Awakening and Preparations

“Drip, drip…” From a crack in the crude pottery pot, water droplets seeped out, falling rhythmically into a chipped earthenware bowl.

“Ugh…”

Henry slowly stirred awake, roused by the searing pain in his chest.

He painfully opened his eyes to a dim surroundings, finding himself lying on a straw mattress; the dry grass beneath the linen sheet rustled with a soft ‘rustle’ at his slightest movement.

“Am I… still alive?”

Henry’s left arm felt numb and lifeless, while his right arm could barely be lifted, allowing him to touch the wound on his chest.

His fingertips registered the feel of fabric; the wound was bandaged, and pressing lightly through the dressing, his fingers seemed to sink into the deep claw marks gouged by a bear’s paw.

“Where am I?”

He attempted to sit up, but the extensive movement pulled at his wound, making him wince in agony.

“Big brother, you’re awake?” A tender voice piped up as a little girl pushed open the door and entered.

Henry remembered then that this was the home of the farmer who had taken him in, and the little girl before him was the farmer’s granddaughter.

“The bear…”

“The master has already killed the big bear-bear, and everyone in the village got big chunks of meat!” the granddaughter exclaimed joyfully, having not eaten meat in a long time.

“Killed? How… *hiss*… how was it killed?” Henry, astonished, couldn’t help but sit up, disregarding the throbbing pain in his chest.

The granddaughter, full of enthusiasm, gesticulated wildly as she recounted, “The master just pounced onto the big bear-bear’s back, grabbed its ears, and scolded it fiercely, and the big bear-bear just lay down!”

The granddaughter excitedly described everything she had witnessed, and as Henry gazed at the little girl’s innocent face, he recognized the boundless flight of her imagination.

“…”

Henry remained silent, ‘I’ll go see for myself once my wounds heal a bit…’

****

Blacksmith’s Cottage

The blonde girl squatted by the edge of the courtyard, her knees pressing against the soft curves of her chest, as she playfully tossed a few fluffy, dark-brown furballs in her hands.

In the courtyard lay the carcasses of two brown bears, a male and a female. One had been thoroughly stripped of its flesh and hide, leaving behind a skeletal ribcage sticky with sinew and blood, a skull, and scattered bones across the ground. The other appeared to have only been stunned by a blunt impact, its fur perfectly intact without the slightest damage; if its hide could be removed whole, it would undoubtedly be a pelt of the highest quality.

A yellow-furred sighthound frantically wagged its tail, gnawing on bones with a resounding ‘clatter’, bits of bone shrapnel occasionally splintering from its teeth with each powerful bite.

Frey stood vigil beside a large iron pot, stirring its contents with a wooden stick. Occasionally, he would sample the broth, then crush salt blocks and mix them into the stew.

The slaves stood nearby, watching eagerly, their mouths watering as they inhaled the enticing aroma of bear meat.

Noren playfully teased the bear cubs; their tiny, milky roars were truly amusing. She picked up one cub by the scruff of its neck, then flipped it onto its back, all four paws flailing skyward. Each time it managed to right itself, the girl would promptly overturn it again. The cub, however, remained undeterred, stubbornly flipping itself over time and again, while the girl found endless delight in toppling it.

“Hehe~ Look at this bear cub, Father, it’s such a silly little thing,” Noren chuckled, her eyes crescent-shaped and her crimson lips curving into a slight smile.

Svein spread the lamellar armor flat on the table and used pliers to pull off a damaged iron plate. “These beasts eat a lot and are quite fierce; they’re not easy to raise.”

He meticulously arranged the detached lamellar plates into neat rows and columns. In his eyes, each plate possessed its own name and designation, much like soldiers in a formation; individually, a plate’s strength was meager, yet hundreds or thousands of them united to form a suit of armor could withstand any blade or arrow.

“Furthermore, if you run off to raid another bear’s den, I fear my old bones might just fall apart.”

Svein rotated his stiff, aching shoulders, feeling his trapezius muscles swollen and throbbing. Despite being an outstanding sword master, merely a step away from becoming a legendary Sword Saint, his advanced age left him somewhat powerless when confronting a behemoth like a brown bear.

He was no longer as he once was, even if this particular brown bear had just shed its winter fat.

Frey, standing nearby, interjected playfully, “Father, you’re still quite young! You just leaped onto the bear’s back, stabbed it a few times with your sword, and a robust male bear was dead. If you call that old, then all warriors should die of shame!”

Svein’s eyes flickered, and he cast a sidelong glance at his son. “Only you would feel shame.”

Then, his gaze shifted, turning to his daughter. “To kill an adult female bear with your bare hands, you are fast approaching your mother’s prowess.”

Noren once again picked up the bear cubs, performing a juggling act with them. Their squeals, affected by the acceleration, rose and fell in pitch, much like the screams of passengers on a vertical drop ride at an amusement park.

With her gaze fixed intently on the playthings in her hands and those soaring through the air, she explained, “Tolke’s solitary life is nearing its end. These bears were too close to him, so I drove them away and slaughtered them to prevent him from being attacked in the middle of the night.”

“As for raising them… I’ll keep one, and sell the rest.”

“And that yellow-furred dog, I don’t know where it came from, but it’s been following me. It’s quite well-behaved and intelligent, with excellent coloring and appearance. I like it very much; I’ll keep it around to pet its head sometimes.”

Svein patiently listened to his daughter’s words, then nodded in agreement.

He turned his attention back to Frey, signaling that the meat stew was ready. “Frey, it’s done.”

