“They know we are close to claiming Heilagt Auga for ourselves! That’s why they are trying to sneak him in! To thwart our efforts!” Rundolf growled at the assembly.

“Please, the only one thwarting your efforts is your own ego.” Ravkina yawned.

“I spent a good amount of time actually getting to know him, they seem…” Hakon began from his seat, but was cut off.

“No one cares for your input, BOY!” Rundolf roared. “You’d grovel at the feet of anyone your people could use to cower behind!” he continued to snarl at the blue assembly.

Hakon had risen from his seat, but thankfully stopped. Rundolf too did not notice the sign of aggression from the Blue House, as the curtains to the tent were held open wide, and Michael strolled inside.

Choosing to play ignorant of what had been transpiring, Michael nodded a cordial hello to Hakon and bowed his head respectfully to Rundolf. “Sorry I’m late, I was a little…tied up.” His eyes darted over to Ravkina, filling his mind with images of him tied to the bed of his chambers, with the scantily clad Vigdis standing over him. The Raven Queen smirked at the images she perceived from his mind, raising a goblet to her face to hide her satisfaction.

Archie slipped in as all eyes were focused on Michael, who began pouring himself a glass of water, “So, what did I miss? What were we discussing?” he asked, turning to lean against the gray table.

“We were discussing YOU.” Rundolf snarled.

“Oh, good, well, now you have a subject matter expert on hand, please, discuss away.”  Michael commented, a hint of mockery in his voice.

“We were discussing the dishonor your arrival has placed upon the noble houses who have time and again sacrificed the Tithings to be h…” Rundolf began to argue, his voice rising with every word, but was interrupted by the sound of slurping water.

Michael was finishing his glass, the sound of his drink reverberating obnoxiously around the tent as he drained it dry. Rundolf appeared to be glaring at the audacity of the Commander. “Come now, Wolf King, let’s not patronize me by pretending any of you here give a shit about the twelve people you drag forth as an entry toll.”

Michael sat his drink down beside him, motioning to Ravkina and Hakon, “These two use it as a means to clear out their dungeons each year. While you, simply pick at random twelve people you were going to work to death anyway…”

Rising from his sitting position against the table, Michael folded his hands behind his back, staring down the Wolf King. “Let’s get to the real reason you’ve called this gathering, mere moments before the ceremony is set to start. What was that bellowing we heard across the camp again, Archie?”

Archie perked his brow, clearing his throat, “I believe it was, ‘Thwarting efforts’, Sir.”

“Right…Thwarting your efforts.” Michael decreed, stepping closer to the center of the room, sizing up Rundolf, whose enraged glare had turned low and smoldering.

“And what really are those efforts? I guess no one knows, since no one has returned. But…you have to have some idea? I mean, why else would the Raudulfur send their mightiest warrior? Why would the Gulr Hrafn send their finest assassin? Why would the Blar Skjaldbaka send one of your own defectors against you, or pardon their most hardened criminals? You all must have some goal in mind.”

The room went silent at his words; even Rundolf could not bring himself to argue. “You don’t go down there to prove yourselves. You send someone down to kill the others, to be the last one standing…and then what? Maybe the trials require all three of you to complete; maybe it’s a test of your soul, that you bear with blackened hatred and greed. What harm does adding one more to the mix really impact your ‘efforts’?”

During his speech, Michael drew closer and closer to Rundolf. By the end, he was now standing, looking up, through his shades to meet the imposing man’s eyes. “I know what this is really about…” Michael kept his voice low so that only Rundolf could hear. “I know your Son, Bui, is your champion, and I…” Michael wanted to reason with him; he wanted to assure Rundolf that he was here to truly help, but the suspicious and wrathful nature of the Raudulfur was too great in the old king’s blood.

