Noren’s Dealings and the Wizards’ Vow

“Let me know who stole my clothes, and I swear I’ll beat them black and blue!”

A blonde woman, her figure surpassing even that of a supermodel, her modesty barely preserved by three strategically placed leaves, stealthily slipped into the blacksmith’s cottage under the cloak of night.

The door to the second-floor living room creaked open softly.

A young girl, flushed and glistening with sweat, peeked out. Her gaze swept the room. “Auntie isn’t here. She must be with Father again.”

She had finally scurried back to her living room, her heart pounding with fear the entire way, terrified of being spotted.

But now, thinking back, Ostrava held only a few Norsemen and a smattering of villagers.

The Norsemen were all fast asleep, and the villagers, every last one, suffered from night blindness. There was truly nothing for her to fear.

‘That was… exhilarating,’ she thought. Her body still trembled, a shiver running through her as beads of sweat profusely covered her.

Noren raised her smooth right hand, her gaze lingering on her five delicate fingers for a moment before she finally touched them to her skin, then quickly brought them to her nose.

Her nose twitched slightly. She closed her eyes in resignation, muttering, “Yes, it’s just sweat. Truly, nothing but sweat!”

After speaking, she wiped her sticky fingers clean, then picked up the Great White Tiger by the scruff of his neck, carefully drying his damp fur.

Once everything was tidied, Noren’s teeth itched with fury, a fierce glint flashing in her eyes. “You little scoundrel! Don’t let me catch you, or you’ll get a taste of my good juice!”

****

July arrived, bringing with it the full intensity of summer. The wheat stood ripe for harvest, and the farmers toiled ceaselessly.

Noren, however, was far from idle. She had cleared and cultivated a hop field, specifically to provide high-quality hops. Judging by the current results, hops were quite easy to grow, and the local climate proved ideal for their cultivation.

After settling the matters concerning the brewing of ‘Hradec’ beer, she returned to Hradec, accompanying the transporters who had come to collect the brew.

In Hradec, she attended to three crucial tasks:

Ⅰ. Inviting Sithis to her home as a guest.

Ⅱ. Renegotiating the price of ‘Hradec’ beer with Sithis, granting Hradec the sole right to sell the brew.

Ⅲ. Informing the brothers Hafdan and Wiz that her father had been granted a baronetcy. She told them she would no longer be traveling as a merchant and offered them positions as personal guards at the baron’s castle once its construction was complete. Noren further promised that when she inherited the title, she would bestow knighthoods upon both brothers.

All three tasks were successfully completed.

Sithis accepted the invitation, though he stipulated his visit would be in September.

The price of ‘Hradec’ beer was perfectly settled. The mayor’s office would no longer purchase it at a fixed rate; instead, they would split the profits, with Noren receiving 40% and Sithis 60%. This was a reasonable arrangement, considering most trade routes in the eleventh century were fraught with danger, and simply being able to sell the beer was a triumph in itself.

Regarding the promised knighthoods for Hafdan and Wiz, Noren greatly admired their martial prowess. Given time, she believed they would achieve a level of skill comparable to that of Tolruk the carpenter. Bestowing two knighthoods was a small price to pay.

By the time these matters were concluded, it was already mid-August.

Noren had settled the two wizards, constructing a small mud hut for them deep within the forest. Mud huts were simpler and cheaper to build than pure wooden ones, requiring significantly less timber. Their walls were fashioned from woven vines plastered with a layer of mud.

Each wizard possessed their own distinct talents. The younger brother, Little Hard, excelled at concocting potions, though, naturally, without any official certification from a drug regulatory agency.

His elder brother, Big Ang of Lausitz, specialized in alchemy. Yes, alchemy—that term so frequently encountered in medieval fantasy novels. In essence, it was a form of metallurgy. So, perhaps these wizards were the ‘scientists’ of the Middle Ages?

‘But it’s all just crooked trickery, isn’t it? Hmph!’ Noren hadn’t forgotten what the two wizards had once said: most practitioners of magic were obsessed with the art of human breeding.

