Hung by bindings. Jehanne’s arms dangled in the air limp, body like a corpse of no movement, legs tied down to the straw floor within the barn full of animal noises.

“Is she dead?” Erik Tokesson asked.

Trygve marched up to Jehanne and placed a hand under her nose to feel the shallow breaths of a beaten woman.

“She is alive Jarl,” Trygve answered.

“Good, she is Halle’s possession. I wouldn’t want to break his toy,” Erik laughed.

The two torturers chuckled ignoring Jehanne who began realising she was a mere object for their fun and games.

Trygve was about to reach and feel Jehanne’s bare body, but Erik stopped him.

“Leave her be, you have a wife do you not?”

“Yes, Jarl l do.”

“Then leave Trygve, tell the house servants to clean this mess and train Jehanne well. Properly this time.” Erik Tokesson emphasised his last words.

Trygve nodded, bowing before he took his leave to get Tove and Gro.

Erik glanced at Jehanne and said, “Thrall, the spear you tried to touch. If you ever try again l will have you maimed to death.”

No response, the Jarl left the room ridding himself of the torture chamber that smelt of urine and shit. Jehanne had been handled no less than an animal within the barn, a true thrall. Undergarments stained dirty with vile waste, Tove and Gro stared at the ravished Jehanne pinching at their noses.

“What an awful smell,” Tove said.

Gro nodded. “It reeks of defecation.”

“Let's hurry up and clean this mess.”

Tove threw a heap of more straws onto the floor letting farmed animals enter the fenced-off section where Jehanne was trapped too. Gro carried the passed out woman outside washing the dried blood that crusted on her skin.

They’d been jealous before of her facial features that spoke of beauty, now they grinned seeing the marks of flogging. Skin spoiled red, Jehanne was no longer the woman with pleasing pale skin lighter than snow.

Once Jehanne regained consciousness, they hammered into the thrall orders and commands that were meant to be taught early on but were halted as Halle took her wherever he went.

“Feed the barn animals!” Trove yelled.

Gro shouted, “Clean the manor’s rooms!”

“Refill the soapstone oil lamps of fat!”

“Prepare food for the Jarl!”

“Wash the clothes!”

“Do not glare at me!”

“Do you want to be punished again!”

Their words repeated into Jehanne’s eardrums constantly striking her, pushing her to the limit where dried wounds bled again. Trained like a domesticated animal submissive to every word. Affirming her heart to burn any possible bridge to Halle, she asked Tove if she could sleep in her quarters.

“Could I sleep within your quarters from now on instead of Halle’s?”

“You should be grateful for being allowed in his bedroom.”

Jehanne clasped her hands together begging, “Please.”

“So be it, you will be a burden but you will do half me and Gro’s chores from now on. Is that clear?”

“Yes,” Jehanne answered.

“Good, know your place you lowly thrall.”

Jehanne learnt to wait for Halle’s return home where she would offer a bowl of water for him to wash his face and beard.

Standing upright was difficult enough let alone holding the bowel of water, her hands trembled tired. She had been waiting for hours, cold with the night’s breeze, waiting and waiting some more. A figure tall in height robust in frame with blue eyes that glimmered with the moon’s light—Halle arrived.

She saw the resemblance of Erik Tokesson in Halle, that’d ordered her to be tortured just for touching a spear, not even for holding it. Sharp nose, round lips plump in nature and honest eyes, one that did not express cruelty like his father. But it still made Jehanne shudder to stare at the son of the Jarl.

Jehanne noticed Halle was drunk swaying on his legs hiding something behind his back. She did not care to guess what it was. More cautious to end this false love that would spur more pain for her to continue. Jehanne could not love Halle and Halle could not love Jehanne, two different people of different status and origins.

“Master,” She said. Handing over the bowel of water to Halle.

“Thank you…why are you here?”

Jehanne noticed Halle’s questioning stare.

“I was ordered to stand here until you arrived, master.”

She did not mention the pain that stung her back and chest, what would Halle do. Go against his father, Jarl of the town. Did he even see her as a person worth loving? She thought.

“Jehanne?” Halle’s question rang in the air.

“Please refer to me as thrall, master,” She pleaded. Wanting to establish the boundaries early within their master relationship, not a friendship anymore.

“Jehanne we’re alone, you’re safe.”

