Lord Hrofr the Heartbreaker rode into the Town. His Lord's Residence was built on a high ground next to the Town, from where he could overlook the entire Town to control and respond. The Residence had watchtowers where Viking longbowmen could stand and shoot down attackers.
However, ordinary attackers would be immediately discovered and then killed by the Lord's twenty personal guards. These guards were battle-hardened Vikings, loyal and skilled in combat, who would execute any of the Lord's commands without hesitation.
"What's going on?" Hrofr asked, looking around curiously from horseback.
Immediately, a Viking reported the matter to the Lord. Hrofr then relaxed his guard. It was normal for Vikings to wander around, seeking suitable wives and places to fulfill their ambitions. In fact, it was an honor for his own territory. So, Hrofr immediately invited Vargarr to be a guest at the Lord's Residence.
"How could this be?" Ulfric was a bit surprised. He had thought that according to the plot, Hrofr would punish these Vikings who were causing trouble in his territory, but he didn't expect them to be treated as honored guests.
"Thank you, my esteemed Lord, but I still have unfinished business." Vargarr waved his hand. Supported by his companions, he endured the pain in his lower body and glared at Shieldmaiden Angr, but immediately turned an even fiercer gaze towards Ulfric.
"Oh, what is it?" Hrofr asked with some curiosity.
"This slave posed a riddle, but I couldn't answer it, and I suspect it's not a riddle at all!" Vargarr pointed at Ulfric and shouted.
"Is that so? If my slave is lying, I will kill him." Hrofr merely frowned slightly and said lightly, as if killing a slave was as simple as slaughtering a chicken or duck.
"Killing?" Ulfric gasped, feeling a chill from the attitudes of these people. His dream was too strange and too real.
"Tell them the answer." Shieldmaiden Angr also frowned. She grabbed Ulfric's arm and told him.
"Oh, the answer is time. In this world, only time can wear down everything," Ulfric blurted out.
"So that's it, it's time." After hearing Ulfric's answer, everyone suddenly understood, and Hrofr's arrogant face softened a little. The fact that a slave in his territory could pose such a clever riddle was very beneficial to the Lord's prestige and glory, and he couldn't help but look at Ulfric twice more.
"Warriors from afar, and freemen of the territory, there will be a feast today to celebrate our meeting!" Hrofr declared loudly, immediately met with cheers from the crowd.
"A Viking feast! I really want to see one." Ulfric couldn't help but smile. He was very much looking forward to seeing a true Nordic Viking feast. But just then, he felt something hook the collar around his neck, and then his entire body fell backward, hitting the ground hard, with stars dancing before his eyes.
"Damn slave, daring to leave the cowshed on his own!" A rude man's voice came from behind Ulfric. He saw that the man's left hand was an iron hook, and it was this hook that had caught Ulfric's collar and thrown him to the ground.
"Holy crap, that hurts!" Ulfric's neck was constricted by the blow, almost choking him. The pain instantly sobered him up, and the stones on the ground dug into his back, causing excruciating pain.
"Enough! This slave has just been sick. Grünn, go easy. He's my property." Hrofr the Heartbreaker turned his horse's head back towards the Lord's Residence, dropping a remark. This wasn't because he valued Ulfric so much, but entirely because he was worried about damage to his property.
"Yes, my Lord." The fierce man Grünn, with his large belly, bowed slightly in Hrofr's direction, but when he straightened up and looked at Ulfric on the ground, his face became grim again. He unrolled the leather whip from his waist. "Get up! Do you want me to invite you?"
"Huh?" Ulfric grimaced as he stood up. This pain was definitely not a dream. What exactly was going on? He looked around in a daze at the Viking Town, the muddy ground, and most of the unhygienic Viking men whose faces were tattooed with blue patterns, and whose blue eyes gleamed with coldness and cruelty. Most of the women were also unkempt, only Shieldmaiden Angr appeared clean and serene, and of course her beauty was equally outstanding.
"Hurry up, there's a lot of work to do. Don't think you can escape just because you've been sick," Grünn said to Ulfric, releasing the hook but raising the whip in his hand.
"Got it," Ulfric quickly replied. At the same time, he realized that he wasn't speaking Chinese, but Old Norse, which seemed to be an instinct, as if he had been born speaking it.
"Here." Angr also dispersed like the others, but as Ulfric passed by her, a small, fair hand slipped a soft object into his hand.
Ulfric secretly looked down and found it was a small piece of linen cloth, seemingly given to him by Angr to wipe his wounds. The fall had caused wounds on the back of his head and neck. Enduring the stinging pain, he pressed the linen cloth to the wounds.
