Tórrblóm Saga

[Lithu]

​

Foreword​

Recently, having some time to kill, I browsed towards the AAR section of CK2, hoping to find an entertaining read. I didn’t expect that most of my free time during the next three days would be consumed reading it ; but it happened. And this even prompted me to start this very effort.

So, if you find this story likeable, thank @JabberJock14 and his “Before Plantagenet” AAR for inspiring me. There are certainly other great reads in CK2 AAR, but I don’t have the energy to read them.

One should note that english is not my first language ; so you will probably notice it here and there. Most notably, my game is in french and so will be all text in screenshots. But hopefully it shall not lessen your reading pleasure. Still, when you notice errors, don’t hesitate to send me a PM.

This AAR is based on a CK2 game I started for it a few days ago, and which I played far enough so that events from current chapters will be able to take into account what is coming.

As hints the title of this story, Tórrblóm Saga, we start with a norse character ; called Sigurðr Tórrblóm, (which I’ll write Sigurd Torrblom from now on) at the 867 bookmark. He’s a small ahistorical count created with the game designer in Norway, founder of his dynasty which we will follow.

While Before Plantagenet inspired me about how to exploit minor events (I also discovered the buttons to see relations toward another character and realm power tree) and I like dialogue for character development, I’ll use a more descriptive style to go faster over the tedious parts.

I don’t know how frequently I’ll be able to update this story. I’d like to do 2 parts per week, but it may be less and have some gaps where I’m busy, so don’t expect too much from that side.

That may also vary depending on the size of the updates. I think I’ll prefer shorter and more frequent updates to longer and less frequent ones. I'll use threadmarks to index chapters anyway.

EDIT : I decided upon making updates following the "one place, one time, one action" rule, at least for all those who dwelve into specific character events. This mean that there will be more frequent updates, but way smaller than classical book chapters (though if the story command it, it may end at a good length).

I decided upon this because : 1)I'm not sure about the intensity of my long-term comitment. Smaller updates mean that I can still put some out when I'm busy. 2)It divides the story neatly in logical parts. 3) Because a novel-level of detail on a story spanning 100 or 200 years would be overkill. 4)It makes it easier to read by whole chapters. I've already had that feel of "one more chapter" which ended taking half-an-hour, seemingly unending ; and this is way worse on a computer screen with large lines than it is in a paperbook.

This mean that compared to others AAR this one will probably have an inflated chapter count ; but that really shouldn't be what by which we measure any AAR anyway.

TIP : at the bottom right of each chapter you'll find buttons with arrows : << Index >>. The right arrows allow you to jump directly to the next chapter if you are not interested by the comments.

Setup​

The game is on version 2.7.2, with all DLCs but Sunset Invasion and with societies entirely disabled (I keep M&M on for the inventory and the councillor jobs, but I must say it’s a disappointment).

This is not a strictly vanilla game. Specifically, I use a custom mod which mainly changes some defines and traits. For example, congenital traits are more often inherited, drunkard gives a health malus, a character can have a third leadership trait… Various things which frustrated me in my regular CK2 adventures and I tried to improve a bit.

I used also a few game rules differing from the default : more minor epidemics and illnesses (however my mod reduce a bit the probability of cancer for young people) ; historical gender laws ; no surnatural event ; restricted de jure drift and cultural conversion ; slow religious conversion ; disabled matrilineal marriages ; restricted duels (compared to "horribly restricted" default) ; no obligatory release after prisoner punishment (more historical and fun).

More importantly, a few reloads and console commands were used. As the goal is to get a good story, I resisted my urges to reload when an unexpected bad event happened. So don’t worry, the surprises created by RNGod are still here. However, when I noticed I just made a mistake because I wasn’t familiar with a game mechanic, I did reload. For example of errors I corrected this way, at the start I married out of my court a character I wanted to keep and give a spouse to. As for console commands, they were used in a few key points were either I encountered a game-breaking bug or a limitation of CK2 which made impossible something which, from a RP point-of-view, would have been entirely possible.

I made quite a lot of intermediate saves, but I'm unsure if sharing savefiles could prove useful or not.

 

[Lithu]

First Arc : Twinned ambitions
​

Chapter I​

January 867 – Nidaros, Norway

It was but a few days after the winter solstice. Nights were so long that one sometimes feared the Sun would never rise again over the seas and mountains between which resilient Norse lived. Each year, when the day started lengthening, it was a time of celebration.

But not this year, not for the tribe from which hailed Sigurd Vagnsson, nicknamed Torrblom by his foes and friends alike. They had suffered an unexpected loss. A hand on his beard, sitting alone near the fire when others slept, Sigurd couldn’t think of anything else but what happened.

It shouldn’t have happened, he thought.

But it did. There was not enough food to last until the end of the winter, and the chief, Harald Geirrson, decided to make use of the good weather while it did last to hunt. The men of warring age went together hunting, with spears and bows. Sigurd was among them.