SAFE, SAFE, SAFE, SAFE

Halle’s mere word of ‘safe’ aflame wounds that vexed Jehanne’s mind that would scar her forever mentally. It echoed louder as she repeated it within her pondering thoughts. Jehanne had never been safe here amongst Norsemen land, Noreg.

“I was never safe,” She said under her breath.

“What is this about you not being safe?” The question irked her further.

Jehanne gritted her teeth struggling to maintain this facade. “Master, if you could please use the bowl of water so l can put it away.”

“Jehanne that doesn’t matter—”

She interrupted with passion. Clenching her fists white, “It matters to me!”

“Jehanne what's—” Interrupted a second time, Jehanne spoke.

“I’m sorry for shouting at master, you may punish me as you like. But please use this bowl of water to clean your face.”

She was too tired for this, too exhausted to handle Halle, too fatigued, she wanted to leave with Agneli back to Francia as soon as possible.

Seeing Halle stunned before he obediently cleaned his face, she turned her back on him when he was done. Jehanne cleaned the bowl but noticed Halle was watching over her shoulder.

“Master you do not need to wait for me, l no longer will be sleeping in your quarters.”

“Wait what is this about, why the sudden change?”

Jehanne could see Halle fluster for the first time somewhat scared.

“It is not sudden master, as I am a thrall.”

“Thralls are allowed to sleep with their master,” Halle said.

She knew this as well, but could not bear to be near him any longer. Her heart would ache so she chose her words carefully testing him.

“Then do you wish to sleep with me master?”

Halle blushed, “I…”

“It is of my choice master, but if you so wish l will—”

“No it’s fine, do as you please,” Halle threw his hands, gesturing it was ok.

Jehanne bowed her head in guilt, shame and sorrow. “Thank you, master.”

When she went to Tove’s room, it was much smaller and it was lit by a small soapstone oil lamp on the table as the one light source unlike Halle’s that dangled from the ceiling.

“Sleep on the floor thrall.”

Jehanne dropped her old bed that she’d made in Halle’s room down onto the cold wooden floorboards. First, she sniffled, her eyes watered and she began to cry as silent as possible. The cross within her pouch was never pulled out, Jehanne found no reason to pray anymore as the faith she held in the past was dying. In soul, body and mind, Jehanne’s bruises reminded her that God would never hear her cries.

A mistake to think true love existed when she was falling for a man of sin.

The morning welcomed everyone to rise from their beds, Jehanne did her chores labouring away. Her back felt sore, riddled with welts and wounds. Every time she went past Trygve she lowered her head not wanting to show her face full of shame.

The humiliation lingered in her mind. Spiralling cobwebs in every corner of her mind, as she tried to avoid Halle. Her lips sealed shut, never to speak of the torture, Jehanne would rather die and take it to the grave with her.

Trying to leave early towards Agneli’s place in fear of Halle attempting to walk with her, Jehanne’s worries were right on the spot.

“Jehanne,” Halle called out.

She halted in her steps.

“Why are you avoiding me, have I done something wrong?”

“No master, you can never do wrong. Only l as a thrall can.”

“Then tell me what’s happened, you’re not the same person I knew two days ago.”

“Do l have to be?” Jehanne wanted to escape Halle’s blue eyes that implored for her to not change, too late. Everything was too late.

“I don’t understand,” Halle said.

“Master, stop. Just—”

“Wait, let me at least try to fix whatever mistake or sins I’ve done.”

Halle presented an arrangement of Blue Anemone flowers, vibrant in spectrums of purple.

“I thought you may like it.” Halle scratched his head, he was a man that needed to be taught many things in love. His large back caved in for his shoulders to slump anxiously.

Jehanne wished she’d seen the flowers before reality struck her when her mind was feeding on thoughtless romance without any plans.

“Thank you but l can’t accept this master. I can’t be your woman and besides l can never love a monster.”

“...What?” Halle’s jaw clenched tight. He didn’t think his first attempt to steal her heart would go this bad, to where he’d be called a monster.

“Was it not you that said l wasn’t one?” Halle grabbed at Jehanne’s shoulder.

“I lied. I felt pity for you.” The words skewered Halle’s heart, making him want to grab at his stinging chest.

Jehanne knew if it was any other Norsemen they would slap her hearing the insult. But Halle didn’t, he stood much quieter and stoic. She took advantage of it to push him away without force or strength; with words.

Unnoticed by her, his fingers gripped at the Blue Anemone flower stems squeezing them till they looked about to break.

