The Thing-hall was filled with the smell of sweat-soaked wool and sour mead. Torchlight flickered on the timber walls, where carved serpents decorated the wood. The sound of the fjord could be heard through the planks, underneath the noise of the hall; voices and horns were clinking, and boots were shuffling on dirt.
Bjorn stood near the center, surrounded by the crowd. At twelve, he was 1.75 meters tall, with shoulders broadened from hauling oak at Floki's inlet.
Yes, he had started working with Floki more than a year ago. He was learning how things were done here. Even with all his past-life knowledge, there was still one small obstacle: tools and material limits.
And to his surprise, he and Floki had clicked almost immediately. There was something in the man's chaotic brilliance that just… fit.
His blue eyes observed Earl Haraldson's throne, where the jarl sat with his face half-illuminated. Siggy sat beside him with her calculating gaze moving across the room.
Tonight, on Bjorn's birthday, he would take his arm-ring and swear loyalty to Haraldson.
In his mind, he thought of the nearly-finished longship hidden away, ready for around twenty-five men. But for now, the hall buzzed with activity, filled with the voices and concerns of Kattegat's people.
Warriors leaned against wooden beams, drinking mead, while freemen argued in groups. One waved a tattered deed, another shouted about a stolen cow.
Ragnar stood nearby, his sharp eyes were surveying the room with a slight grin. Rollo was beside him with his axe handle worn smooth from use.
"Bet the jarl chokes on his own beard tonight," Rollo leaned in slightly and said with a low laugh as he nudged a warrior standing next to him, who gave a half-hearted chuckle without taking his eyes off the platform.
Olaf, also twelve but wiry in build, hovered near Bjorn, nervously twisting his tunic with his fingers.
"Do you think they'll make us fight?" Olaf whispered with his voice barely audible above the noise. "My father says the arm-ring ceremony is just words, but I've heard some boys get tested."
Bjorn didn't look at Olaf right away. His eyes stayed fixed on the platform, where the elders stood beneath fluttering banners. "Whatever happens, you have to face it," Bjorn replied, keeping his voice steady. "That's what men do."
He finally turned to Olaf and said calmly. "And if they make us fight, then we stand and fight. Not to win, but you must show them you won't run."
A woman's pained sob cut through the noise, yet was largely ignored by the crowd. Outside, dusk had fallen, and the fjord's waves crashed against the shore.
Haraldson rose from his seat with his furs hanging heavily from his shoulders. When he spoke, his voice sounded like gravel.
"Boys. Get up here," he commanded while holding salt, earth and two arm-rings made of iron etched with intricate knot patterns.
Bjorn moved forward, his boots crunching on the dirt floor. Olaf stumbled after him, breathing quickly.
They knelt before the earl, and the crowd's noise diminished as all eyes turned to watch the ceremony.
Haraldson said with his stare fixed on Bjorn with obvious suspicion. "Olaf, son of Ingolf, Bjorn, son of Ragnar. May you accept this gift of salt and earth to remind yourself that you belong to both the land and the sea." Then he gave them salt and earth to eat.
"These arm rings bind you in loyalty to me, your lord, your chieftain. Any oath that you swear on these rings must be honored and kept. Do you understand and swear to this?"
Boys answer in one go, "Yes, lord."
"And do you freely give your fealty to me, your lord, your chieftain?"
"Yes, lord."
"Good. You may put on the arm rings." Haraldson then nodded to Siggy, who said "Come here."
Siggy leaned in and placed a brief, deliberate kiss on Bjorn's lips, then turned to Olaf and did the same.
"The kiss of welcome to manhood," she said, her voice carrying just far enough for those nearby to hear. "May you bring honor to Kattegat."
Bjorn tasted salt and felt her breath. Olaf flinched slightly before managing an unsteady smile. The crowd roared their approval, banging their drinking horns on tables.
"Stand, men of Kattegat," Haraldson said flatly.
Bjorn rose, feeling the weight of the ring on his wrist. His eyes quickly found Ragnar, who gave him a subtle nod. Olaf stood with his chest pushed out, trying to appear confident.
Haraldson waved his hand dismissively to Svein, his enforcer.
Svein stepped forward. "Time for justice," he announced.
A lean farmer named Trygvi was dragged forward with his wrists bound. His eyes appeared hollow with despair as he faced the accusation of killing his neighbor over a land dispute, it was a fertile land that Haraldson had been eyeing for himself.
"I had no choice!" Trygvi protested, his voice breaking. "He came at me with an axe! I was just defending my family!"
His wife began to wail from the edge of the crowd. Then a witness; a tenant farmer stepped forward with a sneer.
"Trygvi cut him down in cold blood," the man claimed. "I saw it with my own eyes. He wanted that strip of land by the stream."
"You lying coward!" Trygvi's wife shouted. "You weren't even there! You're just hoping to claim our farm when we're gone!"
The crowd stirred restlessly, some muttering for mercy while others called for punishment.
Earl Haraldson shouted, "Silence!" Then leaned forward on his throne."I ask you to look to the accused. If you think that he is guilty, raise your arms and the decision must be unanimous."
Hands shot up throughout the hall, it was a unanimous show of support.
Haraldson then announces, "Eric Trygvi, you have been found guilty of murder."