When was the last time we spotted a boar ?

The animal was increasingly rare in the country, but when the trackers found trace of one of them, Harald didn’t hesitate. It would be a good source of meat for all.

If we would have had more light…

When the party found the boar itself, the sun was set, and human eyes could not see enough in the twilight. They managed to approach the animal, but most arrows missed.

All the pictures sprung back in Sigurd’s mind.

He heard more than he saw the beast’s furious charge toward the spearmen, among which were him and Harald. And when it was close enough to see its features, it was too late. He instinctively threw his spear, wounding the boar, but it didn’t stop it. Not until after the beast stroke into the chief.

Those cries of pain were dreadful, he thought while his mind repeated them.

He was himself wounded, but it wasn’t a profound wound. He still felt some pain, but he didn’t fear it would last. For Harald Geirrson, however, things were different.

The wounds were too serious to have any hope. The men decided to try, but in winter’s cold, the haemorrhaging wound proved fatal despite their best efforts. They came back to the village with the boar carved up and the body of the man who had been their chief.

The chief was beloved and he had no natural successor, so the funerals were especially grim : the burning fire which took the mortal remains of Harald, and of one of his thrall girls – a slave – sacrificed with him, couldn’t heat enough the heart of the grieving.

And they choose me..

In retrospect, he could see why they made this choice, even if he didn’t expect it. The tribe needed a man who was strong, smart and loyal. With most of his close relatives dead, Sigurd didn’t have a great familial influence, but at least this pushed aside the quarrels between the most powerful families.

More importantly, he was one of the finest warrior of the tribe and surely its better mind. While he didn’t excel in managing other’s feelings and could be quite stubborn, he was known to be honest and trustworthy. His qualities were appreciated from all those who fought or hunted at his sides, and their voices at the Thing proved decisive.

The Thing, the ruling assembly of the freemen of Nidaros, chose him as their chief. Leading them through good times as well as bad times was his duty. He wasn’t prepared for it, and it stressed him, but he didn’t shy from it. He long since had ideas on what could be improved, and now was the occasion to put them in practice. For his brethren to win the struggle of life and their children to flourish.

Who knows where I may lead them… ?

​

 

[stnylan]

Recently, having some time to kill, I browsed towards the AAR section of CK2, hoping to find an entertaining read. I didn’t expect that most of my free time during the next three days would be consumed reading it ; but it happened. And this even prompted me to start this very effort.

So, if you find this story likeable, thank @JabberJock14 and his “Before Plantagenet” AAR for inspiring me. There are certainly other great reads in CK2 AAR, but I don’t have the energy to read them.

That does happen from time to time, and surely "Before Plantagenet" is one of the current gems to be found.

I hope you enjoy AAR-writing. No worries about the second language thing. A nice introductory post.

 

[Lithu]

I hope you enjoy AAR-writing. No worries about the second language thing. A nice introductory post.

Thank you.

I think I'll post a second part soon. While I won't keep long a fast update pace, it think it's better to set the situation quickly.

As a note for the acute readers who may wonder how I was able to give ambitious in the ruler designer with all the other characteristics featured in the screenshot, I'll note that my mod reduce it to +1 martial/stewardship and +2 diplomacy/learning/intrigue.

EDIT : Corrected mistaken assessement of the standard trait giving +5 everywhere. I guess that the +2 everywhere had left by itself a big impression enough for me to make the mistake.

 

[Lithu]

Chapter II​

January 867 – Nidaros, Norway

It was time. Entrusted with the future of his people, Sigurd Torrblom had to act, and for this he needed a team which would be responsible for implementing his decisions.

The venerable Thing would continue to meet regularly to take some decisions and to judge various dispute. For this last role he was particularly grateful, for he didn’t think of himself as the best of judge and didn’t envision ruling as hearing grievances all day.

In Sigurd’s mind, while the role of any leader – and a tribe’s chief in particular – was to take decisions ; petty issues shouldn’t occupy his time and distract him from the momentous ones. He would chart the way but others had to walk it.

It was with such a state of mind that he began his search of councillors. He wanted them capable in their field, but not stubborn.

Not like you, whispered a small voice in his mind.

He banished quickly this idea.

Yes, I’m sometimes stubborn, but that’s because when I’m right I won’t change my stance to please those in the wrong, he thought.

But what if, when you’re wrong ? said the small voice.

I’ll hear others if they have sound arguments ! he answered to himself.

His mind put back its attention towards the world around him. He was in the longhouse of the deceased chief : the Thing had decided that the honour and prestige of the tribe required its chief to have material wealth. Previously, he lived in the house of second cousins.

The custom was that such longhouses – built of wood, big and low to better keep heat – were home to the extended family of its patriarch, so the Harald’s relatives who previously lived with him had to move to other houses of their kinship, with the promise of the tribe’s help to build a new house in the summer.

