Chapter 151 151: The Grappling Expert Reaches the Summit
Cerys and Svani looked about Angoulême's age, each the direct daughter of her own family line. The an Craite girl was more outgoing and lively, while the an Hindar girl was more reserved and steady. Both were the sort of girls one could only describe as strong and beautiful.
Angoulême felt that before agreeing to go out with them, she ought to have Dandelion castrated or driven off first. Otherwise, if he got his hands on either of them, it would be a colossal headache.
She acted as soon as she thought it.
She chased the bard away, then cheerfully accepted their invitation.
That night, the three women hit it off at once and shared a bed.
…
At first light the next morning, in the cave campsite, Victor woke up and promptly kicked Vigi awake as well. There was no need to be polite with a male follower.
The two then split up the work and packed the site in order. Today they had to push through the snow, and they needed to reach the next campsite before dark. Walking mountain trails on a snowy night was extremely dangerous.
Since the route had originally been planned with autumn conditions in mind, the boy handed the Skelliger a vial of enhanced Tawny Owl before they set out, and took a dose himself as well, to offset the way the snow cut into their traveling speed.
The two of them climbed on foot through the drifts, using ropes to get across several broken bridges, leaping over collapsed sections of boardwalk, and scaling rock faces with their bare hands.
Clearing out the nearby sirens yesterday helped enormously, because it meant they no longer had to worry about being harried along the way. In an autumn expedition with a full team, the usual method would have been to stay alert, cover one another, and fight while advancing, which also served to build teamwork.
Now they no longer had to worry about being attacked. Someone with a weaker constitution might still find the journey harrowing, but for the Dovahkiin and his follower, what remained was simply a long test of steady effort, stamina, and time management.
…
While the captain was out in the wind and snow, challenging nature itself, back in King Bran's palace, the party member who had drunk herself silly was being smothered breathless beneath warm, soft bodies.
To begin with, someone had her head locked in an embrace, and her face was being crushed into some unidentified mound of flesh. If Victor had been there, he definitely would have blurted out, "That's a head-and-arm pin!"
Meanwhile, another person had her lower body under control, using a far more technical move, one Victor probably would not have been able to name either. It was essentially a leg-scissors lock, the key being to trap the other person's leg between your own thighs.
Unable to breathe properly, Angoulême desperately shoved and squirmed with her face, trying to break free. Then, when the head-and-arm pin loosened slightly, she managed to see that it was Cerys, who promptly shifted from that into a full-body pin.
That alone would have been manageable enough. The problem was that the two women's movements disturbed the third sleeper. Svani, rolling over instinctively, clamped her legs tight, and the sudden pressure drew a soul-rending scream from Angoulême.
…
On Mount Aardeklove, Victor hauled the rascal up onto a boulder and sat down to catch his breath.
Looking up at the sky, the captain suddenly felt that one of his companions was in danger, though somehow not really in danger, and in a way that was oddly enviable…?
He shook his head and threw off the baffling sensation.
Day had fully broken by now, and their progress up the mountain was going very smoothly. If they still had energy to spare, they might even see whether any rare herbs grew nearby.
Rising to his feet, Victor called to Vigi, and the two continued on.
…
Cerys an Craite was no ordinary noble daughter. Her father, Crach, was the current head of an Craite, and her brother Hjalmar was the most renowned young hero of his generation.
Svani an Hindar came from an equally extraordinary background. Her grandfather Donar was the head of the Clan Heymaey, her younger brother Otrygg was the family heir, and she herself held another identity as a priestess of Freya's temple.
In terms of Skellige's political structure, as direct daughters of king-electing families, the two of them were effectively princesses, strong and beautiful princesses, with strong placed first because it mattered more than beautiful.
Svani stood six foot three and weighed nearly two hundred pounds. She was known as the finest shieldmaiden in the Isles, peerless in courage on the battlefield, and especially skilled with the flail, which said plenty about the strength of her arms. Some even claimed that the reason she had chosen to serve Freya was because her younger brother simply could not compare to her.
Cerys, though shorter, still stood close to six feet and weighed a solid hundred and sixty pounds. Her superb swordsmanship, paired with her lively, competitive nature, had earned her immense popularity as well.
After the three of them met yesterday, they had gone to a tavern to drink and chat. Angoulême's identity easily stunned the two princesses, because anyone who had set foot on the smaller Skellige isles recently could hardly have failed to hear the legend of the Dovahkiin.
