Patreon LogoYour support makes Blue Moon possible (Patreon)

From Bed to Norse (feat. Cylian997)

Sylvie's face turns to horror as she is now nothing more than a dump for his seed at this point. She is not even in the consideration for anything important, she knows that she is going to be dumped for a better barbarian woman, she is now just a cum hole for you. As much as she wants to scream, as much as she wants to push away, Sylvie know she doesn't have enough strength to stop you, all she could have done is enjoy the maddening pleasure she is being given. At this point, she doesn't even want to feel and search through her emotions, but there is no way for her to lie as her moans begin to escape her lips.

The young french woman continues to try and push you away from her, but her body was now fragile from the pleasure she is experiencing thanks to your cock. This is a new experience for Sylvie, she had never been fucked so savagely. She hates to admit how much she is enjoying this but she was. Is she going to be cursed by God? How can she? She is already being mounted and bred by you. All the while in front of so many other men. Sylvie hates this, all of this as she tries to push you away. "I-I don't want your children!" She begs you, though deep down she knows.

There is no escape, this is her life now, to be screwed by you as you wish and the young woman being powerless to stop it. "Fuck your traditions" she wishes to say, but she is unable to muster any strength against the powerful churning of your cock. She is powerless against you.
 
Trygve's thrusting reaches a fever pitch, and a deep, primal growl rises within the Jarl. Slamming himself deep inside you, his member pulses, and a torrent of seed shoots from the tip, gradually filling your fertile womb. He waits until you've had a chance to collect yourself, following his climax, before removing himself. He gently lowers you onto the fur, petting your head gently. "Someday, you will understand."

The Jarl gets up, and barks an order at one of his men, the one who had been speaking with you earlier. After a moment, Trygve stalks off, past the light of the bonfire and into the inky darkness of the moonless night. However, the rather inarticulate Viking plants himself in the dirt, not far from where you lay, and begins speaking cheerfully. "Ulfgar always knows! Lady very lucky! Jarl Trygve likes lady, and Trygve never like woman before. He always say 'woman no good for Trygve, you go now' and she go. You first woman he say 'Trygve like, I keep'. Jarl Trygve tell me 'Ulfgar, lady need rest, but lady much sad at Trygve, so Ulfgar will watch, keep other men away until morning'. Ulgar think it is because lady is softer than Viking woman. Probably nice to touch, but Ulfgar wants to keep his hands. Still, you lucky! Child probably next Jarl! So why so sad at Trygve?"
 
Sylvie looks at you with vehemence as leave, the young woman already hates how full her body felt with your cum inside of her. She covers her eyes as the young woman breaks down and cries at how terrible everything is now. She feels lost as now, she was not but some piece of property for you and that weakness makes her curse her name. She is a good christian woman, she is faithful to God and was faithful to her husband before this. What has she done to deserve such vile treatment? Worst of all, she hates to admit how wonderful it all felt, how she was washed away under his whims. As this savage speaks to her she only turns away from him and slowly tries to pull herself up.

"You may see it that way, but think about how I see it. I was abandoned by my husband who is supposed to protect me and now I am Trygve's property as if my wishes do not matter. He claims me as if I was his all along, I honestly feel as if god has abandoned me and I don't even know why! Everything I held so deeply into my heart, the love I had for my husband, the faith I put into god, the life I hoped to have... it was all for nothing. And for what? He said it himself, if he likes someone else I am nothing but a glorified concubine. You all have stolen my life away and you expect me to be happy? Just... let me alone." Sylvie stands up weakly as she changes, the young woman only walks forward as she cleans her eyes from the molten tears that ran down her cheek. Until she eventually just falls, Sylvie is unable to endure what is happening and she weeps for herself.

She has to because no one else will...
 
