The journey to Castle Black was uneventful, for the most part. They managed to avoid bands of wildlings, both those out hunting and those looking for trouble, and reached their destination without incident. Once there, they stayed only a single day. Their wagon could carry only so much, and it was filled to the brim in short order. The livestock they acquired had to be led alongside them as they prepared to leave.
The crow commander was visibly pleased upon hearing of the successful raid on Jorund's settlement, even going so far as to grant them an extra sheep as part of the payment. Ivar, however, was left nearly speechless by the man's shamelessness. The way the commander acted, one would think he had handed over bars of gold rather than a single animal. To make matters worse, he even had the gall to tell Ivar to "do better" when they struck Sylas's settlement next.
In the end, Ivar merely nodded and held his tongue. It was better to leave quickly than risk saying something that might end with him planting his fist in the commander's mouth.
They set out again the following day, though this time they did not retrace their original path. Instead, they angled northwest, heading toward the region where Sylas's settlement lay. Moving carefully, they avoided other camps and wandering bands along the way, slipping through the wilderness without drawing attention. By the fourth day after leaving Castle Black, they reached the general area where his men were meant to be waiting, though it still took half a day of searching before they finally found them.
When Ivar caught sight of his warriors again, he let out a quiet breath of relief. He separated from the crows soon after and led his group back toward their camp. Though relations between them were cordial for now, he trusted the crows no further than necessary and had no intention of letting them sleep inside or anywhere near his encampment.
When they arrived, Hilde met him halfway. He greeted her with a nod, his eyes briefly scanning the surroundings before he said, "I nearly couldn't find yer camp. Ye did well findin' this place."
"O' course," Hilde replied with a small, satisfied smile, her gaze drifting toward the heavily laden wagon and the livestock being hauled behind it. "Ye told us to find somewhere secluded, a place that could hide a hundred warriors, and we did." She paused for a heartbeat before adding, "Looks like we've a fine haul again."
"Aye," Ivar said, nodding as he continued deeper into the camp. When his tent came into view at its center, he moved towards it and went on, "We'll have another like it once we've struck Sylas's camp. How's everythin' been while I was away?"
"All quiet," Hilde answered as she followed him. "No fights on the way here, and we've kept to ourselves since settlin' here. So… when do we strike Sylas's camp?"
"Soon," Ivar replied as he stepped into his tent, casting a brief, approving glance around before turning back to her. "But I'll scout the place first before decidin' anythin'. Where's Torren?"
"He's out huntin'," Hilde said. "Should be back soon. Need anythin' from him?"
"Nay," Ivar shook his head. "Just askin'. I'll rest for the day and scout Sylas's settlement on the morrow. Wake me if anythin' happens."
"Aye," Hilde said, nodding before turning to leave.
Once alone, Ivar stretched, the weariness of the journey settling into his bones all at once. Stripping off his furs, he lay down on his bed and, within moments, slipped into a deep and dreamless sleep.
—-------
Ivar lay low against the ground, his body pressed into the earth as he watched Sylas's settlement spread across the valley below. Though it lay some distance from his vantage point, he had no trouble observing it with his enhanced vision, noting every flicker of movement, every shift of shadow among the tents and fires. He had been watching the place for three nights now, studying its rhythms and patterns, and it was already clear to him that Sylas's settlement was better guarded and more tightly secured than Jorund's had been. The thought lingered in his mind that they would likely suffer heavier losses here, and for a brief moment he considered whether it might be wiser to strike alone rather than risk his warrior's life. Yet the idea passed as quickly as it came, dismissed with quiet resolve. He was not building a force that relied solely on his own strength, but one that could fight as a disciplined whole, an army that would move and act as he commanded. If he bore every battle himself, then in time he would be worn down, and his men would remain untested. No, they would fight with him, learn with him, and harden themselves in blood.
Beside him, Torren shifted impatiently, the faint crunch of snow beneath him betraying his restlessness as he leaned closer and spoke in a low voice. "When are we attackin' them, Ivar? I'm tired of just watchin' them every night."
Ivar let out a quiet chuckle, his gaze never leaving the settlement below as he replied, "Settle yerself, Torren. Yer eagerness won't make the moment come any faster." He watched the guards for a while longer, tracing their routes and timing their movements before finally adding, "We strike on the morrow. Ye won't have to wait much longer."
Torren's face lit up at once, a grin spreading wide enough to split it. "Truly?"
"Aye," Ivar answered dryly, still focused on the task before him. "So keep quiet and watch. I'm still trackin' their patrols."
Torren nodded, forcing himself into silence, though the excitement in his eyes was impossible to hide. He had been itching for another fight since their raid on Jorund's camp, where he had claimed seven kills of his own, yet even that had not been enough to satisfy him, nor to rival Ivar's tally. This time, he meant to do better.
