Chapter 158 158: The Foreigner of Arinbjorn
"When I first crawled ashore, I thought I was done for this time. Then out of nowhere the fog rolled in, and right after that all those ghosts suddenly appeared. I was crouching on the shore scared out of my mind. Luckily, they went after the pirates first.
"But not long after they finished off the pirates, they started chasing me, so of course I ran! Honestly, I'm not bragging, but there aren't many people in Urialla Harbor who can outrun me. When I ran out of places to go, I jumped into the water and dove under. Good thing they can't swim.
"Back when I took the underground route on the Path of Warriors, I was one of the first few to make it through, so of course I can hold out for a long time. But they wouldn't give up either. They just floated over the water and waited for me...
"When I saw the green light above, I didn't dare stick my head out. I hugged a rock and held my breath, just kept holding it, until I finally couldn't take it anymore and came up for air. Then I realized that at some point, without me noticing, they had all disappeared.
"This story teaches us that you should never give up hope. When you feel like you've run out of options, think a little harder, push yourself a little more, and maybe, just maybe, you can break free from a hopeless situation!"
Excerpt from Zoro's If You Give Up Now, The Match Is Over
Second place in Clan Tuirseach's annual motivational speech contest
...
The last surviving sailor from the Going Merry, together with the four members of the Phantom Troupe, walked for a day and a half and arrived in Arinbjorn on the afternoon of the second day.
According to Vigi, it was a peaceful little village. He had stayed here for a while before. The fiercest conflict that ever broke out here was nothing more than village women slapping each other or men smashing bottles over one another's heads.
Victor handed two bulging bags of crowns to Zoro and told him to bring the money back to Urialla Harbor and distribute it among the families of the dead sailors. Zoro was so moved he swore through tears on his honor that he would deliver every last crown.
Victor now had a rough understanding of what a Skelliger's oath meant. It meant staking their life as collateral.
Patting the sailor on the shoulder, the boy told Vigi to escort him to the fishing harbor and arrange a boat back to An Skellig. Though this was only a small port, boats still passed through here. Then Victor and Angoulême headed for the local tavern along the village road.
Since it stood so close to the sea, Skellige's buildings had to be sturdy enough to endure the erosion of the salt wind, so most were built of stone. In every household courtyard hung dried rabbits, cured leather, and strips of smoked meat from the porches.
When they passed the notice board, Victor paused for a moment. He and Angoulême split it up, each taking half, then asked for directions before finally finding the inn, because it had no signboard.
It was afternoon when they pushed open the tavern door. The air inside was decent enough, not especially stale.
Victor had just been telling Angoulême that later they should spare some time to buy some whale meat. Judging by the advertisement on the notice board, the whaler Klofgard was selling it at a fair price, and it seemed worth trying. Whale oil and whale bone could also be used as alchemical materials.
Suddenly, two men stepped in and blocked the Phantom Troupe's way.
At a glance, it was obvious they were here to start trouble.
The one on the left, fat-faced and big-eared, wearing a fur cap, said, "Well, look what the waves washed ashore. You, what clan are you from?"
"I don't belong to any clan. I'm from the Continent."
The one on the right, with triangular, pale eyes, a hooked nose, and an amulet hanging from his neck, said, "Ha! Then why are you dressed like one of the an Craites? I'm telling you, only Skellige warriors are allowed to drink here!"
Damn. Victor had not noticed the style of the leather armor. No wonder the looks people had been giving him along the way had been so odd. Because of the territorial disputes on Ard Skellig, Clan an Craite in the north and Clan Drummond in the south were practically blood enemies.
In other words, part of getting hassled was Victor's own oversight.
Thinking that, he let out a breath. "Listen, I'm not here to cause trouble, "
Hooknose cut him off. "Look at this guy. We only raised our voices a little, and he's already scared, like some stray dog hearing a wolf howl!"
Fatface sprayed spit as he talked. "Want something to eat? Then get out into the yard and wait until we throw our scraps out there!"
Victor smiled and crossed his arms. "Only Skellige warriors are allowed in here to drink, then what are the two of you doing here? You look like a pig farmer, and you look like a sheep herder!"
Hooknose sneered. "Even if I were a sheep herder, as long as I'm a Skelliger, I'm a born warrior!"
Fatface added, "But you'd never understand that. Everyone in the kingdoms on the Continent is a slave, born a bastard, fit for nothing but groveling before your masters and waiting with your eyes wide open for them to throw you scraps."