At the very mention of his son, Rundolf’s mind lit ablaze with fury. Not bothering to determine Michael’s intent, the king took those words at face value: a threat, and on his own kin at that. Spinning around on his heel, Rundolf bolted for the red bleachers. Withdrawing a Great Axe from the table, and roared in determination, “There will be no voting on this matter. I take this into my OWN HANDS! I invoke the ancient right of Vigaraun!”

The Raudulfur delegation all beat their weapons on the ground, stomping in unison at the declaration, as Ravkina and Hakon’s aids circled them in protection of their leaders. Michael looked to the Raven Queen, reaching out with his mind, hers being the only one he knew could answer him.

“Vigaraun?”

“Trial by Combat. It’s how the rabid dogs of the north tend to settle most disputes without resulting in all-out war. We uphold it to save from losing assets. I don’t envy you. Though he is brash and impulsive, he is not the longest living King of Raudulfur for no reason.” Ravkina’s voice responded in his mind.

Michael rolled his eyes as he backed away to his own table to prepare. Archie quickly moved to his side. “What’s going on, sir?”

“Trial by combat. I tried to reason with him, but apparently, sense has to be beaten into his one. Klingons would love it here…”  Michael confessed, as he undid his belt and set his sheathed blade on the table.

“Ok…but that doesn’t explain why you’re taking your weapons off, sir.” Archie asked, a bit more concern in his voice now.

“Back when I was in the academy…” Michael began, as he overlooked the cutlery on the table, “…I was effectively pushed out of every competition-based club I joined. Chess, Boxing, Anbo-Jyutsu. Wanna guess as to why?” he turned to his Yeoman with a smirk, taking a cutting knife into his hands.

“Don’t you think you’re taking a little too much liberty with your telepathic abilities, sir? I don’t doubt their capabilities, but even so, you’re not infallible. And this appears to be a life and death situation.” Archie pleaded.

“I don’t need to beat him, I just need to reach him…He’s scared, Archie. His only son is about to head into the unknown and may never come back, and he’s lashing out at the world in the only way he knows how.” Michael explained.

“Oh yes, I can’t relate to that feeling at all…” Archie grumbled, taking Michael’s belongings into his hands. “But a wounded dog is still a volatile animal; you need to be extremely careful, and prepared to put him down should it come to it.”

Michael nodded, patting Archie on the shoulder to reassure him. (It didn’t work)

Rundolf burst into laughter, seeing Michael tuck the small kitchen knife into his belt as he approached the center of the tent. “I can’t tell if you’re intending disrespect towards me, or just that damn stupid, trying to fight with that dinnerware, but I acknowledge the size of your balls for the attempt!” he sneered, as he raised his axe in a fighting stance.

Michael did not draw his weapon as the King advanced. The first attack was obvious, a large downward and powerful cleave. Michael was able to dodge to the side to avoid it completely. However, despite his size, Rundolf was very quick, and, maintaining the momentum of his first swing, managed to come back around for a cross chop in the other direction. Once again, Michael stepped back and dodged out of the way as the towering man continued to advance.

Trying to close the distance, Rundolf tried to shove Michael off-center with his shoulder, but having sensed the intent, Michael simply rolled with the attack, ending up behind the Warrior and giving a few extra paces of distance again. The Wolf King slashed horizontally behind him, but found nothing but air as once again Michael backstepped away from danger.

Growing frustrated, Rundolf thrust directly at his opponent, figuring he would slash outward in the direction the priest evaded. But once again sensing the intent of the oncoming attack, not only did Michael sidestep the axe jab, but ducked under the sweep, spinning around and jumping back for distance once more.

“FIGHT ME, DAMN YOU!” Rundolf roared, raising his axe above his head and charging wildly. Instead of coming down on Michael with his axe, the Wolf King thrust his other, open fist, through the air in a wild haymaker, but still missed AGAIN as the smaller fighter seemed to dance out of the way. To add insult to injury, Rundolf could feel a ‘slap’ against the side of his belly as Michael passed, a clear indication that if the other fighter wanted to have hit him, he could have done so already.

