Randulfr was 'his' new name, a name that would soon be gifted to history if he didn't do something to free himself.
Riding his almost frozen body, a girl of foreign blood forcefully opened Randulfr's eyes, trying to lodge a wooden spike into one of them.
"Die, Wolf!" is what the girl shouted as she pushed down on her weapon with all of her might. The only reason this man known as "The Murdering Wolf" was still alive was because he was much larger than the woman, so he held her hand in place despite the lady's best efforts.
Randulfr's other hand was placed on the woman's jaw, gripping her face tight as he tried to get her off him.
That was the situation 'he' had awakened to, and the words that flew through his parted lips the second he was able to get his head out of the cold water marked this awakening as the start of another tragic saga.
"Giulia?!" the man shouted. In doing so, he somehow made the woman who was on top of him freeze for a second. That was the second he needed to escape, yet he didn't take advantage of it.
"So what?" the woman shouted back, the fight between the two continuing with many huffs and sudden movements that were never taken to completion.
In truth, it was Randulfr—no, 'him'—who was much more astonished than Giulia was for having her name called out, for 'he' had known that woman ever since she was a girl, and not in his wildest dreams would 'he' have imagined 'he' would end up seeing her like that.
Giulia pushed Randulfr's head beneath the shallow water once again. The man, still unable to accept the situation he'd found himself in, didn't stop her. However, his survival instincts kicked in in his stead.
The man felt his heart burning; his eyes turned bright red, and he let out a scream loud enough to part the water covering his mouth.
With a swift move, Randulfr shoved the woman's head to the side, pushing her off him. With a much lighter body, Giulia couldn't keep her balance and fell next to the man.
Now it was Randulfr's turn to get on top of her, and he did so without any hesitation. He then lifted both of his fists above his head and looked his victim straight in the eyes.
The eyes in the man's skull were still bloodshot red, and his vision came in the same color. His mind, which was scrambled until mere seconds ago, was now as clear as the surface of the lake back home on a windless day. There was only one ripple, caused by a single thought, and that thought was to kill the woman who posed a danger to him.
His heart pumped blood through every vein in his body, filling his muscles to the point of having the water on him boil. Adrenaline flowed unbothered through his brain, stopping every function that was not necessary towards making this kill.
The second they locked eyes, all The Murdering Wolf saw was a head he was going to smash. He saw neither a woman, nor his sweetheart, nor the slave he had purchased mere days ago.
Still, it was for but a second that the two looked at one another. In that second, Giulia decided that her last form of rebellion would come in the form of spitting in his face, and with how good she was at aiming, she spat right between the man's eyes, making him close them as he leaned in for his strike.
"RAAAAAAAAAHHHHH!"
With a loud roar, Randulfr swung both of his giant fists down, a cracking noise resounding through the empty fjord.
*****
It was mere days ago, in the cold nation of Fjordheim, that a man called Randulfr decided on buying a slave to carry around his stuff. He wore a face that's often been noticed throughout history—only his blonde hair and beard hiding it from prying eyes.
The one who showed him the goods was a sly man, but a strong one. He was someone who held plenty of power in Fjordheim and who was well aware of whom he was dealing with.
Walking past the tall jotun at the entrance, Randulfr found himself welcomed with open arms by that man.
"The Murdering Wolf, eh? I can't help but feel sorry for the poor soul you'll pick to walk alongside you."
"'Alongside' may be an overstatement," Randulfr answered to the man's taunts, to which the sly one in front of his eyes made a disgusted look.
The loner who had walked the country from one tribe to another now stood in front of a petty king who seemed eager to sell him what he owned at a cheap price.
"So, how is this one, Wolf?" the man asked, bringing forth a young, sturdy boy.
"I suggest you take this one while he's still fresh. They tend to… get rather thin after a while~"
With eyes scared but still confident, the boy looked at the one to become his new master. Yet it didn't take more than a second for Randulfr to look away.
"This one seems like he could earn a living for himself. Where I go, he doesn't belong."
The same answer came from The Murdering Wolf for the next five suggestions, yet it was just as he had gotten tired of the petty king that he laid eyes upon an empty cage.
"I think you've forgotten to take that one out," he wanted to say, but he stopped mid-sentence when he felt something behind him.
With his quick reflexes, Randulfr turned around quickly and caught a boulder that was coming for his head. He looked at the one holding the boulder. She was a young girl with unusual white hair and a murderous look on her beautiful face.
"Well… this is a little awkward…" the petty king said in a low tone.
"I'll take her."
Randulfr cut off the seller and, to the man's surprise, chose the one who tried to kill him as his travel companion.