“Why?” Halle asked.

“Because you’ve killed good men, innocent men. I’m even afraid to ask if you’ve killed children.”

The last word ate him on the inside, worming through to Halle’s vulnerable heart shielded against everyone save for the very few he cared for. Jehanne was one of them.

He did not answer, he couldn’t.

Jehanne left him alone, she didn’t want to hear any answer even if reasonable. It would be an excuse. Halle’s hands dropped the flowers for it to land underneath his shoes to crumple. Stomping on petals like how Jehanne had stepped on his heart. The Blue Anemone buried itself in the dirt with every pound of Halle’s leather boots.

Agneli’s home was met with Jehanne’s entry where he forged with Ulfberht. She greeted the two, while Agneli saw no Halle behind Jehanne.

“Where’s Halle?”

“Training,” she said. Not knowing if it was a lie or truth, Jehanne did not care.

It was normal for Halle to be preparing for the England invasion so he believed her, thinking nothing was suspicious of Jehanne’s words.

“Agneli l change my mind. When Ulfberht and you leave for Francia after completing the sword l will follow.”

“Oh, I won’t be leaving since Halle’s going to battle. l will be sending Ulfberht back to Francia when we finish the sword though. What caused you to change your mind?” Agneli stopped hammering away at steel focusing on Jehanne.

“I just miss home.”

“Fair enough.” Agneli glimpsed at Jehanne from the corner of his eyes from time to time, he grew worried.

Something did not feel right.

“Have you asked Halle yet, to see if he will free you?”

“No.”

“Well, he should let...Halle?” Agneli stared at his friend covered in sweat. It looked like he’d gone through three battles.

“I will not free you Jehanne, never.”

Jehanne was shocked to see Halle and more so that he’d heard their conversation.

“Ulfberht will be allowed to leave, Agneli will be allowed to leave, but not you Jehanne.”

There was a fierce glint in his eyes never seen before by Jehanne, like a beast that was unleashed from its restraints.

“Not until you tell me what’s wrong?” Halle demanded.

“There is nothing to tell you.” Jehanne refuted.

Halle hissed, “Lies.”

“It seems the both of us can’t answer each other's questions. You still haven’t answered mine, have you killed good men, innocent men, children?”

Agneli dropped his hammer at Jehanne’s last words, he reached out to grasp her shoulder but Halle glared at him.

“Agneli, don’t say anything that isn’t necessary.”

“But—”

“I mean it Agneli.”

He nodded to Halle, dropping his hand back to his side.

“Jehanne you won’t leave, l refuse it. Not when l need you.” Halle’s eyes were that of a madman.

“You don’t need me, all you need is to conquer England.”

“It is for a promise,” Halle responded. Squeezing his fist.

“Is your promise worthy of killing innocent people who have done nothing wrong?”

Halle slammed his knuckles onto a table furious. “My mother died on England’s soil.”

“Did your mother invade first alongside your father?” Jehanne’s questions aimed to inflict pain just like how Erik Tokesson hurt her, she would harm his son if she could not get back at the jarl.

“Jehanne do not provoke me any further.” Eyes darker than the shadows of evil, his blue irises seemed as destructive as lightning.

“Are you not angry already?” Jehanne crossed her arms in defiance.

“You’ve never seen my real anger, and I don’t think you’d like to see it.”

“Why, will it prove that you are a monster?” Jehanne pulled at the last straw.

“Jehanne!” Agneli yelled. He wished to stop this argument between friends that should be smiling with each other.

“Fine l will show you what a real monster is, not a noble of honour. But a beast, a monster who the townspeople call—Halle.”

Jehanne saw the man take a step forward, someone she used to love with a secret passion, now nothing more than a demon she served. Her eyes closed hard in fear.

Nothing but silence, until Jehanne realised she was not in danger. She opened her eyes to see the stare of a man, who’d been wronged. Anger, then acceptance and sadness. An evolution of emotions that became sorrow itself.

“You really are scared of me, you think I’m a monster. Just when I thought you were different, Jehanne. You’re like everyone else is—sheep.”

He laughed crazily slapping at Agneli’s table with calloused palms. Not caring about the pain, the wooden table broke upon a leg snapping like a twig unable to bear Halle’s slaps more similar to punches.

“This isn’t funny Halle,” Jehanne hesitantly said.