Ulfgar's brow furrows as he tries to understand your words, and furrows further as he formulates a response, but as you fall, weeping, he does his best to console you. "Hey, no cry! Is not so bad! What is Christian God? We take monk-man in England, from big Christian castle. Very smart man, good teacher for children. He tells us of this God. He does not drink, or dance, or fight. All he does is sit and say, 'Do this! Do that! Do not have fun! Have no joy! Maybe if good I let you kiss my feet forever when dead!' Viking gods much better. Drinking, feasting, reveling, and if Viking dies in good battle, he can join feast as equal, until end of world in Ragnarok!"

There's a brief silence after Ulfgar's theological musings, until his eyes snap open in realization. "Oh! Lady sad because everyone see Jarl Trygve take! But this very good thing! If Jarl take lady where no man sees, then if, urm," Ulfgar looks around, and gestures to one of his fellow Vikings by way of example, "if Viggo think lady pretty and take lady, Viggo can say, 'Viggo did not know lady was Trygve's! No punish!' and Jarl cannot punish except by gentle thing like beating with stick. But now, if Viggo take lady, Jarl can say 'Trygve took lady in open, all saw, all know lady is Trygve's. Viggo will be punished,' and maybe chop Viggo's manhood off or other bad thing."

As he finishes his explanation, Ulfgar rocks back on his heels a little, awkwardly. "Others say Ulfgar talk too much, so, Ulfgar shall leave lady be for now. Try sleep, we leave in morning, on way back to Fjormark. Uh, hm, Ulgar not ask lady's name. Much rude of Ulfgar, please tell, then I leave be."
 
"My name is Sylvie, not that my last name means anything anymore. So I was raped to prevent more rapes? That is just... never mind Ulfgar, it is just your way of life that I am forced into now. Good night." Sylvie decides to just go to whatever her sleeping area is and tries to sleep, however, her dreams are haunted by the shouts and screams of her people and what she was forced to endure. In the middle of the wee hours of the day, she wakes and looks off into the distance.

"The sunrise I always admired... this is the last time I will get to see it in my own home land. The last time I will see my home, my fanciful life style. No doubt I will change into one of these people. I this is also the last sunrise I will see here as... who I am now. It is a death and rebirth I never wanted. And that I am supposed to be happy for. But obviously, there is no point in wasting tears, no one will care."

Sylvie only stands there as she looks out to the land that was hers, the sounds of the birds singing so sweetly this morning. How Sylvie wishes she could change into a bird and run away, but now all of the lives of her former staff are riding on her now. They at least deserve some kind of loyalty from the former mistress of the mansion. Sylvie takes in deep. slow breaths as she did her best to even remember the smells of her home. This whole situation is oddly nostalgic, even though she is still here.
 
As the Vikings break their makeshift camp, horse-drawn carts are wheeled up, lined with straw on bottom, with iron bars lining the sides. Not quite cages, but similar. The warriors gently led your former servants into the carts, after using your house's assorted bed and table linens to further supplement the straw. Eventually, Ulfgar approaches. "Jarl Trygve says he no come near lady until Fjormark. Not happy to make sad. Says he wants you have this. Very useful, all Vikings use. Clean face and ears. Nice face kit, most just wood or bone. Come with Ulfgar, help you into thrall cart."

What Ulfgar hands you is a small, thin, bronze box, as well as an ornately-carved comb of some sort of animal bone. A toothpick, ear spoon, and other implements of facial grooming are arranged within the box, all of which are also bronze. You notice a few of the Vikings making use of such items presently, as well as several running combs through their hair and beards. Others are washing their hands and faces in shallow basins of water. As you're led to the cart, one of your former servants perks up. It's Amelie, a scullery maid just past her age of majority, and somewhat recent arrival at your manor. She waves pleasantly to Ulgar, who returns the gesture as he walks away from the cart. Amelie chirps, "Isn't he nice? I know I should be scared, or angry, or appalled, after what happened to you, but, do you know he thanked me? I've been working for your lord husband over a year now, and he didn't thank me once, for anything, but I bring that 'godless savage', as the paters call them, a single mug of ale, and he, of all the people on God's Earth, says, 'thank you'. Well, he actually said, 'Much thank,' but it was close enough! Wish they hadn't gone and killed everyone else, but, if I'm to spend my life toiling away for someone day in, day out, I'd say I'd quite like a little thanks now and again. And so far, they've all been perfectly well-behaved. Why, your lord husband used to like playing 'hide the sausage' in the pantry, whether we liked it or not, but one word from that 'Jarl' of theirs and all these hairy brutes are suddenly as chaste as the clergy!"