And in the latest installment currently circulating, he had merely fixed his gaze on the savage Black King and made the beast drop to all fours in submission, welcoming him into the saddle.
So naturally, their conversation revolved around the Dragonborn. Angoulême's frankness and sincerity quickly won over both Cerys and Svani, because the girl held back almost nothing and answered everything plainly.
What no one knew was that she could be so open only because she had been given full permission to do so. According to Victor's parting instructions before he set out, if anyone asked about him, Angoulême only needed to tell the truth. She must never soften things out of kindness, and absolutely must not embellish anything.
If people asked whether the Dovahkiin was real, she was to firmly say that she did not really know and could not be certain. She was simply choosing to trust the boy's own account, as a friend.
"Lying to people is hard. Letting them fool themselves is easier." Those had been Victor's exact words at the time. Angoulême had not understood the deeper meaning behind them, but she did know that she did not need to help brag for him, and that alone made her very happy. She had absolutely no talent for that sort of thing.
What the boy had really meant was that when people believe you are trustworthy, then everything you say becomes true to them. They will tend to believe in what you believe, and believe in the people you believe in.
A real lie is not about making something flawless. It is about making people willing to believe it, or giving them a reason to.
…
Three straightforward women, drinking in fine spirits together, had an excellent time.
The six clans of the Isles had lived side by side for generations, and naturally there were all sorts of blood ties between them. Especially between Tuirseach and an Craite, since the current head, Crach, was King Bran's own nephew.
So after the tavern closed, with Cerys taking the lead because she still felt like drinking more, they returned to the Tuirseach royal palace and kept going. By the end, all three had gone into drunken rampages and passed out, which led directly to this morning's disastrous bout of bed grappling.
And now, eating breakfast with the two powerful women, Angoulême had the unfamiliar feeling that her appetite was tiny. Even the way she ate felt far too refined, far too un-Skellige.
Taking a huge bite out of a sausage, then lifting her cup and draining more than half of the mare's milk in several big gulps, Cerys sniffed and said, "Where should we go have fun today? How about the Fist of Fury? You can place bets there, and if the mood strikes, we can have a go at each other too!"
Svani showed a calm, gentle smile and nodded lightly in agreement. "I have no objection. We can go anywhere. You and Angoulême can decide."
"I don't mind either," Angoulême replied, though her expression was slightly strange, as if she were struggling to suppress something. Fortunately, neither princess noticed.
What she was suppressing was the savage inner snarker Victor had personally trained into her, which was now blazing at full force. She truly had no idea who Svani's quiet-princess act was meant for. Once someone was built that magnificently, calm and gentle lost all meaning. Forget women, Angoulême had barely seen any men that imposing. Even Iorveth did not compare to her.
After Svani had taken off her armor last night, the layered lines of her physique had been downright astonishing. If Victor had seen it, he would definitely have buried his head in the dirt in shame. She was practically the ideal model for all those Bell Town terms he was always going on about, pecs a man ought to have, eight-pack abs, biceps, and the rest of it.
And that was without mentioning how completely wild she became once the drink was flowing. She had actually led the charge in provoking palace guards into wrestling matches. No wonder she was known as the battle priestess with the strength of a hundred men.
Completely unaware of Angoulême's torrent of inner commentary, Cerys wiped her hands clean with a hot towel. "Ha, I knew you'd both agree. Just wait till you see me show off!"
"My dear Sparrowhawk, if you're planning to cause trouble again, please do it when I'm not around." The man stepping into the dining hall spoke with a deep, authoritative voice touched by amusement.
"Uncle Ermion!" Seeing who it was, Cerys happily sprang up from the table, took a few quick steps forward, and threw herself into his arms.
Svani also rose and inclined her head in greeting to the Great Druid. Ermion returned the courtesy, but what he was acknowledging was her status as a priestess of Freya's temple. Otherwise, everyone present counted as his junior.
He was about the same height as Svani, though with his towering headdress he stood much taller. His beard was gray and white, and his eyes were deep and perceptive. As Angoulême bowed, she found herself thinking that this was a wise old man weathered by countless years.
Letting go of the druid, Cerys grinned. "Uncle Ermion, how come you have time to come see us today?"
The Great Druid stroked his long beard. "Truth be told, I should have come looking for you last night. But little girls who drink themselves mad should be allowed their fun, and an old man ought not intrude. So I came today instead."
Hearing that he had meant to find them last night, Cerys's face grew a little more serious. "Is something wrong?"