It felt empty. Sigurd was not alone, though : as proper for any jarl patriarch, he had some thralls, also awarded by decision of the Thing. He had as indentured servants two women, a man and a child conceived by the man and one of the women. The wood burning in the fireplace had been cut by the man, while the women’s main task in this winter was to prepare food and to clean things. It was for them as for all the Norse both the most dangerous season and the one with the less work to do.

A man entered in the house. One of the thrall women directed him to Sigurd. It was Hrolfr – whose nickname was Nordman.

“Salutation, my Lord”, said Hrolfr.

“Salutation, Hrolfr. I guess it’s hard to say good morning when we live in perpetual night”, answered Sigurd.

Hrolfr chuckled.

“Let’s sit down”, said Sigurd before showing the lead. The thrall woman brought a seat and Hrolfr followed his chief’s lead.

“You know why you are here”, continued the new chief. “I have sent requests to the more able men and any who deems himself worthy enough to discuss with me, to evaluate men for positions in my council. I want men of sound mind and true loyalty to assist me closely to carry out my orders and lead this tribe through good times and hardships.”

He paused and took a deep look into Hrolfr. After a minute, the latter was still unfazed. Sigurd’s lips formed a smile.

“Good, for a man who wants to overview war affairs, having strong nerves is a precious quality.”

Hrolfr smiled, too. He thought highly of himself and compliments particularly pleased him.

"They call you Nordman, don't you find that weird ?", asked Sigurd, who wanted to make that point and see the reaction.

"No. We are all from the North, but I'm from further north than people here. Not from much, but my parents came from the territory controlled by the tribe of Namdale, so people tried to deride me with that nickname. I decided to run with it."

This was a good answer. Better than Sigurd had expected.

“Tell me of your experience in fighting and warring”, prompted the chief.

A long discussion followed. This man was young. Younger than him : he had seen 27 winter solstices while Hrolfr had only seen 20. But he was equally passionate about battles, wars, and what surrounded them.

Sigurd thought that the spirit of a true man is that of a warrior, and by that measure, Hrolfr was certainly a virile male. He was also quite visibly strong. While Sigurd put the mind before the muscle, the latter was certainly helpful for a warrior.

And in fact, the chief was positively surprised by the inspiring words that Hrolfr was able to find.

If he talks like this to men, they’ll want to be warriors and will have a good morale, thought Sigurd.

While he didn’t confirm it to Hrolfr before he left, it was clearly decided in his mind that this would be his marshal.

For others councillors roles, however, it would probably be more difficult. He had already seen a few candidates and had been absolutely unimpressed.

 

[Lithu]

Chapter III​

January 867 – Nidaros, Norway

Three days later, Sigurd was walking towards the temple of Nidaros, located a bit outside the main settlement.

He had found four of the five councillors he wanted to get.

His chancellor was Röngvaldr, from the Trönden family. He was a craven man, which didn’t please Sigurd. And he was also zealous, which rubbed Sigurd’s natural scepticism in the wrong way. But he was the only one of the candidates to both be a jarl – it was important for his future encounters at foreign courts – and have the diplomatic skills Sigurd wanted.

His steward was Hrodulfr, a man which didn’t enthuse any admiration in Sigurd but who was orderly and just, two qualities that were extremely important for his role.

Those are not perfect choices, but you can’t duplicate yourself, said the small voice in his mind.

But he had made peace with the imperfections of others. Inequality was the rule of Nature, and for the higher minds, compared to the ideal they could envision, most men would always seem underwhelming.

Your task is to lead the less-able towards success for our people. You can’t change their nature. It’s in their blood. You can’t make intelligent the stupid, nor strong the weak, nor wise the fool, whispered the voice.

I know, he answered himself in this mind-dialogue which was at a half-point between worded conversation and wordless mind-sharing. But if there was a way, I’d do it now.

What bothered him was Emund, the man he named as his court chaplain. This was a role which didn’t interest the more able candidates seeking to be marshal, chancellor or steward ; and so Sigurd had to choose a man he thought terribly average, with no great saving grace.

But with Sigurd’s disdain to religious superstitions – even if he liked the bonding power of all those rites and celebrations, – this alone wouldn’t trigger such worries. The more he thought about his conversation with Emund, the more he got the feeling this man was untrustworthy and unjust – even though the few jarls he interrogated had nothing bad to tell about him, which initially convinced Sigurd to accept him.

At a turn of the road, covered by snow, he saw the wooden temple the trees hid until now. His mind promptly stopped turning over his previous choices. He was here, at the temple of Nidaros, to meet the gydja, a priestess from the traditional norse religion.

Officially, the temple and its dependencies weren’t under his direct authority : the gydja had a certain autonomy. It was important to meet her to complete the meetings he had with the influential people of the tribe.

