Chapter 11: The Seer's Fortune
With 1,050 System Points burning a hole in his metaphorical pocket, Paul finally had enough to transform himself from a barely competent fighter who relied entirely on precognition into something approaching genuinely dangerous.
He found privacy in the pre-dawn hours, ostensibly checking his gear but actually interfacing with the system store while his Saxon guards dozed by the dying fire.
[SYSTEM STORE ACCESS GRANTED]
[CURRENT SYSTEM POINTS: 1,050]
[AVAILABLE CATEGORIES EXPANDED]
[CREDIT SYSTEM AVAILABLE - MAX DEBT: 200% CURRENT SP]
Paul scrolled through the options with the careful attention of someone making investments in his own survival. The prices were staggering, but so were the capabilities they offered.
Fate-Carved Seax: 1,200 SP. +10 ATK, +3 AGI, 20% chance to predict enemy's next move even without active skills.
Wyrd-Resistant Vest: 800 SP. +15 DEF, +4 STA, +2 STR, 15% resistance to fate manipulation.
Boots of the Pathfinder: 600 SP. +8 DEF, +5 AGI, +2 STA, 15% movement speed increase.
Minor Mana Potions (x5): 75 SP each. Restore 25% MP over 10 seconds.
Paul did the math and winced. The total came to 2,975 SP—nearly triple his current balance. But the system offered credit, and Paul was confident he could earn back the debt through future combat and strategic successes.
"Calculated risk. I need the capabilities now more than I need financial stability."
[PURCHASE CONFIRMED]
[ITEMS TRANSFERRED TO INVENTORY]
[CURRENT DEBT: 1,925 SP]
[PAYMENT SCHEDULE: AGGRESSIVE EARNING RECOMMENDED]
The equipment materialized with the usual system efficiency. The Fate-Carved Seax felt perfect in his hand—balanced like something designed specifically for his grip, the blade inscribed with runes that seemed to shift in the firelight. The vest was surprisingly light despite its enhanced protection, and the boots felt like they'd been crafted by someone who understood exactly how Paul moved in combat.
"I can feel the difference. Not just in the gear, but in how the system responds to my presence. Like I've crossed some threshold from amateur to professional."
Paul spent the morning training with his remaining Viking guards, testing his new capabilities against opponents who knew his fighting style. The improvement was dramatic—not just in protection and offensive capability, but in the fluid way everything worked together. The boots let him dance between strikes with inhuman grace, the vest absorbed impacts that would have staggered him before, and the seax seemed to guide his hand toward optimal strike points.
"You move differently," observed Hakon, his guard captain. "Faster. More certain."
"New gear," Paul replied, which was technically true.
"That's more than gear, seer. That's the gods favoring your steps."
"If only you knew what gods I was actually dealing with."
That afternoon, King Ecbert requested a private dinner—the kind of political maneuver that isolated potential recruits from their support networks. Paul recognized the tactic but accepted anyway, curious to see how the Saxon king would play his hand.
Ecbert's private dining hall was a masterpiece of understated wealth—stone walls hung with tapestries that cost more than most men earned in lifetimes, silver plates that reflected candlelight like captured stars, wine that had traveled from lands Paul could barely imagine.
"You've been most fortunate in your predictions lately," Ecbert observed as servants placed dishes that smelled infinitely better than Viking fare. "The nobles speak of your uncanny ability to see outcomes before they manifest."
"Fortune favors the observant," Paul replied carefully.
"Indeed. And observation is a skill we value highly in Wessex. Tell me, Paul of the south—have you considered what your future might hold beyond serving Ragnar's ambitions?"
Here it comes.
"I'm honored by your interest, but my fate is tied to Ragnar's. Where he goes, I follow."
Ecbert's smile was sharp enough to cut glass. "Loyalty is admirable. But consider this—Ragnar's ambitions may outpace his wisdom. What happens to loyal followers when their leader reaches too far?"
"He's planting seeds of doubt. Trying to make me question Ragnar's judgment."
"You think he'll overextend himself?"
"I think," Ecbert said slowly, "that men who live by the sword often die by it. And those wise enough to see such fates approaching might consider... alternative arrangements."
Paul met the king's gaze without flinching. "You're offering me a place in Wessex?"
"I'm offering you a future. Land, title, wealth—all the things that outlast the glory of individual battles. All you'd need to do is help bridge the gap between our peoples. Share your insights about Nordic customs and intentions."
