Chapter 274
The priest’s grin widened, revealing teeth stained by the red wine he had been drinking. "Reckless? Perhaps. But it is not a madness that blinds; it is a madness that sharpens. In the throes of it, you see clearer, feel deeper. The world slows, and every sound, every scent, every movement becomes a thread in the tapestry of the fight. Björn’s madness is not a curse; it is a gift. It is the fire that burns away fear, doubt, and pain. It leaves only the purity of battle, the clarity of purpose."
Nwadiebube, silent, studied the priest carefully. The room had fallen quiet, the nobles no longer raising their goblets, their attention fully captured by the tales of the Norwegian warrior.
Finally, Nwadiebube spoke, his voice measured and calm. "Your god, Björn, and his madness... they are foreign to us, but there is strength in what you say. The Omadi respect power, and you speak of power born from chaos, from fury. But tell me, priest, in the aftermath of battle, when the madness fades and the blood dries... What is left? What becomes of those who live only for war?"
The priest’s eyes darkened, and for a moment, the wildness within him seemed to retreat, replaced by something deeper, something almost melancholy. "What is left?" he echoed softly. "A hunger, a thirst that can never be quenched. We are Björn’s chosen, but we are also his cursed. When the battle ends, we become shadows of ourselves, restless, always seeking the next fight, the next taste of that divine madness. It is a burden that we are trying to overcome"
Staring at his hand, the priest said "I am thankful for our three great leaders who took it into their hands to deal with such things. It’s slow but it is working. A few months ago I would have never imagined myself sitting down and calmly telling tales without the need to tear the head of something off.
Nwadiebube observed the priest with a thoughtful expression, his dark eyes reflecting the flickering candlelight. The priest’s words hung heavily in the air, the tension in the room palpable. The nobles, who had been so eager to hear tales of battle and fury, now found themselves confronted with the harsh reality of a life lived in constant violence.
The king leaned forward slightly, his gaze never leaving the priest. "Three great leaders, you say? Tell me more about them. How do they manage to quell the storm within, to bring calm where there is only madness? In the Omadi kingdom, we value wisdom as much as strength, and it sounds as though these leaders possess both in abundance."
The priest nodded slowly, as if weighing his words carefully. "They are not like the rest of us, though they too were forged in the fires of Björn’s madness. They have found a way to channel the fury, to control it rather than be consumed by it. They lead us with a firm hand, guiding us through rituals, through meditation and discipline, teaching us to master the madness instead of letting it master us."
Nwadiebube’s gaze softened slightly, a flicker of understanding flashing in his eyes. "Perhaps, then, there is something we can learn from one another."