Ivar wasted no time and immediately led his group away from the Thenns who were still busy checking the goods they had traded, putting as much distance between them as possible before nightfall, as he had no intention of lingering any longer than necessary. By the time they reached the place where they had camped the night before, the light was already beginning to fade, and he promptly ordered his companions to rest for the night and prepare to resume their journey on the morrow.
Before retiring to his tent, however, Ivar took the time to inspect the spearheads they had obtained during the trade, carefully counting each piece to ensure nothing had been overlooked, and in total, they had acquired fifty spearheads. He examined their quality one by one, running his fingers along the edges and testing their balance, and after a thorough inspection, he gave a small nod of approval, satisfied that they were sharp and sturdy enough to pierce through the leather garments commonly worn by the free folk of these lands. As for proper armor, he could not yet say how effective they would be, as he had no means of testing them at the moment, but for now, such concerns were secondary, since their most immediate enemies were men who rarely wore anything more than fur and hardened leather.
Even as he finished his inspection, his mind was already moving ahead, considering how best to make use of these new weapons, and he found himself contemplating the idea of training a group of warriors who would specialize in spear combat. If he could impose proper discipline upon his otherwise unruly men and teach them to fight in coordinated formations rather than as scattered individuals, he was confident that they could become a force unlike any other beyond the Wall, one that no wildling clan would be able to withstand in open battle.
Satisfied with both the spoils and his plans, Ivar finally assigned the watch for the night, ensuring that the camp would remain secure while the others rested, and only then did he turn toward his tent, stepping inside to take his own rest after a long and eventful day.
The rest of their journey back passed largely without incident, the days blending into one another as they traveled across the harsh northern landscape, encountering hunters from smaller clans from time to time but never facing any real trouble, as no one dared challenge them upon seeing how heavily armed they were. Recognizing this, Ivar took advantage of the opportunity whenever a group chose not to flee at their approach, engaging them in brief conversations and inquiring whether they were in need of anything that could be traded.
Salt, he quickly realized, had become his most valuable commodity, as it was scarce across these lands and highly sought after by nearly every clan they encountered. Though suspicion lingered in the eyes of these hunters, some of them still expressed interest in trade, enough for Ivar to take careful note of their reactions and the goods they carried. In his mind, plans were already forming, and he resolved that on his next journey north toward the Thenns, he would make time to trade with these smaller clans along the way.
After all, even the lesser clans possessed valuable resources, furs of varying quality and mammoth tusks scavenged from the frozen ground, both of which held considerable worth in the south. Ivar intended to bring such goods back to the Night's Watch in future dealings, exchanging them for more livestock, hens, and other necessities that would strengthen his growing settlement and better prepare his people for the coming winter.
As these thoughts settled in his mind, he could not help but realize that he might already be laying the foundation for something far greater than simple trade. From the Night's Watch to Alfyn's settlement, then to his own, and further north to the Thenns, with smaller, more amicable clans scattered along the path, he was slowly shaping what could become the first true trade route across these harsh lands. The idea alone was enough to curl his lips into a faint smile as he rode on, already imagining the possibilities it could bring.
When he arrived at their settlement, Ivar wasted no time in dismissing the band that had accompanied him on this journey, allowing them to return to their duties and rest after the long trek, while he instructed Ulf to oversee the storage of their newly acquired goods and to begin preparing the spearheads so they could be fitted onto shafts and turned into proper weapons.
Just as he was about to head toward his tent to rest, Ivar noticed Hilde and Torren rushing toward him from within the settlement, their hurried pace immediately catching his attention, and for a brief moment, surprise crossed his face before it quickly hardened into a frown, as their sudden return could only mean that the crows must have already begun their attack. Still, he needed to be certain, and as soon as they came within speaking distance, he did not waste a heartbeat before asking, "Did the crows already attack Jorund and Sylas?"
Torren opened his mouth to answer, but Hilde spoke first, cutting him off. "Nay. We came back because they didn't attack and were only watching them from afar."
At her words, Ivar's frown deepened, and he was already on the verge of reprimanding them for returning too soon and abandoning their post, but he stopped himself when Hilde continued speaking without pause.
"It seems the crows didn't need to make a move at all," she said. "Sylas and Jorund's warriors have been clashing every day, sufferin' losses with each skirmish. I reckon it won't be long before a proper battle breaks out between them." She drew a breath before going on, her tone steady despite the urgency in her eyes. "We came back to report it. We only arrived yesterday and were plannin' to head back on the morrow to continue watchin' the crows' movements since we already told Ulf and Ylva about it. Good thing ye returned in time. D' ye have any other orders before we leave again on the morrow?"