It wasn’t the only reason motivating this visit in the cold and the dim sunlight, however. The gydja had been previously awarded the role of spymaster by Harald Geirrsson, and while the dissolution of Harald’s previous close council went bliss, Sigurd had been told it would be a bad move to relieve her from that function without even meeting her.

“Good morning, chief Sigurd”, told him a middle-aged woman after opening the door. “You have been expected, please follow me, I’ll take you to my mistress.”

They passed near a guard, and then the thrall led him through the main room of the temple, decorated with norse sacred symbols and statuary, to an annex, and told him to wait, promising the gydja Ingibjörg – for such was her name – would arrive quickly.

Making him wait was a way to show her importance, and Sigurd didn’t like it. If anyone’s time had importance, it was his.

A young woman, looking not even fully adult, entered the piece. Their gaze crossed and she blushed slightly. He found her sweet, but he said nothing : he was waiting for her to explain why the head priestess was not here.

“Salutation, my lord”, she said.

He answered nothing.

“I’m Ingibjörg, the gydja at the head of this sacred temple”, she added.

It was Sigurd’s turn to blush a bit. He had been caught unaware : he expected to find a middle-aged experienced woman. Leading the temple was a serious business, and that this young woman – he nearly thought girl – had been chosen for that surprised him. He thought to remember asking her later, before finally saying something to her.

“Salutation, gydja. As you know, I’m Sigurd Vagnsson, also known as Torrblom, the new chief of our tribe. I’ve come here to meet you and better understand your situation.”

“I would be pleased to tell you what you want to know, but first sit here near the fire, surely you must be freezing after your walk ?”

She was right. Even though he wore thick fur clothes, and it was far from the worse he experienced, an hour in the outside cold was enough to be felt. His face in particular, directly exposed to the elements, would appreciate the heat of the fire.

As they sat, the gydja’s servant came with cups of a heated drink. It smelled honey and alcohol : mead, the drink of the Gods of Asgard. Drinking it was like getting, for a moment, closer to them.

Sigurd and Ingibjörg both drank some of their mead. The taste was definitely exquisite. They looked towards each other. He wanted to speak of her role as spymaster and his intention to find someone else, but first he had to learn more about who she was and what she did.

As the discussion progressed, Sigurd understood better why she had been put as gydja. She was not a goddess – for that word also meant that – but she had been prepared since childhood for that role and showed a great knowledge of the religious and mythological themes their conversation went over.

As for the practical side of things, the temple was assigned a good number of thralls working for it and several dozens of soldiers taking their orders from the gydja, making her the next more powerful person of the tribe. In theory, at least.

He also profited from his time hearing her to look in more details. Since his youth, women had been a huge interest of his, and while he was still not married, he had explored the intimacy of more than a few girls. There had never been doubts about his virility. For all humans, evaluating others as potential mates was an instinctive process, which in a blink allowed to have a first impression. Sigurd simply took it one step further each time the girl was deemed good enough by the blink-evaluation.

Not the best-looking I ever met, but young, healthy and strong. Definitely sweet.

As his cup of mead finally became empty, Sigurd noticed that Ingibjörg’s cup was still half-full. As all the Norse, she drank the sacred brewage ; but with temperance.

Not a bad thing, considering what drunkards look like, he thought.

“I also wanted to talk with you about this spymaster thing”, he told her when he felt he knew enough about her.

“Yes, I expected it.”

“My predecessor named you as such last fall. Do you want to keep this role ?”, he asked point-blank.

“I do.”

“Why should I keep you ?”

His questions were very direct, and this clearly surprised the young woman. Most people would have hedged, but Sigurd preferred frankness : this reduced time lost in useless talks circling around the issue.

“Well… I’m not very experienced, but I know the basics and my people at the temple are of a great help when I have to collect information.”

She preferred not to mention her power of nuisance, for she did not wish confrontation. Sigurd noticed. The argument of her people at the temple didn’t convince him much – after all, discretion was the rule when trying to uncover plots, and he doubted the temple’s servant were that reliable.

“To be honest, I came here with the intention of announcing you I didn’t wish to keep you at this post. However, having met you, I changed my mind.”

You see, I’m not that stubborn, he thought as if he spoke to the little voice.

“I wish to keep you among those which will be charged of transmitting and executing my will in their respective field, for the good of our people, and among those who will be allowed to discuss their concerns directly with me.”

“That’s a huge honour for me, my lord.”

He stood up, and she followed his example.

“I’m happy about this productive meeting, but I have to go back to the village before night.”

“I understand.”

She moved towards the door of the annex, and he followed suit.

“Now, I still have something to tell you”, he told her.

She turned towards him.

“What, my lord ?”

He leaned in, grabbed her head, and kissed her sweet mouth.

 

[stnylan]

Tut tut Torrlblom - I reckon she has him exactly where she wants him.

A rather nice Marshall.

