In Norsca at the end of autumn, the wind and snow are raging, mammoth beasts are roaring in the endless wasteland, and the legend of the frost dragon is spread among children and old women.
"It's going to be a long winter, isn't it?"
Grettir returned from hunting outdoors, and he brought a blood-tusked wild boar, which he and his direwolf partners hunted together. Winter is coming, and there are fewer and fewer animals. Even a wild boar has to be lucky to encounter it.
.
"A long winter, but not too long."
As Grettir spoke, he threw the wild boar that had been bled to death on the table, took out his dagger, cut an incision in the belly of the wild boar, and skillfully took out the internal organs.
"Soon, we will go south. Winter is not cold for the south. Those fat guys are raising fat and are waiting for us to slaughter them."
"However, the Snow Wolf Clan and the Hague Clan have not yet agreed to join us."
Elder Tabek asked in a low voice.
"They will join, I promise." Grettir said, taking out a piece of what looked like a liver, and the fat blood stained his hands blood red.
Two days later, they set off on their way north to persuade them to surrender. Many years ago, Grettir's father Asabaal once led the Bloodspear tribe south to plunder. However, on the way to Blackhammer Castle, they were defeated by Kislev's northern troops led by Rhodes.
The border coalition forces were defeated, and all the troops sent to Kislev were wiped out. Almost no one escaped from the massacre.
As the son of Asaba and the only heir of the Bloodspear clan, Grettir vowed from that day that one day he would lead the tribe's army and hatred back to Blackhammer Castle and kill his father's enemies with his own hands.
Be blessed by the Blood God.
For three years, Grettir endured to survive, and relied on his excellent fighting qualities to conquer surrounding opponents time and time again, annexing surrounding tribes, or gaining their support.
Finally, three years later, a huge coalition of Norscan tribes appeared in the north of Kislev. North of the Troll Kingdom, they had almost no enemies.
Grettir is now the leader of this army. He has united six clans, large and small, with a total strength of nearly 15,000 people. Moreover, they all obey his orders. Facts have proved that in Norsca, obtaining an army
Absolute leadership does not rely on age, knowledge or status, but on force. As long as you are strong enough, you can lead the most powerful tribe.
Now, only the Snow Wolf Clan and the Hague Clan have not agreed to join his team. Of these two clans, one is good at catching wild beasts to fight for them, and the other is good at naval battles. Grettir has learned the lessons of his father,
To defeat Rhodes and capture Black Hammer Castle, the tactics cannot be too single. He needs to advance simultaneously by sea and land. The Hague Clan is undoubtedly the most critical one in this strategy.
…
"Baros."
"You should be called the King of the Ocean - Warchief - Baros."
The elders of the Hague clan stood in the big tent and reminded in a low voice. The great chief Baros sitting in the center had a stern look on his face. He was twice the age of Grettir and was a middle-aged man in his fifties. Chief Nian. A man with a vicissitudes of life and many stories.
Baros has always disagreed with the proposal of this young man Grettir. The Hague clan is a pirate clan known for its sea raids. They never farm and rely on fishing and plundering to survive. Almost every member of the clan has They are all fishing experts and pirate hunters. They have been living like this for nearly half a century under the leadership of Chief Baros.
However, the arrival of Grettir broke this calm. In fact, there were two factions and two voices in the clan. The conservatives headed by the clan elders and chiefs believed that they should continue their previous life and plunder offshore. They make a living by fishing. The other faction, headed by the young cavalry captain Cook, believes that they should join Grettir's army and go south to plunder. This will bring real wealth and prosperity to the tribe. However, in Baros Under strong pressure, this voice gradually faded away.
"The turtle-Baros."
In the big tent, Grettir returned with a look of disdain. These words immediately aroused the anger of others present. Some elders even wanted to kick this unruly young man out on the spot.
"Grettir, what qualifications do you have to shout here? Don't think that if the White Claw Clan and the Thunder Ax Clan surrender to you, we will also surrender to you. What ability do you have to lead the tribe's army? Tell me, what are your plans? Where does this lead us all? Death or exile? We have not successfully invaded Kislev in a hundred years."
The tribal elders questioned loudly with hostility.
Grettir, on the other hand, was calm and composed. He walked to the center of the tent with a look of disdain.
"Only cowards think so. If you haven't successfully invaded, it's because you haven't thought about it at all. You don't even dare to think about it, and naturally you don't dare to do it. So, for a hundred years, you can only live in this small fishing village. The so-called peaceful life. However, a hundred years later, your descendants will forget their traditions. They will forget that they are Norscans and how their grandfathers conquered the giant beasts in this harsh land and brought them with them. Go south and flatten the weak walls and stone houses of the Dixiecrats."
Grettir said plausibly. It could be seen that not everyone on the field was hostile to him, and the tribe's cavalry captain Cook looked happy. His excitement was palpable.
"Think? Thinking and doing are two different things. Grettir, you seem to have forgotten how your father died. He just had too many ideas and took his clan south. What was the result? He was killed by Kisri with less than 2,000 people. Husband's coalition forces were completely wiped out. Tell me, is your idea to follow in his footsteps and become a dog that died in the south?"
The elders continued to persecute.
"Watch your words, otherwise, I wouldn't mind burning this place to the ground."
Grettir threatened that he did have this capital. Outside the tribal camp was his tribal coalition army, which included tens of thousands of people. There was even an adult mammoth in the army. Once this giant beast got angry, the entire Hague The clan's fishing village will face annihilation.
Everyone stopped talking until the clan chief Baros spoke in person——
"No matter what you think, Mammoth Conqueror Grettir, you are you, you are the last heir of the Bloodspear clan in this world. If you want to avenge your father, that is your business. The Hague clan does not want to get involved.
, this is my territory, my ship, I will not let my people take risks for your selfish desires. A person who is extremely eager for revenge in his heart must be an irrational person. I will not let them go with you.
We will not take the risk of letting them go south and approach the inner gulf of Kislev, which is a dangerous sea area with battleships from the Empire and Kislev. Only a madman would do that."
"If you are wise, you'd better leave here now. Otherwise, even if you let the mammoths trample my territory, I will not submit to you."
Baros said, with a terrifying and ferocious expression on his face. Like two wolves, staring at each other without giving an inch.