As Amelie chatters away, the other new thralls exchange looks that seem to say that they don't entirely disagree with the assessment, and a general consensus emerges that, while the way it happened was tragic, the change of employer was largely welcomed, given their apparently more appreciative and respectful attitudes.
 
Sylvie stares at the box as she looks over the grooming patterns of the men, it is frankly better than many of the habits of the modern nobility. As Ulfgar passes your present over to Sylvie, while she looks at it. She couldn't even remember when was the last time her ex-husband had even given her a gift. Their union was one of convenience and business, she was one of the younger sisters of a prominent family and the young woman was soon married off. Their wedding night was a bit of a disaster with him finished so quickly that the poor woman didn't want to have sex for months. But soon Amelie began talking like a chattering little bird.

She honestly didn't like Amelie too much, but she does good work and tries her best. She has a habit of talking to much and this is one of those times. As she continues to see what happens, how your people have so easily won them over.

Sylvie sees that she is completely outnumbered by the women who didn't seem to mind being the slaves of heathens. Sylvie only shakes her head as the resounding consensus was her pain is worth leaving their current life style and life behind. Sylvie almost wishes that she didn't bother to defend them all after this show. The blonde only sighs as she realizes just how alone she is in the overall thoughts of her people. If anything, Sylvie now feels resentful of it all, she only remains quiet now. The woman only falls asleep in the carriage as the box is left next to her. It is still a restless sleep as her mind replays everything that has happened, but again, she is apparently the only one who cares. Now she only needs to wait as their ride continues on.
 
Hours pass as the small horde of Vikings makes their way back to the coast. As they reach the shoreline, they begin loading their supplies, as well as the carts of new thralls, onto a large longship. Once everyone is aboard, you and the other women are released from your brief captivity. A number of the Viking warriors seat themselves alongside oars set into the ship's sides, and begin to row. As Ulfgar passes you, he says, "The men who row are the ones killed most soft men at big house. Jarl say, they so weak they need kill soft men, they row, get stronger."

The servants, for their part, seem almost excited, most discussing how they'd never ridden on a boat before. As the vessel slowly sets off, the waves gently lapping at the wooden sides, you seem to be left largely to your own devices. While the other servants may well be called on to attend their new owners, Trygve did say, via Ulfgar, that he'd leave you be until you arrived at your new home.
 
Sylvie walks onto the boat as she sighs and looks off into the distance as the boat heads away. At this moment, Sylvie just stews by herself as her heart is continuously swallowed by emotions she has never felt before. Rage, isolation and to certain bits, apathy. This is a reminder of when she was married off to her previous husband. That day still burns in her heart, the day she was essentially sold away for her father's business. It sickens her still and turns her stomach around in unbreakable knots.

Just like how, Sylvie's choice is null and void then, it is now. Maybe it is that fact that annoys her so much about this situation? She looks off into the sea as her girlish wishes to transform into a fish and escape from this all. What she is most curious about is what you plan to do and about this place that is going to be her home. It is all a matter of time before you all soon arrive.

Sylvie always despised the winter and the coldness it brings.
 
The trip doesn't take too long, a mere handful of days. In that time, Ulfgar offers to teach you a little of the Viking tongue, if you're willing, so that you won't be entirely helpless without a translator. Jarl Trygve is as good as his word about keeping his distance, usually planted on the opposite end of the longship from you. At one point, an unfamiliar Viking makes what Ulfgar identifies as a profuse apology. Apparently, it had been the Viking who had slain Yvain, having seen your outburst and wishing to avoid the Jarl's disfavor.

