The Betrayal Buried Beneath the Snow
Torvid had spent fifteen years believing he was responsible for the destruction of his own army. Now a widow he had known for only days held proof that someone else had orchestrated the massacre.

And Gunnar was willing to kill them both to bury it.

“Give me the parchment!” Gunnar roared.

Torvid stepped in front of Astrid.

“You will never touch her again.”

Gunnar lunged.

But this time, Torvid did not hesitate.

His axe struck Gunnar’s sword from his hand. A second blow sent the warrior crashing into the frozen ground.

The remaining men raised their weapons.

“Take another step,” Torvid warned, “and you will answer to me.”

Nobody moved.

Astrid opened the parchment with trembling fingers.

There, beneath the royal seal, was a confession signed by a northern commander.

Jarl Eirik.

Torvid’s own brother.

“No,” Torvid breathed.

The document described how Eirik had secretly sold their army’s position to enemy forces in exchange for gold and political power.

When the ambush began, Torvid had fought desperately to save his men.

But hundreds had fallen.

Eirik escaped and blamed the disaster on his younger brother’s uncontrollable rage.

Torvid had believed him.

For fifteen years.

Astrid gently touched his arm.

“You weren’t the monster they claimed.”

Torvid stared at the parchment.

“My brother let them die.”

Gunnar suddenly began laughing.

“You think Eirik will let you live after reading that?”

Torvid looked down at him.

“Then he should have killed me fifteen years ago.”

He ordered Gunnar’s men to carry their wounded leader away.

By nightfall, the forest was silent again.

Inside the timber hall, Astrid carefully cleaned Torvid’s wound.

His enormous hands trembled as she wrapped fresh linen around his ribs.

“I have nothing to offer you,” he whispered. “Only danger.”

Astrid smiled sadly.

“You opened your door when the world had closed every other one.”

He looked at her, uncertain.

“I have never known how to love a woman.”

“Then perhaps,” she whispered, “we can learn together.”

She kissed his scarred cheek.

Torvid closed his eyes.

For the first time in forty years, he felt something stronger than fear.

Hope.

But their peace lasted only until dawn.

A horn sounded beyond the trees.

Then another.

Torvid opened his door and saw dozens of mounted warriors emerging through the snow.

At their center rode a man wearing a black raven cloak.

Jarl Eirik.

His brother had finally come to finish what he started fifteen years earlier.

And this time, he had brought an army.

End of Part 2.