They were only two pieces of trash, but their smug faces were genuinely irritating. Victor stroked his chin, considering how best to teach them a lesson.
"Hah!"
Suddenly someone stepped up from behind Victor's flank and drove a punch straight into Hooknose's nose, sending him flying sideways into a table.
Then he knocked aside Fatface's attack, planted one fist in his stomach, then another right in his face, leaving blood pouring from his nose too.
The one who had stepped in was Vigi, who had just returned after seeing Zoro off.
"You blind dogs, still acting all high and mighty, do you even know who you were talking to? That was a great man so far above you that even if you craned your neck until it snapped, you still wouldn't see him clearly, you two worthless piles of filth!" As he cursed them, he spat mercilessly at Fatface and kicked Hooknose viciously on the ground. The man really was every bit the rogue he seemed.
The sudden brawl immediately stirred the other people in the tavern. It was afternoon, so the place was not crowded, but there were still a few drinkers there, and they began to rise and come closer.
Then the rogue bellowed, "Come on then, you cowards! I, Vigi Tordarroch, am not afraid of any of you!"
The men promptly sat back down.
Rogue Vigi had quite a reputation. He was a lunatic who had gambled his life for honor more times than anyone could count. If you pushed him too far, he really would draw steel and start cutting people down.
Having scared off the bystanders, he threw in another couple of kicks for good measure, then recognized Hooknose and Fatface and mocked them loudly. "Ha! So it's you two pieces of shit, Kori and Kraki, you trash brothers. Don't tell me you don't recognize me, Vigi?"
Judging from how cowed the brothers looked, they had clearly been taught a brutal lesson before. There was not the slightest trace left of their earlier swagger. Victor shook his head. Sometimes all you could say was that it took one bastard to deal with another.
Heavy footsteps sounded nearby. Someone approached. "Vigi, you again? Are you here making trouble again?"
Victor had assumed it was another one of the two brothers' cronies, but to his surprise, when he turned around, he found a man in his early thirties, wearing a great cloak of bear fur, with a stern, upright face that practically screamed decent man. The only ridiculous thing about him was his hair, a towering crest sticking straight up.
"Bah! Jorund, don't talk nonsense. They were the ones who blocked the road and came looking for trouble. I was only defending myself." Even more intriguingly, Vigi did not swing first at this man, but was actually willing to explain himself.
"All right. But no matter what happened, beating up local shepherds in a village tavern is hardly the conduct of a warrior. And you two," Jorund said earnestly to the men on the floor, "refusing shelter to travelers only shows your own pettiness, and shames your clan besides. Didn't your father ever teach you that?"
Hooknose and Fatface got to their feet, clutching their noses, and began cursing at the man with the ridiculous hair. "Shit, Jorund, say my father's name one more time and I'll stuff you in a barrel!"
Then they shot Victor a glance, perhaps meaning to throw out some threat, but when they saw the hungry look in Vigi's eyes, they stumbled and bolted out of the tavern.
"Jorund, the only man in Arinbjorn with any guts," Vigi introduced him to Victor like that.
Then he continued, "The captain I serve now, Dovahkiin of the Phantom Troupe, Lord Victor Corion."
At the mention of the title, surprise showed on Jorund's face. He bowed slightly. "So Dragonborn Victor has come to Arinbjorn. I, Jorund, son of Sigvald, greet you."
Victor returned the salute, hand over his chest. "Greetings, Jorund. I'd like to know, are you a member of the village council of elders?"
"Yes, the youngest one. Why do you ask?"
"Buy me a drink. We can't stand here with dry throats. I have some things to tell you about Eldberg Lighthouse."
"...It would be my honor."
...
After Victor told him about the lighthouse and showed him the evidence, the man with the ridiculous hair thanked him readily and said they would soon choose someone new to keep watch over the lighthouse.
Jorund really was a good man. Back when Vigi used to cause trouble here, the two of them had bonded the Skellige way, fist to fist.
He was generous, sincere, and warmhearted, and he was also an excellent person to talk to. From him, the boy learned quite a few island secrets and amusing anecdotes.
They drank until evening. By then, the only people left in the tavern were Victor, Jorund, and the tavern owner. Angoulême had gone back to her room to rest first, and Vigi had gone to the privy.
Amid the peals of laughter, the man with the ridiculous hair raised his cup to his lips, then suddenly spoke in confusion. "Vigi's been gone a long time."
