The Cabin in the Woods

“所以说我是那甚么‘纯血’？”Noren asked, her face etched with impatience as the s*ave’s incoherent ramblings wore thin her already frayed patience.

The s*ave’s gums worked with a wet, smacking sound, his words slurred and indistinct. “Mmm, yes, Pureblood, Pureblood, you are the only one… Mmm, what the gods seek but cannot obtain, yes! Pureblood!!!”

Suddenly, the s*ave’s voice swelled, bordering on madness.

Noren, without a trace of mercy, slapped him, jolting him back to his senses.

His head reeled from the blow, and he quickly steadied it with both hands. He slurped a mouthful of stew, his tongue tracing his gums, only to catch Noren’s preparatory motion for another strike. Hastily, he set down the wooden bowl and continued, “I am a wizard, and also God…”

Noren cut him off. “You’ve already said this: you held a Great Witch Sacrifice, and the Evil God granted you power; you believe in God, and God bestowed upon you faith… Continue!”

The s*ave’s body trembled, and he spoke as clearly as he could. “God grants me the power to punish heretics, while the Evil God’s power can corrupt human souls.”

“So, which one did you use on me?”

“Both.”

*Thwack!* Noren’s axe cleaved into the wooden stake beside the s*ave, the sheer force of the blow rustling his dark hair.

He contorted his face into an ugly expression, his voice trembling. “I, I, I didn’t know then, I thought, I thought… Spare me! I can help you steal the power of the gods!”

‘The power of the gods?’

Noren had no desire to endure such torment a second time, nor to inflict it upon anyone else; killing was one thing, but this was utterly unnecessary.

A cold glint flashed in Noren’s eyes, sending a chill through the s*ave’s heart.

He quickly stammered in defense, “No, no, other, other powers.”

He then pointed to the wounds on his own body. “Flesh… repair.”

Indeed, overnight, the wounds on his body had begun to shed their scabs, revealing pinkish-white new skin beneath.

Noren nodded, gesturing for him to continue.

Seeing her interest, the man’s brows lifted in delight, and he adopted a fawning, ingratiating tone. “Lady, beau—beautiful, noble, the one-of-a-kind Pureblood Lady, your countenance shines like the sun, your golden hair gleams brighter than gold, you…”

Noren delivered another resounding slap, sending his head bobbing like a drum. “Get to the point.”

The man ruefully touched his swollen face. “With just one more Great Witch Sacrifice, the gods can make your body ‘as tough as iron,’ allowing you to live another twenty years, even if you contracted leprosy.”

The young woman lowered her head in silence; yesterday, her kick should have killed him, yet the man had miraculously survived, a testament to the extraordinary power of a body “as tough as iron.”

Suddenly, a premonition struck her, and in her peripheral vision, she caught sight of the s*ave’s hollow, abyssal mouth curving into an evil smirk.

Without a moment’s hesitation, she unleashed half her strength, her knuckles connecting squarely with the s*ave’s crown.

“You should sleep for a while.”

The s*ave collapsed, still bewildered, as Noren pushed open the wooden door and stepped outside.

Seeing Noren’s interrogation conclude, Tolruk looked up, while the s*ave Karl bowed slightly.

Tolruk was the first to ask, “What did you find out?”

Noren shook her head. “I only know that man secretly performed some ‘Great Witch Sacrifice’ in Opava, and he’s also a Christian believer.”

“Why were the soldiers pursuing him, and how did he get here from Opava?”

Noren rolled her eyes. “Because of his ritual, the castle is now rife with debauchery. He fled amidst the chaos, likely after being reported. As for why there were only four pursuers, I suspect the soldiers were too busy having their own fun.”

Once Noren finished speaking, the s*ave Karl stepped forward, his head bowed, not daring to meet Noren’s gaze. He said, “Young Mistress, the master wishes for this s*ave to become a private thrall. As you know, people are growing in number recently, and food prices are climbing.”

“Absolutely not!” Noren refused vehemently. “There might be a search soon; keeping him hidden here is one thing, but if he participates in labor…”

“Until I’ve questioned him thoroughly, no one is to approach him. As for Tolruk, I’ll speak with him myself!” Noren declared, then dashed toward the carpenter’s cabin.

By the time Noren found the carpenter, dusk was settling, and gusts of evening wind caused the s*ave squatting at the cabin entrance to rub his hands together.

The carpenter was eating with Freya at a wooden table. Seeing Noren approach, Freya placed a wooden plank on the table, setting a wooden bowl and plate upon it. She then ladled a bowl of thick soup from the hanging iron pot and added a small piece of bread to the plate.

Noren, priding herself on being a modern civilized person, lived by the principle of silence during meals. Seeing everyone dining, she suppressed her impatience, knowing the matter was not urgent.