“I’m not the one struggling to hit a blind man…” Michael taunted, this time turning his back to Rundolf and slowly walking away from him, removing the blade from his belt.

That did it. Michael could already feel the emotional turmoil brewing in Rundolf. The frustration, fear, anger, and resentment were already brewing under the surface. But as he dragged the fight on, he could feel the emotional temper beginning to boil over. The last taunt, the last insult, the last humiliation finally sent him over the edge. The Axe came flying through the air at Michael’s head, which he turned to dodge, but Rundolf was shortly behind, his arms wide as he lunged through the air, tackling Michael to the ground.

Falling on his back, Michael was pinned to the floor by the weight of the larger man, with both of Rundolf’s hands firmly around his throat. Michael’s free hand struggled against the grip, which initially tightened to strangle the life out of him, but then loosened to only restrain him. The two remained in that position, neither making a move against the other for a few moments before Michael reached out telepathically, his black eyes peering deep into Rundolf’s gaze as his glasses had been knocked off in the struggle.

“Willing to listen now?” Michael projected into the man’s aggressive mind.

Rundolf gave no response, his eyes locked on Michael with furious intent.

“I know Bui is your son, I know he’s participating in this year’s ascention, and as a father, you’re rightfully terrified. But I’m NOT here to stop anyone or make any claims! I’m just here for my own answers.”

“How do you know this?!” Rundolf snarled under his breath.

“I’m speaking to you in your MIND; how else did you think I could dodge all your attacks?! How do you think the other priests have always stayed one step ahead of you? I’m not your enemy, Rundolf, and at the moment, I’m the only chance you have to see your son make it out of this alive.”

Michael could see the cogs turning in the Wolf King’s head as he looked away to consider the facts. “How do I know you’re not lying to me?!”

“I chose to fight you with a kitchen knife instead of my blade. You know I could have hit several vital organs, but I didn’t. Plus, I’m going to call my man off…”

“Archie, stand down…” Michael called out, his eyes not leaving Rundolf.

Rundolf turned to look to the side, seeing that Archie had withdrawn his bow, knocked an arrow, and had him dead to rights with a full draw. As the two locked eyes, Rundolf could see the same reservation in the other man’s eyes as his own, tradition be damned, had he killed Michael, Archie WAS going to end Rundolf.

Archie lowered his bow, but did not let off the slack from the string as he waited to see the scenario play out.

Rundolf’s eyes returned to Michael’s gaze, “If anything happens to my boy down there, I will launch an invasion of the Northern Isles and murder every single man, woman, and child in your name. Know this, priest. Squall be damned!” he snarled before relaxing his grip around Michael’s throat.

As the Wolf King rose to his feet, it became apparent that the only reason he had for pausing in not choking the life out of the Commander was that Michael, at the last moment, had placed his knife at the Wolf King’s groin.

Michael took a moment to breathe some fresh air before a large hand was outstretched to him. Rundolf had aided Michael to his feet, and at a very confused assembly, grunted, “I revoke my complaint…”

Archie, for a hologram, breathed his own sigh of relief as he loosened the arrow slowly on his bow. If he had blood, he was sure his worry for the Commander would have given him high blood pressure, if not a stroke.

There was a rumbling that shook the ground beneath them. Michael and Archie looked with concern; the others in the room knew what was happening, having felt this before. As the trembling came to a stop, the curtain over the tent’s entrance was flung open, as Arnorr and several priests of the Svart Augu stood in ceremony.

“If you’re all done…” Arnorr remarked, looking at the breathless Michael and Rundolf. “…the awakening is complete. Please gather your houses and meet us at the central ruins, to bear witness to the opening of the Bones of the Gods.”

As the crowd began to move and disperse, Michael moved to Archie, who handed him back his weapon belt.

“Well… It’s now or never,” Michael remarked, as the two followed the procession to the center of the valley.

[To be continued]