The Son Of Ragnar

Sturla and Sighvatur sat by the fire, the flickering flames casting shadows across their faces. The sound of the wind howling outside filled the room, reminding them of the harsh winter they were enduring. They were both battle-hardened warriors, with years of experience under their belts. They had fought many battles, but this one felt a tad bit different.

Sturla leaned forward, his eyes glistening in presence of the fire.

"We cannot let those savages. continue to exist right under our noses, we have had the upper hand for a month now. It is time we put an end to this once and for all." Sturla was tired of waiting as the winter got harder to endure. Sighvatur nodded.

"Agreed. But how do we do it? This battle will be won anytime we attack but we will lose a great number of men in a confrontation, which will greatly weaken our clan in the long run. Remember, there are others which we must conquer for 'him'." Sighvatur said, but whether this showed they were under the command of someone or otherwise was left to the imagination.

Sighvatur rubbed his beard, deep in thought.

"We need to catch them off, guard. We'll launch a surprise attack when winter is at its peak when they least expect it." Sighvatur said.

"But the winter is the harshest time of the year. It's difficult to travel, let alone launch an attack." Sturla laid a counterpoint.

Sighvatur grinned upon hearing his son's concern.

"That is exactly why they will not expect it. We will use our knowledge of the terrain that we have gained in this past month to our advantage. We know these lands like the back of our hands now. They don't stand a chance." Sturla's brow furrowed as these words escaped his father's lips but that furrow soon resulted in a smile as the chaotic fire burned in his eyes.

"I like the way you think, Father. What is our strategy?" Sturla asked. Prompting Sighvatur to lean back, and pull out a manually drawn bag from his bag. He spread it out across the table, pointing to several locations. "We will split our forces in three. You and your men will attack from the east, drawing their attention. I'll lead the main force from the west, flanking them. And our third force, led by jökull Steinfinnsson, will hit them from the north, trapping them in between our attacks." Sighvatur told his son the strategy they would be using to attack Gissur and his newly found ally.

Sturla squinted, studying the map, nodding his head in agreement.

"It is a well-thought-out plan. But what about our supplies? It is not easy to travel in the winter, and we are already almost out of food and water." Sturla questioned what he thought was a flaw in his father's plan but all Sighvatur did was grin before saying.

"That is where our scouts come in. They have been keeping an eye on the enemy's camp, and they have reported that they have left their stores unguarded and we will not be staying here long for winter is already at its peak. You will begin your attack with the primary objective of drawing them away from their camp and bringing them here allowing us to not only steal their food but displace their forces in a single move. This battle will not be over in a day, a perfect plan does not go exactly as planned but make amends for when it does not."

Sturla's stern face broke as he chuckled.

"Brilliant! I can see why you are the leader of our clan, Father!" Sturla praised his old man. Sighvatur smiled upon hearing the warm words from his son.

"But it is not just me. It is our entire clan. Our warriors are the toughest in all the lands. We know what it takes to win." Sighvatur did not take all the credit, instead giving his warriors their due accolades as well. Sturla concurred with his father's statement as he nodded in agreement.

"Aye, but we need to be careful. They are also no strangers to battle. They will not go down without a fight." This showed that Sturla in no way underestimated them despite their resounding victory a month ago. Sighvatur, however, raised his hand, silencing Sturla.

"I know. But we have one advantage they do not. While we are not just fighting for ourselves but our families, our homes, and our way of life as they too are fighting for these things but we have a very important piece in our possession…" Sighvatur paused, glancing over at the vacant space in the corner of the room to reveal a bound person with a bag over their head.

"... The brother of Gissur himself, General Njal," Sighvatur concluded.

The two warriors sat in silence for a moment, staring into the fire. The wind howled, outside a reminder of the danger they would face. But they were not afraid. They were Vikings. And they were ready to fight.

"You will leave at dawn, son," Sighvatur said, pausing, as he rose to his feet.

"Get your men ready. We have a battle to win." The Chieftain concluded.

Sturla stood as well, gripping his sword tightly.

"I will send word to jökull Steinfinnsson. We will be ready." Sturla said; he had a renewed vigor in his eyes because his father never doubted their victory, he only cared about the price in which they would pay for it.

Sighvatur placed a hand on Sturla's shoulder.

"Good. Together, we will show those people what it means to face the Vikings of the Sturlungar clan," Sighvatur was ready to make his move.

The two warriors clasped arms, their eyes gleaming with determination. They knew the battle ahead would be one of the toughest they would ever face. But they also knew that they were Vikings. And they never backed down from a fight.

"Let us burn down our enemies. This is the first foundation for our establishment…" The plans these people had was something grander than conquering a few territories.