She suspected that the wizard Big Ang had referred to as the ‘Miracle Worker,’ whom she had killed last spring, was likely a master of breeding and procreation. Otherwise, why would they have held such a debaucherous ‘Grand Witch Ritual’?

She had long ago questioned Big Ang about the ‘Grand Witch Ritual.’ He explained that it was typically led by a sect leader, conducted in utmost secrecy to avoid discovery, and its primary objective was to seek blessings from the Horned Demon God. These blessings were numerous, ranging from ‘Body of Iron’ and ‘Knowledge of Fate’ to ‘Sound Mind and Body’ and ‘Complete Awareness’—all forms of physical modification.

While such physical enhancements offered immense benefits, their consequences were often unpredictable. Big Ang had mentioned that even among those seeking ‘Herculean’ strength, many had suffered complete bodily disintegration after receiving the blessing.

Upon hearing Big Ang’s words, Noren was instantly enraged. The ‘Miracle Worker’ was indeed treacherous; his claims about holding the ‘Grand Witch Ritual’ to grant her a ‘Body of Iron’ were nothing but deceptive lies!

Witnessing Noren’s sudden surge of intimidating power, the two wizards trembled uncontrollably. They bowed repeatedly and pleaded for mercy, claiming they knew a way to forge a fine weapon for Noren, provided she could supply a ‘marvelous item’—nothing too extraordinary, merely one of excellent quality.

These two wizards weren’t genuinely eager to help Noren craft a weapon. A ‘marvelous item’ was incredibly rare, let alone one of excellent quality. Their offer to help was merely a pretense to appease the young woman and send her on her way.

However, Noren immediately produced the white wolf bone, astonishing the two wizards to the point of disbelief.

They asked where she had obtained the bone. Noren replied bluntly: “I found it!”

The two wizards exchanged disbelieving glances. They concocted their own ‘reasonable’ explanation: this must have been carried by the ‘Miracle Worker’ and subsequently confiscated by the young woman.

Noren merely shrugged, indicating that they could think whatever they wished, as long as it didn’t delay the creation of her weapon.

The two wizards then inquired about the type of weapon she desired.

Noren specified: “An iron rod, seven feet long and two and a half fingers thick.”

The wizards provided an estimated timeframe, stating that by this time next year, when the wheat once again bore its heavy, drooping ears, the weapon would be complete.

They then rattled off a lengthy list of requirements: iron ore mined at midnight, iron ingots forged at noon, the heartwood of a century-old oak, St. John’s wort, agave, belladonna, rhubarb…

The dense, extensive list made Noren dizzy. The characters recognized her, but she didn’t recognize them; the two wizards had to read everything aloud.

Doubt flickered in her eyes. Forging a weapon surely didn’t require so many ingredients. Even accounting for some rudimentary medieval metallurgical techniques, what on earth were belladonna and rhubarb doing on the list?

‘Those were herbs, weren’t they?’

Observing the younger wizard’s secretly gleeful expression, Noren was speechless. It seemed all these peculiar items were for him.

‘Never mind. I’ll consider it a down payment. I’ll provide them with whatever they need, as long as the iron rod meets my expectations.’

After delivering all the materials to the wizards’ mud hut, Noren lay in bed that night, suddenly struck by how rash she had been.

‘I was truly too hasty,’ she mused, her hands clasped behind her head as she gazed at the wooden ceiling. ‘The first millennium of the Middle Ages didn’t even have casting technology. How are those two wizards going to create an iron rod for me?’

‘Forging? With their puny arms and legs?’

She knew that forging involved hammering sponge iron, blow by blow, to shape it into ingots. How could they possibly complete such a strenuous task without robust physiques?

‘Moreover, a single iron rod would require a considerable amount of iron—the equivalent needed to craft two pieces of chainmail!’

‘Still, if they failed, I would simply kill them to vent my frustration.’

‘However, that meant I’d have to prevent them from escaping. I would need to find someone to keep an eye on them.’

Noren tossed and turned in bed for a while before an idea struck her. ‘I’ve got it! I’ll have Henry supervise them! Henry already knows about the two wizards, and as a devout Christian, he’ll certainly keep a close watch.’

She pulled the covers over herself, bundling them up to conceal her head.

“Sleep!”