Chapter 101: True Vikings
In the tavern, Sidlipha found the pirates.
They were still dead drunk, seemingly having spent their remaining money on alcohol.
Sidlipha sighed, asked the owner for a basin of cold water, and splashed it on the men, waking them up.
The pirates stumbled out, supporting each other, heading towards the port.
Sidlipha suddenly had a bad feeling; the streets seemed unusually empty.
She quickly told Old Wilder. He, still slightly drunk, ordered his men to hurry towards the docks.
Just as they reached the port, they were intercepted by a group of city guards.
Before they could even draw their weapons, the hungover and weak pirates were disarmed, forced to their knees, and crossed swords pressed against the back of their necks.
Sidlipha injured two guards, but outnumbered, she was punched hard in the stomach by a third guard and crumpled to the ground.
Several guards were about to restrain her in the same way, swords at her neck, when a voice came from behind:
“No need to be so rough. Even if she’s a pirate, she’s still just a woman.”
Sidlipha looked up at the blond young man who emerged from the crowd, something cold settling in her heart:
“Leotis…”
“Sidlipha,” Leotis looked at her indifferently. “So you really are a pirate.”
“We have no quarrel,” Sidlipha suppressed her anger, trying to negotiate. “Killing us here won’t benefit you.”
“Oh?” Leotis smiled playfully. “Indeed, I didn’t come here to kill you.”
“I came for you,” he narrowed his eyes.
“Me?” Sidlipha was stunned. The captured pirates beside her roared:
“Get lost! Don’t you dare touch a hair on my daughter’s head…”
The shouting pirate was quickly beaten about the face with a sword hilt by a guard, spitting out teeth and blood.
Leotis watched calmly, then said with a pitying tone:
“Sidlipha, why are you always so stubborn? If you had been willing to convert to God with me, none of this would have happened today.”
“Shut up! Vikings never believe in gods…” another pirate cursed, but before he could finish, a guard stabbed a dagger into his mouth. With a twist, he was permanently silenced.
“So your target isn’t us,” Sidlipha took a deep breath. “Your target is me.”
“My target is you,” Leotis frowned slightly. “Yes, what else? Did you think a nobleman like me would waste time on a commoner girl?”
“Lost lambs need a shepherd to guide them back to the right path. Lowly commoners need noble blood injected to be reborn.” He spread his hands, speaking in a theatrical tone. “Sidlipha, you have a sinful past, but none of that matters.”
“As long as you are willing to convert to my Lord, I can give you an identity and return you to the path you should follow.”
“What identity?” Sidlipha asked coldly. “To be your mistress?”
“This is a gift to you,” Leotis raised his chin arrogantly. “Being a nobleman’s woman is always better than continuing to drift at sea.”
In that instant, Old Wilder’s words flashed through Sidlipha’s mind like lightning.
“…People are born unequal…”
“…It is child’s play for him to take anything you cherish…”
Sidlipha trembled, a sense of helplessness overwhelming her again, as if she were back in the slaughtered village.
It was the nightmare that haunted her countless nights: soldiers killing her mother in front of her, her small body unable to break through their hard helmets no matter how hard she struck.
Now, she felt her weakness and powerlessness once more.
“If…” Sidlipha said with difficulty, “I go with you… will you let them go?”
“Of course,” Leotis smiled, a look of satisfied certainty on his face.
“Don’t believe him,” Old Wilder, who had been silent, suddenly spoke. “As soon as you leave with him, we will be killed where you can’t see.”
“Shut up!” The guard behind him shouted roughly, raising his fist to strike his face. But Old Wilder stood up abruptly like a bull, struggling against his bonds and roaring at Sidlipha:
“Sidlipha! A true Viking never…”
Two swords pierced his chest from behind. He furiously broke the ropes binding his hands and grabbed the battle axe at the guard’s waist.
Then he was pushed to the ground by the guard… dead.
Sidlipha watched Old Wilder’s body in despair, her eyes reddening, tears streaming down her face.
“Stop crying!” the first mate cursed loudly.
Because of Old Wilder’s resistance, the guard behind him pressed the sword harder against his shoulder, drawing a line of blood on his neck.
But the first mate showed no pain, only shouting fiercely at Sidlipha: “I told you before: better to shed blood than tears! What are you crying for… Are you looking down on us?! What kind of true father would sacrifice his daughter to save himself?!”
He shouted furiously, then twisted his neck sharply against the sword beside him, slitting his own carotid artery.
“No!” Sidlipha screamed with all her might. She tried to rush forward, but the guards behind her grabbed her beautiful golden hair, forcing her to watch through tear-filled eyes as the first mate collapsed in a pool of blood, his life fading away.
Two other guards rushed forward, pinning her arms behind her back. Sidlipha didn’t struggle, lowering her head numbly. The remaining pirates laughed wildly.
“The first mate did it, are we cowards?”
“Let’s go! Valhalla awaits us!”
“Whoever dies last has to chug a barrel of the strongest ale at the gates of Valhalla!”
These pirates laughed wildly and defiantly, crashing their necks against the sword blades beside them, choosing death one by one.
Leotis watched in horror, realizing the situation was spinning out of his control.
By the time he frantically ordered the guards to restrain the pirates, only six or seven remained who hadn’t killed themselves – not because they acted too late, but because they hadn’t yet mustered the courage. Some hesitated, while others cast pleading glances towards Sidlipha.
Even through their gazes, no one could bring themselves to say the words “Sacrifice Sidlipha for us.”
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