Chapter 8: Envy

Ragnar awoke with the rising sun. Something he'd got used to doing during his tenure in the Military. He had a couple of things on his agenda. The first was to start training and working out. The second was to start consuming the required amount of calories for his body. And finally, a blueprint for an appropriate sword. He'd have to sift through the information he'd read in his previous life's memories before he found something befitting of a warrior.

He had a couple ideas regarding newer steel forging methods, such as crucible steel. Which he'd need the blacksmith to work on if his dreams of creating an advanced sword were to be realized.

Ragnar wore black leather breeches and forced a blue linen shirt over his muscular frame while thinking about the swords.

After wearing his boots, he quickly got out of the house for his early morning jog. Running through the village that was already wide awake and bustling with activity. After the 10 mile run, he reached home and went through a log cutting regime to focus on core and grip strength, followed by 100 pushups, 100 situps and 100 squats.

He then went to the well outside their manor and dumped a clean bucket of water on top of himself. The water cleaned away all the grime built up over the last few days and refreshed Ragnar.

While towelling himself off, he took the time to appreciate what his father had managed to accomplish for their family.

Their family manor was significantly smaller in size than the Baron's but it still had all of the essentials befitting of his rank. It had large fields and a slew of workers behind the manor that assisted in providing their three large men with adequate food. Most of the money afforded for such a large estate was gained through Harald's vast experience in raiding. Bringing back sizable amounts of gold and loot before settling in Normandy and going under his lords employ.

As such, the entire family gathered around the dining table in the grand hall to eat breakfast. Their mother and a helper as the main cooks for the family brought in a variety of food for the three big men to eat.

They started gorging on Beef, lamb and mutton mixed with vegetables like onion, cabbage, garlic and carrot. Turned out to be a good enough meal for Ragnar's protein, carb and fat intake, but it sorely lacked flavor. Though the Norman's used spices, they were still considered a delicacy that even Ragnar's father didn't bother wasting money on. Though they were in a port town, most of the spices obtained were transported directly to the Duke's estate. With whatever remaining amounts hoarded by the Baron, who sold whatever he didn't need to the other Barons.

His mother Helga looked on happily as her 3 babes chowed down on their food. She was glad to be part of such a strong masculine family. Their family was one of the few families in town that hadn't lost someone to the brutal wars that had been breaking out across the duchy for the last 30 years. Their prime location did pose some risk, but she was now confident in her boys being able to protect the household.

"Helga! Bring me more Ale woman." Harald ruined this moment by slamming his pitcher on the table and belching loudly.

Thorkell roared in laughter. "I second! More ale for me as well." The two men started belching louder in competition.

Ragnar stared wide-eyed at the display in horror. Shaking his head, Ragnar sighed in wonder. Thinking about how glorious their battles would be standing side by side with these two behemoths. He shook his head as he stood up, ready to get started with his day.

Food was just another item on his list of things that he'd have to introduce slowly into the Norman way of life. As such, Ragnar looked forward to changing their meals and introducing more variety in their culture. It would be a task for a future date. As of now, everyone had to get up and head to the training grounds next to the Baron's manor to practice sword fighting and unarmed combat.

Harald stood up as well, ready to get going. "Alright, lads, let's head on to the Baron's manor. A day of training awaits us."

The 3 men rolled up to the training ground to the sound of wooden and dull iron smacking against each other and loud shouts as men cheered each other on.

The moment Harald walked into the ground, the entire place became deathly quiet. Each and every one of the knights held great respect for the cold-hearted marshal.

He walked to the center of the ground before nodding. "Umu, glad that all of you have started sparring already. Continue with the drills that have been taught, my son Ragnar will join us once again."

A bunch of groans rang out around the field. They already had to deal with Thorkell's boisterous nature, laughing while taking them on and battering them all the same. Ragnar was the complete opposite in their minds, shy yet dangerous once he got hold of a sword. The man was hard to read and even harder to beat.

Harald barked, "Alright, men get back to it. I will be supervising my boys today. I want them in back in top form."

Envious gazes looked back at them. Everyone wished for Marshal Harald's personal guidance. The man was a famed warrior after all who had been given the name of Harald 'Gunnar' Sigvald. After Gunnar Hamundarson. Yet few ever received more than a cold glare when they made a mistake.

Truly an envious family.

"Right boys, pick up your training swords. I want to see how you both fare in a spar before offering advice. It has been a while since we've done this."

Thorkell and Ragnar looked at each other with a grin. The fun has just begun.

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