The sly jarl wanted to protest at first, telling the man that such a frail body wouldn't last until spring.
"There's no need for lies. Remember that I'm the one who caught her attack," Randulfr persuaded the man, pointing towards his palm that was holding on to the woman's forearm.
"She may be stronger than anyone else you've gotten here," he added.
"I'll take her—with or without your head—along for the journey."
The petty king clicked his tongue and stretched out his hand.
"If your mind is as sharp as your tongue pretends to be, then I guess you've already figured it out, but this one isn't cheap."
Without adding anything else, Randulfr pulled out a pouch of silver coins and handed it to the man.
"A pleasure~"
Thus, the man turned around together with his new acquisition and left the longhouse. From behind him, a sly grin and a wave encouraged the man to go forth.
*****
It wasn't strength that made him choose her. Neither did he care for how she'd tried to kill him. He simply felt that he had to pick her no matter what. The moment he laid eyes on that woman, he could see nobody else as his travel companion among the frozen shores of Fjordheim.
Thus, Randulfr continued his travels, walking along the never-ending southern fjords in search of isolation, for that was the form of atonement he had chosen for his past crimes.
The nation of Fjordheim was one formed of islands. No, it would be more fitting to say it was a single really long island. This island served as a belt, blocking all access to the southern pole of the planet. In return, the southern pole smashed glacier after glacier into the landmass, leaving it with thousands of deep scars called fjords—valleys left behind by the giant masses of ice.
Out of those thousands of valleys, one was bound to be the peaceful, isolated place that Randulfr was looking for, but the journey to find that place was one that could cost many years. Regardless, The Murdering Wolf kept searching.
"You know, they say that the thing you want the most is usually in the last place you search. Are you sure you shouldn't have gone the other way around? Maybe the fjord you wanted was the first one to the east."
That was the first time that woman had spoken, days since Randulfr had bought her, and who would have thought that her first words towards her new master would be meant to taunt him?
To those words, Randulfr didn't answer. It wasn't because those words harbored ill will. He probably wouldn't have answered anything that he didn't deem important. Isolation had transformed silence into this man's creed many winters ago, and he hadn't broken it without reason since.
"Hey… Are you listening, Master? How about we try going the other way around for a change? It's been days since we started traveling… If you've found nothing you like, I doubt anything is going to change for the next few days…" the woman insisted, stopping in her tracks.
"What is your name, woman?"
Randulfr shot a question of his own, and his question did little to help the woman figure out what he was thinking.
"Does the name of a mere thrall matter to you, Master?"
"…"
"… Edda. My name's Edda."
"A local name? Were you born in these lands?"
"Yes, Master."
Suddenly, the woman calling herself Edda wasn't as talkative anymore, but that changed once again a couple of hours later.
"Ahhahh… my legs feel like they'll give out. Master… you're going to lose your precious new acquisition if we don't take a break soon…"
Randulfr turned around and looked at the lady with white hair and foreign features. To her surprise, he scoffed and kept on moving. Edda wanted to protest once more, but she was interrupted the second she opened her mouth.
"I reckon you should have covered those legs before complaining. As much as you try to make them seem like they're giving out, that muscle can't tell lies."
Busted by her own strong build, the woman failed to deceive The Murdering Wolf, and with a pouting glance, she put one foot in front of the other, following the man with her back kept straight and with her chest puffed out. She walked proudly, not hiding her muscular build anymore.
"We'll keep heading west," Randulfr suddenly proclaimed, answering a question that had long been washed away by the fjord.
"Are you so sure that we'll find what you're looking for that way?"
The man let out an abrupt "No," making a pause that seemed to be meant to gather his thoughts.
"But there's no point in going back the same way. I've already covered the other half."
The woman calling herself Edda opened her eyes wide, took a deep breath, and didn't speak a word for the rest of the day. She thought of that answer as signaling her defeat in a battle of wits, yet she couldn't help but think that the truly defeated one was the man called Randulfr, in his search for something that maybe didn't even exist.
It happened a couple of days later. After Randulfr and Edda fought back a wild bear, the man took a second to meditate and to calm himself down on the shore of another unfitting fjord.
The woman took a deep breath and pounded twice with her fist on her chest. She then crept up on the man sitting in shallow, cold water. She tiptoed around any patch of snow or ice, getting to the man without making any noise.
Upon reaching Randulfr, the thrall woman pounced on him, and even though the man had managed to turn around and face her, she still managed to shove his head beneath the water, trying to hold and drown him there.
If only it wasn't for a sadistic wish to also gouge out one of his eyes, maybe she would have managed to kill The Murdering Wolf with little effort.