After a quarter-hour of quiet, Noren swallowed her last bite, pulled a cloth handkerchief from her dress pocket, and delicately wiped her lips.

The carpenter gazed at the cooking pot, now holding only a thin layer of soup at the bottom, and remained silent. He gestured for Noren to go for a walk. Noren, seeing the sky ablaze with half a crimson sunset, rose to join him.

He lit a torch in the bonfire, and the flames burst forth with a whoosh. “Let’s go.”

They walked along the dirt path by the river, the crimson glow of the sunset illuminating them from the left.

Before she could even speak, Tolruk, the carpenter, knew what Noren wanted to discuss. Without turning his head, he said, “It’s about that s*ave, isn’t it?”

“He’s my war prize; there’s no way he’s becoming your laborer. Besides, you received all the equipment from those four guards, and I only took a dozen deniers from them. You’re hardly at a disadvantage.” Noren, with her hands clasped behind her back, kicked a pebble, sending it skipping twice across the water’s surface before it sank to the bottom.

The carpenter’s reply was completely off-topic. “You are very talented, Noren. Whether it’s combat, hunting, or forging, you learn quickly.”

The young woman frowned, thinking, ‘Why is he bringing this up?’

The carpenter raised his voice a notch. “You are destined to become an excellent leader, just like your father! Your lineage, your beauty, your intelligence—all speak to one truth: your glory is heaven-ordained.”

The sudden flattery made her scalp tingle. The young woman removed her hair tie, gathered her golden hair, and brought it forward over her chest, simply tying a knot at the ends. This particular hairstyle always seemed to alleviate her anxiety.

“What does this have to do with the s*ave?” she asked.

The carpenter continued talking to himself. “Svein must have told you that we once fought in the East.”

Noren felt the man’s inherent timidity and weakness amplify in that moment.

He sighed. “Some Norse warriors were tormented over trivial matters, even though they were indeed difficult to control. Then your father said, ‘The emperor is incompetent, the Basileia is imprisoned, the city is in turmoil—it’s time for us to leave.’”

Noren raised an eyebrow, deciding to humor him for now. “And then you came here?”

“We traveled for eight years, with most people stopping along the way. Ultimately, only our two families, along with a few others in Hradec, made it here.”

‘Of course I know that! So what does this have to do with the s*ave? This Norseman who refuses to listen!’ she thought, her patience utterly spent.

Noren—Stress +15.

Noren had no interest whatsoever in this history; all she desired was a peaceful life. Her true priority was to extract every last bit of value from that despicable s*ave, then find a place to bury him.

Tolruk stared intently at her. “As for the s*ave, I believe this is an opportunity. I hope you can use this chance to kill the Earl.”

His words were so startling, so utterly audacious, that Noren instantly began to question the very brain structure of Norsemen.

‘Where is the opportunity? Why should I kill the Earl? How would I kill him? What happens after he’s dead?’

Noren had no desire to speak with him further; how had she never noticed the carpenter was a madman before?

The carpenter stopped walking, the sun slowly descending beside him, casting an orange-hued glow on a face so serene it bordered on cruel.

Noren hesitated for a second before deciding to ask, “What exactly do you want?”

In the next moment, the carpenter succumbed to a frenzied madness. His face contorted, teeth grinding, every hair on his head seeming to vibrate with an unseen force. “What do I want? I want nothing! I only want battle, battle, battle!! To kill those dog-emperors, to hack off the legs of the Seljuk horses, to break the Norman backbone, to make these warriors, who merely cling to life day after day, remember their past glory! They must not grow old and incapable of dying on the battlefield, thereby losing their chance at Valhalla.”

“…”

The young woman was speechless.

Norsemen truly possessed an unwavering obsession with battle—at least, this man before her did, to the point of outright derangement.

The carpenter was about to continue speaking, but a scarred hand clapped onto his shoulder.

It was her father. They had, without realizing it, arrived at the blacksmith’s cabin.

“I know what battle means to you, but we still have time, and Noren still needs to grow, just as the proverb says, ‘You must first learn to crawl before you can walk.’”

The blacksmith calmed his agitated spirits.

Tolruk fell silent, then departed.

Noren watched his light recede into the distance, Tolruk’s frantic words still echoing in her mind. She couldn’t fathom what made him so utterly obsessed with battle.

‘Is it because Norsemen view it as a form of entertainment, an immersive pleasure? Or is it something else?’

As she watched Tolruk leave, she noticed a peculiar awkwardness in his gait.

‘It’s probably because the Greeks injured his ‘leg’.’

A flicker of pity arose in the young woman’s heart, though she wasn’t sure if it was for Tolruk or for herself.