Trygvi sagged in defeat as his wife's cry pierced the air.
Some men in the crowd shouted, "Yes! Justice!"
Haraldson, "How do you wish to die?"
Trygvi, "By beheading, lord."
"Your wish is granted. You shall be executed tomorrow. Now we shall feast and talk about the summer raids."
"This isn't justice!" Trygvi's wife screamed. "This is theft! You've wanted our land since spring!"
Two warriors dragged her back, muffling her cries.
As the feast started, Ragnar chose this moment to stand, his manner was calm but purposeful.
"My Lord ," His voice carried clearly across the crowded hall. , "Now that these matters are settled, we want to know where we'll sail this summer. The men are very eager to prepare."
Warriors throughout the hall perked up at the mention of raiding, and even the freemen leaned forward with interest. A fisherman nodded in agreement.
Haraldson's eyes narrowed with irritation. "Can this not wait, Ragnar?
"The men are eager to know," Ragnar replied with an easy shrug.
Haraldson leaned back in his seat. "We will raid east again, to the Eastlands, and into Russia." he declared flatly.
Man in the crowd grunted in approval and some nodded firmly.
"Every year we go to the same places! But there is an alternative... If you choose." Ragnar suggested, maintaining his casual tone.
The crowd began to murmur with interest. One warrior shouted his support while another scoffed at the idea.
Haraldson's face hardened. "Oh yes, yes. Choice, yes. I have heard of these rumors, these stories; That if we travel west, that we will somehow reach a land that is rich and plentiful."
Crowd laughs.
"But I tell you that I will not risk my ships or my reputation on such a deluded fantasy. They are my ships, I pay for them... and they go where I tell them to go. Now that's the end of the matter. Let's feast!"
And so they feasted and after a while, they finished.
And as the crowd began to disperse into smaller groups of warriors debating raid locations, freemen discussing Trygvi's fate, Bjorn stepped forward. His voice cut through the noise.
"Earl Haraldson," he called out, loud enough to be heard clearly.
The hall fell silent as everyone turned to look at him. Ragnar's eyes flickered toward his son, Rollo's grin widened, and Siggy's gaze sharpened with interest.
"I have a request," Bjorn said, glancing around the hall before returning his gaze to the earl. "As someone who's taken the oath tonight, I ask this not as a boy, but as one of your men."
Haraldson's eyebrow rose, surprised by the boy's boldness. "Speak," he said, his voice low and challenging.
Bjorn stepped forward with his spine straight and with a clear voice. "Jarl Haraldson," he said, meeting the chieftain's gaze, "I ask for a chance to prove myself. Let me face one of your warriors; Sigtrygg, Ketil, or any man you choose. I'm ready to fight, and I'm ready to earn my place among those who raid for Kattegat."
The crowd reacted immediately. Some gasped, a smith whispered to his neighbor, and several warriors began discussing potential bets.
A few of the older warriors nearby exchanged glances.
Earl Haraldson let the noise stretch with a cold smile tugging at the corner of his mouth. He rose slowly from his carved seat with his eyes never leaving Bjorn.
"Bjorn the Bold," he said at last, his tone laced with amusement. "Son of Ragnar, challenger of seasoned men." He let the words hang in the air. "Tell me, do you also plan the feast after your glorious victory?"
A few scattered chuckles rippled through the hall.
The crowd's reaction was mixed. A fisherman shouted, "Give him a chance!" while a warrior jeered, "He's not even a man yet!"
"You really want to do this?" Olaf whispered to Bjorn, his eyes wide with awe and concern. "They'll try to hurt you badly, maybe even kill you."
"I know, Olaf. But some things are worth bleeding for." Bjorn assured him quietly.
Siggy leaned close to Haraldson, whispering something in his ear. Her eyes remained fixed on the crowd, noting their growing interest in the challenge.
Haraldson's expression didn't change, but his fingers tapped slowly on the arm of his chair.
Finally, Haraldson raised his hand, and the hall fell silent once more. Then he leaned forward slightly."Very well. Let it be known that Bjorn the Bold seeks blood. We'll give him the chance to earn it once justice is served tomorrow."
The crowd erupted in excitement. Warriors shouted their approval, and freemen immediately began placing bets on the outcome.
Bjorn nodded, satisfied that he had achieved his goal. He had successfully created a distraction that would help Floki buy what he needed from the blacksmith without being noticed to finish that ship.
'Bjorn The Bold', he thought with a smirk, 'Not bad'.
As the crowd dispersed, Ragnar gripped Bjorn's shoulder.
Rollo approached, clapping Bjorn on the back with enough force to make him stumble.
"You stirred the pot well enough," Ragnar said quietly. "The ship's almost finished at Floki's, ready for the west regardless of what Haraldson says."
"Will it be ready in time?" Rollo asked, keeping his voice low.
"We just need another day," Bjorn confirmed. "Which means we need to keep Haraldson distracted until then."
"They'll want to skin you alive now, nephew," he said with a grin. "Make it hurt and give them something to remember you by."
As they left the hall, torchlight flickered against the darkening sky. Haraldson's men walked ahead, with Sigtrygg and Ketil's angry muttering carrying promises of pain.
Siggy followed behind them with her eyes lingering on Rollo as she passed.