Fourteen Years Earlier…
A young Quirinus Helvig sat at his desk in his small hut. He was reading a book while lounging about. He flipped a page as he started hearing screaming. He ran outside of his circular wooden hut as the night sky darkened everything. Bells began to ring as several ships approached the shone.
“Quirinus!” He heard his father, Heculma shout, from the distance. The slaves and farmhands around the farm screamed as several men prepared their weapons.
“The Lunds are here!” Heculma yelled. The man was old, with hair nearly grey, tanned skin, and brown eyes. His face contained many wrinkles as did his hands, which were exposed. He was dressed formally, as was the case often with him. A plain white shirt with a few buttons along it. Over it was a low-cut, sleeveless brown wool shirt.
Quirinus looked over the shore and saw the ships approaching. They were longships, designed for speed and quality. There were ten in total, all carrying at least thirty men, no doubt. He watched as the ships reached the shore. “GO, FATHER!” Quirinus yelled as the older man jogged back inland, following along with others, leaving the young Quirinus with only a few men at his side.
As the men on the ships jumped out from their longboats, he felt afraid. He had never been in a real battle before. Only play as a child, and sword trainer as he aged. This wasn’t that, this was nothing like that. This was real. This was a battle. This was war.
The men all looked like Quirinus. Tanned skin with dark hair. Some short, some tall, and some of them of average height. The men carried swords and small axes with them, determined to finish this war.
“Soe po Quirinus! I HAVE A SWORD FOR YOU!” A man yelled while running up behind him. “The Lund’s warriors are fierce!” He continued. The man was blonde with a short beard. He looked younger than Heculma, but older than Quirinus. He carried several weapons hosted on him.
“We should have ended this war back in Wioloen!” Quirinus replied, watching the men enter the land. The men before him began the fight. He ran toward the men roaring in anger and rage. He would die before seeing his homeland destroyed. Another man attempted to hit him with his large axe, which was already dripping in blood from killing before him. Whoosh. The axe swapped down at him. Quirinus blocked the attack with his own sword, as the man who gave it to him, impaled the man with a knife, killing him in the process.
“Thank you, Dag!” Quirinus said quickly, as more men flooded in. Dag stood by him, in having far more experience, he proved worthy to defeat the Lund’s warriors. He slashed at the invaders with every ounce of bravery in his soul. There was no hesitation in his killing. It was obvious, he had done this before. Quirinus walked behind him, cutting off the heads and hands of the invaders. Several other men from the farm defended the lands.
Quirinus avoided hits with axes and swords from men whose faces he wouldn’t remember. They all looked determined to destroy this farmland.
“REINFORCEMENTS!” Dag shouted loudly as dozens of more men came from the Helvig farm, to fight with them. The Lund’s warriors were easily defeated by them.
As the battle came to a close, Quirinus saw many of the dead. Their limbs scattered about the shore, heads cut from their very spines, and even eyes ripped out from their skulls. It was unlike anything he had seen before. He vomited his breakfast from his stomach onto the shoreline, as did many other fighters. These men had not seen war before, now they had. He felt his stomach clutch itself together. He couldn’t bare to look at the dead bodies, but couldn’t help but notice some of these men, had no wrinkles, were short, and had no beards. Some of these men, weren’t men at all, they were boys.
They had mothers, fathers, sisters, and brothers at home. Some were even married, small red ribbons in their hair told the story. The Helvig clan had seized all of the northern-related cultures, dooming their land to be discounted from their ethics.
Cough. Quirinus looked to his left to see one of the men still alive. He coughed up blood slightly from a wound to his stomach. He walked over to him, and kneeled down. He still felt sickly, but he wanted to be a beacon for his people. He held a knife to the man’s throat, reading to slit it. “Wait,” the man spoke, desperately, leaving Quirinus to stop in his tracks a bit.
“You will lose this war,” the man said. “If not today, then in years to come. You destroyed our people,” the man paused as he coughed up more blood, his face growing even more pale. “Our people’s hatred of your clan will never die. You-.” Dag quickly bent down, and took his sword to the man’s head, killing him instantly.
Quirinus vomited again from the sound and look of the scene. “You’ll be alright, Soe po,” Dag said, patting him on the shoulder. “QUIRINUS!” Heculma yelled, running towards them, as he noticed the battle had ended! “I knew the reinforcements were a good idea,” he continued, clearly tired from the event at hand.
Quirinus stood up, still sickly. He pointed his finger at his father. “YOU KNEW THIS WOULD HAPPEN!” He shouted at his father. “YOU AND THIS STUPID WAR!” He shouted again.
He picked a sword up from the ground, throwing it far into the sea, screaming as he did so. He was filled with anger and sorrow for the death of this day. He couldn’t stand his own clan. He kneeled on the ground and sobbed.
Later that day, he watched as the slaves burned the dead in massive fires, along with their longships, and weapons. They didn’t take anything from them, as per Quirinus’ wishes to remain pure. The fires burned high from the smoke, as the smell was terrible and caused many to gag and even puke. This was the first time war would reach their own land, the Helvig farm.
The fires caused smoke to run high, shrouding the farm in a landscape of smoke and flame. Climbing high into the realm of the Gods. Quirinus wished he could change things here, for things to become better than before. But that would never be possible for them, at least most thought so. He sat behind the longhouse, avoiding the sight of the dead bodies, even though he couldn’t hide from the smoke and ash.
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