“Oh but it is, l loved you and l thought you loved me as well. But what a fool l was. An idiot l was. Me a noble with a thrall, now l know how Arne felt when he was laughing at that viscount’s son during our viking.”

His laughter cried out, “HAHAHAHAHAHAHAHA!”

Halle stormed out of the forging room still laughing. He slammed the door as he walked back to Ulfhednar territory where he would train for the remainder of his days aggressively challenging all the wolves and warriors in the area.

Staring at the broken table, Jehanne wanted to apologise to Agneli until she was slapped.

A smack that was open-handed resounded in the blacksmith’s home, Agneli had done so without hesitation, yet he held his strength back barely. He may have loved her but at this moment, he was truly furious.

“You dare to speak badly on his deceased mother.”

Agneli’s eyes burned brighter than his forgers.

“You dare to ask if he has killed children.”

“Jehanne. Have you no respect, that man you call a monster is someone that cries more than anyone who has done wrong. I killed my father and did not even cry. He is a brother to me who has saved my life, you dare to—”

“You dare to, you dare to this and that, I don’t care anymore. You’re the same aren’t you Agneli? I guess it’s true all Norsemen are the same—Barbarians.”

“Out.”

“Agneli you know I’m right. That’s why you must want to change and become a Christian.”

“OUT!”

Dragged and thrown outside, alone with no one. Jehanne did not break down, it would be pathetic if she did after all she’d done.

She finally burned all the bridges around her and found herself lonely in these unfamiliar lands. Even though she’d been here for a year, this was not where she belonged. Francia, a kingdom many seas afar is where she could call home.

Unknown to her, there was one small bridge that was left untarnished. Ulfberht sat across from Jehanne watching her crumble down into an abyss without screaming for help. The senior did not understand what had occurred between Halle and Jehanne neither her and Agneli, but an argument he did see.

He waited for her and waited.

"Ulfberht, what am I meant to do?" Jehanne stared at her rough palms after a day's work of being an actual thrall.

"Am I meant to say sorry?" She searched for the wisdom of someone older.

"Did you speak from the heart?" Ulfberht asked.

"Yes." Jehanne regretted it, but she felt each letter in every word she had spoken was true.

"You're free to do whatever you wish no matter if you are enslaved as a thrall. It is a choice. Just remember with every action there is a consequence."

"Than, is this my consequence?" Jehanne glanced at the closed door of Agneli's home, which was no longer so welcoming.

"Possibly."

"Ulfberht you're not helping."

"I am here to listen to a fellow Frank. That is as much as I can do for you when l do not know what happened."

Jehanne knew she could trust Ulfberht, they were both Franks and when they were so far away from home trapped here. Their bond was fated to deepen over the past year. Yet she still had to ask.

"Ulfberht…can you promise not to tell anyone?"

"On my family's name and that means a lot, it alone costs gold."

Jehanne's smile was small at his joke, Ulfberht wasn’t lying about its cost. The name of his swords that he branded into each one was bought by lords and kings. She exhaled, breathing and at some point, she could not control it.

"Calm down Jehanne, if you don't want to tell me what happened. It's better you don't and only when you're ready."

"I'll never be ready."

"That's what I said when I made my first sword. I thought it was worth less than dirt, but in two decades l became the greatest blacksmith." Ulfberht spread out his hands, eyes sparkling with old ambition.

"It's not that you won't ever be ready. It's when you will be ready."

"I thought l was going to take this to the grave," Jehanne sighed.

“There are many things that I thought l would die with too. Do not mistake my words though as once I had told someone of my burdens, I felt l could take on the world."

He continued with a gentle tone, "Maybe you won't feel as if you can take on the world, but it should be good enough for you to stand up and get some sleep afterwards.”

Jehanne nodded.

“I..”

Ulfberht listened.

“I...I.” She paused, tongue caught on the webs of fear.

“I was beaten...”

She continued, “By Halle’s father. I know I'm a thrall and if l were to make a mistake l would get beaten. I thought l had grown used to it but…”

“But?” Ulfberht said.

“I haven’t grown used to Noreg, the people, the land. I thought it was beautiful here, yet all l can see are monsters here. The eyes of demons. Do you know what Erik Tokesson did to me for touching his wife’s spear?”

Ulfberht shook his head no, this was new to him; he hadn’t heard of Jehanne being punished. Then again, he stayed with Agneli a majority of the time in the forging room to refine and improve on Halle’s sword testing the temperatures of heat they could reach to make crucible steel.

