Revive Rome: Wait! Why not make the empress fall in love with me first?
Chapter 194 - 98 There are No Vikings Left

Chapter 194: Chapter 98 There are No Vikings Left

Person, carrying an axe, ran away, and four children giggled and followed him.

Boys begged to touch the axe, and girls praised Person’s handsome looks, making him bloom with joy.

They disappeared at a distant intersection, and Sigrdrifa silently got up from the muddy ground.

She didn’t cry, but merely pressed her swollen cheek, saying nothing.

"Heh, Vikings." A voice filled with the weight of years spoke up.

Sigrdrifa lifted her head to look at the man who had spoken.

Village chief Wild, a man in his forties, seemed to be returning from outside the village, having just witnessed the scene.

"Chief, my mother asked me to trade the axe for bread and pickled fish," Sigrdrifa stood up and said softly, "But the axe has been stolen."

"I saw," old Wild said quietly, looking at her, "Aren’t you bitter about it?"

Sigrdrifa looked at him, puzzled.

"Resentment is the very first instinct that drives humans to kill," old Wild said, "Humans are unequal by birth."

"Do you know? I, too, have had something important taken from me."

"What?" Little Sigrdrifa asked with wide eyes.

"My lover," old Wild said seriously, "She was the daughter of a blacksmith, with a voluptuous body, fair breasts, and beautiful blonde hair. I was an apprentice in the blacksmith’s shop when I fell for her. We loved each other and pledged to spend our lives together."

"Then she was taken away... became someone else’s mistress. He was the son of a local Lord, noble-born, well-educated, and wealthy—better than me in every way imaginable. When I confronted him, his guards beat me mercilessly, and I only escaped by playing dead."

"Since then, I’ve known that men are not equal. Often, the pinnacle of life you strive your whole life to reach might just be someone else’s starting point. Be it family background, wealth, or knowledge, you can’t compete with them."

"At that point, it’s easy for them to snatch away anything you cherish."

Old Wild said this with profound meaning, then leisurely walked on.

Sigrdrifa followed him quietly. She didn’t know why she followed, it was just an instinctual act.

"Is there no way?" Sigrdrifa finally asked, "How can I protect my things from being taken away?"

"Oh, there’s a way," old Wild stopped and looked at her indifferently, "There’s one way that gives you a chance, just a chance, to beat those high and mighty folks."

"That is to fight with all you’ve got."

"Fight with all you’ve got," Sigrdrifa repeated dully.

The two passed houses, walked through farmlands, crossed the beach, and arrived at the shabby dock by the sea.

"Twenty years later," old Wild gazed out at the distant sea level, showing a somewhat satisfied and cruel smile, "I led pirates to raid and pillage his castle. I killed his children in front of him, dishonored his wife and mistress, and finally hung him in front of his family’s crest."

"Only from that moment on did I truly defeat him, crushing him completely underfoot."

"Pirates, are they Vikings?" Sigrdrifa asked.

"Not all pirates are Vikings, but Vikings are almost all born pirates," old Wild said lightly, "Vikings are an extraordinary Norman Clan from the end of the Fifth Epoch, living by looting and fighting. They once controlled the North Sea, making the Franks on the continent tremble with fear, so much so that they referred to all northern pirates as ’Vikings,’ whether or not they were of Viking Clan."

"But now, there are no pure Viking Clans left. On the continent, we are now called Normans, regarded as descendants of Vikings, Northern Jiamani, and local natives."

"It is said that the Viking Clan possesses the secrets of frost control, they could freeze their enemies’ shields and weapons, and even use frost to shatter their fingers and arms. Therefore, the hair of a pureblood Viking is also pure white like frost. Look around, do you see anyone with white hair?"

"If we’re talking about Viking Bloodline, the lighter the hair, the higher the concentration of Viking in one’s blood, while blond hair is characteristic of the Jiamani people, including the Franks and the natives of Scandinavia. The one in our village with hair closest to white, is your mother, Sally."

"Is Mom a Viking?" Sigrdrifa naively asked.

"Perhaps," Old Wild couldn’t help but chuckle, "You see what your mother is like now. Does it make any difference whether she’s a Viking or not?"

Sigrdrifa fell silent.

"Here, take these." Old Wild scooped up some fresh fish from the small storage on the back of the boat and threw them to her.

"I don’t have an Axe to trade with you," Sigrdrifa honestly said.

"It doesn’t matter, little Sigrdrifa." Old Wild smiled at her, "Who knows, maybe you are my daughter... I’ve calculated the dates, it’s not impossible."

"Remember, it doesn’t matter whether you’re a Viking or not," Old Wild said, "What’s important is whether you have a strong sense of dissatisfaction in your heart, and the courage to risk everything. Faced with a dire situation, Hell before you, slavery behind. If you stake your life and take that step..."

"And then survive, you’ve won."

"What if I don’t survive?" Sigrdrifa asked, holding onto the squirming fish.

"Then you’re dead," Old Wild shrugged his shoulders, "So you also need a strong body. To step into Hell, courage is just the minimum requirement."

Little Sigrdrifa, holding the fresh fish, returned home. The windows were already opened, and the annoying smells had dissipated. Sally, with her platinum blonde hair, was combing her long locks and glanced over lightly.

"Mom." Sigrdrifa called out, holding the writhing fish.

"I told you to bring back salted fish, why did you bring back live ones?" Sally raised her delicate eyebrows, immediately starting to berate, "And the bread? Can’t you do such a simple task properly?"

Sigrdrifa remained silent.

"Have you been rolling around in the mud again? Why are you all dirty? Do you know how much your clothes cost me?"

Sigrdrifa still said nothing.

Sally scolded her thoroughly, then took the nearby bucket and gave her a quick rinse, restoring the beautiful shine and smoothness to her pale golden hair.

After drying her off, Sally dressed her in another clean set of girl’s clothes.

Sally went outside to the woods, skillfully cleaned the fish with a Dagger, gutted them, threaded them onto branches, and began to grill them over a fire.

Sigrdrifa watched her, dumbfounded.

"This technique, your mother learned it from a traveling bard," Sally carefully sprinkled some earth salt on the grilling fish, "If not for this, you’d be gnawing on raw fish like a seal..."

"Mom." Sigrdrifa suddenly asked, "How can I get a strong body?"

"Why are you asking this?" Sally blinked, instantly starting to curse, "It must be that stinking pirate Old Wild filling your head with all sorts of nonsense again, right? How many times have I told you, you’re not his daughter! You have nothing to do with that old man!"

"Then who is my father?" Sigrdrifa asked.

Sally suddenly fell silent.

"Never mind that," Sally said indifferently after a while, "What you need to do is to live well, grow into a beautiful girl, and then marry a little Noble or a wealthy merchant. Your mother didn’t give birth to such a beauty for you to go and ruin your body roughly, understand?"

Sigrdrifa nodded her head.