 

[Lithu]

Tut tut Torrlblom - I reckon she has him exactly where she wants him.

I'm not sure what you mean by that, be it the "tut tut" or your thoughts on hers. I'm pleased that my english please you, but I can feel it's not my first language when I have to ask clarification like that.

A rather nice Marshall.

Yes, I was pleased with him. For a small tribal count, that was better than expected. Though the other councillors were average, the marshal is the most important for a tribal ruler anyway.

A new chapter is coming soon. Still in january 867 - the set up of the story deserves all that extra attention.

 

[stnylan]

The "tut tut" was because of his rather direct kiss, though in keeping with the character and the time.

If ever there is an English thing you don't get people are very willing to help. Feel free to PM me if that is easier.

I struggle along with Danish as my 2nd language so I am always impressed when people manage to write in a different language than their own.

 

[Lithu]

Chapter IV​

January 867 – Nidaros, Norway

One of the most obvious changes in Sigurd’s life since he had been elected chief by the Thing was the way people treated him.

His community had always been marked by high-trust and mutual aid. It would never had survived harsh winters and feuds with other tribes if it had been made of egoistic individualists.

But before, most people didn’t pay much attention to him. He was but one of many.

Now, everyone showed him great deference. And, to his pleasure, his new social status made women lust after him. It was obvious when their eyes crossed.

It was a great kiss, he thought.

She didn’t resist him and afterwards her face showed she was shaked-up, quite positively, by this boldness. He had left without even adding a word.

She would make a great spouse. Young, healthy and respected.

He’d send her a message to propose to her, but he didn’t know how to write in runes and he didn’t want a messenger to ask it in his stead.

No, not would. Will.

In these first few days at the head of the tribe of Nidaros, he met a lot of people, and some patriarch had tacitly proposed him one of their daughters or nieces. But he deemed them less worthy than Ingibjörg.

One of his thrall woman brought him the cup of ale he had requested, and he drank it slowly, thoughtful.

While the weight of his responsibility continued to stress him, he was relieved that the choice of the Thing had been so thoroughly accepted by his people. With his council nearly ready, he would soon be able to inspect all the machinery of the society, with the goal of strengthening his power.

As all in the tribe, Sigurd had heard the tales of those Vikings who made raids in affluent exotic lands, and it was whispered these lands had huge kingdoms.

His society was nice, but the various villages of his tribe were quite autonomous. They would muster men in time of war, but otherwise didn’t share their work, or the fruits thereof.

He finished his ale, and decided he should walk a bit outside. Despite the cold, he needed some sunlight to not be depressed.

Most people remained in their houses, trying to keep heat, but the few people he met saluted him with great respect.

At the small harbour of the village, Sigurd gazed upon the majestic fjord. It wasn't one of these narrow fjords embedded between mountains, but one of the widest. He had seen it since he was a child and to this day this wonder of Nature still stunned him. It was so huge than the open sea was at days of walk along the coastline to his left, and it went even deeper into the land on his right, farther than he could see. In front of him, on the other side of the fjord were the lands of the tribe of Namdale.

Finally, he decided it was time to go back to the warmth of his longhouse. When he turned around, however, he saw two eyes looking at him. They belonged to a young woman who blushed quickly. In mere seconds, Sigurd was next to her.

“Who are you ?”

“Alfrid Olafrsdottir, my lord.”

“You were looking at me ?”

She stared down.

“No… I mean, yes, my lord.”

“Why are you out here alone in the cold ?”

He put his right hand on her chin, and gently held her head high to see her face. Her blushing gave it away, but she hesitated a moment.

“I am here… because I saw you walk near my home… I had a warm feeling in my belly, and wanted to be close to you.”

Honesty. He liked it. Though he liked even more her youthful beauty and the promises her eyes were sending.

He kissed her, and she reacted by embracing him. He felt the burning strength of her lust, well exceeding that of most women he had known, and this excited his. The kiss was long.

“Come with me, Alfrid Olafrsdottir”, he said afterwards.

She happily obliged.

Sigurd brought her back to his home, entertaining her along the road with small talk about the village and its people. He learned, unsurprisingly, that she was the daughter of a karl – a freeman, but not a nobleman – which was why he didn’t meet her in one of the various homes he was invited to. But that didn’t bother him.

It was women who were always seeking status in their mates. What he sought was beauty and youth, and given how much he liked to explore a woman’s intimacy, a woman who would be as interested and excited by it than him.

I will make her my concubine, he thought.

As the tribe’s chief, he not only had the right to take more women than a main spouse, it was expected of him. In the tribal society, were the affluence of material wealth brought by civilization had still not overturned the old values ; having many children was still the primary indicator of a successful life. In Sigurd’s thought, that was a timeless law of Nature. Shouldn’t the bright and the strong breed more than the dumb and the weak ?