“I do not know.”

“He ordered for Trygve his guard to drag me into a barn full of animals.”

Her hands fumbled with an invisible ball of shame sweating as she did not know what to do with her fingers.

“They took out some of the animals fenced in and threw me into the empty area. I was the animal now closed in by fences.”

Jehanne's head hung lower, as she spoke.

“My clothes were stripped off as l screamed for help until Trygve beat me silent. Whip after whip in bindings, l cried and felt as if I had died to wake up again breathing to die once more.”

She laughed miserably at herself. “I relieved myself of all the waste in my bowels when l thought the torture would have no end.”

Marks from the lashing of whips twitched as Jehanne recalled the memory.

“My eyes met the gaze of the Jarl, they were so similar to Halle and I couldn’t help myself but think Halle was the same as him. How many men must have he toyed with as his father did to me on his vikings.”

The terrible self-realisation dawned on her. “Was Halle just playing with me as if l were a toy for his entertainment whenever he was bored because he was banned from meeting the Ulfhednars?”

“I don’t even believe in god anymore now, should l when surely he has seen me be tortured. Why must l be tortured?” Jehanne’s meandering eyes focused on the floor.

Ulfberht asked, “Do you still have the cross Agneli made for you?”

“Yes..” Jehanne was confused, was this how Ulfberht comforted people. She handed over the item holding religious meaning.

He placed it in front of him, ripping off a piece of clothing as he surrounded the bottom of the cross with it, so it would not be dirtied by the ground as he stuck it in the grass floor.

“Holy father, can you hear me?”

Jehanne sat in silence watching Ulfberht kneel praying to something she no longer believed in. He clasped his hands tightly with knuckles turning white.

“Forgive me for taking up your precious time but l am in need of advice.”

“A Frank woman has asked me for help, but l do not know how to answer when she has been hurt so much by the likes of Norsemen. Why did you make her suffer? l would kill Erik Tokesson for the sin he has committed, yet father. You would say that is a sin in itself.”

Ulfberht’s back shuddered, his head hung low meeting the dirt floor.

Jehanne approached him to see the senior blacksmith cry tears for her.

“I am sorry Jehanne, l do not have an answer to your question. I thought with my old age l could reply but I see now that I can’t.” Ulfberht's hands gripped so hard they were trembling.

“I have also once wavered in my faith to God when Berserkir left wounds on me. They are akin to Ulfhednars but much different in that they have no respect for life.”

Ulfberht rolled his sleeves up to reveal the scars of cuts sliced across the bottom of his arm one by one dragging across skin.

“I was tortured by them until my family offered them swords, they did not let me die from blood loss. The Berserkir kept me awake letting wounds heal and then delivering another and another.”

Memories of the stinging touch of steel delving into the insides of his arm but not deep enough to damage nerves connected to his hands.

“But my small faith in God was the only thing that kept me alive, or else I would have succumbed to an eternal sleep.”

Hope kept him going, to continue breathing because that was all he had in the darkness and prison Berserkir kept him in.

“I can only say do not blame God for others’ actions but that is not a good enough answer. In this world there is much torture and god gives salvation, yet why must torment exist in the first place?” Ulfberht asked himself.

Ulfberht realised he was a fool for acting so confident in resolving her worries as he said, “I do not know I’m sorry.”

Jehanne stroked Ulfberht’s back, she had never seen a man cry, never her father. Men appeared to her as unbreakable, courageous and sometimes heartless. Here though Ulfberht cried for her.

“I’m sorry, I've grown old and stupid. I’m crying when l should be comforting you.”

“Don’t be, your tears are enough to comfort me. It helps to know there is someone that knows my pain and still cares for me after I’d been…”

“You don’t have to continue, l will take your secret to the grave. Not even Halle can pry my mouth open!”

Ulfberht wiped at his tears. “I will force Halle to allow you to leave, I will beg if that is what it takes, who cares about an old man’s pride. What matters is you going back to Francia.”

“Thank you, but l don’t think that’s possible. You saw Halle’s eyes as well didn’t you?” Jehanne faintly smiled shuddering in fear remembering the stare of a monster who’d gone mad.

“Do not worry, I will make the greatest sword that will make him have to answer to any of my wishes.”

“You are a thrall though, just like me.” Her words made Ulfberht stop, his were too wishful.

