The Battle Of Hedal And Modor (2)

Inside the tent, seated on a bearhide-covered chair, Oden issued orders to the gathered elders.

“Somehow, we must draw the enemy out to this plain between Hedal and Modor. The greatest danger is them forming an encirclement and gaining numerical superiority with allies.”

“How do we draw them out? And will those Nastrand bastards accept our proposal?”

“Whether they accept or not, we must fight and win on this plain, and decisively. Otherwise, encircled, we’ll lose everything we’ve gained and retreat back to the mountains.”

“Hm… It’s too difficult a problem.”

“No, it’s not difficult. The Fjorland Duchy’s army is strong and proud. We’ll use that against them.”

“Use it against them?”

“To do that, we, arriving first, need to shape this land a bit. Look closely.”

Oden gestured. Bryld approached and spread a paper on the table. Though roughly drawn, the mountain shapes clearly depicted the terrain.

“This is the entrance to Hedal and Modor, easy to control from both sides. Place about 200 men in the center…”

As Oden explained, everyone focused on his pointing hand and words.

After a lengthy explanation, Oden looked up.

“What do you think? Any questions?”

An elder with a golden beard braided in three strands gave a hearty laugh.

“If the King commands, we obey. What’s there to question? It’s utterly brilliant.”

“Indeed. All of Valhalla’s heroes and Gods will have to witness this plain.”

“You’ll be no mere Einherjar in Valhalla, but another war god, King Oden!”

Everyone nodded. Oden nodded with satisfaction.

“I’ll personally select and lead the 200 men as bait.”

“…!!!”

Everyone, shocked, tried to dissuade Oden, but his resolve was firm.

“I always wish to be the protagonist of the battles I design. Do not hinder my amusement.”

After the meeting, as everyone left the tent, Bryld approached with a horn of mead.

“Oden, will you stand closest to death again this time?”

“It’s the second most enjoyable thing.”

“Then what’s the most enjoyable?”

“Embracing a living Valkyrie.”

“I’m just a warrior and a woman.”

“Not just any woman, my woman. Come, embrace me and warm my heart.”

Bryld gave a seductive smile, sipped the mead, embraced Oden, and poured it into his mouth.

His rough hands gripped Bryld’s waist, pulling her onto his thighs, and he fiercely kissed her lips.

“My King, always driving me to the edge of ecstasy! Ah…”

“I know. A living Valkyrie is most thrilled before battle.”

“You know perfectly well.”

“Of course. You’re my warrior and my woman.”

Oden crushed Bryld’s waist in his embrace and laid her on the bed—more like threw her down. Bryld’s captivating eyes turned to Oden’s robust body, his braided blonde hair, and angular face.

“Oden, always holding me so fiercely…”

“I’ve always given my all in everything, including when I hold you.”

“That is why I strive to protect and love you with all my heart. To me, you are the strongest man, my King. Ha, haa!”

Oden’s tongue danced in her mouth. His large hands roughly caressed and explored Bryld’s body.

“Oh, Lord Oden! Look, please look. See the state of the Asgard you sing of.”

Slipping smoothly from Oden’s embrace, Bryld swayed her hips in a sultry dance, shedding her garments one by one and spreading her arms.

“Come, my King!”

“I’m ready to heed a Valkyrie’s command.”

“Hurry, torment me to the brink of death!”

Rough groans erupted from Oden’s tent. Uncaring who heard outside—perhaps even wanting them to—Bryld screamed, not in pain, but in ecstasy, crying out with the thrill coursing through her.

The strongest man, like a bear. As long as she had this man, her King and the Norger tribe’s King, she could die content. That was the sole goal and hope of Bryld, the warrior woman named a living Valkyrie.

Twitching and moving, Oden groaned loudly, gripping Bryld tightly. Shuddering like an aspen, Bryld gradually stilled in his arms and collapsed to the floor.

“Ha, ha… Bryld, every time I hold you, even imminent death feels trivial.”

Dazed, mouth agape, still trembling sporadically from lingering ecstasy, Bryld barely spoke.

“I, I feel the same. Before your death, I’ll always go first, Lord Oden.”

“Bryld, you’re a fine warrior. And my woman. Do not forget.”

