Ivar the Boneless sat in the slush, ignoring the rain soaking into his clothes.
Around the edges of the courtyard, the surviving Norse raiders stood still.
Suddenly, the sound of iron boots splashing through the mud shattered the eerie silence.
Marching slowly through the smoking rubble of the main gates was another figure.
It was Halfdan, he wore bear furs and carried a pair of sharp iron axes.
Halfdan had been tasked with securing the outer city streets during the explosion, but the sudden silence from the keep had brought him running.
Halfdan stopped dead in his tracks. His eyes scanned the carnage of the courtyard.
He saw the dead Irish guards. He saw the lifeless body of High King Aedh MacNeill lying near the broken eastern wall.
And then, Halfdan’s eyes locked entirely onto Ivar sitting in the mud with Ubba’s corpse.
The axes slipped completely from Halfdan’s thick hands, falling into the mud.
The fierce warlord slowly walked forward, his chest heaving under his chainmail.
He fell to his knees right next to Ivar, reaching out with a trembling hand to touch Ubba’s cold face.
"..."
"Who did this?"
"An Irish prince," Kjartan answered quietly, slowly sliding his throwing knife back into his belt.
"Halfdan..." Ivar whispered..
Halfdan cut him off. "Are you thinking of anything now?"
Ivar remained silent for a long ti after the question.
He looked down at his own bloody hands.
The silence stretched on for several agonizing minutes. The freezing rain beat against their armor.
From the back of the surviving Norse formation, a nervous raider captain nad Rolf finally stepped forward.
Rolf wiped the soot from his face, looking anxiously toward the broken walls of the fortress.
"My Kings..." Rolf stamred, "We... we have a massive problem... The explosion woke up the entire city. The Irish citizens are gathering in the lower districts. We can hear them shouting. Should we loot the warehouses and escape or try to seize the city? But surely they will revolt against us..."
After hearing such words, a wave of anxious murmuring washed over the remaining Norsen.
Rolf was completely right.
They had three hundred tired warriors left. They had no more explosive bombs. And completely surrounding this broken keep were easily twenty thousand angry Irish citizens who were just waking up to find their High King murdered.
"If we stay here, we will be completely slaughtered!" another raider yelled from the back. "Let us just grab the royal gold from the vault, steal so horses, and ride for the coast!"
"Cowards!" Halfdan suddenly roared, "I am not running away like a beaten dog! I will cut down every single Irish bastard who tries to climb these walls!"
However, Kjartan shook his head, crossing his arms over. "You cannot fight twenty thousand people with two axes, Halfdan. Rolf is right."
"I don’t care, Kjartan!" Halfdan barked, stepping toward the scholar.
"Enough."
"We must calm things down first, then think about what to do..." Ivar replied.
"Calm things down?!" Rolf panicked, pointing a finger at the smoky sky. "Ivar, there is a massive mob forming in the market square right now! They are coming to kill us!"
"Let them co." Ivar smiled, a grin spreading across his face.
He turned his head toward Kjartan. "Where did you lock the Irish Princess and the royal children?"
"In the deepest cell of the surviving dungeon, my King," Kjartan answered.
"Perfect," Ivar nodded, slowly dragging his crutches through the mud until he stood in front of the panicked raider captain, Rolf.
"Listen to very carefully. We are not going to run away, and we are certainly not going to fight twenty thousand peasants in the streets."
Ivar pointed a crutch toward the untouched stone warehouses near the back of the royal keep.
"Take fifty n and secure the royal grain silos," Ivar ordered, "Lock the doors and barricade them with stones. If the Irish mob tries to revolt and storm this castle, we simply burn their entire winter food supply to ash.
Let us see how fiercely they fight when their children are starving to death in the freezing cold."
"And what if they don’t care about the food?" Halfdan asked, lowering his axes slightly. "What if they just want revenge for their dead High King?"
"Then we drag the Princess Maeve out to the highest balcony of the keep," Ivar whispered, "And we slowly cut her throat in front of the entire city. Then, we toss one royal child over the edge every single hour until the mob completely drops their weapons and begs for our rcy."
