Chapter 19: Holmgang—The Seer Fights
Dawn broke gray and cold over the dueling ground, and Paul walked toward his death—or Jarl Eriksson's—knowing that the next ten minutes would define whether anyone in the north took him seriously.
The holmgang circle had been marked in the traditional way—a square of earth bounded by hazel stakes, each corner blessed by whichever gods the participants chose to invoke. Paul had chosen Odin, because irony seemed appropriate when fighting with borrowed divine sight. Eriksson had chosen Thor, because subtlety had never been his strength.
"Forty-seven seconds. That's when the opening comes. Everything before that is survival."
Jarl Eriksson stood across the marked ground like a monument to violence made flesh—six and a half feet of scarred muscle wrapped around a frame that had survived a dozen duels through the simple expedient of being stronger, faster, and more ruthless than anything that challenged it. His axe was the size of a small tree, its blade nicked from battles that had made him legend in these northern lands.
Paul checked his gear one final time—Fate-Carved Seax in his left hand, Dane Axe of Foresight in his right, Wyrd-Resistant Vest beneath his cloak. Quality equipment that might buy him the few extra seconds he'd need to reach the moment his vision had shown him.
"The rules are simple," Jarl Sven announced to the gathered crowd. "Fight until death, yield, or incapacitation. Victor takes disputed territory and loser's honor. May the gods judge truly."
"May the gods help me survive long enough to use what I've seen."
The fight began with Eriksson's charge—a direct assault that spoke to decades of experience ending conflicts through immediate overwhelming force. Paul barely got his weapons up in time to deflect the massive axe blow that would have split him from crown to groin.
The impact sent shock waves up his arms and confirmed what his stats had already told him—this was a mismatch of epic proportions. Eriksson's strength was probably triple Paul's, his agility superior despite his size, his experience measured in the kind of battles that separated survivors from corpses.
Thirty seconds in, and Paul was already bleeding from a shallow cut across his ribs where Eriksson's axe had found its mark.
The crowd murmured with the particular satisfaction of people watching expectations confirmed. The southern seer was losing to a real warrior, proving that visions were no substitute for honest Viking steel and the will to use it.
Paul let them think that, let Eriksson build confidence with each exchange that drove Paul back toward the circle's edge. He burned mana with Success Rate Analysis, confirming what his Weekly Vision had already revealed.
[QUERY: OPTIMAL STRIKE TIMING]
[RESULT: 47 SECONDS - OVEREXTENSION PROBABILITY 94%]
[MANA COST: 2 MP - REMAINING: 14/24]
Forty-five seconds. Time to stop pretending to lose and start winning.
Paul activated Odin's Whisper.
[ODIN'S WHISPER ACTIVATED]
[DURATION: 120 SECONDS]
[MANA COST: 100% CURRENT MP]
[REMAINING MANA: 0/24]
The world split into reality and perfect future, and Paul saw the next two minutes unfolding with supernatural clarity. At exactly forty-seven seconds, Eriksson would attempt a massive overhead strike designed to end the fight through sheer devastating force. The blow would leave his right side exposed for exactly one heartbeat—less than a second of vulnerability in a man who'd built his reputation on never showing weakness.
One heartbeat. One chance.
Paul moved.
He flowed away from Eriksson's guard with enhanced agility, his Boots of the Pathfinder lending supernatural grace to steps that looked like retreat but were actually positioning. Eriksson followed with the confidence of a predator pursuing wounded prey, raising his massive axe for the killing blow that would validate every assumption about Viking superiority over foreign cleverness.
The axe descended like a falling tree, carrying enough force to split stone. But Paul was no longer where the blow was aimed—he'd sidestepped with precise timing, letting the massive weapon bury itself in earth while his Fate-Carved Seax drove upward into the gap beneath Eriksson's raised arm.
The blade found the major artery exactly where Paul's vision had shown it would.