The aroma of the meat stew grew increasingly potent, and boiling bubbles erupted on the surface of the thick broth. Frey lifted the iron cauldron from its tripod hanger and placed it before the slaves. “Eat, you commoners, and be grateful for my father’s benevolence!”

The slaves knelt, thanking the master for his great kindness, then began to snatch at the bear meat in the pot. Amidst their ravenous feasting and the incessant smacking of lips, the brown bear cubs gradually quieted down, ceasing their cries. All at once, they stared fixedly at the large, grayish chunks of cooked meat clutched in the slaves’ hands, saliva dripping from their maws.

The enticing scent of the bear stew had awakened the gluttony within their bellies – truly a picture of filial piety and paternal love, albeit in a rather twisted sense.

Feed bear meat to bear cubs?

Noren would never do such a savage thing, especially since their teeth weren’t fully grown; they wouldn’t be able to chew it anyway.

It seemed she would have to feed them milk instead.

Noren picked up the bear cubs and headed towards the animal shed. Soon, the ‘moo’ of a cow echoed from within.

“Damn, I was careless! This is a bull! What’s that on your mouth! This cub is no longer clean; I’ll have to sell it…” The girl’s exasperated curse drifted from the animal shed.

****

Opava was peaceful and serene, steadily progressing into June. The wheat in the fields had shed its green hue, and in another month or two, it would be ripe for harvest.

Most people had emerged from the shadow of the plague, yet the psychological scars it inflicted and the physical marks left by healing wounds would accompany them throughout their lives, serving as constant reminders.

Henry’s wounds had healed, leaving three ghastly claw marks etched across his chest from the brown bear’s sharp talons. To reward his bravery and ensure this strong man’s sacrifice wasn’t in vain, Noren selected a thick, stiffened padded armor and a wild boar hide armor from the spoils of previous battles.

After his battle with the brown bear, this man seemed to have suddenly awakened to his potential, gaining a clear understanding of his own capabilities. His proficiency with the spear and round shield grew day by day.

By now, he could hold his own for several rounds against Wiz, the younger of the two Norse brothers. Consequently, Noren ceased his high-intensity training, allowing him only to practice basic spear and shield stances in the afternoons. Aside from eating, sleeping, and training, he spent his days strolling in and around the village, catching fish and scaring birds, living a rather pleasant life.

Today, Henry’s simulated combat with Wiz lasted two rounds longer than usual, concluding when Wiz landed a surprise hit with his wooden sword.

“Stop! Stop! I surrender!” Henry tossed his wooden sword and shield aside, clutching his swollen wrist and wincing in pain. Even with daily sparring against the Norsemen, he still couldn’t get used to the unmeasured force of the two brothers, especially Wiz.

“Tsk~ Boring, brother, let’s fight!” Wiz pouted, then picked up his sword and shield, turning to spar with Hafdan. The wooden sword and shield collided with dull thuds.

“Combat fanatics…” Henry muttered under his breath.

He walked away, distancing himself from the brawling Norsemen, then simply lay down on the grass, gazing at the clouds in the sky, his mind wandering.

‘This life is quite good right now. Even if the caravan doesn’t depart, staying in Opava is perfectly fine. The lady and master are both good people; they’re kind to the villagers and even to the slaves. I truly wish I could live here forever…’

Lost in thought, Henry closed his eyes. The wind rustled through the grass, and with his mind completely at ease, he felt utterly content.

Henry – Stress -30

Drip, drop.

A few raindrops hit his face, and the wind carried a foul,腥臭 smell. He wondered, “Is it raining?”

Opening his eyes, a gaping abyss stared back at him, its edges lined with jagged, grayish-white bone pillars.

“Jesus Christ!”

Henry sprang up like a carp leaping from water, ready to contend fiercely with the demon sent by Satan.

Over the past month or two, he had undergone devilish training by the Norsemen, and he was no longer the same man. He even stood a chance against a monster from the fiery depths!

“What is it~ just a dog~” By the time Henry had assumed his combat stance, a yellow-furred sighthound was merely squatting obediently, tongue lolling out.

“Woof?” The yellow-furred sighthound tilted its head, not understanding the meaning of Henry’s actions.

Henry stepped forward to rub the dog’s head. The dog comfortably lolled its tongue, then reciprocated by licking Henry’s swollen wrist and letting out two barks.

“Doge, come back!” A clear female voice called out, and the yellow-furred sighthound broke free from Henry’s hand, running to its owner.

The yellow-furred sighthound joyfully circled the blonde girl, bounding back and forth, left and right, excitedly wagging its tail.

Henry bowed his head in greeting, “Miss.”

Noren nodded and hummed in acknowledgment, then called out to the Norse brothers, who were still punching and kicking, exchanging blows: “Hafdan, Wiz, come here for a moment!”

The brothers each delivered a powerful punch to the other. Hearing someone call their names, their steps faltered, and they both turned their heads simultaneously. “Huh?”

But their thrown punches did not stop. Two dull thuds echoed, and both men stiffened, then fell straight to the ground like zombies.

Henry turned back to the girl, who sighed softly, pressing a hand to her forehead. “Henry, when they wake up, tell them to get ready to depart. The caravan sets off tomorrow.”

“Tomorrow?!” Henry exclaimed in surprise.

“Yes, everyone is here. It’s time to go.”

====Character Profile====

Henry: 25 years old

Health: 5.5

Bravery: 6 (Training +3) → 9

Physical Trait: Robust (Level 2)

====Chapter Summary====