They remained there for another hour, Ivar committing every detail to memory until he was satisfied that he had seen enough. Only then did he rise and lead the way back, slipping through the trees with practiced ease until they returned to their camp. Upon arrival, he wasted no time, sending Torren to summon Hilde to his tent. By the time the two entered, Ivar was already seated within, his expression composed as he gestured for them to sit before him.
"We attack Sylas's settlement on the morrow," he said without preamble, his gaze shifting to Hilde. "How stand the warriors? Are they ready to fight?"
Hilde straightened at once, her answer firm and certain. "Aye. I've kept them drillin' enough since we arrived here but most of them are tired of it by now. Their spirit and will to fight should rise then when I tell them that we finally got to fight Sylas's settlement on the morrow."
Ivar gave a small nod, satisfied with her answer before continuing, "Good. The plan remains the same as it was at Jorund's camp. Make certain the men remember it well. Once the horn for retreat sounds, they are to fall back at once. Those of us holdin' the enemy must not be left behind because others linger too long."
"Aye," Hilde replied without hesitation.
Ivar then turned his gaze to Torren, who met it with equal seriousness despite the excitement burning beneath him. "Aye," Torren echoed, his voice steady.
Ivar went on to outline the exact points of attack, explaining in careful detail where they would strike and how they were to respond if matters did not unfold as planned, leaving no room for confusion should the battle descend into chaos. The discussion stretched on for nearly an hour as he made certain both of them understood their roles and the contingencies he expected them to follow.
When at last the meeting came to an end and they rose to their feet, Ivar turned to Hilde and added, "Don't forget to send someone to the crows' camp. Let 'em know we're attackin' on the morrow."
"Aye," Hilde replied with a nod before stepping out of the tent, with Torren following close behind her.
—---
Ivar moved in a low crouch, closing the distance between himself and the man relieving himself against the bushes. When he reached the man's back, he did not hesitate, his blade flashing in a swift, silent arc that cleanly severed the head from the body. Catching the falling head before it struck the ground, he guided the lifeless body down just as carefully, lowering it onto the snow without so much as a sound.
Without pause, he pressed on toward Sylas's settlement, slipping through the darkness and cutting down every sentry and wandering warrior he encountered along the way. By the time he reached a point roughly a hundred feet from the outer tents, he halted and waited, his eyes fixed ahead as he listened for the approach of his men. When they finally gathered behind him, he gave a single nod, no words were needed, as he trusted Hilde and Torren had already made their instructions clear.
He began to advance, moving at a measured pace toward the settlement, his warriors following in quiet formation behind him. They did not charge or shout, but walked calmly, taking advantage of the darkness and the enemy's unawareness. Only when they closed to within forty feet did their pace quicken, some breaking into a light jog, eager to be the first to spill blood.
Ivar's gaze flicked toward Torren, who had already surged ahead, breaking formation in his haste, and he could not help but shake his head at the sight, making a mental note to deal with the man's impatience after the raid. Pushing the thought aside, he surged forward himself, crossing the remaining distance in a heartbeat, ignoring the outer tents as he slipped deeper into the settlement than the rest. There, without hesitation, he unleashed himself upon the unsuspecting camp, the raid erupting into a sudden and ruthless bloodbath.
He spared the children he saw, letting them flee past him without pursuit. He was not so heartless as to butcher innocents, and in truth, he already held the thought of gathering them into his own settlement once Jorund and Sylas were dealt with.
A warrior rushed him, blade raised. Ivar met the strike with a sharp parry and drove a kick into the man's gut, sending him sprawling. Others followed, emboldened or desperate, but they fared no better. One by one, they fell, cut down before they could even grasp how badly they had misjudged him.
Even as he fought, Ivar kept part of his attention on his warriors. To his relief, they held their formation and did not scatter through the camp. He spotted Hilde and Torren shouting orders, keeping the line steady, and allowed himself a brief breath of ease. But it did not last long.
From the heart of the settlement, hundreds of warriors began pouring towards them. Ivar did not hesitate when he saw the rushing warriors. He let out a sharp whistle, and moments later the horn of retreat sounded. His men broke away at once, withdrawing as planned while shouting Jorund's name into the night.
Ivar lingered at the rear, retreating more slowly to cover their escape. The pursuing warriors reached him quickly but he met them head-on, cutting down those who came too close. Only when he saw that his men had gained enough distance, and that Hilde and Torren had already disappeared into the trees, did he turn and run in earnest.
Even then, he did not flee outright. He slowed just enough for a few pursuers to catch up, cutting them down as they overextended themselves. By the time he finally broke away for good, he had taken several more lives and claimed ten swords from the fallen as his loot.
With that, he disappeared into the forest and made his way back towards their camp.
The moment he arrived, he set his loot down beside his tent before going in search of Hilde. It did not take long to find her. His tone was grim as he asked, "How many warriors did we lose?" He had already seen some of his men fall during the raid and expected the count to be high.