Ivar's furrowed brows relaxed slightly, though not entirely, as he remained silent for a moment, carefully weighing Hilde's words while the situation slowly took shape in his mind. It seemed that his earlier move, sneaking into Jorund's settlement and shouting Sylas's name when he was discovered, had indeed reignited the conflict between the two Magnars. He could not help but shake his head faintly at the thought, realizing that, in a way, he had done the crows a favor without meaning to or gaining anything about it.
After a brief moment of consideration, he finally spoke. "Let me think on it first. I'll tell ye what to do on the morrow before ye head back."
Seeing the two of them nod in understanding, he wasted no more time and made his way toward his hut, eager to rest, as there was a world of difference between sleeping in a tent on the open ground and resting within the sturdier comfort of his own shelter.
After a full night's rest, Ivar rose at dawn the next day, his mind already turning over the information Hilde had brought him, and by the time he had eaten, he had decided to see the situation for himself.
Once breakfast was finished, he gathered his closest companions and made his intentions known, his voice steady as he issued his orders. He still left Ulf and Haldor in charge of the settlement's security, much to Haldor's disappointment, trusting them to maintain order in his absence, while he himself would head south with Hilde and Torren, bringing along fifty warriors to accompany them. This was not merely about watching the crows and gathering information this time, as he also intended to give these men practical experience in real combat, knowing that training alone could only take them so far, and at the moment, the haunted forest provided the perfect proving ground for blooding his warriors in battle.
It took until noon for Ivar and the others to prepare for their departure, as they needed to gather enough food, tents, and other supplies to last them through the journey. Although they could live off the land and hunt within the haunted forest, Ivar still wanted to carry enough jerky to sustain them for some time in case they failed to find suitable game, especially now that the ongoing clashes between Jorund and Sylas had likely driven much of the wildlife away from the area.
After saying his goodbyes and repeating several important instructions to Ulf, Haldor, Freya, and Ylva, he finally left the settlement once more, accompanied by Torren, Hilde, and the fifty warriors he intended to blood in real combat and give their first taste of fighting other men.
When they arrived at Alfyn's settlement after a few days of travel, Ivar learned that Alfyn had already gone south with his warriors in search of an opportunity to ambush and kill some of Jorund's men. Ivar could only shake his head at Alfyn's eagerness to join the fighting, but there was little reason for him to wait around also, so he and his companions rested for the night before departing again the following morning.
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Ivar exhaled a little more deeply after his sword swept through the neck of the warrior before him, separating the man's head from his body, and as he looked down at the fallen warrior, he quietly counted to himself. Sixth. This was already the Sixth man he had killed since bringing his warriors south, which was not particularly impressive in his opinion, though he had deliberately avoided taking most of the fighting for himself. His warriors were the ones who needed the experience, and he only intervened whenever one of them found himself at a disadvantage and was in danger of being killed. Even so, they had already lost two of the fifty warriors he had brought with him, a small but costly price to pay, though one he considered necessary if he wanted his men to gain real experience in battle and become accustomed to the sight and smell of blood.
He slowly swept his gaze across the battlefield and, after confirming that all their enemies were dead, gave his warriors their next orders. "Gather their belongings and weapons, and don't forget the furs on their bodies before we burn them."
"Aye."
"Aye."
Hilde approached him soon afterward and pointed toward one of their fallen warriors, who lay sprawled in the snow. "We lost one," she said quietly. "He slipped on the snow, and his head fell straight onto the blade of his enemy. I could only avenge him afterward."
Ivar frowned slightly at the news before shaking his head. "It's good enough that we only lost one. Have someone watch our surroundings while the rest loot their belongings. I don't want us getting ambushed while everyone's distracted."
"Aye." Hilde smiled faintly before adding, "We've already collected scores of weapons, enough to arm another fifty warriors back at the settlement. I never thought fighting and winning battles could solve our shortage of weapons so quickly."
With that, she turned away and began ordering several men to keep watch over their surroundings while the others continued stripping the fallen of anything useful.
Ivar chuckled softly at her remark before making his way toward a nearby rock, where he sat down to rest while watching his warriors carry out their work. As he observed them, however, he noticed several of his men kneeling beside one of their fallen comrades, some of them openly crying as they mourned his death. Perhaps they had been close friends, or perhaps the camaraderie they had developed during their training had forged a bond between them, but whatever the reason, Ivar understood that such was life, particularly in a place like this where any moment could be a warrior's last. The men eventually carried their fallen companion away and prepared a separate pyre for him, and Ivar watched the entire process without interfering or giving them orders about what they should do. He might have been the one responsible for sending them into battle and, ultimately, into their deaths, but he was not so heartless that he would deny them the chance to properly mourn one of their own.
Ivar eventually shifted his attention toward the others, who were busy gathering the bodies of their enemies into a pile, when he noticed Torren approaching with several other warriors. He had sent them out almost a sennight ago to search for the crows, hoping to speak with them himself and finally learn why they had yet to make a move against either Jorund or Sylas, and judging by the determined look on Torren's face, it seemed they had finally found them.
