It took exactly three seconds for Isabella to realize the slip of her tongue. She slapped a hand over her mouth, but the damage had already been done.
"Ye lad already tasted an apprentice while still an initiate. Not bad for a Viking."
"Don't ye forget, he's the Madwolf o' the North Wing."
Laughter and jeering echoed around him, but Ragnar paid them no mind. His attention was fixed on Isabella as he closed the distance, forcing the noble bastard to flinch slightly.
He had to hunch a little to bring his mouth near her ears, thanks to her being such a shortie.
"Mind your words, lady. I don't want your father to know I am beating the life out of you in training."
Even as a bastard, Isabella was still a noble bastard, and it would humiliate the house if anyone discovered one of their own being bested by an initiate.
And not just any initiate—a slum rat like Ragnar.
Furthermore, he wanted her help to break through to Initiate in Focus and perhaps comprehend an evasion skill.
During his last training with her, he upgraded two whole levels in a day in Focus. And the syllable of the Evasion skill was almost within his grasp.
"You…" Isabella's face flamed crimson, but that was none of his concern.
It was her mistake of words, and she would correct it. Anyway, besides angering the noble house, he would never lose anything if anyone misunderstood.
Because Ragnar of the Vikings gave no shit about what others thought about him. Maybe except her. Not Isabella though.
"Since all the team is here, let me warn y'all. Don't neglect the scouting thinking it's useless. For the house of Velverde to order us at the last moment before a raid, it might be something important."
The chieftain was a man of huge frame. He was among the few Vikings to reach the same height as him.
An Adept Warden following the Path of Shield. A tank.
Ragnar hadn't seen the chieftain in action, but he had heard a lot about him. Every Viking respected him more than the heads of noble houses.
So when they heard the seriousness in his tone, everyone repelled their playfulness and became serious.
The men straightened, their focus sharpening. Even the laughter that had filled the morning air was stilled.
The Chieftain hadn't talked for more than a few minutes. Vikings didn't need long-ass speeches. A simple command was enough for them to act.
Ragnar rode the war horse allotted to him, positioned behind the Apprentice captain. The steed was one Ragnar had tamed himself.
It was bigger than Isabella's armored mount, possessing long legs and sturdy muscles. Before him, countless had tried to tame it, but all failed.
He just had to activate his Intimidation skill and it yielded.
Intimidation was an active skill he earned when hunting the snow wolves. His action of using the fur of their companion to hunt them had scared the shit out of the ordinary Winter Wolves.
This helped him to comprehend the laws of intimidation, granting him this skill. As far as Ragnar knew, he was the only one with this skill in the North Wing.
Not that others hadn't tried to do as he did, hoping to touch the laws and finally learn the skill. But all failed miserably, some even losing their lives.
Learning a skill by following the steps of another was nearly impossible. That was because touching the laws of this said skill depended on the comprehension ability of the individual.
Every individual had their unique style of comprehension. So even if the name of the skills they gained was the same, the properties would differ, matching their unique style.
The scouting continued without any abnormalities. Their route was a cobbled path that circled around the Alps to the mountain top, where the high watches of the Imperials were stationed.
That was also where the infamous dungeon of Montana was located, a place where the outlaws of the empire were locked away for death.
They reached the high watch without any problems. The soldiers there welcomed them without further ado. This surprised Ragnar.
Isabella had no experience dealing with Imperials, so she didn't know. But Ragnar had pretty great experience meeting with them.
After all, before becoming a Viking, he was a slum rat. And all slum rats visited the dungeons at least once.
The Imperial army looked down on Vikings. No, they looked down on everyone in Teardrop County.
Ragnar had no idea why. But he had overheard them during his time in the dungeon.
Those in the empire considered the people of Teardrop County barbarians, and the people of Teardrop County considered those in the Snowlands barbarians.
It's just those Snow bastards pillaged towns, killed men, and captured women and children, while those in Teardrop County didn't do anything; rather, they stopped the Snow tribes from reaching the mainland.
Therefore, the almost welcoming attitude of the High Watch soldiers felt a bit jarring to Ragnar. He moved closer to Isabella and muttered in a low voice.
"Captain, something is wrong."
Isabella gave him a confused look, then looked away. He got the signal.
Ragnar motioned with his hands. Every Viking in the group placed one hand on their hilts, while the initiates slowly and surreptitiously started to flank the Ice Mage.
Focus allowed him to instantly sense the strangeness in the atmosphere. The barracks were empty.
The snow had receded here quickly, considering it was a mountain top. That alone screamed wrong.
Also, the ground had no stains of water. It was almost like the ice vaporized away.
The impending feeling of danger gnawed at his chest, and Ragnar was sure every Viking felt the same.
Slowly and disturbingly, the scent of blood permeated their nostrils, burning away the remaining intent to wait.
"Vikings!" Ragnar roared, "Time for a raid!"
A slash of a sword was what greeted him. Ragnar jumped into the sky, evading the sword. Then his sword thrust through the air.
The perpetrator never expected Ragnar to throw his sword, let alone that his speed would overrun the throw.
When the man finally came to his senses, his heart had already been claimed by the Viking.