We heard a sound and thought Father had returned.
For a single, foolish moment, hope flickered in my heart like a dying candle. I imagined him stepping through the gates, battle-worn but victorious, his sword dripping with the blood of our enemies. I imagined his familiar voice, firm and steady, telling us that all was well.
But when we rushed outside, reality crushed that fleeting hope beneath its boot.
What we saw instead was something I will never forget.
The walls of our keep—our home, our fortress—had become a butcher's display.
Bodies hung like grotesque ornaments, their lifeless forms swaying gently in the wind. I recognized them instantly. The powerful, broad-shouldered frame of my father. The grizzled, battle-worn face of Uncle Rorik. The once-proud stance of Styrmir, our best swordsman. Their armor had been stripped away, their torsos carved with deep wounds, their eyes wide open, frozen in the moment of their brutal deaths.
The wind carried the stench of blood, piss, and sweat, mingling with the iron tang of steel and the smoke of burning homes.
Somewhere nearby, a raven cawed.
'A clear sky may still bring the heavy rain' I remembered the old saying.
The impossible had happened.
We lost.
"The duel was brutal," one of the warriors murmured, his voice hollow. "Three champions against three. Lord fought alongside Rorik and Styrmir. They fought like demons, but..."
"They lost."
"They were supposed to die with honor—but Lower Jarl Hakon Ironfang… he didn't even give them that."
"He… handed them over to his butchers. And when they were done with them, he had their bodies hung from the walls of our own keep."
A strangled sob escaped my mother's lips, breaking the stillness of the bright day. She collapsed to her knees, her fingers digging into the cold, blood-soaked earth beneath her, as if trying to unearth a semblance of what once was. The sun poured down, indifferent to the anguish unfolding beneath its rays.
Her wails of grief cut through the air like a blade, raw and jagged, each cry a desperate plea that echoed in my heart. Despite the warmth of the daylight, a chill settled over us, thick with sorrow, as I watched my mother's anguish transform the ordinary landscape into a haunting tableau of despair, each moment stretching into eternity while the world continued to turn, oblivious to our pain.
The household guards, our servants, the stable boys—everyone who had once stood under my father's banner—stood in silent horror. Some turned away, unable to bear the sight. Others wept.
Then, the suffocating silence broke, splintering the air with something far more harrowing.
Screams.
Not the cries of anguish you might expect from a battlefield, but the high, shrill wails of female voices, laced with pure, unbridled terror.
I turned my head, my stomach twisting violently, each churning knot a stark testament to the dread unfurling inside me.
Across the courtyard, near the splintered remains of our once-mighty gates, I saw them—our women. The wives and daughters of our once fallen warriors, the daughters of those who had fought valiantly, whose bravery lay silent beneath the cold earth.
They were huddled together, vulnerable and terrified, surrounded by dark shadows in the daylight—Hakon's men. They circled the terrified group like vultures, their laughter a cruel symphony that sent ice coursing through my veins.
It was sharp, wicked, and devoid of any humanity as they pawed at their garments, yanked at their hair, and forced the girls to the ground, the cold earth a stark contrast to the warmth of their lives, now teetering dangerously close to extinguishment.
My heart thundered as I focused on the sight of a young girl, no older than ten, desperation painted on her face, her innocence shattered.
She screamed, a piercing sound that cut through the chaos as a burly warrior seized her by the hair, dragging her from the group like a prized animal pulled from its pen.
Her mother lunged forward, a wild, desperate motion filled with a mother's instinctual need to protect. "No! No, please! She's just a child—!" Her pleas echoed through the courtyard, a haunting lullaby woven with fear and despair.
But mercy was a distant memory in that moment. A sword struck her across the face with a sickening thud, a violent arc of steel that tore through flesh and bone. She crumpled to the ground, her body bending unnaturally, like a broken doll discarded after play. Blood pooled around her, a vivid crimson that stained the earth and turned my insides to ice.
I recoiled, terror mixing with fury, bile rising in my throat as I fought to comprehend the scene unfolding before my eyes. This was a nightmare I couldn't awaken from.
'No, this isn't real.'
'This can't be real.'
But the truth was undeniable, ugly and grotesque. My home, once a sanctuary, was now a hellscape, a place where innocence was preyed upon by the wicked, a theater for the monstrous acts of men who had long abandoned any shred of honor.
The cries of despair echoed, haunting me with the weight of all that was lost, a cacophony of shattered lives that would resonate in my mind long after the echoes faded.
It was real in every sickening, nightmarish detail.
We were stripped of everything—our home, our honor, our freedom.
Heavy iron chains wrapped around my wrists and ankles, biting into my flesh. The weight of them was suffocating. Around me, the survivors of our household were being chained as well, lined up like cattle waiting for slaughter.
That's when I noticed them.
The other noble families.
Standing behind Hakon Ironfang, watching.
A cold realization slithered through me. These were the same houses that had challenged us to the duel. The same ones who had forced my father into that deadly fight.
And now they stood there, untouched, victorious.
It had been a trap.
They had worked together to bring us down.
My fists clenched, my nails digging into my palms.
"Lord Jarl of Stormhold, they worked together to corner us! That is cheating!"
He looked down at me with indifference.
"Don't teach me the rules, boy. I am the Judge. I oversaw the duel. Your side lost, and once a warrior falls, they are nothing more than slaves. It doesn't matter how they won, who they cornered, or what warriors they found. That is not my concern. Remember my job was to oversee the duel and their was no cheating during battle." He sneered. "Have you forgotten the first lesson of Norlandia?"