However, eventually, you arrive at Fjormark. Many other longships are gathered here, with others visible in the distance. Dozens of cheering families have come to greet the returning raiders. Fjormark itself fills out along the coast, and travels up the rocky hill beyond, to a single large structure at its crest, about a hundred feet above the sea. The buildings are made of simple wood and stone, most consisting of a single room, something that's made plain by the open windows, with mere hides hung nearby to cover them. The higher up the hill you look, the larger and more elaborate the buildings get, but it's clear that none are more than a single story.

Among the happy Vikings are other Christian men and women like yourself. Some appear haggard and worn, but others appear quite content. In either case, they appear healthy, at least. Jarl Trygve disembarks from the longship, and is greeted with much adulation. However, after a few words, an air of mild disappointment comes over the crowd. The raiders step off the ship, some are quickly berated by what can be assumed to be their wives, while others greet their families sheepishly, clearly embarrassed about their troubled attack.

The other longships that arrive receive less ambiguous praise, and present thralls of both sexes. This proceeds for a while, as you're led from the longship to stand at Jarl Trygve's side. As the returning warriors receive their accolades, you notice a number of the Viking civilians staring at you, or more accurately, staring at how you're stood next to the Jarl. It seems his status as a bachelor is the subject of some discussion around Fjormark.
 
While the journey might be a ride into uncertainty, it is a lovely escape. The natural beauty of the world is something Sylvie had barely seen in her time at her mansion. During the trip, Sylvie did take a chance to learn some of the viking language and in return Sylvie had shared some french lessons to help him progress forward. It might have been annoying to you, but Sylvie seemed to relax a lot more around Ulfgar. She was even able to muster a small giggle as he stumbled through his french lessons. The fact the Yvain's murderer is offering an apology to you and not to her is something that annoyed her. It is after all she who lost a dear friend and parent.

With the boat gently reaching Fjormark Sylvie only takes the time to explore with her eyes the peasant level of squalor here. There are no houses of brick and mortar, simply fanciful huts that seem to grow larger as one looks up. She believes it is beyond a shadow of a doubt that she is going to be forced to share some kind of hut with you. Could your people not even muster the ability to make glass? As she sees on and finds the various different people here it only solidifies the idea of how alone she is. Especially with all the happy chatter from her former house maids who seem to have simply affected the fact they were now all thralls, a low born among the low born here.

Sylvie almost hates her old workers for not even bothering to feel her pain and being joyous little waifs only upset her. The adulation that these savages revel in sank her stomach; but she decides to just be good. Though her scowl leaves much to be desired. Though it is at that point that Sylvie realizes that she was the reason for the ire here. She sighs rather weakly as she just looks over to the people who offer her seemingly nothing but dislike. Or at least what she notices to be dislike.

"It seems that I am already creating an issue and I have only just gotten here. Should I expect people to harm me despite your warnings?" She whispers to you cautiously, she does her best to not raise any suspicion on her part. But it is obvious that she is worried, mostly due to her times in the french noble court. It never ends well.
 
Jarl Trygve shakes his head slowly. "You mistake their whispering for ill will. They are simply surprised to see me returned, having taken a woman. Constantly, I am pestered by my thanes and freemen alike, asking when I shall sire an heir, to ensure the jarldom's future. They are excited. However, they shall have to wait even longer to meet my heirs, I fear. I took you once by force, for tradition demands it. The next time I take you, you shall give yourself freely. Ah, one of my thanes returns. He was raiding not far from where we were. I wonder...."

The Jarl looks back to the coast, where another longship pulls in along his. A Viking, more rotund than most, but no less muscular, waves from the fore. He calls down, telling of mighty battle, and many warriors called to a place called 'Valhalla'. The new thralls led from this ship better conform to what you might expect. Tied up, downcast, depressed. All aside from one. You hear a familiar nasal screech from the middle of the group. "Release me at once! Don't you know who I am?! Filthy savages! The king will have your heads for this! I demand to see who's in charge here!"

