrow at dawn."
The messenger's sneer deepened. "Will the seer fight for her? Or does he only watch while stronger men decide matters of importance?"
Paul met the young man's gaze without flinching. "You'll find out tomorrow whether watching is all I do."
After the messenger departed with Paul's acceptance, Lagertha pulled him aside with the particular intensity of someone whose protective instincts had been activated against her better judgment.
"You don't have to—" she began.
"Yes I do," Paul interrupted. "You need to show strength, I need to prove I'm not just a prophet hiding behind you. And besides..."
He activated Weekly Vision, burning precious mana for the intelligence that would make tomorrow's violence survivable.
[WEEKLY VISION ACTIVATED]
[MANA COST: 20% - 4.8 MP ROUNDED TO 5 MP]
[REMAINING MANA: 16/24]
[DURATION: EXTENDED COMBAT SEQUENCE]
The images flowed through his consciousness with crystalline clarity: the dueling ground at dawn, Eriksson's massive frame and scarred features, the specific pattern of his fighting style, and most importantly—the opening at forty-seven seconds, the moment when overconfidence would create the gap Paul needed.
"I've seen how this ends," Paul said, meeting Lagertha's worried gaze. "Trust me."
"Trust me to dance with death using nothing but foresight and stubborn determination. Trust me to prove that seeing the future is worth more than raw strength."
That night Paul lay awake reviewing the vision repeatedly, memorizing every detail of the fight to come. Eriksson was stronger, faster, more experienced—everything Paul wasn't. But Paul could see the pattern, the rhythm, the exact moment when superior skill would create its own downfall.
"Forty-seven seconds. One opening. One chance to prove that knowledge trumps strength when applied with surgical precision."
Dawn was approaching, and with it the test that would determine whether anyone in the north took Paul seriously as anything more than Lagertha's exotic pet.
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 50]
[TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 625]
[NEXT PHASE: HOLMGANG TRIAL]
[COMBAT PROBABILITY: ANALYZING...]
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