"Strength reigns supreme."
A shadow loomed over me. Hakon Ironfang's son stepped forward, grinning. Before I could react, his fist slammed into my stomach. I doubled over, gasping for air.
"Dad, this dog talks too much," he scoffed, then smirked. "Ugh, I feel like I need to piss."
At first, I didn't understand.
Until he unfastened his belt.
I froze. My mind went blank as warm filth drenched me.
'Today, I realized how thralls felt for the first time, Being a slave is most pathetic thing in life.'
Leora's scream shattered the silence. She lunged forward, chains rattling, and kicked him between the legs. Hakon's son collapsed, shrieking in agony.
"Strip that girl naked and throw her in the streets!" he howled.
Four men rushed forward, seizing her by her arms and legs. She fought, thrashing wildly. Hakon's son staggered closer, face twisted with rage.
"You like to kick, huh? Let's see what those legs are made of."
He drew a dagger and, with a wicked grin, slowly sliced open her trousers, revealing her legs.
He was about to strip her completely when—
"STOP IT!"
Mother's voice rang out.
She was on her knees before Lower Jarl Hakon, her hands trembling.
"Please… let my children go," she begged.
Hakon chuckled.
"Oh? And why should I?"
"I will do anything."
He grabbed her chin, forcing her to meet his gaze. His lips curled into a cruel smile as he spat on his boot.
"Then lick it."
Leora and I screamed in unison.
"We would rather die than let you do that!"
Mother hesitated. She was frozen in place, staring at the dirt.
Hakon shrugged.
"Continue your fun, Son."
She flinched. Then, slowly, she bent forward.
Her tongue touched the filth.
Something inside me shattered.
I clenched my teeth so hard my jaw ached. In that moment, I swore two things:
First, I, Lucian, swear upon the God Almighty, Ironfang and the three households cannot coexist with me in this world. If I fail in this vow, then I am no man.
Second, this will be the last time I am this weak.
Mother turned to the Jarl of Stormhold, her voice steady despite her trembling frame, each word heavy with a resolve that seemed to weigh more than her fragile body could bear.
"I ask you to oversee a deal between me and Lower Jarl Hakon," she said, her gaze unwavering, though her pulse raced beneath her skin.
The Jarl narrowed his eyes, the flickering light from the torches casting sharp shadows across his face, making his expression even more unreadable. He was no fool, and his sharp mind immediately began to calculate the implications of such a proposition. His voice, low and guarded, cut through the tension that had settled over the room.
"What deal?" he asked, his tone sharp but not yet betraying any hint of emotion.
Without breaking eye contact, Mother lifted her chin, a subtle but powerful gesture of defiance. She met Hakon's gaze, the fire in her eyes betraying no fear, only a sense of determination. She knew what she was offering and what she stood to lose.
"I will be your concubine," she said, each word hanging in the air like a heavy stone, her voice unwavering. "In exchange, you will allow my children to live as commoners, free from your grasp, free from the chains of this cursed slavery."
The silence that followed was deafening. It filled the room with a coldness that seemed to reach into every corner, wrapping around everyone present. The Jarl, a man who had seen countless schemes unfold before him, remained still, his lips pressed into a thin line as he processed her words.
Leora and I were stunned into speechlessness.
I felt my entire body go cold.
"Why?" The word escaped my lips, barely a whisper. My voice cracked. "Mom… I wasted my life. I never trained. I am pathetic. Why save me?"
She smiled.
A strange, beautiful, tragic smile.
"Because you are my light."
It was the smile of a mother sacrificing herself for her children.
It was the smile before darkness.
It was the smile of farewell.
Leora's scream was filled with anguish.
"Mom, why are you doing this? Do you think we can live happily after this?"
Hakon laughed.
"If your children survive the hunt to Stormhold City, they will no longer be my slaves."
The Jarl of Stormhold nodded and held out a token.
"If they make it, they will be free commoners."
Leora's trembling fingers took the token.
Hakon waved his hand dismissively.
"You're free to go. But don't celebrate too soon. Half a day from now, my hunters will be after you. Let's see how long you survive."
Hakon son laughed and said "Happy survival, My slaves."
As we turned to leave, I saw something that burned itself into my soul forever.
Hakon grabbed my mother's chin—
And kissed her.
I stopped breathing.
Something inside me twisted, snapped, shattered.
"You bastard!"
My body trembled. My vision blurred. A deafening roar tore from my throat.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
I lunged at him. I didn't care that I was chained. I didn't care that I was powerless.
All I wanted was to kill him.
To tear his throat out with my bare teeth.
Strong hands grabbed me. Someone slammed me to the ground. A boot crushed my back.
I could barely breathe.
I turned my head just enough to see her.
Mother didn't look at me.
She didn't look at Leora.
Her eyes were empty. Hollow.
The woman who had taught me how to walk, how to laugh, how to dream—
She was gone.
Not dead. Not yet.
But she was already lost.
The chains dragged me away.
I screamed until my throat bled.
But no one listened.
No one saved her.
The last thing I saw before they threw us out was Hakon pushing my mother toward his men.
She didn't resist.
I wanted to die.
But I couldn't.
Because she had given her life for mine.
And I had sworn— to kill everyone of them with utmost pain and suffering.
"AHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHHH!!!"
[End of Dream Simulation Due to Overwhelming Emotion]