The Warlord's Last Oath

The morning mist hung low over the valley as Hakon and his warriors moved like shadows through the frost-covered trees. The wind carried the distant howl of wolves, a fitting omen. They were heading deep into Ulrich's territory, where few dared tread without an army at their back. But an army was slow, predictable. Hakon had no need for such burdens—not yet.

Torstein walked beside him, axe resting against his shoulder. "You're certain about this? A direct march north puts us in Ulrich's path. We'll be outnumbered before we even strike."

Hakon didn't slow his pace. "We're not marching to war. We're going to unsettle him. If Ulrich is preparing for battle, we need to move first—cut his supply lines, set his own people against him, and make him believe his enemies are closer than they are."

Rorik grinned. "So we turn his kingdom against itself? I like it."

The others murmured their agreement. They all knew what was at stake. A direct assault would be suicide, but Hakon had always fought like a wolf—never head-on, but from the shadows, from the flanks, striking where his enemies least expected.

As they moved through the thinning forest, Vigdis scouted ahead, her sharp eyes scanning the distant hills. She raised a hand, signaling for the group to halt. "There's movement up ahead," she said in a hushed tone. "A small patrol. Five men, lightly armed."

Hakon nodded. "We take them. Quietly."

They spread out, slipping through the trees like ghosts. Hakon unsheathed his blade, his breath steady. The patrol was gathered near a narrow road, laughing amongst themselves, oblivious to the danger.

Torstein moved first, his axe flashing in the morning light as he cleaved into the nearest man. Vigdis slit a throat before her target could scream. Hakon drove his sword into another's back, feeling the body go limp as he pulled the blade free. Within seconds, the patrol was dead, their bodies dragged into the underbrush.

"We need their cloaks," Hakon said, already pulling a bloodstained one from a corpse. "We'll use them to get closer to Ulrich's outposts."

The warriors quickly donned the stolen garments, covering their armor beneath the rough wool. The disguise wouldn't hold under close scrutiny, but it would be enough to get them past watchful eyes.

As they set off again, Rorik smirked. "You've always had a talent for getting into places you don't belong."

Hakon allowed himself a small grin. "And for making sure I leave them in ruins."

The road ahead was long, the dangers growing with every step. But the Blackwolf and his pack were hungry for blood, and the hunt was far from over.