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It had taken my two days, ore three wheelbarrows, worth of work to get the time to imbue those logs. The palm-sized tokens still shattered, and if anyone noticed that there were imbued logs among the more mundane lumber, nobody said anything.

Honestly, the one I was proud of was the one I’d put the rune of fire onto. It smoked and smoldered for an hour or so, leaving behind a log of blackened coal-wood. Perhaps, just perhaps there was a balance to imbue that would provide for self-lighting kindling.

But there was little enough time for those experiments. They needed shingles and planks and boards and then some fool (it was me) told them that I could make the wooden core of shields.

That was work they wanted their sons learning, and so I tried to teach. With my low Charisma, it was a process of repeated lectures and demonstrations and assigning tasks. Some of the children were better at fletching, some at the making of spear hafts.

“Do any of them show a general aptitude for working with wood?” one of the huscarl asked me.

“Not a single one.” I admitted.

.....

“Ha, good! Easier to make a warrior from a man who knows his hands are for killing rather than making chess pieces.”

“Actually, two of them seemed quite pleased with their ability to make fishing poles.” I said.

“Ha! Turgrim and Falseff. Please tell me they aren’t out testing them.”

“In fact, I recommended a spot along the river for them to do so.”

“Bwa ha ha! You, stupid slave, have been duped. You’ll not see those two nor their female cohort Lisha until just before dinner call. I would not like to be the one to tell Lady Ingrid that I’d told them to take the day off.”

“I doubt I shall enjoy it myself.”

“Relax, friend. She’s not likely to take your hand off. At least, not on this first offense.”

My left hand involuntarily flinched. I didn’t understand that. You’d think it would be both, or neither. There were diagnostic tools available through my System, at costs that just... you know, at the rate I age I might get them some century or other. Talk to me when this book is a millennium or so old.

“Comforting to know.” I said.

“Don’t worry; they’ve fooled better men than you will ever be.”

Was THAT so? I was tempted to... but no, that would endanger the others. I was trapped by them, they were trapped by me, all of us together. And we were...

Oh? We WEREN’T powerless, then. Thank you, Truthspeaker Oath.

So, it was just a matter of finding out what power we had, and using it properly.

Mistaking my thoughtfulness for anxiety, the huscarl laughed and left. “It is better to be me than you.”

Oh, we’ll see how long THAT attitude lasts, I thought.

#

“So, what power or powers do we have?”

Madonna stretched her feet out. “The Lady Ingrid watches us like a hawk.”

“Which, given the looks some of those guards give us is probably for our own protection.” Kismet said.

“You there! We can make you a woman if you want, or you can come and work on arrows. Your choice.”

I sighed. “Just be mindful of it.”

I walked off to make arrows. How long ago had it been, on the wall with the Chanter, teaching him about the basics of making arrows into enchanted objects?

One thing I am certain of, no arrows were named that night, unless such names were “cussed thing”, or Slicer of Fingers. It was precision Agility work, where traits like Nimble or Dexterous were of more use. But... it was obvious which of us had done the work before, and who was just relying on their System. In fact, that second group was perhaps seven or eight of ten soldiers.

I opened a System list. This was going to be difficult to do manually, but I realized that I had a wealth of information available to me. No, not about the merits of women, and the tales of almost caught the Fenris, or their remembrances of the pirates discovered on the island two years ago.

No, I could gather data on their skills, or lack thereof. Who used their System to watch for intruders, instead of their own senses? Who ate balanced meals, and who avoided their vegetables to save room for meats and sweets?

Suddenly, the defenses of the Jarl’s long house were not looking quite as formidable. Not weak, or at least not yet, but not quite so hard to escape from.

And the biggest crack was one I should have expected. With the death of two thanes, the remaining three were each trying to prove themselves more valuable to the jarl. Each took a day rotating through the duty of speaker for the town, and each had their own image of what that looked like.

Tomas would free people who spoke sedition against Odmund, who would claim as his own taxes declared by Svein, who just wouldn’t enforce decrees proclaimed by the other two. Each had their own faction that supported them, which would also rotate in and out of the bureaucracy, with the same divisions as were displayed by the thanes themselves, if not actually worse.

All we needed, I thought, was a reason for one of us to go to the town regularly, and assess the mood of the common people. Given that they were supposedly calling the town councilors the ‘Theater of Puppets’, there seemed to be some discontent there. Discontent that we could work with, at any rate, rather than the quiet grumbling.

And what HAD happened to Igrun Sivert? If she were not here at the long house, the only other place to secure her would be in the town.

There wasn’t that much town to search. If we could get there, I was sure we could find her.

#

That third day, Erin Roarson, first widow of the late huscarl who would have been thane, attempted to kill herself in the river. I was tasked to watch her.

“I’m not suicidal.” She told me. “I just slipped on a rock, and had trouble standing again.”

“Then this should be easy.” I said.

“How so? Can you get me knitting needles? And some yarn?”

“I don’t think so, they were very clear about tools. Perhaps a walk in the garden, or into the woods?”

“I don’t like the woods, they are dark and dangerous.”

She tapped her fingertips on her thigh. “I think I can visit the garden, at least. The sight of living things can’t hurt.”

I left my stick, or small log, it was about three fingers in width, along one of the rows between the turnips and the walkway.

“What nonsense are you attempting?” she asked me.

“I’ve imbued the stick with nature mana.” I explained, “In essence, it’s a concentrated force of plant life. In theory, by leaving it here, what mana leaks out of it will be absorbed into the turnips, helping them to grow faster.”

“Good luck with that, most of our turnips die during cold snaps. I tell the other ladies that a garden below the snow line would grow better, and they mock me as though I were a farmer.”

“That sounds harsh.” I said.

“That is the nature of mankind, and thus womankind as well. Anything that is different must be changed until it is the same. That is the fate that awaits you and your girl-friends. Not just the **** and hard labor, they will break your mind and spirit as well.”

“Is that what they’ve done to you?” I asked.

“What? No, little one. I’m not broken. See, so long as you have hope, they can’t crush you. Not entirely. In the end, they can only break the parts of you that they can reach. Like this left ankle of mine. On the day after our wedding, when I realized the mistake I’d made, I attempted to run away. Didn’t make it far before the gods struck me down. Turned the ankle on a stone and broke it. Bone splinters through the skin.”

“I’ve had those before. Painful.”

“Aye, and then some. But my point is, I’d have broken the other, if it meant I’d never have to see him again. I’m not exactly sure, but I think I’m happy he’s gone, even if it means dining on pea soup without the little bits of ham. Even if I live my life as a spinster, I live without him, without ... this.” She indicated the entire homestead.

“Is that what you and they speak of? Are you planning an escape?”

“I don’t know about planning, but we’re sure that escape is in that mix, somewhere.”

“I thought so. I want in.”

#