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My Mother Told Me

MC known from my other novel, thanks to the joke of God Weles, is reborn in the times of the Vikings ... the Vikings series. Here, more than the previous novel, I will focus on beliefs, demons and Slavic traditions. The MC will have his powers and knowledge ... Of course, there will also be a lot of focus on the history ... Unfortunately, the creators of the series made some mistakes that I do not intend to correct ... like Rollo was not Ragnar's brother ... and Ivar, instead of being a cripple, could be impotent. If there are any reviews, let them be honest, it's a pity that someone would waste time on something that is not to their liking. MC is not a good man, he is a murderer, sadist, manipulator and womanizer. This novel has no safe spaces, so anyone who gets offended ... I don't give a shit. Chapters will appear not too often. The Commonwealth remains my main focus.

MedTryglaw · Ti vi
Không đủ số lượng người đọc
164 Chs

021

Lagertha looked in this dress ... mediocre. When I ordered it, I had an adult woman before my eyes, and my future wife is only fourteen ... just thinking about it gives shivers down my spine and I took the fourteen-year-old girl to the room and told her to change ... I'm going downhill.

In some places the dress should be convex, which was not, or was insufficiently convex. Of course I can't say it, I have to pretend I like it.

- Ulf and how do you like it?

- It is not the dress that decorates you, but you decorate the dress with your beauty.

Gods, I did not think that I would fall so low, to give a woman such silly compliments ... the next question will be "did it hurt when you fell from heaven".

And knowing how lucky I am, she will remember it and will remind me of it for years to come. After her reaction, I could see that she liked the compliment. She threw herself on my neck and gave me another kiss ... I didn't even embrace her instinctively, I can always say "Officer, I have hands here, she jumped at me".

- Ulf will never take off this dress, thank you for the gift.

- I hope someday you take her off ... no, I didn't say anything. It is late, Frida is probably worried about you.

- She knows I'm at your place ...

- That's what worries me ... go and show her gift.

Eventually, I managed to convince her to come back to her home. The next two years will be a torment.

Two days later, I found out that Żywia is dead. Apparently she quarreled with Svein, Żywia grabbed the knife and Svein had to kill her in self-defense ... it was probably true ... although my version was more true.

They argued, Svein hit her several times, Żywia grabbed the knife and Svein killed her.

I had to pass this information on to Mira, which is unlikely to be easy and pleasant. She took it worse than I thought, she cried all day and did not leave her room. The next day she left, but she was nothing like the cheerful kid I knew. She asked me to do a funeral ... if I judge her husband right, he probably already buried her somewhere.

I've been murdering by the thousands, children, women and men ... but I'm not a monster. I agreed to Mira's request and went to the Svein farm. I opened the door, went inside. Svein sat at the table with Olafur and drank.

- Svein, I heard that Żywia is dead. I'd like to collect her body and do a funeral.

- Ulf? I've already buried her.

- I'm not asking what you did, I just want to take her body ... where did you bury her?

- If you care, you will pay.

I put a small silver amulet in the shape of a Thor's hammer on the table.

- Not much, it's my wife's body. I loved her.

- I gave you silver ... another thing you can get is iron.

Olafur moved slightly and dropped his hand under the table. He probably wanted to grab a knife. Without taking my eyes off Svein, I said.

- Olafur does not concern you, unless you want it to be otherwise.

Maybe they were a bit drunk, but they remembered I killed Knud the Red and the two of them don't necessarily have a good chance against me.

Svein showed me the burial place, I told him to dig up her body, he wasn't happy, but I cared about his opinion as much as the whore cared about love. I picked up her body, she was buried in some old clothes.

- Svein, Żywia had a bracelet on her wrist which I gave her. It was a symbol that she was no longer a slave ... I made this bracelet.

- Such finery is too grand for ordinary whore.

I took the body, leaving her beloved husband's comment unanswered.

I took her body home, then I went with Mira to the clearing where I used to live. I built a funeral pyre, placed the Żywia body on the platform.

I sat down on the ground and began carving two wooden masks. When it was dark, Mira placed next to Żywia body, everyday items, a comb, a cup, a bowl ... Żywia had nothing of her own, all these items were mine or Mira's property ... the dead had to take something to Nawia.

Then we put on the masks and set fire to the funeral pyre. After a few hours, I buried the ashes in the ground and Mira and I returned home.

I prepared the best things I could for supper, I put a jug of mead on the doorstep for the Domownik, who moved with me to a new home ... and we started to celebrate ... Death was something joyful, grief was something normal after losing a family member, but death itself she was the beginning of another life. Something that needed to be celebrated.

Mira started to dance and sing (make singing noises), and then she got drunk very quickly on mead ... I got an eight-year-old child drunk. I took her to her room and came back downstairs to clean up after our celebration.

The next day she went downstairs ... Mira looked comical. Eight-year-old with a hangover, it could be fun. Especially when she started drinking water ... she doesn't know yet that it doesn't help. She gave me a few hand signs that she was dying ... I poured her some mead and told her to go to sleep. I took the empty jug from the doorstep, the Domownik also celebrated with us ... and then I went to the workshop, someone had to earn to maintain this house.

A few hours later Mira woke up, came to me and showed me by sign that she wanted to make a wróżda (family revenge).

It was an old custom where revenge was done for a murder or insult, then the other side did the same ... wróżda could go on for years and dozens of people died in them.