"This pain is absolutely real. Is this not a dream? Have I been isekaid?" Ulfric followed the fierce Grünn to the warehouse. Outside the warehouse were many haphazardly stacked firewood, and several slaves were silently working. Only then did Ulfric confirm that he wasn't dreaming, but had been isekaid.
"I can't believe the web novel trope actually happened to me," Ulfric thought, feeling both amused and helpless. And to make matters worse, after transmigrating, he wasn't some knight or noble, nor a prince or high official. He wasn't even a freeman; he was just a slave at the very bottom.
However, it was good that he was a Viking slave. After confirming his situation, Ulfric calmly thought while moving heavy firewood into the warehouse under Grünn's direction. He secretly congratulated himself, knowing that although Vikings captured slaves, Viking slaves had a chance to be freed as freemen, and brave freemen could become Viking warriors, even potentially becoming a Lord by accumulating merits.
But if he had been isekaid to the Frankish territories in the south, it would have been miserable. Serfs and their descendants would never be able to rise up. Thinking of this, Ulfric exhaled sharply. He looked at his rough palms and the small blue raven totem tattoo on his arm. Although he was a slave now, at least the soul he possessed was that of a pure Viking.
Although Ulfric was a person who adapted to circumstances, he adapted very quickly when in an unfavorable environment. At this moment, he began to cautiously observe his surroundings. Grünn supervised for a while and, finding that Ulfric wasn't slacking off, left to attend to other matters. Although he wanted to talk to the other slaves, he found that no one paid him any attention.
"This is a small Town, with a population of about one hundred fifty people. There are no obvious fences or defenses. The Lord's Residence on the highest hill should be the last line of defense." Ulfric worked on his task while carefully observing the territory.
He roughly estimated in his mind that this was a small tribe, which meant there might be a monarch above Lord Hrofr, but that wasn't what he needed to worry about now. What he urgently needed to solve was how to escape slavery and first become a freeman.
"Ulf." Just as Ulfric was lost in thought, he heard a woman's voice from afar. Curious, he looked up and saw a brown-haired woman, about thirty years old, struggling to carry a basket.
"Hmm?" Ulfric didn't know who the person was, so he didn't dare to answer her, only pretending to be diligently working.
"Ulf, are your injuries healed?" The woman came forward, reached out, and stroked Ulfric's head, asking with a face full of concern.
"Uh, yes." Ulfric could only nod vaguely, not daring to look into her eyes, hoping she would think his body hadn't recovered yet.
"Poor Ulf, your mind is still so confused." The woman seemed to sigh and shook her head in disappointment, but still opened the basket and put half a hard piece of bread into Ulfric's arms, then reluctantly turned and left.
With the half-piece of bread in his arms, Ulfric felt confused. He had once thought the woman was his birth mother, but he was now certain she wasn't, because she didn't have a collar around her neck, meaning she was a freeman. The other slaves then looked at the bread in his hand with longing eyes. One slave even tried to snatch it. Ulfric frowned and kicked him. Among these people, he was the tallest and most robust, but perhaps because he used to be more slow-witted, these people thought he wouldn't dare to resist.
"Whoever dares to snatch my things, I'll break his dog legs!" Ulfric's eyes held no emotion. At this moment, he had to protect his food, otherwise these people would rob him again and again. Seeing Ulfric's firm attitude, the other slaves were very surprised.
"Enough, everyone, get to work, otherwise the slave overseer won't spare us when he returns!" One old slave with white hair and beard, whose silver-gray eyes flashed with a hint of surprise, said to the others. The other slaves seemed to listen to him.
Ulfric, however, didn't care. He laboriously gnawed on the barley bread. The bread also contained chaff, but at least it could fill his stomach, as he was doing physical labor now. After finishing the bread, Ulfric felt his strength had recovered a little.
"Hey, idiot Ulf, when you're done with the warehouse work, immediately go and let the cows out of the cowshed!" Just then, the slave overseer Grünn returned. He raised his whip and struck Ulfric hard. The whip immediately left a purple mark on Ulfric's body, and the burning pain made Ulfric gasp sharply. He glared angrily at Grünn.
"What, you dare to look at me like that? Do you want me to cut off your limbs?" Grünn seemed surprised that Ulfric dared to openly meet his gaze instead of lowering his head like a slave. He immediately drew the knife from his waist in a rage.
"You wouldn't dare. I am the Lord's slave. If you cut off my limbs, I won't be able to work," Ulfric straightened his back and said to Grünn.
"Is he crazy?" The other slaves watched the scene before them with fear and trembling. No one had ever dared to confront the slave overseer head-on.