Sitting beside the collapsed Bryld, Oden lifted her beautiful blonde hair and kissed her.

Long ago, when Oden was growing accustomed to Norger tribe life and earning recognition as a proud warrior.

The village buzzed with noise from a group of warriors returning from successfully raiding a Fjorland village.

Someone watching the warriors burst into laughter, and it spread everywhere. Oden, unable to join the raid due to other matters, stepped out of his tent to find the cause.

‘A child…’

A girl, barely three or four, was crying and flailing. The warrior carrying her looked perplexed. Soon, she grabbed his neatly braided beard, yanking and shaking it.

“She’s quite a nuisance!”

“Then why didn’t you leave her behind?”

“You saw her, didn’t you? Following with those tiny legs, crying. And that’s not all—she hit and stabbed me with a stick!”

“Well, you killed her parents, didn’t you?”

“Well, that couldn’t be helped, but I got hurt pretty badly too. That guy knew how to use a sword.”

The warrior grimaced, showing his side. Sure enough, his leather armor was slashed, and the skin beneath was cut and bloodied.

“But isn’t it impressive? Such a tiny kid, a girl no less, following us to these mountains and striking you with a stick? She’s a warrior, I tell you.”

“That’s why I didn’t kill her and brought her here. Left alone, she’d surely become wolf or bear food.”

Their exchange made the situation clear enough. Oden approached the warrior and took the child.

The child’s dust-covered face, streaked with tears, was striking. Seeing the sadness and rage in her eyes, Oden felt she was like him.

Of course, his anger was directed at Fjorland, while this child’s was aimed at the Norger tribe.

Another warrior, unloading the spoils, shook his head at Oden holding the child.

“I don’t think we’ll gain anything by taking her in.”

“Then what should we do?”

“How should I know? Mjolik, who brought her, should take responsibility, or we’ll decide at a village meeting.”

“May I take her in?”

“Oden, you?”

“Just… she seems like me somehow.”

“That little child isn’t ordinary. I can tell from her eyes.”

He was right. Oden thought so too, but he wanted to raise her and ease her anger.

“Skjaldmær.”

At Oden’s word, the warriors and villagers looked at him in surprise.

Skjaldmær, a unit of Valkyrie-like female warriors from myth. Though Norger women joined wars, raids, and other tasks, no all-female unit existed.

“Skjaldmær?”

“I want to create one someday, if I become king.”

“Quite a bold dream.”

“The day I become king will come, without fail. Then, among these fierce Norger warriors, Skjaldmær will stand proudly, wielding sword and shield.”

“Huh…”

Everyone looked at Oden’s bold declaration with serious eyes.

The Norger tribe, split into many clans, fought among themselves and frequently battled bordering duchies.

They lived only for battle, raiding, and hunting, striving to protect their own territories. Uniting them was near impossible.

But this young man, who escaped brutal oppression in the duchy lands below and climbed here alone, seemed capable. Outshining even the fiercest among them as a warrior among warriors, he might truly unite the Norger tribe.

“Alright, say you become king and create Skjaldmær. What’s next?”

A warrior’s question followed, free of mockery or reproach. This young man was that respected among the clans.

Always serious and speaking only what mattered, his claim to become king didn’t sound trivial.

“If I become king, I’ll naturally build a kingdom. A Norger kingdom, right down there! We’ll reclaim the fertile lands and seas our ancestors were driven from and continue our culture there.”

“That’s impossible. I’m not denying your words, but it’s already too late for that.”

“I’ll prove it. I’ll meet every clan, fight and defeat their chiefs or strongest warriors. By binding them one by one, the kingdom’s beginning will draw near.”

Under the blue sky, an eagle soared over the canyon. A large raven, appearing from nowhere, perched on Oden’s tent and cawed loudly.

Everyone felt as if their god had just acknowledged Oden’s words—or Oden himself.

At that moment.

“If that’s your dream, our clan can’t help but support you. It wouldn’t be bad for a king to come from our clan.”

An old clan chief, emerging among the villagers, gazed at Oden with deep eyes.

The crying child had fallen asleep against Oden’s shoulder.

“Do as you will with that child. Make her a Skjaldmær or, when she’s grown, your woman.”