When they arrived at his home, they first went near the fire to heat themselves, and then drank the ale served to them by a jealous thrall woman.

It didn’t take long for Sigurd and Alfrid to kiss again. He lifted her, she joined her hand behind his neck, and he took her to his bedroom.

Without saying a word, they began undressing each other. It was long, for there were several layers of clothes, but Sigurd found it even more exciting.

Before the last layer was gone, Alfrid paused. She was burning with desire, but also had apprehension.

“I’ve never seen a naked man, nor has a man seen me naked”, she said.

A virgin, he thought.

As was certainly Ingibjörg too. He expected it however : their bodies had only made their first steps into adulthood. He appreciated it, for it would only bond them stronger to him.

“Don’t worry”, he said, while he caressed her left cheek, before kissing her again.

Soon, they were both naked in front of each other, their excitation quite clear be it from his manhood or her erected nipples. The touch of her warm and soft skin was exquisite. Sigurd didn’t want it to be too fast, so he began kissing her neck, before slowly moving to other parts of her body…

The pair had made love again and again, before finally resting alongside each other in the bed. Sigurd’s hand still slowly moved on her warm feminine body.

“What would you do for me ?”, he asked her.

“What please you, my lord.”

Their pillow talks had given him an idea : she seemed to know well the gossips of the village, the indiscretions of the patriarchs often making it to her ear. To him, she seemed as capable than Ingibjörg to watch out for plots, and as a trusting man, Alfrid sharing his bed was in his eyes the guarantee of an indefectible loyalty.

“Would you be ready to be my eyes and my ears where I can’t be ?”

“It would be an honour, my lord.”

The young girl didn’t understand yet she just accepted to be his spymaster, but it was enough for Sigurd.

Good. Now, I can get rid of Emund. I shouldn’t have officially appointed him. Ingibjörg will be better than him as court chaplain, and she won’t refuse this change of post. Religion is her whole life, after all.

Sigurd was relieved and happy. The small pain from his wound, which Alfrid had licked when they made love, didn’t bother him. He finally had composed his council, and his lust was satiated between the young woman who shared his bed and the other young woman he planned to soon put there.

 

[stnylan]

Seems like he is enjoying the perks of his position

 

[Nuada Airgetlám]

Small updates are working out for you so far I think.

 

[Lithu]

Seems like he is enjoying the perks of his position

Indeed !

When I played this part of the game, it was very generic. In some ways, it was box-checking : fill council, find spouse and a concubine or two. Then, going back to write a story, I have to give life to it, and all this personal side appears.

Small updates are working out for you so far I think.

Happy it pleases you

That's easier to manage.

A new part is coming up soon.

 

[guillec87]

subbed!

 

[Lithu]

Chapter V​

June 867 – Nidaros, Norway

Finally, thought Sigurd

Sun had come back upon the lands of the Norse, winter’s snow had melted, and it was night who was nearly inexistent. But this was not what made the chief happy, rather it was what this season finally allowed.

Ingibjörg held out the bridal ale to him. He took the cup, recited a few brief words to Fate, and drank the mead. Then, he gave back the cup to her, and she too whispered something to Gods before drinking.

They were at the feast following their wedding.

A few months earlier, after taking Alfrid as a concubine, he set in motion his marriage. He reached out to Ingibjörg’s family, nicknamed Halogaland for they came from this northern region. Even though she was a gydja with nominal power, she remained a member of her family and it was not for her alone to decide of a marriage which would oblige all her kin : the marriage was as much the union of a man and a woman as a commitment from two families towards each other.

Sigurd’s family was not powerful, but his status as a chief was enough to make him a good prospective husband, and the family approved. Ingibjörg herself, who still had a vivid memory of his impromptu kiss when her father asked for her opinion, agreed without hesitation to the prospective marriage.

The discussions then dragged on technicalities, such as the dowry and the price of the girl’s guardianship to her father. Sigurd had not the mind of a trader, but he knew it would have undermined his authority to concede to bad terms.

He also knew it would have been impossible to marry in winter ; for the cold, the long nights and the snow hampering travel made a proper wedding feast impossible. And as a chief, he needed a great wedding feast, if only to be respected. He wanted to settle this quickly, but he had to concede early summer to Ingibjörg’s family who thought it would allow for some more relatives to come.

“What are you thinking about, husband ?” asked Ingibjörg.

Around them, their families were talking, drinking, laughing ; in an atmosphere of celebration. She noticed easily his mind was elsewhere.

“I’m recalling what led us here, dear wife.”

He remembered the lecture an uncle gave him about his future duties as a husband, the honour of the family and the sacred duty to pass on the bloodline of his ancestors who were alongside his spirit, before giving him the sword of his father.

He remembered the wedding ceremony outside on a hill. A godi made the ritual invocation to get the blessing of Freyja, Freyr and Thor – all the gods of Asgard associated in a way or another with fertility. Ingibjörg was whispering some of the sacred formulas alongside the godi : she had been taught them to become gydja.

