Chapter 27: A King's Ambition

------------------------Inside the Baron's Manor-----------------------

In the Baron's manor, off to the side, was a war room for strategic discussion that now held seven people.

Harald stood at one end of the scarred wooden table, pacing back and forth as he thought about beginning his story, while Ragnar and Thorkell sat on either side of him.

Behind Ragnar stood Marquise and the young slave Finan, while Eve sat to the left of Ragnar alongside the pissed off Erika.

Thorkell lounged on the table, with one leg resting on it for support, chewing on a piece of apple as he gazed at the growing entourage of Ragnar's with curiosity. "So, Ragnar, what do you plan to do with this increasing motley of men you have over here. I see, two slaves, the Baron's daughter and a Frenchman!" Thorkell sniggered as he stared down the spear-wielding warrior.

Ragnar turned to gaze into Thorkell's humorous blue eyes, "I'm forming a crew, Thorkell. As you can see, I've slowly developed a name for myself. I don't see anyone behind you, though."

Ragnar scratched his chin as he smirked, "Did you not impress anyone with your fighting skills?"

Thorkell snapped as he stabbed his knife into the table with a loud bang, causing Eve to jump in fright as she nearly fell over in her chair, while Erika stayed motionless, smirking at the timorous lady. "If I had the fortune of challenging Erik Bloodsword, then this entourage would be on my side rather than yours."

Ragnar raised his eyebrows at the statement, "Oh, I don't know about that, Thorkell. Bloodsword was mighty quick and technical with his prowess of the blade. I think there was a good chance he might have bested you in battle, especially since you'd already be exhausted."

Thorkell waved his hand in dismissal, "Nonesense, you beat the man with minimal battle axe experience. You've always been good with the sword, whereas my real skills lay with the axe. We aren't the same, brother."

Ragnar grinned at the cornered Thorkell, "As yes, but you aren't adept at dealing with a skilled sw--"

"Alright, you two, I've heard enough." Harald wrapped his knuckles on the wooden table, demanding silence. He usually allowed his sons to bicker to a certain extent, as it allowed them to have a battle of wit and release all the pent-up frustration and resentment they had for one another.

Harald sighed, thinking about his father's difficult time raising his many sons.

He then cleared his throat and slowly looked at everyone present in the eyes, "Helga, bring the item in!"

The vibrant blonde-haired woman pushed open the doors to the war room, outfitted in a form-fitting linen dress as she sauntered in with a red and gold case, carefully setting it down on the table before them all.

Helga nodded at her husband with a knowing grin while walking out.

The exquisite ornament shimmered under the sunlight as the item beneath the case caught Ragnar's eye.

Harald smiled at his wife in appreciation for her help and coughed to bring everyone's attention forward. He approached the case to avoid wasting time and unclasped the locks on either side before delicately lifting the glass lid.

The lid pulled back to reveal a long golden sheath embedded with small gems laying softly within a velvet cloth. Its luxurious and peerless appearance caught the breath of Ragnar as he looked to his proud father for an explanation.

"This beautiful sheath was the first of its kind, built for Harald Fairhair." Harald smiled, truly honored to have such a treasured artifact within the family for centuries. "My great-grandfather and the first King of Norway."

Silence permeated the room as everyone noticed a small beautiful seal engraved upon the side of the sheath, indicating it to be the King's sheath.

Eve and Erika had their jaws on the floor in shock at the prestige of such a sheath as such an ornament would be worth a fortune if sold to the right buyers, but only Ragnar understood the sentimental value and importance it would hold soon.

Harald chuckled at the dazed expressions of his son Thorkell and everyone else, "Everything is not as smooth sailing as it sounds. There is a reason why our family was relegated to french lands, and I was just a lowly Marshal even despite my best efforts to restore our family name."

He took in a deep breath, the pain once again laced in his expression. "Our father was disgraced and lost our grandfather's title in Norway."

Harald gritted his teeth as he spat in disgust, "Our grandfather was a minor king that governed the kingdom of Hadeland. Though his title was nothing more than ceremonial and its location a shithole, the one great achievement he had was building his family into a strong class of warriors."

His father raised the sheath and pointed it at them all, "The Sigvald family was born in honor of his death and continued through the next generation. Five powerful brothers, all of whom were extremely skilled with the sword.

Yet, my father was deemed an outcast by the family due to breaking his oath and not following his brothers into battle. Ultimately, though, the choice proved correct, as all my uncles were outnumbered and killed. Leaving my father, an outcast or nioingr of a prestigious warrior family, the sole inheritor of its name."

"He died passing on the torch to me, and I've done everything in my power to restore the glory of our name and take back what is rightfully ours," Harald said as he clenched his fists.

"But, that dream lies too far ahead. The dream of going back conquering Norway, with the King's seal of approval."

Harald's face turned from one of pride to disgust as he uttered his next words, "A dream that has a massive obstacle lying in the way, my second cousin Harald Hadrada, the current King of Norway." He spat on the floor before putting the sheath back in the expensive glass case.

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