Michael's First Feast

The feast was wild.

Food and drinks kept coming without end. Everyone was celebrating in their own way. Some were dancing like maniacs, others were having drinking contests, chugging whole barrels of mead. Some were even wrestling.

I took every food and drink they offered me, trying to fit in. However, trying to keep up with these people was a mistake.

Time flies when you're partying. Before I knew it, night had fallen.

I found myself lying on the floor, head pounding. I had no idea how much mead I'd downed throughout the day.

When I tried to get up, I realized there was a guy passed out on my stomach. I pushed his head off, and even though it hit the floor with a thud, he didn't wake up.

Looking around, I saw the aftermath of the feast.

The place was a mess from the morning's chaos. Tables were covered with empty cups and leftover food. Men and a few women were passed out on the floor or slumped over the tables.

"Shit. I need some fresh air."

I staggered toward the exit, barely able to walk straight thanks to the mead. I kept tripping over chairs and people knocked out on the floor.

Once I got outside, I took a deep breath. The cool night air cleared my head, cutting through the hangover haze. It had been so long since I'd felt air this fresh. No pollution—just clean, crisp air.

"Hey, free man. Looks like you enjoyed your first feast."

A familiar deep voice called out. It was Birna's father—Varin.

I wasn't in the mood to talk to anyone in this state, but how could I avoid the guy who freed me from a life of slavery?

"Jarl Varin. How are you holding up?" I asked out of politeness.

"Hahaha. Just call me Varin. I gave up that title."

Sometimes I wish I could be a shameless bastard. I always feel guilty when I remember this guy gave up his position for my freedom.

Sure, I saved his life, but he didn't have to go that far. There are other ways to repay a debt.

He casually offered me a horn of mead. I almost accepted it, but when I caught a whiff of the alcohol, I politely declined.

We'd been drinking all day, and this guy was still going. He's really something else.

I sat down next to him in silence. Normally, I'd bring up the weather when I didn't know what to say, but I doubt that kind of small talk flies with Vikings. So, I kept quiet, waiting for him to speak first.

Just when the awkwardness was getting unbearable, Varin finally spoke up. And what he said caught me off guard.

"Thank you."

I just raised an eyebrow in response. I had no idea why he was thanking me. Shouldn't I be the one saying that to him?

"For what?" I asked.

"For everything. You saved my life. My people. And the future of my daughter."

I understood the part about saving lives. But his daughter's future?

"I used to have many men. They went wherever I went. Paris. England. Even as far east as possible. But after my wife died from the plague, I decided to stop sailing and settle down here. Someone had to take care of my daughter."

I could see the faint flicker of passion in his eyes. Like a fire barely clinging to life, trying its best to keep burning.

"I led the land like I did my raids. But it's a mistake. My men started to leave me. Now, I only have 25 loyal men left. And still, I failed to protect them."

Suddenly, anger flashed across Varin's face. The bearded man crushed his drinking horn in his hand.

"Foolishly, I trusted Erke's deception. That slimy bastard said he wanted to form an alliance with us. Instead, he wiped us out when we extended our hand in peace. My gold, my settlement, my people... I lost everything."

I had no idea what to do in this situation. Comforting was not my expertise. And to top it off, the person in front of me was a Viking. The best I could do was nod.

Varin let out a long sigh. Then he slapped his thigh and stood up.

"I shouldn't have dumped all this on you, Maikal."

He offered his hand, and I took it. The bearded man helped me up.

"Thanks to you, I've got a new place to settle. I'm not sure I could've started over again. There's nothing left of me. Asbjorn offered me to join his clan a few times, but I turned him down."

Varin gently tapped my chest with his fist.

"If it weren't for you, Ingmar might've made me beg on my knees. You saved my face in front of my men."

Now I get it.

From the start, Varin never intended to rebuild his clan after losing everything. He wanted to join the Varglund Clan, but since he had rejected them so bluntly before, he was too proud to ask Ingmar directly. After all, Varin was a Jarl.

He used me as a bargaining chip, making it look like he was repaying a debt in any way he could. In reality, he was doing it so he wouldn't seem like he was begging Ingmar in front of his men. Smart move from Varin.

I wasn't about to judge or laugh at him. Sometimes, it's tough to start over when you've lost everything.

"Well, I'm off. Need to check on Birna."

Hearing his story made me completely forget to check on him. The man had eight stitches in his stomach and four in his intestines.

"Well, I guess I'll check on him tomorrow morning."

My head was still spinning, and there wasn't much else I could do today. So, I decided to head back to the stable and sleep.

...

SPLASH!

Cold water hit my face. I shot up, completely shocked.

Soaking wet, I saw a shadow blocking the sunlight filtering through the stable's gaps. Looking up, I saw Ingrid standing over me, holding an empty bucket.

Before I could explode in anger, she tossed the bucket at my face, but I managed to deflect it just in time.

"What the hell is wrong with you?"

"Now that you're no longer a thrall, you think you can talk back to me?" She stared down at me with a condescending look. "I've been looking all over for you, and here you are sleeping. Still clinging to your thrall instincts, huh?"

For the love of God, does this woman have no guilt at all? I couldn't tell if she was on her period or just taking out her anger on me. She was seriously getting on my nerves.

"What do you want?" I asked, cutting to the point.

"Ingmar's looking for you. He's waiting in the longhouse. He said—"

Before she could finish, I walked away, purposely bumping her shoulder. I could hear her click her tongue, but I didn't care.

I headed to the longhouse, picking up the pace. Ingrid tried to match my speed, but I quickened my steps, ignoring her every time she called after me.

Maybe I was being childish. But whatever. I was pissed off at her.

The longhouse looked much cleaner. The remnants of the feast had been cleared. I saw Ingmar talking to one of the servants. Without thinking, I interrupted their conversation.

"You need something from me?"

Ingmar looked surprised at my sudden appearance. To be honest, I was surprised at myself too.

Whether it was the alcohol or just my bad mood, my tone came off a bit rude. I rarely do that.

"Yes. You're one of us now. Joining our clan means you have to contribute to it."

Oh, right. Varin bought me. During his last feast as a Jarl, he announced that I was a free man and part of his people. Since Varin joined the Varglund Clan, I was now technically one of their members.

"You said your old job was a doctor, right? Some kind of healer?"

"Yeah," I replied. No need to explain further since he knew what I did.

Ingmar grinned.

"In a couple months, my father's coming back. Usually, there's one or two injured. I've set aside a place for you to treat his men. Use that place as you like."

I squinted for a moment, trying to digest his words. Was he giving me a clinic?