He gave her the sword of his father, for her to keep for their future son. Sigurd didn’t know it, but it was a tradition so ancient that it had been recorded in the Germania from Tacitus, a then lost book, destined to be momentous, relating the customs from the southern brethren of the Norse, the Germans.

Ingibjörg, then, gave him a sword, placing herself under his authority ; and in this most sacred exchange was forged the bond of their union, which was meant to last even through hardships and war.

This bond was perfected by the exchange of the rings and their solemn vows before their assembled families and all those who were deemed important enough to be at the chief’s wedding.

Afterwards, they went to the feast, where he helped her to pass the door and they shared the ritual mead. There was enough at the reception to eat and drink for seven days and seven nights ; for it was to last a full week.

“Why doesn’t she drink ?”

It was Ivar, one of his second cousins, who thus spoke to Sigurd. It brought him back from his thoughts to the feast which continued in joy. Alcohol drinking had made its way as a vice so heavily shared among imperfect humans that it was revered as a divine blessing among the Norse.

And for the marriage to be successful, the pair needed a lot of divine blessing. They had enough bridal mead to last for a full moon cycle, or their honeymoon as it came to be known.

“She drinks, you are just too occupied drinking yourself, laughing at jokes and looking lustfully at girls to pay any attention”, answered Sigurd with a friendly pat on the back of his cousin.

I didn’t say how much she drinks, thought Sigurd as a way to have peace with his honest leanings.

Indeed, she drank, but not as much as was customary. He made the link with his thoughts during his visit to the temple. A peculiarity of hers. It didn’t matter, this union and this feast made him happy.

Later that night, Ingibjörg and Sigurd had to undergo a last formality before their marriage was definitive. A formality which Sigurd waited with excitation. All his apprehension had been drowned in alcohol, and he felt confident as several men from both families escorted him to the nuptial bed. There was Ingibjörg, who had been brought earlier by women of the two clans.

Under torchlight, with witnesses watching to attest of the validity of the marriage, Sigurd entered the nuptial bed. After hours of feasting, he was drunk, but it didn’t refrain his lust of her. The onlookers laughed at a dirty joke before leaving the bedroom, certain that it was the groom and his bride whose love noise they’ll hear.

Ingibjörg whispered a few words to Freyja, and then looked in the eyes of her husband. He kissed her, with passion. He had made love with Alfrid more often than he could count in the last six months, but this was a very special moment.

For her, who didn’t knew any other man before him, feelings were even stronger. She didn’t drink enough to entirely tame her apprehension, but the mysteries of love with a man had a great appeal. As he undressed her the touch of his muscled body on her own one, soon naked, sent waves of delight, awakening a part of herself she didn’t knew.

Sigurd guided her in this discovery with a lot of pleasure.

And thus was consummated their sacred union.

 

[stnylan]

One of the great Rites of Passage.

 

[Lithu]

subbed!

Thanks !

One of the great Rites of Passage.

Indeed. I tried to render faithfully the broad outlines of how this custom went among the Norse, without either drowning the reader in technical details.

 

[Lithu]

Chapter VI​

August 867 – Nidaros, Norway

Sigurd was visiting the construction efforts near the harbour. There was no city in the whole territory controlled by his tribe, only more or less important villages. While as a chief he could call up men to go to war behind him, there was much less enthusiasm for a strong central authority.

The respect of Sigurd for the Thing didn’t change that each time he looked in his treasury to fund what he deemed useful for the tribe, he judged it very insufficient. It was only a paltry amount of money which was contributed by the population for common goals.

Our climate don’t help to produce surpluses, but we can do better, he thought before launching his trade center project.

The village was located at a key spot in one of the more important fjords from all the areas settled by Norse people. Ships passed by daily, and Sigurd’s goal was to make this a key spot for trade, from which he would be able to extract money more directly and finance other ventures, including the transformation of the current village in a city as those mentioned in the tales of Viking adventurers.

The workers and foremen greeted the chief with respect as the man who overviewed the efforts of construction guided Sigurd, Hrodulfr his steward, and Hrolfr his marshal in a tour of the building site which featured most notably a covered market and an inn. As soon as there would be enough traders selling things, people from the region would travel to buy rare items. While Hordulfr's main task these last months had been praising the greatness of Sigurd in the whole country, it would also be his to start this virtuous circle.

Sigurd was pleased to see that the work progressed well.

On the way back to his house, Sigurd heard Hrolfr report of his efforts to prepare young men for war.

“I’ve spent the last month travelling in the country to list the contributions we can expect from each area when we will call the tribe to arms, and I’ve met a lot of enthusiastic young men eager to prove their valour, my lord.”

“How do they feel about me as the new tribe’s chief ?”, asked Sigurd.

