The morning of the third day dawned over a village frozen in anticipation. The sky was clear, a pale and cutting blue, but the cold still bit, turning every breath into a white cloud. Cassian stepped out of his hut, his black cloak pulled tight, his boots leaving crisp prints in the fresh snow. The village seemed to hold its breath: hunters sharpened weapons in silence, women exchanged nervous glances, and even the children played more quietly, as if sensing the tension in the air.
Cassian spotted Bjorn by the palisade, checking his axe, his face marked by determination mixed with worry. The Northerner looked up as Cassian approached, his voice low. "It's today, pretty boy. Hagen gives his answer. You sure we're ready?"
Cassian stopped beside him, his smile confident but measured. "Ready? Bjorn, you spoke to the Frostfangs like a chief. You've won the ear of the hunters, the artisans, the families. The village is watching you. Hagen knows refusing means war, and he's not ready for that."
Bjorn grunted, his fingers tightening on his axe handle. "You've got an answer for everything. But if Hagen says no, Gunn will tear me apart. And Hilda… she'll have you hanging by sundown."
Cassian placed a hand on his shoulder, his tone firm. "Then let's make sure Hagen says yes. Come, we'll see Torvald. He needs to know you're ready to lead this alliance."
They headed to the large cabin, where Torvald waited with Hilda and two elders. Gunn was there too, leaning against a wall, arms crossed, his hostile gaze fixed on Cassian. The cabin's interior was warm, the scent of burning wood mingling with damp wool. Torvald sat on his carved chair.
"Bjorn," he said, his voice rumbling, "the time has come. The Frostfangs will arrive soon. Speak. What's your plan?"
Bjorn stepped forward, spear in hand, his voice clear despite the tension. "Hagen will give his answer today. If he agrees, we share the northwest lands for winter, and they'll fight with us against the Ashblades. If he refuses, I'm ready to take my axe and defend the village."
Hilda crossed her arms, her piercing eyes shifting from Bjorn to Cassian. "And you, exile? Staying in the shadows, as always?"
Cassian inclined his head, his smile respectful but bold. "Not in the shadows, Hilda. Beside Bjorn. He's the one who spoke to Hagen, who carries this alliance. I just help him find the words."
Gunn snorted, stepping forward. "Words? Your words, exile. Bjorn's a warrior, not a talker. You've bewitched him, and now you're risking our lives for your game."
Bjorn turned to Gunn, his voice hard. "Enough, Gunn. I chose this plan. I looked Hagen in the eyes. If you've got a better idea, say it. Otherwise, shut up."
A tense silence fell. The elders exchanged glances, while Torvald watched Bjorn with a new glint in his eyes. Hilda remained impassive, but Cassian noted the tightening of her lips. Torvald broke the silence, his voice deep. "Bjorn, you've spoken for the village. If Hagen agrees, you'll have my respect. If he refuses, you'll answer with your blood. You and the stranger."
Bjorn nodded, solemn. "I'll answer, Torvald."
Cassian inclined his head, his smile steady. "As it should be."
As they left the cabin, a shout rose near the palisade. A young boy, breathless, ran toward them. "They're coming! The Frostfangs! They're at the forest's edge!"
The village sprang to life. Hunters grabbed weapons, women gathered children, and Torvald emerged from the cabin, followed by Hilda and the elders. Cassian and Bjorn headed to the palisade, where a crowd had already formed.
Through the pines, a dozen men approached, led by Hagen, his double-headed axe resting on his shoulder. Behind him, his warriors carried spears and bows, their faces stern.
Torvald stepped forward at the village entrance, Bjorn at his side, Cassian slightly behind. Hilda stood by her father, her gaze scanning every move of the Frostfangs. Gunn and the hunters formed a line behind, ready for any sign of threat.
Hagen stopped ten paces away, planting his axe in the snow. "Torvald," he said, his hoarse voice ringing in the icy air. "I come with my answer."
Bjorn stepped forward, spear in hand, his voice firm. "Speak, Hagen. The village is listening."
Hagen fixed Bjorn, then Torvald, his gaze hard but calculating. "Your offer… the northwest lands for a truce and alliance. My men discussed it. Winter's harsh, for us as for you. I say yes."
A murmur rippled through the villagers. Torvald squared his shoulders, his expression unreadable. Hilda narrowed her eyes but stayed silent. Gunn grunted, his hand tight on his axe.
Bjorn nodded, his voice clear. "Then we're agreed. The northwest lands for winter, and you fight with us against the Ashblades. No raids, no blood between us."
Hagen grunted, a half-smile curling on his scarred face. "No raids. But if you betray, my men will know where to find you."
Bjorn met his gaze. "And if you betray, Hagen, my axe will know where to find you."
A rough laugh escaped Hagen, echoed by a few of his warriors. Torvald stepped forward, his voice deep. "Then it's settled. An alliance. Bjorn, you'll carry this oath. Let winter be witness."
Hagen nodded, yanking his axe from the snow. "My men will come tomorrow to mark the lands. Don't make us regret this."
He turned, his warriors following, vanishing into the forest. The village stayed silent for a moment, then a murmur of excitement and relief rose. Rolf, the stocky hunter, clapped Bjorn's shoulder. "You did it, Ironfist. Not a drop of blood."
Einar, the old hunter, nodded. "Well done, lad."
Gunn spat into the snow and stalked off, Sven trailing him. Cassian watched, his smile subtle but satisfied.
Torvald turned to Bjorn, his gaze serious. "You kept your word, Bjorn. The village owes you much." He glanced at Cassian, his tone colder. "And you, stranger, proved your words carry weight. For now."
Cassian bowed his head. "I ask for nothing more, Torvald."
Hilda approached, her voice low and sharp. "Don't celebrate too soon, exile. An alliance is fragile. If it breaks, I'll break you."
Cassian met her eyes, his smile unshaken. "I don't doubt it, Hilda. But for now, the village breathes. Let's enjoy it."
As the crowd dispersed, Bjorn joined Cassian by the central fire. "You were right," he murmured, surprise in his voice. "Hagen said yes. The village looks at me differently."
Cassian nodded, his gaze on the flames. "This is just the start, Bjorn. The alliance is one step, but the North is vast. The Ashblades, other clans… they'll hear of you. And of us."
Bjorn frowned. "Us? You said this was my alliance."
Cassian laughed softly. "And it is. But every chief needs a counselor, no? Rest, Bjorn. Tomorrow, we start building something bigger."
Bjorn stared a moment, then nodded, heading to his cabin. Cassian stayed by the fire, letting its warmth chase the cold from his hands. 'The barbarian who grows ambitious…'