Chapter Seventeen: The Woman Who Became a Lord

“Where is Yar?”

The high priest was summoned into the lord’s hall. Like a headless fly, he glanced around in confusion, his face puzzled.

Behind him, Harrod was carried in by several priests. His eyes were closed, and his complexion looked poor.

Oni sat on the throne that originally belonged to Yar, looking down on him from above, causing him to appear dazed.

“Is that you?”

“Do you know me?” Oni first looked at him in confusion but then suddenly realized. She stared at Harrod. “What happened to him?”

The sedation had worn off; she could now speak fluently, but her body still lacked strength.

At her request, Ralph had placed her on this throne, Yar’s throne, which was padded with several layers of bear skins—warm and comfortable.

Is this what Yar’s “simple and unadorned” life was like?

“Prince Harrod is still unconscious. We don’t know when he will wake. Where is Yar?” the high priest asked again.

“Yar has already gone to Valhalla!” Oni propped her face with her hands, fixing her gaze on him.

“Did you kill him?” The high priest focused sharply.

“No, he died at the hands of Loki!” Oni shook her head.

“Loki?”

The high priest frowned in puzzlement. Oni turned her head toward Ralph and nodded. “Bring her out!”

Ralph, standing to the side, nodded and clapped his hands. Ayana came out like a frightened rabbit, restless and uneasy.

She recounted in detail how Lady Yar had poisoned the lord.

The high priest pondered for a moment. “I want to see Yar’s corpse to confirm the time of death.”

Oni made a grand inviting gesture, signaling her men to open the bedroom door. The high priest shot her a long glance and walked inside.

“What if the high priest doesn’t cooperate?” Ralph asked.

“He will!” Oni smiled mysteriously but didn’t explain.

Not long after, the high priest came out, looking as if he had swallowed a fly, his expression extremely unpleasant.

She could guess why he looked so grim. Theocracy and monarchy were like grasshoppers tied by a single string.

Only when the monarchy respected theocracy did the high priest, as the interpreter of the gods, enjoy privileges.

Unfortunately, the Vikings saw themselves as equals to the gods. Even their fervor was for the chance to challenge the divine king after death.

“Oni Feld, Yar is dead. Why are you and your people here? What do you want? Do you intend to become the new Yar?”

Faced with the high priest’s challenge, Oni shook her head. She knew he would never acknowledge her. Her foundation was too weak, and the people wouldn’t accept it either!

Her team was too small, unable to compete even with the Viking warband captains.

Something special had to be done.

“I want you to help Harrod become the new Yar. Robert Yar has no heirs. As Yar’s brother, he should inherit the position!” she declared.

“Even if you don’t say it, Harrod is the next Yar. I’m asking why you’re here and in what capacity. How dare you sit on Yar’s throne?”

“Listen carefully then. I am the wife of the new Yar, Oni Feld. My husband is the trusted Yar—Harrod Avalsson, lord and leader of Yar!”

At these words, all eyes fell on Oni. In a corner where she couldn’t hear, the sound of broken hearts echoed.

Oni didn’t mind her words; it was a necessary joke. As the saying goes, if the name is not right, the words won’t be smooth; if the words aren’t smooth, nothing will succeed.

She needed to hold this title to stabilize the territory while Harrod was unconscious, trusting he would understand when he awoke.

He was not unreasonable.

No one would accept an heir to Yar whose life was uncertain as the new Yar, so she had to act.

Both for herself and for Harrod, and for the followers who had dared to break into Yar’s residence with her.

She needed to use the identity of Harrod’s wife to eliminate Lady Yar and handle any unknown troubles she might bring.

She had a premonition that Lady Yar would definitely appear—a woman so jealous and hungry for power would stop at nothing to reclaim everything.

“You are not married yet, so you have no right to call yourself Lady Yar!” the high priest reminded her.

“I think I do, because Harrod swore to the gods to propose to me, to elope with me, and I accepted. He was so badly injured protecting me—does that not prove everything?”

She continued spinning a half-truth: “In the presence of the goddess and the gods, at that moment we were legally married! Are you questioning the gods’ witness and the legitimacy of the new Yar?”