Hilde did not answer at once. She frowned, bracing herself before speaking. "We lost twenty this time… and many more are wounded. Ivar, I don't know if we can keep doing raids like this."
The number stung, but Ivar kept his expression steady. "Don't worry. This will be the last raid…. for now. We'll watch how things unfold and decide our next move after that." He paused, then added more quietly, "But Hilde… more of our warriors will die sooner or later. You need to be ready for that. We've already spoken of this. It's the price we have to pay if we want them to learn how to fight and survive."
Hilde fell silent, clearly weighing his words. After a moment, she nodded. She had known some of the fallen personally, and the loss weighed heavily on her.
Ivar gave her shoulder a brief pat before moving past her, doing as he had done after Jorund's settlement raid. He walked among the wounded, offering what comfort he could, and spoke to those who had lost their friends and brothers, giving them words of condolences and respect. When he had finished, he returned to his tent and rested.
The next day, Ivar personally lit the pyres for the dead. Of course, before doing so, he gave a short speech, honoring their courage and reminding the others that they had died as warriors, with sword and axe in hand, how most heroes long ago had died the same. It brought some small measure of comfort to those left behind.
Afterward, he wasted no time. He sought out the crows and told them they would return to Castle Black at once to claim their payment. Brandon agreed without issue. The following day, after leaving some instructions to Hilde and Torren, he set out with some of his warriors together with the crows for Castle Black once more.
The journey there was much the same as before, uneventful. Upon their arrival, however, the crow commander could not hide his broad smile when he heard that they had struck Sylas as they had Jorund. In his good mood, he added another sheep to the agreed payment, just as he had done the last time.
Ivar could only shake his head inwardly. It was far from enough to make up for the losses they had suffered, but he accepted the extra livestock all the same and prepared to leave the very next day. The crow commander tried to persuade him to stay longer and discuss another arrangement, but Ivar refused, citing the heavy losses his men had taken and the need to return to his settlement to recover. The commander relented, though not without remarking that they could strike another deal in the future, a notion Ivar agreed to.
The return journey to their camp near Sylas's settlement proved more difficult this time. Jorund's and Sylas's forces had begun clashing again, their skirmishes spreading across the land. It seemed that his plan of masquerading as their enemy and raiding their settlements had achieved its purpose. Fortunately, they managed to weave their way through the chaos, avoiding patrols and war bands until they reached their secluded camp near Sylas's settlement.
Once there, Ivar allowed himself only a single day of rest before ordering the march north, back to their settlement. The command was met with clear relief and cheers amongst his warriors who had been away from their settlement for moons now, and many longed to return.
Looking back, Ivar could not help but notice how quickly time was passing. It was already the tenth moon of 127 AC. He had confirmed the date more than once, even asking the crows to be certain. The realization weighed on him. If events south of the Wall were moving as he expected, then he would need far more trained warriors before the civil war in the south came.
Ivar watched his men march north in a tight column, their formation steady and disciplined, with Torren leading at the front. Beside him, Hilde crossed her arms and spoke. "Despite losing their friends and brothers, the men seem in high spirits this time, especially after your speech, and seeing how much loot we brought back from the raids."
Ivar nodded. "They'd better be, or all of this would've been for nothing. The greatest gain from these raids isn't the loot, it's the experience. Now we have men who've been blooded, men who can teach and guide those back home who've yet to fight. Once we return, we'll organize them into proper groups and mix them with the others so they can pass on what they've learned."
"Hm." Hilde nodded in agreement. There were still many in their settlement training under Ulf or hunting to sustain their people.
Glancing toward the rear of their column, Ivar said, "Come on. We'll take the back. Torren's already watching the front." Without waiting for a reply, he moved to follow the procession from behind.
Hilde fell into step beside him in silence as they continued their march.
They moved carefully through the haunted forest, avoiding other surviving settlements and steering clear of hunting bands they spotted along the way. No one would have dared attack a force their size, but Ivar preferred not to be seen. There were still those in these lands who would cause trouble for them, and he had no intention of inviting unnecessary conflict.
When they crossed the Antler River and neared Alfyn's settlement, Ivar did not stop. Instead, he led the group around it. He had chosen not to involve Alfyn in these raids as he wanted the rewards for his own people alone. Now that they had returned with their gains, he had no desire for Alfyn to see what they carried, lest the man demand a share. Still, Ivar intended to involve him next time. He had a feeling that the next campaign would be decisive, that Jorund could finally be brought down, and for that, he would need every warrior he could gather.
When they finally reached their settlement, they were met by those who had remained behind, along with the families of the warriors who had marched south. Relief quickly gave way to grief as news of the fallen spread. When some learned that their sons had perished, mournful cries echoed through the camp.
Ivar watched them, their sorrow laid bare, and found himself reflecting. These people might be seen as barbarians and savages, people who raided, fought, and took what they could, but they were still people. And like any others, they knew the pain of losing those they loved.