"Come to think of it, I don’t think I’ve asked your name."

"Eric. And you?"

"Is that all?"

Ragman looked at Eric.

"Priests don’t need surnames."

Eric scratched his face, then looked toward the river.

’He disowned me, so why should I care about his name?’

’I’m not that pathetic.’

"Is that so? Alright. My name is Ragman Crowan." Ragman pressed a wet towel to his left cheek, trying to soothe the pain.

"Crowan? What’s your relationship with the King?"

"He’s my father."

Ragman didn’t try to hide it.

Just the thought of his father made his cheek throb even more.

"He did this to you? That’s a bit much."

"It’s fine. I did disobey a military order first."

Ragman dipped the towel back into the river and pressed it against his cheek again.

"Why do that? Isn’t it better for a bunch of slaves to die? Even if they weren’t slaves, they were just strangers."

Eric picked up a stone from the ground and skipped it across the river.

"They’re free now, but they won’t give you the time of day. They despise Viking raiders."

"Warriors have the right to live."

"Is that so?" Eric looked at him and chuckled.

Ragman looked slightly surprised, then shrugged with a small laugh of his own. He didn’t dwell on the teasing remark.

He then pulled a Cross from his chest and showed it to Eric.

"Because I believe in God."

"And in the gods."

Eric saw the intricate Runic Runes on his Cross, and on the back, the image of Odin hanging upside down from the World Tree.

"Yes. But that doesn’t mean I should become cruel and bloodthirsty, and I don’t believe that was Odin’s true intention. There’s no need for us to inflict unnecessary cruelty. A government cannot be built on savagery and plunder. That’s no way to establish a lasting Kingdom.

We should rely more on farmland and trade, like the Franks. The people there don’t build or maintain their nations through pillaging."

"True. If the Vikings want to establish long-term rule somewhere, they’ll need more than just pillaging and war. They’ll also need some basic principles."

Eric looked at Ragman. 𝙧𝙚𝙚𝔀𝒆𝓫𝓷𝙤𝓿𝒆𝙡.𝒄𝙤𝓶

"If the Vikings can’t convince people that their rule is better than the rule of their own people, they’ll never willingly accept it. Or at the very least, it has to be on par.

No one likes endless war and rebellion. Most of the time, people are forced into it. They have no other choice." Eric sighed.

"Yes. That’s why I want wars to be justifiable, not meaningless;

I want war to be temporary, not constant;

I want war to be a means, not an end.

Killing should be a last resort, not a given.

Even if we can’t prohibit killing, we should recognize that it is wrong.

Cruelty should not be celebrated, nor should mercy be seen as weakness." Ragman clutched his Cross, looking at the image of Jesus on the front, and spoke with a soft smile.

"A noble ideal. I think the Lord would be pleased with you."

"Thank you. To be honest, everyone here thinks I’m a fool. You know, I saved my brother the other day, but everyone thought I should have killed him. If I had, I would become King. Even my father called me an idiot.

They think that because I’m the complete opposite of them, I must be wrong. But by following their path, have the Vikings’ fortunes improved? We’ve been driven from the mainland all the way to the islands. Where else can we retreat to?"

"But you’d have to be King to decide those things. Right now, you’re just the second heir, and your hands are tied."

"Yes. My father thinks I oppose him in everything and that I’m not fit to be King. And I don’t want to hurt my brother.

Perhaps I should leave."

Ragman wet the towel again and placed it back on his cheek.

He said it so casually.

"AHAHAHAHA~"

Eric suddenly burst out laughing.

In reality, he felt the complete opposite.

A wave of unprecedented irritation washed over him.

"What’s wrong?"

"Nothing, I just remembered a funny joke."

Eric picked up another stone and hurled it with immense force. It sliced through the water’s surface and buried itself in the soil on the opposite bank, kicking up a spray of mud.

"Want to hear it?"

"I don’t mind."

"Once, there was a wife who was unhappy with her husband’s behavior. So, she always opposed him, always doing the opposite of what he asked.

One day, her husband invited some guests for a meal and set up a table by the small river in their garden.

His wife sat with her back to the river, far from the table, watching the guests with a very unfriendly expression.

’Cheer up for our guests and come sit closer to the table,’ her husband said to her.

But, contrary to her husband’s request, she moved her chair backward, even farther from the table, until she was right at the river’s edge.

Seeing this, her husband shouted angrily, ’Come sit at the table!’

She jerked her chair back so hard that both she and the chair fell into the river and sank.

Her husband jumped into a boat, intending to find and rescue his wife with a pole, but he started rowing upstream.

Just then, the neighbors asked him why he was searching upstream instead of downstream.

He replied helplessly, ’You don’t know my wife. She always did the opposite of everything and never took the normal path. I’m certain she’s gone against the current; she would never go with it.’"

"Hahahaha~, a funny joke."

"Is it? Funny?"

Eric smiled.

"Then I suppose you think you’re the husband in that story?"

"That..."

"The wife was unhappy with her husband’s actions, thought he was wrong, and the best she could come up with was such a clumsy tactic? She didn’t dare confront him, point out his mistakes, and correct them?

She lost her life and gained nothing, while her husband gained joy and freedom."

"But... but what else could the wife do? A wife can’t beat her husband in a fight, no matter what. Besides, a wife is supposed to obey her husband."

"Then she should have become stronger. Used a knife, a Sword, a Crossbow—any weapon she could get her hands on. Even if it meant using schemes or deception.

Especially if she was so convinced she was right."

Without waiting for a response, Eric turned and walked toward the Forest, back the way they came.

When he got back to the camp, Eric saw Hessin arguing with some unknown old man.

It seemed Hessin was singing his praises, which pleased Eric a little. After all, he had saved Hessin’s life several times.

Eric sat back down in his original spot, but the argument he was overhearing grew stranger and stranger.

"I admit Priest Eric is a brave Warrior, but when it comes to wisdom, Archbishop Lanfranc is superior."

"No, Priest Eric is better! Priest Eric can speak Latin."

"Archbishop Lanfranc can too, and he also speaks Italian and French."

"Priest Eric knows French too, and he knows English."

"..."

"The Archbishop is also very strong."

"Priest Eric is strong enough to kill a Warhorse!"

"The Archbishop can kill a bull!"

"..."

"The Archbishop has seen an Angel!"

"Priest Eric has been to Heaven! And he’s been to Hell!"

Hessin got worked up and blurted it out.

When he saw the old man purse his lips and fall silent, Hessin assumed he’d scared him and broke into a triumphant grin.

The next moment, however, he was lifted by the scruff of his neck, his feet dangling in the air. He turned his head and saw Eric smiling down at him.

Even though Eric was smiling, it sent a chill down Hessin’s spine.

"HESSIN!!!!!"