As the man is brought before the Jarl, the thane looks apologetic. "I am sorry, my Jarl, but he has been like this since we left. I would have struck him dead, but he claims he is worth much in ransom, that he is a noble lord. I thought you should make the decision."

The man is no stranger to you. Five feet and three inches tall, balding, and chinless, it is your husband. His beady eyes look around with contempt, perched above a nose that protrudes into an ugly hook. His chest is thing and scrawny, but his stomach bulbous and flabby, making him look like some grotesque parody of a pear. His legs, however, manage to remain spindly, his bony knees obvious through his breeches. He sniffs imperiously, and finally notices you. You see the gears turning in his head, likely formulating a plan to weasel his way out of his predicament, probably involving you.
 
"So they all expect this much out of me? Out of us? I don't even know what to say. And you really believe that you will eventually win me over? you must be quiet confident in your prowess Trygve. It is a commendable trait to say the lead. But we will see, and your village is quite a bit larger that it seems as you continue to capture people. What makes me think that I will not be replaced by a bustier blonde? It can certainly happen with the way you all capture men and women."

However, it is when she hears that shrill voice where her entire attitude changes. All of her pretense and anger disappears in an instant as she spots her terrible coward of an ex-husband. Sylvie quickly walks over to him and for the first time in her life she balls her hand into a fist and badly hook punches him across the face. Sylvie then spits on him as her fury grows exponentially. Even if her fist hurt, you can even see that there was some damage to it due to her inexperience, Sylvie swings again and hits him right in the eye once again.

"You sniveling swine of a man! Cowardice personified! You piece of insect dung! How dare you leave me to be taken away, raped, and then demand anything! You piece of shit!" Sylive's anger seems to be unending as she takes her other hand and strikes him in the face again. She looks over to you and begins to nod, the wheels in her head begin to turn as vile machinations whir in her brain as if she is a devil herself.

"Trygve, you want a chance at getting me? You want a chance a a small little blonde jarl boy or girl? Here is something you can do. All of the men that have been captured right now I want all of them to be the lowest of the low here. I want them to be beneath the dirt we walk on. If there is a dirty job, they have to do it. But for him, for this man who abandoned me to you. He will be even lower than that! First off, I want him turned into eunuch, then I want his useless balls fed to some dogs. Next, make sure he has something heavy on his ankle so that he can never run away, because apparently I am more of a man than he is. I want to see him used for the rest of his pathetic days as scooper for the pigs and the elderly. I originally wanted you to kill him. But what is the fun in that? He needs to suffer."

Sylvie, in that moment, tosses away her Christian kindness towards this man in favor for the raw, wanton emotion she feels. You can see it in her eyes, not even that might satisfy her.
 
The Jarl waves his hand at your comment. "This is not the only village in my Jarldom, many of my thanes have their own villages, up in the hills. Most of the thralls will be leaving with those groups. Though, do not fear for your former servants, my raiding party is made up of only warriors from this village, so you shall see them from time to time. And, I told you when I claimed you, it is not your body, but your spirit, that makes you worthy to carry my children. Even Viking women are not so brave as to speak so boldly to a Jarl. I shall bring that strength to heel, that you may strengthen my house."

As you make your request, Trygve strokes his beard, brow furrowed. "Eunuch? Eunuch... this word is not known to me." A voice from behind your ex-husband chimes in, "She wants you to cut his balls off, o mighty Jarl."