Ermion smiled. "I'd like to speak with Lady Angoulême about the Dovahkiin. A warrior like that arriving in this season has naturally drawn the islanders' attention. As an advisor, I would only be doing my duty if I learned more."
"Of course!" Angoulême agreed at once. According to Victor, aside from his Incredible Alchemy, she could answer everything honestly. There was no need to worry about being tricked into revealing something or accidentally letting anything slip. Angoulême feared nothing.
…
By afternoon, before nightfall, earlier than expected, Victor and Vigi successfully reached the family campsite for the second night.
In fact, from this position, if one looked upward, one could already make out the outline of Yngvar's Fang in the distance. But after reaching the summit, one could not stay long, and soon after came the ski descent and the challenge of the underground trail. So generally, people would rest here for a night and tackle the trial the next day in peak condition.
Thus, after setting up a simple alchemy workshop at the campsite, the Dovahkiin took his follower around to gather nearby herbs. Quite a few rare plants grew only at high altitudes, and these too were the kind you never passed by without collecting.
…
The next morning, at the summit of Mount Aardeklove.
"And just like that, we've finished the summit trail, half of the Path of Warriors…" Standing atop Yngvar's Fang, Vigi sighed with emotion. "I never thought it'd be this much easier than I imagined. As expected of Lord Dovahkiin."
This oddly shaped stone peak took its name from a bear out of myth. The surrounding pillars of rock all curled inward like fangs, which was how Yngvar's Fang came to be called what it was.
According to legend, Tyr, the ancestral hero of Tuirseach, defeated that bear.
Victor smiled. "No, not yet. We're still not done."
The wind howled at that height, blowing flurries of snow through the air. The boy walked over to the stone totem in the center, carefully reinforced with white brick, opened its mechanism according to old Gunnar's instructions, and took out a red scarf from inside, stuffing it into his pack.
Then he drew out another red scarf that he had brought with him, similar in form but with a completely different pattern, placed it into the hidden compartment in the totem, and shut the mechanism again.
That was the inheritance. Every cycle, the design on the red scarf was different. Only when the pattern matched the records exactly could one prove the trial had truly been completed, rather than cheated.
The boy dusted off his hands. "Now, this is what counts as finishing the summit trail. Even if we die in the next challenge and rot in some dark ravine, when the next people come up here next year and bring this scarf back, they'll know it was us who completed the trial."
After saying that, Victor walked on his own to the edge of the cliff and looked down from the height, drawing in a deep breath. Just as expected, the feeling of gazing out over the void was wonderful.
There was a reason the old saying went that from a great summit, the whole world looked small.
That broadening of the heart, that quieting of restless unease, and thankfully the snowfall was not too thick, so he could see Urialla Harbor far in the distance, even the red-gold roof of the royal palace.
"Stand at the highest peak, and all the rest seem smaller."
"Only from the summit can you see the scenery beyond."
"I came, I saw, I conquered."
A jumble of grand sayings and surging emotion passed through his mind, almost like a meditation entered without ever closing his eyes. Unfortunately, that detached and transcendent state did not last long before the rascal Vigi broke it.
"Sir, over here, come over here, this is the spot where we ski down the mountain!"
It was a pity that he had just now entered that state of meditation without even shutting his eyes, but what was past was past.
Victor turned and went to Vigi. Together they studied the super-slope before them, a run with a grade of over fifty percent for almost its entire length, an express route straight to the foot of the mountain. One mistake on the descent, and the lightest possible outcome would be permanent crippling. Yet by the same token, if one truly managed this slope, the thrill would surely be beyond compare.
Before crossing into this world, the boy had once been a skiing enthusiast. The run he remembered most vividly, and regretted most, was the famous Swiss Wall on the French border.
That run was only one kilometer long, yet dropped four hundred meters in elevation, with multiple sections steeper than fifty percent.
So many skiing enthusiasts rode the cable car up and then rode it right back down without attempting it, and the boy had been one of them.
From the pack Folan had given him, he took out the clan Tuirseach skis. Victor had reinforced them with Incredible Alchemy last night, so in theory, as long as he kept a stable posture, did not let his feet move wildly, and absolutely did not try any jumps or tricks, there should be no problem reaching the bottom safely.
What was more, his body now was exceptional. In every respect, it far surpassed what he had before crossing over…
But even though reason told him it was safe, this slope was still far too steep!
To be born human and face a thrill like this, chances did not come often!
The boy smiled.
A charge this extreme might well come only once in a lifetime!
Standing at the cliff's edge, he stepped onto the skis.
Being able to come take this trial had truly been wonderful.
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