“Then Jehanne what will you have l do? Nothing and see a lady like you die here. Never! I will have none of that!” He roared.

“Ulfberht l don’t want to die here either, but if that’s my fate then nothing can be changed.”

“We can escape!”

“Ulfberht there is no need for you to risk your life for me. You only need to finish Halle’s sword.”

Ulfberht was angry at himself letting a lady say such words. He grumbled wanting to pull at his growing white hair.

“Thank you,” Jehanne said.

“You shouldn’t be thanking me, l should be the one saying sorry.”

“No l really appreciate it.”

Jehanne saw Ulfberht’s eyes that asked if she was speaking nonsense.

“Really l do, you weren’t wrong when you said I could take on the whole world if I told others my burden. Don’t put yourself in harm's way for me, I would be more angry than happy.”

“Jehanne…”

“Stop, say no more. I feel better now and l don’t want you to ruin my mood. Sleep Ulfberht, make sure Agneli is not too angry.”

“You should be worrying about yourself.”

“Well l know how you are, and you're going to make Agneli’s life hell for him slapping me.”

“Like hell l wouldn’t, he deserves it.”

Jehanne shook her head. “I regret saying what l said to him and Halle, but l can’t change the past.”

“Jehanne—”

“Everyone is calling my name today it seems,” She interrupted. “l think my ears are gonna bleed if l hear my name spoken one more time. I’m fine Ulfberht, maybe not entirely but enough to sleep as you said.”

Jehanne waved smiling to Ulfberht. “Good night.”

Ulfberht could only muster a feeble wave back.

He spoke under his breath, “She is pretending to be strong. God, you’ve given her too hard of a test, even my faith wavered in you when l met the Berserkir.”

Fists clenched with the throbbing scars that’d left their mark on his arms.

“But by then I was hardened like steel with experience to answer my cries. She is as delicate as a flower and you’ve withered her petals.”

Ulfberht watched Jehanne leave and finally turned to see Agneli’s door open. Entering he saw the look of a man who’d cried, the stains of tears marked his face.

“Did you hear and understand?”

Agneli knew little of langue d'oïl after a year and with Jehanne’s help, but what solidified his thoughts were the names Trygve and Erik Tokesson. Nothing good came out of those two names and It did not take long for him to put the puzzle together for him to realise how a sweet lady like Jehanne could change in under two days.

The two names together never meant well and unless torture was thrown into the mix, she could not have changed so much. He wondered how much she had to endure, Agneli imagined the scene of Jehanne being whipped till her body cried of blood.

Words between the two men were unnecessary, they could understand each other with their stares. The eyes were the tunnel to the soul revealing a person’s true nature.

“Should l have not when she said so much, I at least deserve to hear why she was so angry.”

“You have no right to listen,” Ulfberht barked. Not knowing if Agneli knew or not.

“Ulfberht you realise you can’t help Jehanne when you are a thrall just like her.”

“What are you saying?” Ulfberht was going to start a fight if Agneli was insulting him.

“I will help her.”

Ulfberht eyebrows furrowed confused.

“Damn it you senile old man understand this.”

Agneli pointed at the still opened door signalling that he meant Jehanne. He pointed to the uncompleted sword he and Ulfberht were making and pointed back to where Jehanne had once sat.

Ulfberht understood Agneli was referring to Jehanne as the sword but his face scrunched up not knowing how Jehanne could be a sword.

“Jehanne is the sword, a beauty of art. Not meant to be harmed,” Agneli said.

“Halle is the hammer.” He pointed to the broken table which Halle destroyed.

Ulfberht nodded slightly understanding until he panicked when he saw Agneli slam the hammer down onto the masterpiece sword unfinished.

“STOP YOU IDIOT!” Screamed Ulfberht, before his ears did not hear the cry of a blade neither did his eyes see the sparks of steel meeting steel.

Agneli’s hand was between the sword and hammer. He halted his strike slowing the weight of impact but even then it stung worse than a horse kick to the balls.

Showing his hand to Ulfberht as it became swollen pink. He pointed to it and then to himself.

“I will protect Jehanne from Halle, l will sacrifice my hand for it. A blacksmith's last treasure, just for her. Do you understand?”

Ulfberht was not an idiot, he had eyes and understood the action that carried out Agneli’s words.

The two shared a goal, and for Jehanne they would complete it without fail. The only issue laid in one man they knew couldn’t be defeated with physical means—Halle.