The voice comes from a somewhat more average-looking Frenchman, his deteriorating makeup marking him as another noble. The lord of the fiefdom bordering your own, in fact, Lord Alphonse Lautrec. He was genial, if a tad pompous. His lady wife is nowhere to be seen, demonstrating that he, at least, had his priorities straight. He smirks at your husband as he stares, looking betrayed. "I never liked you, Eudon. If I'm to be... thrall to these brutes, I shall take great comfort in your suffering, as will, I imagine, the rest of the human race. Doubly so, as your rank cowardice has apparently condemned me and my men to a yet worse fate. A shame you got all of yours killed, you spineless lackwit. By the way, no hard feelings, Lady Sylvie, I imagine my own wife would be just as wrathful in your place. Though, if I might beg your leniency-"

Trygve holds up a hand, silencing the other noble's kowtowing. "There are laws that govern how Thralls may be treated, and such things are determined by their households. However, Sylvie, I shall pass on your wishes. Knowing you disfavor them shall make their lives harder, of that you can be sure. As for this... thing, I believe none will fault me for making an exception, but, he is the thane's captured thrall, and thus his consent must be gained."

The portly thane practically shoves Eudon into Trygve's grasp. "Please, take him! I still have a ringing in my ears from his womanly shrieking! No, I should not say womanly, no woman could possibly be so shrill! Worry not for my men, not one of them wanted him!" He retreats, taking Lord Lautrec and his other thralls with him, still grumbling about your husband's behavior.

Jarl Trygve looks down at Eudon, who looks at you with tears in his eyes. "Sylvie, my lady...," he pleads. The Jarl pulls a knife from his belt, and offers it to you. "It is you who he has most wronged, dishonoring you by leaving you to be taken. You may claim what is yours from him by your own hand, if you wish. I will not feed them to the hunting dogs, lest they inherit his weakness, but the pigs will eat anything. And he shall be hobbled, a more reliable proof against escape than any binding."
 
As Sylvie wonders just how many men were under your thumb, she is surprised that Alphonse speaks so freely. But when he explains the situation, Sylvie finds some comfort in knowing that at least Alphonse is able to protect his wife and keep her safe and away from this. Still, Sylvie wants them all to suffer but she at least gets what she wants on her end. Eudon as the useless village weakling. As you hand her the knife she takes it and goes to a near by fire and heats up the blade. The broken woman wants to make sure that this is going to be as clean and as painful as possible.

"You know Eudon, this is all happening because you abandoned me. You didn't even have the guts to try and defend me. And after I had no choice but to let him rape me because if I didn't then all of the help would be taken as well and I do love them. I do cherish them. I come to find out that you harassed them too. Apparently that makes me worthy, which is funny. But at least I have some level of consolation, I at least got to feel something for once. And do you have any idea how that makes me feel? I thought I had to be a good, god-fearing christian woman and for what? For you? I am glad I never reared any children for you, I would have resented them until the day I died."

Sylvie takes the knife away as she pulls off his pants and exposes his less than impressive member to the entire village. She stuffs his mouth with his pants to make sure that he can't scream as she brutally grabs his balls and begins to slice through. It is the most brutal she's ever been. Sylvie wonders what is coming over her since coming here in such a short amount of time, it is almost as if this place is invading her mind, body and soul. Inch by inch, she slowly cuts through as the hot knife cauterizes his wound and once she is finished she does as you instructed her to do. She walks over to the pig pen and tosses the pathetic sack of her ex-husband into the pig's troth.

Sylvie looks on as in that moment, she realizes everything that has just happened. Sylvie wonders what they might all think as the multitude of people saw her take a knife to this man's groin, slice through it and feed it to pigs. In a moment of sheer horrific embarrassment, you Sylvie begin to hide away from everyone. She doesn't believe what she just did.
 
Eudon would have screamed, if he hadn't passed out from the agony almost immediately. Few can bear to look upon your violent act, most averting their eyes. Only Jarl Trygve watches, though even he exhibits a small amount of discomfort seeing even as lowly a wretch as your ex-husband be unmanned. When it is finished, Trygve tosses the unconscious form of Eudon into the grasp of a nearby Viking, passing on orders for his treatment. "Hobble him, that he may not attempt escape. Then, have him do something shameful, but pointless. I will not have him doing anything of importance, I would not trust him to do it right. If the dogs become unruly, they may rut him. Now go, I wish not to look upon him any longer."

