Chapter 10: The Vision of Home Burning
Two weeks into the English campaign, Paul woke to fire burning behind his eyelids and the taste of smoke in a mouth that had never left Wessex.
[EMERGENCY VISION TRIGGERED]
[MAJOR EVENT DETECTED - AUTOMATIC ACTIVATION]
[NO MANA COST - PRIORITY OVERRIDE]
The images slammed into his consciousness without warning or preparation—three still frames that felt wrong, corrupted, like looking through fog at shapes that might be familiar:
Kattegat's harbor, but distant and hazy. Ships burning on water that looked more like memory than reality. The great hall damaged, smoke rising from what might have been the roof. Ragnar's family quarters, empty in a way that suggested violence rather than abandonment.
Paul gasped awake, his heart hammering against his ribs. The images had been vaguer than usual, lacking the crystal clarity he'd grown accustomed to. A system notification pulsed in the corner of his vision:
[TARGET LOCATION BEYOND OPTIMAL RANGE]
[VISUAL CLARITY: 43%]
[DISTANCE DEGRADATION DETECTED]
"Too far. I'm too far from Kattegat to see clearly. But something's happening there. Something bad."
Paul activated the vision archive function, burning precious mana for more information.
[DAILY VISION ARCHIVE ACCESS]
[MANA COST: 50 MP - EXTREME EXPENDITURE]
[ACCESSING ALTERNATIVE ANGLES...]
The same images returned, but from different perspectives. Through the haze, Paul caught a glimpse of something that made his blood freeze—a banner hanging from one of the attacking ships, bearing a sigil he didn't recognize but somehow knew meant betrayal.
Jarl Borg.
The name surfaced from fragmented memories of the television show. Ragnar's sometime ally, sometime enemy. A man whose jealousy and ambition made him dangerous when opportunity presented itself.
"Borg attacked while we're in England. While Ragnar's forces are scattered and his family is vulnerable."
Paul stumbled from his bedroll, the pre-dawn camp quiet around him. Most of the Vikings were still asleep, exhausted from yesterday's skirmish with Saxon scouts. But Paul could see Ragnar sitting by the dying fire, his silhouette sharp against the embers as he stared into the flames with the particular intensity of a man who never truly rested.
"Ragnar," Paul called quietly.
The Viking leader looked up, blue eyes reflecting firelight like chips of ice. "You're awake early, seer. What has troubled your sleep?"
"Your home burns. Your family is in danger. Everything you've built is under attack."
"I saw smoke and blood," Paul said, his voice hoarse with urgency. "Your home burns. Ships in your harbor, damage to the great hall. An attack while we're here, while your warriors are scattered."
Ragnar's face transformed, shifting from curious to granite-hard in the space between heartbeats. "You're certain?"
"I saw what I saw. The images were distant, unclear, but the threat is real. Someone's betrayed you. Someone who knows your movements, your weaknesses."
Ragnar was already moving, kicking sleeping warriors awake with the efficient brutality of a man who'd learned to shift from rest to action without transition.
"Borg," he said, the name carrying the weight of inevitability. "That treacherous snake has finally shown his true nature."
"My wife. My children." The words weren't spoken, but Paul could see them in the set of Ragnar's shoulders, the way his hands clenched and unclenched around his axe handle.
"We sail within the hour," Ragnar announced as the camp erupted into controlled chaos. "Every man who can swing an axe. We return to defend what's ours."
"Let me stay," Paul said quickly.
Ragnar paused in his preparations, studying Paul with sharp interest. "Why would you choose to remain when there's fighting to be done?"
Because I need System Points and combat experience more than I need to watch you handle a problem I can't help solve. Because staying here with Ecbert is strategic. Because...
"Someone needs to guard our interests here," Paul said instead. "To make sure the alliance holds while you handle Borg. If we abandon Ecbert now, we lose England and risk losing Kattegat as well."
It was a half-truth wrapped in strategic logic, but Ragnar heard the sense in it. "You would serve as hostage and liaison both?"
"I would serve where I'm most useful."
