Lies (Book 2 of the Vikings Series)

Chapter 6

Vern
I wake up later that day to the door of the dorm slamming. Briar throws his cloak on the ground and gently places his axe on the chair. I sit up, rubbing sleep from my eyes.

"I think by the end of this tour I'm going to be sick," he mutters.

"Why?" I ask groggily, merely entertaining the thought he's, no doubt, dying to make known.

"Look around and you'll catch on eventually," he glowers. "Your highness." Briar spits the last phrase and I suddenly realize what he had meant. This was mine. Granted, this village in particular was relatively small, mostly because of how close it is to Fagerhult. Mikael had explained that it was mostly made up of craftsmen. I wouldn't doubt it either. Most of the things I'd seen in the market earlier were all bartering for different wooden creations. I'd been told this was just one of many villages that I would now control but the reality still hasn't completely hit me. "You think I care?" I question him.

Briar rolls his eyes. "I think you'd be crazy not to."

"Yeah, whatever. I wouldn't expect you to understand," I ignore his comment. He snaps up.

"Stop it, man! You're a King. Since when do you care what anyone thinks? You have people. You have villages. You have Fagerhult, which is practically an empire all on it's own. You have an army. Heck, you practically have legions."

I stand up, grabbing my sword belt and throwing the long cloak over my shoulders.

"And you don't care," Briar mutters. "You know, if Elin were here, she'd tell you how much of an idiot you're being."

I turn on him. "Don't put words into her mouth! Besides, if she were here, she wouldn't have let me kill Rasmus in the first place."

"Oh for the love of the gods. What's it going to take to get you to stop acting like a fragile flower?"

"Here's an idea, shut up," I laugh, heading for the door.

"As if." Briar pushes past me, sauntering into the dusty street. "Follow me. The Earl wanted to speak with you."

"Wonderful," I mutter.

I follow Briar down the small streets down towards the harbor. He approaches one of the larger dwellings.

A smallish man stands outside the door. He bows low, his brown hair falling over his face as he stoops. I wait awkwardly for him to straighten.

The Earl gestures to the harbor and we start walking. The people milling about the street suddenly part, leaving an empty path for us. I glance from person to person and not one fails to meet my stare. They all sink into bows. By the fifth person, I abandon acknowledging them.

"You are truly not a fan of this," the Earl comments.

"Hardly," I shake my head.

"Thank you for coming, my King," the man speaks, his voice uncharacteristically loud for a man his size.

"Please, call me Vern," I request.

The Earl grins slightly. "The great King Herreinn. If I were given such a name I'd demand everyone use it."

I shrug. "Pretentious, don't you agree?"

"Maybe for anyone else, but not you, Sir."

"Vern," I correct. "Besides, I have not done anything great."

"Ah, yes. I have heard the news from Fagerhult. The villagers will forget it by the time you return. They do not miss Rasmus anymore than a rich cow longs for poverty."