As Eudon is dragged away to his fate, the Jarl looks around a moment to find you, and approaches. "It is done. That misbegotten little thing calling itself your husband is dealt with. We must now return to my great hall, and prepare, for the return of the last longship will mark the beginning of a feast that lasts three days. We should change into fresh clothes and wash our faces before it begins." He gestures to a pair of what appear to be Englishmen carrying the outfits Trygve had claimed on your behalf up towards the top of the hill. Now that you're a little closer, you can see that the nicer dwellings, likely meant for warriors and other important citizens, have windows of simple, cloudy glass in wrought iron frames, at least ensuring some protection from the cold.
 
Sylvie takes a moment to follow you along as she hears you speak about a three day party. What kind of bohemian opulence is this? But she knows that she must have frightened everyone. "Why do I now feel as if I am going to be treated as some sort of monster? I have only been around you for a day and already I am acting more like a viking. This is appalling. But at least it can't get any worse at this rate. But even if it was rather lucky for you to capture him, thank you for doing so Trygve. You didn't have to, Alphonse is a good warrior, even if he is a pompous jackass."

She follows you along as she looks at the dresses and examines them. "These might make my chest look really big, which I doubt you will care. But thats fine, still, after all those days of travel I would like something more than a simple face wash. I see your men are groomed a bit better than nobles and Ulfgar spoke about ensuring proper grooming to be like one of your gods. Is that what you have in mind. Not to mention, why such a wild feast? Of course we have such parties in France but not for that long." Sylvie questions you and it is expected, she does know nothing about your society here.
 
The Jarl appears pleased with your interest. "We Vikings groom ourselves daily, as well as before important gatherings, washing hands and face, and we bathe thoroughly once each week, on Washing Day. It is the day after the one your Christian Pope says is the fasting day, where you must eat no meat. Of course, there is no day a Viking does not eat meat, unless times are truly dire. And we have heard from the monks we take as thralls that your Christian nobles feast frequently, but alternate with your 'fasting'. We only feast during special times, but they can last as long as even twelve days! How else could we pay proper tribute to the gods? Our revelry must mirror their own, to show proper respect!"

It seems Trygve is proud of his people's traditions, as his usual stoic manner lightens up slightly. He leads you up the path to his home, not exactly the easiest walk one could imagine, and opens the door. Inside is a large hall with a massive banquet table, lit from above by wooden chandeliers hung from the high, pointed ceiling. A high-backed throne sits at the far end of the table, clearly meant for the Jarl. A large pair of doors in the rear of the chamber, off to one side, likely lead to living spaces. "This is my hall," says Trygve. "Those warriors who do not yet have houses of their own, or who are guests, sleep and take meals here. It is in some ways a public space. My chambers and yours are through that doorway. Should you wish a thorough bath, one of my other thralls can draw it for you, though Washing Day shall be here soon, right after the feast, if I have counted days correctly."
 
"I don't think I can party that much Trygve, I don't think I have ever parties like that before. It is very different for me as you know, as Christian woman. We do not do such things as it is sinful behavior to be to gluttonous and to act without temperance. But I guess it is what you do when you raze and steal from countless other people who work hard. But it is how you work." She follows you along as she does revel in how massive the main hall is, while it is not made with the fantastic masonry of french buildings it is still impressive. As you explain where everything lies, the mention of a shared room with you made Sylvie blush a little bit.

"But I would like a bath please. I do not feel very clean after everything that has transpired, not to mention it would be very soothing for me at this point in time. But I do have to say that your home is a bit more impressive than I had originally believed. So by my understanding then those who do not have homes under another viking are placed in here? Or am I misunderstanding something?" Sylvie seems that she does actually want to both learn and understand about your society and culture. It also seems that after the revenge against her husband she has calmed down and is much more level headed with that ball of rage out of her soul.
 
You must log in or register to reply here.
Back
Top Bottom