"Become a spy. A turncoat. Betray Ragnar for Saxon gold and safety."
"I appreciate the offer," Paul said finally. "But I've seen what happens to men who abandon their oaths for convenience. They prosper for a time, then discover that betrayal is a skill that cuts both ways."
Ecbert laughed, genuinely delighted. "Wisely spoken! Very well—remain loyal to your Viking lord. But remember this conversation when his path leads somewhere you cannot follow."
After the dinner, Paul found Athelstan waiting in the corridor—the monk's expression troubled in a way that suggested he'd been anticipating this conversation.
"Ecbert collects useful people," Athelstan said without preamble. "Be careful you don't become another piece in his collection."
"Too late," Paul replied. "We're all pieces. The question is who's moving us and whether we understand the game being played."
Athelstan studied his face with uncomfortable intensity. "Do you understand it?"
"Better than I want to. Worse than I need to."
"I'm learning."
The next morning brought news that Ragnar's ships were returning to collect Paul and his guards. But first, they had to travel to the coast—a journey that would take them through countryside still unsettled by recent Viking raids.
The bandit attack came at midday, on a stretch of road bordered by forest that offered perfect ambush opportunities. Eight desperate men, probably displaced by the war, armed with a mixture of stolen weapons and desperate courage.
Paul activated Odin's Whisper the moment his enhanced senses detected movement in the treeline.
[ODIN'S WHISPER ACTIVATED]
[DURATION: 120 SECONDS]
[MANA COST: 100% CURRENT MP]
[REMAINING: 18 MP (ENHANCED BY VEST)]
The world split into reality and perfect future, and Paul saw the entire ambush pattern unfolding with crystalline clarity. Three archers in the northeast trees, coordinating their shots to pin down the Vikings while five melee fighters attacked from multiple angles.
"ARCHERS, NORTHEAST TREE LINE!" Paul shouted, pointing at targets that hadn't yet revealed themselves.
His guards reacted instantly, shields coming up and positions shifting to counter threats they couldn't see but trusted him to identify. When the bandits finally showed themselves, they found their surprise completely negated and their tactical advantage evaporated.
Paul engaged with his new Fate-Carved Seax, and the difference was immediately apparent. The blade seemed to guide his strikes, the enhanced agility from his boots let him flow between attacks like water, and the added protection from his vest absorbed impacts that would have staggered him in his old gear.
He killed two bandits in ninety seconds of perfect economic motion, each strike placed exactly where it would do maximum damage with minimum effort. His new equipment didn't just make him more effective—it made him feel like the warrior he'd been pretending to be.
"You saw them before they attacked," Guard Captain Hakon observed as they continued their journey, leaving bandit corpses for the ravens.
"I always do."
"And now I have the gear to act on what I see. Finally."
The ships appeared on the horizon as promised, their square sails marked with ravens and dragons that meant home and safety and return to a world Paul understood. But as they approached the beach where he would rejoin Ragnar's forces, Paul felt a twinge of unease about the debt he'd incurred.
[SYSTEM DEBT: 1,925 SP]
[AGGRESSIVE EARNING REQUIRED]
[RECOMMENDATION: HIGH-RISK, HIGH-REWARD OPPORTUNITIES]
1,925 System Points. More than he'd ever possessed at one time, owed to a system whose true nature he still didn't fully understand. The debt would drive his decisions, force him toward greater risks and higher stakes than he might otherwise choose.
"Power always comes with a price. The question is whether I can afford to pay it."
The longships ground against Saxon sand, and Paul stepped aboard with equipment that marked him as legitimately dangerous and debts that made him desperate for opportunity. Ragnar greeted him with the particular intensity of a man who'd recently survived betrayal and bloodshed.
"How did you find Saxon hospitality?" Ragnar asked with dark amusement.
"Educational," Paul replied. "And profitable."
"More profitable than you know. And more expensive than I'm ready to admit."
As the ships turned toward home, Paul touched the handle of his new seax and tried not to think about what he might have to do to pay for the power it represented.
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 100]
[TOTAL DEBT: 1,825 SP]
[NEXT PHASE: RETURN TO KATTEGAT]
[WARNING: DEBT ACCELERATION REQUIRED]
The future was approaching fast, and Paul finally had the tools to meet it on equal terms.
The question was whether those tools would save him or damn him.
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