Jorund's remark made Victor immediately realize something was wrong. The rogue had left the table a few times earlier, but never for this long.
At the exact moment Victor set down his cup, cries rang out from outside.
"Murder! Murder! Rogue Vigi's killed someone!"
Victor and Jorund looked at one another and both saw the same suspicion in the other's eyes. Throwing down money for the drinks, the two men rushed out the door and ran toward the shouting.
...
Clan Drummond, which held the southern half of Ard Skellig, differed from Clan Tuirseach and Clan an Craite in one regard. Instead of using the great port of Holmstein directly as their capital, they had built Kaer Muire anew on the mountain beside the harbor. Though this winding fortress was not as magnificent as Kaer Trolde, it was just as difficult to storm.
Two days after the murder in Arinbjorn, inside the lavish guest quarters of Kaer Muire, Victor, Angoulême, and Jorund were discussing how to get Vigi out of his cell.
On that bloody night, the only thing that could be stated with certainty was that Vigi had cut Kori and Kraki down in an alley, been discovered almost immediately afterward, and then surrounded and arrested by the village guards.
Kori was the fat one with the big ears. Kraki was the hooknosed one with the pale eyes.
But the cause of what had happened had turned into a classic he-said-she-said.
There were now two versions of events. According to Vigi, when he went to the privy, Kori and Kraki taunted him and lured him into the alley, where four or five men sprang out and tried to surround and kill him. But after he killed the two brothers in self-defense, the others panicked and ran, all the while shouting that he was a murderer.
The other version was much simpler, that Vigi ran into Kori and Kraki in the alley and, after only a few words, drew his sword and cut them down. This was also the version most people in Arinbjorn accepted.
In theory, there should have been plenty of witnesses, but most of them claimed they had been "drunk" or that "it was too dark to see clearly," so no one could prove Vigi's innocence.
So now the rogue was locked in Kaer Muire's dungeon, waiting for the lord of Clan Drummond, Madman Lugos, to decide whether he was guilty.
Jorund shook his head. "I'm sorry. I've done everything I could. But the father of those two brothers, Leif, is also a member of the council of elders, and one even more senior than I am, so no villager is willing to stand up and testify for Vigi."
Angoulême bit her lip. "Vigi's telling the truth, obviously. Those two bastards were the ones who provoked him first, and they were trying to ambush him."
"But we have no proof," Jorund said helplessly.
Angoulême said unhappily, "We've been staying here for this long and Madman Lugos still won't see us. Now that Leif is in there badmouthing Vigi, are you really sure your lord will hand down a fair judgment?"
Jorund could only smile bitterly at her question. The widely accepted nickname, Madman Lugos, already explained a lot. A lord's duty was to keep people following him, and that did not always require fairness.
Nearby, Victor sat in a comfortable chair, reflecting. Ever since they had followed the arrested Vigi here, Lugos had refused to see them on the grounds that he was too busy. Even King Bran's proof of Dragonborn status had done no good. They were being treated with food and drink, but no one paid them any real attention.
The boy kept wondering what exactly was going on. What was this lord called Madman Lugos really thinking? Then suddenly, a thought flashed through his mind.
Maybe Madman Lugos was waiting to name his price. Was there something he needed the Dragonborn's help with, but did not want to seem at a disadvantage about, so he intended to use this incident as a way to do Victor a favor and put him in his debt?
If he looked at it that way, these days of delay became much easier to understand. Only if Dovahkiin felt pressed would Lugos's favor have any value.
He opened his mouth and asked, "Jorund, you said the lord is speaking with Leif right now?"
"Uh... yes. I just saw him go in."
Victor nodded. "Good. Then I'll let Madman Lugos know that I'd also like to join the conversation. It's time to stop this testing and talk directly."
Jorund stared at him in confusion. "How exactly are you planning to notify the lord? You're not going to force your way in, are you? This is the heart of Clan Drummond's territory. You can't get yourself trapped too."
Victor waved a hand. "Of course not. I'm Dovahkiin, the Last Dragonborn. How could I do something as crude as barging in like a brute? Naturally, I'll use my own special method to let him know."
Then Jorund watched, dumbfounded, as Victor walked over to the window and faced the lord's fortress, a grand structure with gray-painted outer walls.
The boy took a vial of potion from his herbal satchel and chugged it down.
Then he drew in a deep breath.
Angoulême decisively covered her ears.
"Fus, Ro, Dah!!!"
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