The Raid: A Short Story

When Rurik smiled, instead of causing the tension in the room to relax, Freya could feel it tighten. She knew from his expression that perhaps he had not intended it this way...but could he not feel it? Erlend had given him his answer, and yet he continued on as if he had not heard his reservations. Yes, Rurik responded to Erlend's reservations, for he had heard them just like everyone else. But it was clear from his reply that he had not truly listened.

The room remained silent as Rurik carried on, just as stubborn in his convictions now than he had been the day when Freya had first tried to change his mind. If this was a few years from now, maybe even as little as a year later, perhaps Freya would agree with him. But he had not been here with Asbrand. The men had been difficult enough to train when Rurik had decided he wanted to raid after months and years of sloth and negligence. The raid had been more difficult than usual, although still successful, simply due to the time of year, and the men were exhausted not only from the raid, but from the change in command, the change of lifestyle, and the training itself.

The vast empires that Rurik

He could not leave it there. "I want nothing more than to work with you, and if you would like me to take time to consider my answer further, I will do so. But I fear that my answer is unlikely to change. We should not begin this project until the thaw, or you will have no one left who wishes to raid with you come spring. There are still those that believe she has bewitched you," Erlend's eyes finally raised to Freya's apprasingly, before lightly looking back to Rurik, "and if you drive them beyond their limits, acting mad in your desire to find greatness or stability, it is not only you who I believe will suffer the consequences of those decisions. I do not presume to advise you in your position, but as someone older than yourself...have patience. Plan your actions