"...we hold the food, we hold the royal bloodline... as of this exact mont, this city entirely belongs to ."
"Hail King Ivar!" Kjartan shouted, raising his fist into the air.
"Hail King Ivar!" the surviving raiders roared back.
Ivar nodded slowly, entirely satisfied that he had regained control over his n.
"Halfdan," Ivar said, "Take ten of your best n down into the High King’s personal treasury vault. Break the iron locks. If we are going to calm this city down permanently, we are going to need a massive amount of gold to bribe the rival Irish lords into accepting my new crown."
Halfdan grunted in agreent. "I will bring you every single silver coin that old bastard was hiding."
Halfdan signaled a squad of heavily armored raiders and marched toward the smoking ruins of the inner keep.
They kicked open the remaining wooden doors and descended the spiral stone staircase leading deep underground.
Ivar remained in the courtyard, leaning heavily on his crutches. He slowly turned around, looking back down at Ubba.
Fifteen minutes slowly passed.
The Norse raiders began dragging stone blocks to barricade the broken main gates, preparing for the inevitable siege. Kjartan was busy organizing the wounded n.
Suddenly, the sound of incredibly fast footsteps echoed from the inner keep.
Halfdan burst back out into the courtyard. However, the fierce warlord was completely empty-handed.
His eyes were wide, and his face was entirely pale.
"Ivar!" Halfdan yelled, jogging across the mud and stopping in front of his crippled brother.
"What is it, Halfdan?" Ivar frowned.
"...we opened the deepest vault in the entire Irish Kingdom, Ivar."
"Then bring the gold," Ivar demanded impatiently.
Halfdan looked into Ivar’s pale eyes, "There is absolutely no gold, Ivar," Halfdan whispered. "The High King’s treasury is entirely empty.
But... you need to co down there and see what we found sitting in the center of the empty room. Because I have no fucking idea what it ans."
Ivar’s grip tightened on his wooden crutches. "What did you find?"
Halfdan swallowed hard, "Ivar... "why the fucking hell was the High King of Ireland hiding a massive map of City Titan?"
"A map?" Ivar asked, completely unimpressed. "Are you telling you interrupted my plans over a simple piece of parchnt?"
"It isn’t just a simple map, Ivar..." Halfdan grunted, wiping rain from his forehead. "The entire massive treasury vault is empty... There isn’t a single silver coin or gold goblet down there! Just a map of City Titan."
Ivar sighed, rolling his eyes in frustration. "Then what is the problem?" Ivar asked.
He slowly began dragging his crutches forward, "Maybe the High King’s spy made it. Or maybe he bought it from a rchant who sailed north. A map of Ragnar Ulfsson’s capital is a valuable military asset, yes. It is important. But why are you wasting all this ti panicking over paper?"
Ivar stopped in front of Halfdan, "Where is the fucking gold, Halfdan? The Irish lords will not bow to a map. They bow to silver."
"I am telling you, Ivar! It is completely gone!" Halfdan barked, "We searched every dark corner... We tapped the walls looking for hidden compartnts... Nothing!"
Kjartan slowly ran a dirty hand over his forehead, a deep frown entirely wrinkling his face.
"If the gold is completely gone, King Ivar..." Kjartan whispered, "We have a massive fucking problem."
"Take to the vault," Ivar commanded, "I want to see this empty room for myself."
Halfdan nodded, turning around and leading the way into the ruins of the inner keep.
Ivar and Kjartan followed closely behind.
They descended the wide staircase. At the bottom of the stairs, two heavily armored Norse raiders were standing guard outside a pair of shattered doors.
The massive vault was entirely illuminated by a few flickering oil torches held by the raiders.
The room was easily the size of a large dining hall, with stone walls and a low, arched ceiling.
And Halfdan was completely right... It was entirely empty.
There were dozens of wooden shelves built into the stone walls, designed to hold heavy chests of gold and silver.
But every single shelf was bare... There wasn’t even a stray copper coin left behind.
However, sitting in the center of the empty stone room was a single carved wooden table.
And resting on top of that table was the map.
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