“They are confident that if their delegates accepted you ; you are a worthy man. I portrayed you as a great and brave warrior who will eagerly lead them in combat.”

“You exaggerated my own qualities.”

“Should have I not ?”

“No, you’re right, an embellished tale can strengthen a man’s courage and confidence.”

“As can a good ale”, joked Hrafr.

“We may need it. Are there new informations about the war waged in Namdale ?”, asked Sigurd.

Haraldr Halfdansson, from the Yngling family, better known as Haraldr the Fair, controlled the territories around the Oslofjord ; and the tribes further north as far as Hedmark having sworn allegiance to him, he proclaimed himself king.

This so-called king launched in early spring a war against the tribes of Namdale and Halogaland, ordering them to swear allegiance to him.

This was a move which greatly worried Sigurd, for if it succeeded it meant that a coalition of Norse tribes behind one chief could then try to submit his own. He didn’t want to have such an enemy so close, on the other side of the fjörd.

“Nothing of importance, my lord. The troops of Haraldr the Fair are still chasing around those of Hakon. No true fight has even occurred from what travellers and traders tell us.”

Hakon Grjotgardsson was Namdale’s chief.

“Hakon won’t be able to avoid Haraldr much longer. If he doesn’t come back to fight, his men will die out in winter’s snow while Haraldr’s soldiers will drink ale in Namdale. I also don’t think Hakon’s warriors will be thrilled by this cowardice when their homes are looted.”

“But when he will fight, Haraldr will win. He has four times as much warriors, and as brave I am, I wouldn’t want to lead his troops even if he promised me a pile of gold.”

“But maybe if he promised you a few beautiful maidens, eh ?”

Hrolfr chuckled.

“I’d have to think about it.”

“You'd better find a wife then. I don’t want you turning crazy and being killed in a hopeless fight if he ever hear of this conversation !”

Hrolfr pretended to hesitate before answering.

“Don’t worry, I’ll avoid the hopeless fight. Also, you know, I had an interesting conversation the other day, in a village on the outer fjord. There was a man pretending having been in Akershus for a family affair this spring, and when he was there he heard a lot of things about Haraldr the Fair. From what he said, I think there may be an uncanny resemblance between you two.”

“How so ?”, asked Sigurd, surprised and curious.

“First, you also have fair hair and a trimmed beard.”

“There is nothing extraordinary to that. Half of Norse men have fair hairs”, noticed Sigurd.

“Of course, but it doesn’t end there. Second, he’s a chief, as you. Third, he has dreams of conquest and power, as you - I know well, I’m your marshal. Fourth, even if he is younger than you, he is reputed to fight well. Fifth, he is reputed to be an intelligent leader. That’s a lot for a coincidence, don’t you find ?”

“Maybe... Maybe not. An intelligent fair-headed chief who fight well with dreams of glory, that must happen quite often.”

“I don’t know... We’ll need to decide this another day, we’re arriving at your home.”

The two men said goodbye to each other, and Sigurd entered his home.

He saw Alfrid, who was clearly waiting for him.

When Ingibjörg married him, she knew he had Alfrid as a concubine, and had raised no objection. She accepted it as par for the course for any worthy and masculine man. Still, Sigurd worried there would be some latent quarrel, littered with this pettiness that was so common in conflicts between women.

It had been a pleasant surprise to see they got along well. They were not friends, but they were genuinely respectful towards each other. It helped that Sigurd had no difficulty making love with each several times a week, avoiding to neglect one ; and that Alfrid understood that Ingibjörg was the mistress of the household and didn’t try to encroach on this role.

It was unusual for her to wait for Sigurd like that, standing up a few steps behind the door.

He marched towards her and kissed her gently.

“What’s the matter ?”, he then asked. “I see you have something to tell me.”

“Yes, my lord”, she said.

“And what is it ?”

She took a deeper breath, as to calm herself.

“I’m pregnant !” she announced joyfully.

Sigurd was awed. He expected it to come, given how much they had made love, but there was a huge difference between the knowing and the feeling.

A grin formed on his face. He embraced her, kissed her again, lifted her effortlessly and then turned round and round.

I’m going to be father !, he thought.

 

[stnylan]

Keeping eyes to future possibilities whilst also keeping an eye on the present

 

[JabberJock14]

Wow, I'm honored you took my story as inspiration! Good luck on this work, though it may not be necessary given the fine start it has had. (And apologies for not commenting sooner - I was busy with some other things the last half-week or so)

But the set up is good. I wonder if you set us up for a bit of discord with Alfrid and Ingibjörg, given the former's quick pregnancy, and the mention that she had no problem with it, at the time.

And Sigurd appears to be building to buck history and stop the Yngling dynasty from becoming the dominant force in Norway. It won't be easy given the impressive look of his rival king.

He may want to do a better with his choices of spymasters though, since the qualification for the job seems to be entirely based on who is willing to sleep with him!