Talk with Runar 2

"How did you make the string?" I asked as I finally relaxed myself. The spit-throwing speech I made earlier was beyond tiring; letting out a heavy sigh. I sat on the crude, wooden seat, while holding the poorly made cup. I let my thoughts wander; be it the small tour I made this morning or the absurd dream I had last night.

Runar chuckled, and his beady eyes shone with delight, as if he had been waiting for this question. He spoke rapidly, shooting out words one after another like a machine gun.

"I made it with hemp, flax, sinew, and coated it with some beeswax and tallow. This weapon is strong, so I made its strings thicker than bowstrings. I added more strength by double-ending the strings and looping it over itself since it snapped every time I tested it. Like the bindings used to tie the prods onto the stocks, the strings were coated with a protective wax. That helped to keep the string from stretching too much in damp weather. I added another string that spiraled across the length of the main string to help keep all the strings in place."

Nodding in understanding, yet deep in my mind, I understood none of what he said. His words were like a foreign language to me, even though I knew I was supposed to understand them. After all, I may have future knowledge, but I don't know how to create it.

For example, the pit where I told everyone to throw their droppings and their livestock — including bones and any organic leftovers — needs to be burned. Yet, I'm not entirely sure of the best way to go about doing this. Autumn is coming and planting season is near, so I should try to get it done in the upcoming days.

"I have no idea what I'm doing," I mumbled to myself, while I kept up the charade with a confident expression.

After all, life is all about acting. I asked Runar, who was also drinking from his cup, "What about the short arrows? Are they durable? Can I retrieve them after firing?"

"Yes to all of your questions ,At first, I attempted arrows made of wood, but they broke upon touching the target since the crossbow is too strong. So, I tried bronze, then iron," he said as a matter-of-fact, while gazing towards the upcoming gray clouds. "For now, iron arrows are stronger and more durable than bronze ones."

I listened with half an ear as my mind wandered towards memories of some famous TV shows. I nodded absently as I stated, "Keep looking for another alternative for the string and strive to make the crossbow better and more durable. As for the reloading, think of a wheel!"

His gaze, which had been fixated on the sky, suddenly moved towards me. With a perplexed and interested expression, he asked, "Wheel?"

"Yes, a wheel to reload the weapon," I said as I made a gesture of turning my hand clockwise upon itself. But when I saw Runar's dazzled expression, I explained it more clearly. "When you make a meat stew, you stir the pot. Imagine that like a reloading mechanism...," I trailed off, seeing the still-confused look on his face.

I could tell he still wasn't getting it, so I decided to try a different analogy. "You know how when you're cooking on a campfire, you have to keep turning the meat so it doesn't burn? It's like that, but with a wheel."

"Hmm, I see what you're saying," Runar said slowly, his brow furrowed in thought as he rubbed his beard. He was trying to make sense of the analogy and see how it fit into the bigger picture.

"I'll draw up some insights about the reloading mechanism, but in the end, your efforts are needed to make it happen," I said as I jabbed my finger in his direction. Seeing him nod in understanding, I added, "And what of the armor and sword I drew for you?" I said as I chugged the cup of ale.

He looked back at me with an ear-to-ear grin, his eyes twinkling with mirth, and said "I never saw such intricate armor and weaponry, and I am still trying to forge it. Herald, you are a genius!! How do you think of all this?"

I was taken aback by his overreaction; however, I chuckled while nodding in understanding, since Runar was kind of an admirer of Brokk and Sindri. They were the same thing as Hephaestus—the peaceful Greek god of all things that could be crafted.

I pointed out calmly, "Weapons weren't meant for war in the first place. They were made for hunting...tell me, old man, what do you think our First weapon is?"

"Hmm?" He said, after thinking for a couple of seconds and furrowing his brow. "Hammer?"

"Haha! No! It's a long, pointy stick!"

"What on Earth do you mean by 'pointy stick'?" he asked, bemused.

"Yes! Runar, do you think we just happened to know how to farm or raise livestock and forge weapons? No, we evolved. Like us, weapons evolved too. Personally, I think the first weapon was a pointy stick. Then our Forefathers noticed that the stick broke every time they utilized it, so they used a sharpened stone as the tip of what is now called a spear. So on and so forth..."

"Are you drunk Herald??"

"Haha, no! But I'm actually quite famished. I didn't have time for breakfast this morning. Do you have anything to eat?"

"No !! I have Only drinks !!"

"Then I better get going, but before that, Runar, think of a bigger, pointier stick!"

"Big pointier stick?"

"Haha, yes — a bigger crossbow that sends big flaming balls of fire towards the enemy. But that is a discussion for another time. For now, create the twenty shields I drew for you. And don't forget the sword and armor which I also drew!"

"Herald! Like I've said what feels like a thousand times, in this godforsaken land there is no iron! Not even in the river! I swear on my life I didn't find a speck of iron! That crossbow, be it the nut, trigger, and the rest, is made of bronze! Only the short arrows are made of iron I scraped together in the forge."

Seeing the deep, permanent frown lines on his forehead as his bushy eyebrows drew together, and his long, overgrown gray beard shook left and right in agitation, he pointed towards the river. He raged closer to making his rosy face even redder.

"Settle down, old man! Don't you think I have weapons? Didn't I bring a whole cart full of iron weapons? Do you think I fight battles just to see men and women die?! Everything is calculated, even the scarce iron."

"What?! You want me to recast those weapons?" Runar's eyes widened in shock and his brow furrowed in confusion. I saw it all in his eyes. After all, weapons, clothes, and cattle are a sign of power and prestige in this age.

"Why do you think I brought them? To reward those rats? I saw it with my own eyes who fought and who didn't! When we were attacked from behind, they didn't help. On the contrary, they smiled and they were close to helping the enemy! That I felt. They want me to fail so that they can take my seat from me! For that, I'll remove their heads from their shoulders!!" I said fiercely, before adding, "Don't forget, better equipment and weapons will be a kind of investment for the longer term. After all, my ambitions have no limit."

"F*cking Bjorn! If it was him, they wouldn't even dare to raise their heads!" Runar said raucously as he slammed his crude, rough-hewn cup on the crude, rough-hewn table. It was a sign of not having a woman in the house - someone to take care of domestic duties and make the place feel like a home, yet Runar didn't.

"Don't worry, Runar," I said in a low voice, trying to sound reassuring. I scooted closer to him so that only he could hear me and continued, "A list had been made this morning. It was sent to Hans and the boys. You will receive it shortly. Just keep an eye out! and don't do something stupid "

With my eyes of allegiance, I did a tour of the settlement at the crack of dawn. Everyone who had 0 loyalty was noted. Hungry from not having food and vulnerable from what Herald said in my dream, I still wasn't quite believing what I heard. Yet, a part of me believed what I saw. And it's better to be safe than sorry.

"Don't wrong innocent people!" He whispered back, looking worried.

"Hehe! Innocent? They mock me for my age, they laugh at my father who went to battle to protect their dignity, and even worse, they mock my brother. And believe me when I say this: I'll continue to torture them even after they die!"

After several long seconds of silence, I stood up from the uncomfortable seat which was hurting my bottom, and added: "Old fool, you'd better take on an apprentice!"

"Fuck off! No one touches my forge!"

Having said what I came to say, I stood up, waved goodbye to the old man, and strode towards the newly constructed barracks. While thinking about the upcoming training I'll do with the selected few,

Twenty men were chosen to be part of my upcoming squad. A squad of highly experienced men - of course. Only those with loyalty above 80, were selected.