The Road to Prague

“Beasts are the same as people—you must treat them well before they treat you well.” The golden-haired beauty brushed the warhorse with meticulous care, and the horse kept smacking its lips in contentment.

“Oh… let me try…” Tolruk imitated Noren’s actions, picking up the brush. The moment he stepped toward his white horse, it turned around, presenting its powerful hindquarters to him.

Tolruk spread his hands and looked at Noren with helplessness.

The beauty shot a sidelong glare at the golden-haired youth, snatched the brush from his hand, grabbed a handful of beans from the feed bucket, and began feeding the horse with one hand while brushing with the other.

A horse’s lips were soft and thick, packed with nerves, agile and sensitive. The sensation of a horse’s lips sweeping across one’s palm was wonderful.

“Brush it like this. Only then will it develop deep feelings for you. Horses are full of sly tricks—if you’re not sincere, they’ll know.” After demonstrating the brushing process, Noren handed the brush back to Tolruk.

Tolruk copied her, holding beans in one hand and brushing with the other. The white horse no longer eyed him warily.

[It’s only been two or three months since Tolruk last rode, and this white horse has already forgotten its owner. Once I get a better horse, I’ll replace this one. I can’t let Tolruk keep riding an ungrateful beast…] Noren thought to herself.

“I’ll go check on that bear.” she said.

The bear den was built next to the sheep pen. As soon as Noren entered, she heard “baa baa” bleating. A ram charged at her without warning.

“Thud!” A good head makes a good sound.

“Baa~” The ram let out a miserable bleat after taking the iron fist, wobbling dizzily before kneeling on the straw-covered ground.

“Sheep—they’re pure rebels. Other animals show clear emotional responses, but sheep…” Noren shook her head. “If I didn’t keep them for wool and milk, I’d have hotpot with them long ago. Who would keep a sheep as a pet?”

The bear house was a compartment next to the sheep pen; pushing the door open, she entered.

As soon as she stepped in, a brown ball of fur lunged at her, accompanied by a wave of bear stench.

“Thud~” Another iron fist.

“Whine~” The bear cub whimpered. It was still a suckling cub, far from sexual maturity or adulthood.

“You’ve grown well enough,” Noren picked up the brown bear. “About two feet long and… a hundred pounds.”

“A tiger-headed, tiger-brained fellow—no, bear-headed, bear-brained.” She rubbed its head roughly. A cub’s fur wasn’t as coarse as an adult’s—soft to the touch. And most importantly, it didn’t resist.

The bear lowered its brow, glancing at Noren from time to time with a cautious, timid expression.

It had learned to fear beatings. Even a bear’s dull brain could tell who was boss.

“Eat berries.” In her fair palm lay a few plump blackcurrants.

The bear had a dog-like face, with a tongue that was wide and long—not as thick as a horse’s, but still very agile.

It rolled its tongue over Noren’s palm, scooping up the berries into its long, dog-like snout.

“I’ll be away for a while. Be good while I’m gone. Don’t make me look bad. I don’t want to come back to bear-meat hotpot.”

Whether the cub understood or not, Noren didn’t care. She poked its nose with a slender finger.

Time to pack.

****

****

A few days later, Hradec.

“Aunt!” The golden-haired beauty wrapped her in a big hug.

The embrace was from a charming, blonde, middle-aged woman. She held her niece tightly, chin resting on the girl’s shoulder.

“Noren, be careful on the road,” the woman said, her eyes full of worry. “Protect Svein.”

“I will.” The golden-haired shieldmaiden nodded solemnly.

She turned to look aside. Svein and Sithis were talking, surrounded by a group of guards—mostly Slavs, with a few Norsemen.

Sithis chatted with Svein for a while, then turned to look at her and beckoned her over.

“Noren, a shieldmaiden tempered by war—I believe this journey to Prague will teach you how to be a graceful noble.” Sithis had a strange accent. When he saw Svein, Noren, and Anna all staring at him like bewildered simpletons, he coughed awkwardly.

“Ahem, sorry.”

Recently, Sithis had been communicating too much with Sithas, inevitably picking up an Italian accent.

“Anyway, this is a great opportunity. Prague is a prosperous, wealthy city. You’ll gain something.”

Sithis called over a fully armed youth—five feet eight inches tall, with a coat of mail visible beneath his surcoat.

Noren had seen him before; he was Sithis’s son from his previous marriage, Sithas.

“This time, Sithas will travel with you. He’ll be in charge of guarding the caravan.” Sithis pressed a hand on his son’s shoulder, his tone resolute.

“I am honored, Lady Noren, Sir Svein.” The flaxen-haired youth gave a standard knight’s salute, his words dripping with humility. It seemed his years trading in Italy had taught him a thing or two from the Lord.

At least he learned humility.

“Likewise.” Noren’s smile was faint.

“All supplies are ready. I’ve assigned an experienced caravan assistant to manage logistics, and Sithas will handle all security. You’ll have no worries on this trip.” Sithis pointed to a spirited white-haired man who was speaking with the carriage drivers and servants.

“Mm.” Svein grunted a single syllable.

Svein said, “Time to depart.”

With that, the old Norseman climbed into a four-wheeled covered wagon.

“Then I…” Noren glanced to the side, where Tolruk held two warhorses, and beside him crouched John of Lublin.

“God be with you.” Sithis made the sign of the cross on his forehead and chest.

“And with you.” The golden-haired shieldmaiden also made the sign.

Just as Noren took a step, someone grabbed her hand.

It was Anna.

“The situation in Prague is turbulent and treacherous. Be extremely careful.” Anna whispered in her ear.

Turbulent and treacherous?

“I understand.” Noren had already mentally prepared herself. As the capital of Bohemia, it would be strange if there weren’t some plots and intrigues.

In her previous life, she had watched many movies and TV shows. The capital of a country was always a hotbed of factional strife—especially in a large feudal state.

She wondered what the Bohemian court was like…

Noren mounted her gray warhorse. Sithas shouted, “Depart—”

She gently kicked the horse’s belly with her heel and murmured “ya~.” The horse swished its tail and began walking forward, head low.

The white noise of clattering hooves and rumbling wheels filled her ears.

The snow on the road had long since melted clean. Most trees on both sides stood bare, save for a few firs and pines that remained a verdant green.

Noren took a deep breath. The freshness of early spring rushed into her lungs—a cool, refreshing sensation that made her head tingle slightly.

She looked up at the azure sky and silently thought to herself.

“Hope everything goes smoothly.”