Ragnar nodded slowly. "Guard our interests, seer. Make sure the old fox doesn't sharpen his claws while we're distracted with family business."
"Family business. As if betrayal and violence are just another day's work."
As the Vikings prepared for their emergency departure, Paul felt the weight of isolation settling on his shoulders. For the first time since arriving in this world, he would be truly alone—surrounded by Saxons who saw him as useful but foreign, dependent on Ecbert's hospitality and his own wits for survival.
But also, for the first time, he would have opportunity. Time to explore the system's capabilities without the constant pressure of life-or-death situations. Time to build resources and capabilities without having to explain his actions to warriors who thought in terms of axes and glory.
The longships departed with the dawn, taking most of the Viking force back to Kattegat. Paul watched from the shore as they disappeared into the morning mist, then turned to face King Ecbert's approaching retinue.
"So," Ecbert said with that sharp smile that never reached his eyes, "it seems you'll be our guest for longer than expected. I do hope we can make your stay... educational."
"Educational. That's one word for it."
Over the following days, Paul discovered that being a honored "guest" in Ecbert's court provided unexpected opportunities. Left with a small guard of five Vikings who were more for show than protection, he found himself with access to Saxon nobles who viewed him as an exotic curiosity—a pagan seer whose "luck" in predicting outcomes was becoming legendary.
Paul activated Success Rate Analysis for everything—dice games, horse races, weather patterns, crop yields. The nobles thought he was blessed by foreign gods or possessed of supernatural insight. In reality, he was simply asking the system to calculate probabilities and betting accordingly.
[QUERY: PROBABILITY OF DICE ROLL ABOVE SEVEN]
[RESULT: 62%]
[MANA COST: 1 MP]
[BET ACCORDINGLY]
[QUERY: LORD AELRED'S HORSE VICTORY CHANCE]
[RESULT: 81%]
[MANA COST: 1 MP]
[BET HEAVILY]
The silver accumulated rapidly. Paul converted it through the system's exchange rate—two silver pieces for one System Point—and watched his total climb steadily. After two weeks of careful gambling and strategic predictions, he'd amassed 400 SP from Saxon nobles who thought they were witnessing divine favor in action.
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 400]
[TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 1,050]
[CONVERSION RATE: 2 SILVER = 1 SP]
It was opportunistic, slightly unethical, and absolutely necessary for his long-term survival. Paul felt a twinge of guilt for exploiting the Saxons' superstitions, but pushed it aside with the pragmatism of someone who'd learned that survival trumped moral perfectionism.
"Your gods speak to you often," Ecbert observed one evening as Paul collected winnings from yet another successful prediction.
"More than I'd like, honestly," Paul replied. "They're terrible conversationalists."
Ecbert's laugh was sharp as broken glass, but his eyes remained calculating. Paul could see the wheels turning behind that clever gaze—questions about Paul's true nature and capabilities that would eventually demand answers.
"He's starting to suspect I'm more than I appear. That's going to be a problem."
Two weeks after Ragnar's departure, a messenger arrived with news from Kattegat. Borg's attack had been repelled, the traitor killed, and the settlement retaken. But the damage was significant—ships burned, buildings destroyed, people dead who shouldn't have been.
Paul felt a stab of guilt that surprised him with its intensity. He'd chosen opportunity over duty, personal advancement over loyalty. The fact that his presence wouldn't have changed the outcome didn't make the choice feel any less selfish.
"I wasn't there when they needed me. I was here, gambling with Saxons and accumulating power while people I care about bled and died."
But the System Points burning in his metaphorical account promised capabilities he'd never possessed before. With 1,050 SP, he could finally upgrade from "barely surviving" to "legitimately dangerous."
The question was whether the power would be worth the price he'd paid for it.
[MENTAL STRAIN: MODERATE]
[RECOMMENDATION: MAJOR EQUIPMENT UPGRADE ADVISABLE]
[NEXT PHASE: RETURN TO KATTEGAT IMMINENT]
+1 CHAPTER AFTER EVERY 3 REVIEWS
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