Blood sprayed in a perfect arc, painting the dueling ground red while Eriksson staggered backward with the particular shock of someone who'd never expected to be the one bleeding. His axe fell from nerveless fingers as he pressed both hands to the wound that was pumping his life onto foreign soil.
Paul stepped back, seax dripping, and spoke words that carried across the suddenly silent crowd.
"Yield or die."
Eriksson looked down at the blood flowing between his fingers, then up at Paul's face with something approaching respect.
"I yield," he said simply.
The fight had lasted fifty-three seconds.
[COMBAT COMPLETE]
[ODIN'S WHISPER DEACTIVATED]
[VICTORY ACHIEVED THROUGH PERFECT PRECOGNITION]
The crowd erupted in noise that ranged from shocked approval to outright disbelief. Paul stood in the center of the dueling ground, swaying slightly from complete mana depletion, while Eriksson's warriors carried their wounded jarl away with the efficiency of people who'd done this before.
Jarl Sven approached with an expression that had transformed from skeptical disapproval to something approaching awe.
"I doubted you," the old man said simply. "I was wrong. You fight with cunning, not just strength. That's kingcraft."
The formal concession that followed transferred leadership of the territory to Lagertha with the kind of ceremony that made political arrangements feel like divine mandate. Paul barely followed the words—mana depletion left him functioning on willpower and muscle memory while his enhanced capabilities slowly regenerated.
But he caught the essential truth: by winning, he'd legitimized not just Lagertha's claim to these lands but their partnership. They were no longer refugees seeking shelter, but rulers who'd proven their worth through the oldest test the north recognized.
[ACHIEVEMENT UNLOCKED: HOLMGANG VICTOR]
[REWARD: +0.4 STRENGTH, +0.3 AGILITY]
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 300]
[TERRITORY SECURED: NORTHERN HOLDINGS]
[RELATIONSHIP STATUS: LAGERTHA - COMMITTED COMPANION → PARTNER]
That night, after the celebration feast and the formal ceremonies that established their authority, Lagertha found Paul sitting by the fire that warmed the jarl's private chambers. He was still recovering from the morning's mana drain, his thoughts moving like honey in winter.
"You could have died," she said, settling beside him with the particular grace of someone who'd learned to move quietly through a world of sleeping warriors.
"But I saw I wouldn't," Paul replied, the words emerging with the careful precision of someone whose thoughts were still sluggish from magical exhaustion.
"That's not how—"
Paul kissed her, cutting off the argument with the kind of urgency that came from surviving violence and claiming victory and understanding that they'd both committed to something neither fully comprehended yet.
Lagertha kissed back harder, her hands finding the clasps of his vest with the efficient skill of someone who'd learned to take what she wanted before circumstances could change.
"This. This is what I chose over safety and certainty and all the comfortable lies of court politics."
They made love with the desperate intensity of people who'd discovered they wanted each other and had no guarantee of tomorrow to explore what that meant. Afterward, they lay tangled in furs and firelight while the wind howled outside the walls they now commanded.
"What happens now?" Lagertha asked, her voice carrying the particular vulnerability that came after barriers had been deliberately lowered.
"Now we build something worth defending," Paul said, pulling her closer against the northern cold. "And see how long we can make it last."
[NEW STATS: STR 2.2 (22 HP), STA 2.4 (24 MP), AGI 3.3, MAG 2.8]
[TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 925]
[POLITICAL STATUS: NORTHERN JARL (JOINT RULE)]
[PRIMARY OBJECTIVES UPDATED]
Outside, snow began to fall with the promise of a long winter ahead. But inside the jarl's hall, Paul felt the particular warmth that came from choosing correctly even when the choice led somewhere uncertain and dangerous.
"Forward is still the only direction that matters. But now Lagertha's beside me for whatever comes next."
The future stretched ahead like an unwritten saga, and Paul closed his eyes knowing that whatever it held, they'd face it together.
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