The moment Torren came close enough, he called out, "Ivar! We found 'em."
Ivar nodded without much expression before replying, "Took ye long enough. Where are they?"
Torren scratched the back of his head before answering, "They're slippery bastards, that's fer sure. Fortunately, I managed to find some traces they left behind and eventually caught up with 'em. I gave 'em yer message that ye wanted to speak with them, and they agreed, but they said they'd only wait fer ye until tonight at their current camp." He paused for a moment before pointing in a particular direction. "They're five leagues away in that direction."
Ivar immediately stood and stretched his limbs, already preparing to leave. "Then let's go."
He turned toward Hilde and continued, "Hilde, ye're in charge while I'm away. Make sure the camp is ready by the time I return, and always have someone scouting the area around us. Alryt?"
"Aye. Don't worry," Hilde replied confidently.
Satisfied with her answer, Ivar gestured for Torren to lead the way and followed him through the darkening forest. By the time they finally reached the crows' camp, night had already fallen, and the faint glow of their campfire was the only thing breaking through the darkness surrounding them.
Ivar, Torren, and the warriors accompanying them deliberately made their presence known as they approached. The moment the crows noticed them, several hands immediately went to their weapons, but Ivar quickly raised both hands and called out, "Oi! Oi! It's just us!"
Brandon relaxed when he recognized the red-haired wildling and immediately signaled his brothers to lower their weapons before turning his attention toward Ivar. "Yer man said ye wanted to talk? What d' ye want to talk about?"
"Ayt?" Ivar lowered his hands and chuckled softly. "Getting straight to business, are we?" He paused for a moment before continuing, his expression turning more curious than confrontational. "I just want to know why ye crows haven't attacked 'em yet. Ye already know where their settlements are, and I'm sure ye've studied the terrain enough by now to know where ye could ambush 'em, so I'm just curious why nothin' has happened yet."
Brandon couldn't help but frown at the question. "What's it got to do with you? It's none o' your business whether we attack or not."
"O' course it is," Ivar replied, spreading his hands. "Whatever ye crows do directly affects us. We're the ones livin' in these lands, after all. We just want to know whether we can live in peace again, or at least when that might happen. Ever since Jorund and Sylas began expandin' their warriors, these lands have been nothin' but constant wars and the annexation of defeated clans. Ye should already understand what we've been goin' through, which is why we're askin' why ye crows aren't doin' anythin' yet."
Brandon fell silent at that, glancing briefly toward his brothers before deciding to give the wildling some information. "We're waitin' fer them to exhaust themselves before we attack. They're fightin' each other now, so we're waitin' fer a while before makin' our move." He paused for a moment before adding, "But this information ain't free. Ye owe us at least another useful piece o' information the next time ye trade with us."
Ivar chuckled softly, realizing that his earlier move of sneaking into Jorund's settlement and making it appear as though Sylas was responsible had indeed helped the crows more than he had initially expected. "Alright. I owe ye another piece o' information, but it'll have to wait until I can gather somethin' useful fer ye crows."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "I do have another question, though, but I don't know if ye've the authority to decide anythin' about it. Ye might have to ask yer Lord Commander fer an answer."
Brandon shifted slightly at that, his expression becoming more cautious as he wondered what the red-haired wildling was about to ask. "What is it?"
"I heard from someone that there's a land in the east where there's a group o' warriors who call themselves mercenaries, men who are paid to fight fer someone or defend a village when they're needed," Ivar explained, gesturing toward Torren and the warriors behind him before continuing. "I was wonderin' if ye crows would be interested in hirin' us, just like these so-called mercenaries. We could fight alongside ye against Jorund and Sylas's warriors when the time comes. What d' ye say?"
Since Ivar already intended to attack Jorund and his warriors sooner or later, he saw no reason not to gain something from it if the opportunity presented itself. He had been mulling over the idea for the past few days, especially since the crows also wanted Jorund and Sylas either dead or their forces broken apart. If he could have the crows pay him and his people for helping accomplish something he already intended to do, then why not.
More importantly, it would give him a chance to establish himself and his warriors as mercenaries, which had been part of his plan from the beginning, and perhaps that reputation would eventually reach the prince who would come north in the future and give them an opportunity to finally go south unhindered and secure a better land in the world.
If none of that worked, however, he still had another option waiting in the back of his mind. They could simply wait for the slavers, steal one of their ships, play mercenaries in the east, and maybe even build a kingdom there if he could.
Just thinking about how many possibilities he had managed to prepare for made Ivar inwardly pleased with himself, convinced that he had left himself plenty of ways forward no matter how events unfolded.
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A/N: Please don't forget to rate and review the story after reading. And if you want to read ahead. You know where to look.