Seeing Oni invoke the gods and the new Yar, the high priest nodded. “Fine, but I must confirm with Harrod Yar!”

“When my husband wakes, I will explain everything to him myself! I promise to protect the status of the priests of the gods—you will remain the high priest. I will grant you legal immunity and, in my husband Harrod Yar’s name, build a new temple to ensure people’s faith in the gods! Moreover, Yar will donate a sum every month to honor the gods!”

Oni dangled a grand promise, too tempting for the high priest to refuse.

With the promise of rich benefits, the high priest smiled and bowed slightly to Oni. “As you command, new Lady Yar. I will tell the people that Rebecca, under Loki’s orders, killed Robert Yar, and inform them that Harrod is the new Yar, urging them to swear allegiance!”

Oni was speechless. Loki truly was a scapegoat god. No wonder the Vikings needed such a deity—they really knew how to play the game.

“Thank you, high priest. You won’t regret your decision today!” She nodded to him; the deal was sealed.

“Well then, madam, I won’t disturb you further!” The high priest said as he turned, only to be stopped by Robert.

“What are you doing?” the high priest was bewildered and looked back at Oni.

“High priest, these are special times. There are mobs outside. For your safety, please stay here!” Oni’s face flickered in the firelight, her expression unreadable.

“Your wisdom truly impresses me. Then I must thank you for your protection!” The high priest emphasized “protection” heavily, clearly displeased.

“Robert, take the high priest to a room to rest. To prevent any attacks from the mob, you must stay with him at all times—even when he goes to the bathroom, you must protect him!”

“As you command, Miss Oni… no, Lady Yar!” Robert looked at the high priest and smiled.

There were many empty rooms in Yar’s residence now, enough to house the little Viking warriors. Oni sat quietly beside Harrod, taking care of him.

Quiet.

Grateful?

Oni thought for a moment. Maybe?

She had never imagined anyone would risk their life for her. In her memory, only Feld had fought a bear to protect her when it charged.

“I’m helping you stabilize the territory, so consider it a favor repaid. We’re even now!” Oni was quite satisfied with her decision.

“I never like owing anyone anything, so you better not die!”

Once everything was better and she had brought back her father Feld’s remains, she wanted to see the world.

She wanted to visit Greenland, see the Franks, go to England, and even pay homage—to see with her own eyes what the flourishing Tang Dynasty described by her ancestors looked like.

How delightful it is to have friends come from afar. Surely, they would be well received.

“Oni?” Harrod murmured, as if from a nightmare.

“I’m here!”

Harrod’s face relaxed.

After a while: “Where are you? I can’t see you!”

“I’m right here!”

“Where are you?”

“Your mother is here!” Oni’s forehead veins bulged as she clenched her fists, wanting to punch this bastard.

While she was lost in thought, propping her face, Harrod’s lips curved into a smile, as if dreaming sweetly.

At night, the ever-dutiful Robert crawled into the high priest’s bed, startling him.

“Boy, what are you doing?”

“Lady Yar told me to protect you at all times! I’m honored, high priest. Do you have any divine proclamations for me?” Robert said with admiration.

“No! The gods don’t like you!” The high priest glared angrily.

Unexpectedly, Robert pulled out a rope, tied their wrists together, and bit the knot tight.

Afterward, he looked up with a simple smile. “You don’t mind, do you?”

That simple look made the high priest feel a bit annoyed. “Heh, I’ll tolerate it! Boy, don’t mess with the old and poor! We’ll see about this!”

That night, the high priest couldn’t sleep. He wearily moved Robert’s smelly foot off him as Robert tossed and turned restlessly.

“Pfft~” In the dead of night, Robert let out a loud fart under the covers.

The high priest: “…”

“Ahchoo~” The high priest yawned after a while, waking from the cold. Drowsy, he found himself pushed into a corner.

He glared hatefully at Robert, who had wrapped the blanket entirely around himself, his chest rising and falling heavily.

Suffering from hypothermia, the high priest shivered as he pulled a corner of the blanket over his stomach, a satisfied smile appearing on his face.

But the next moment, Robert rolled over and pulled the blanket corner back.

The high priest’s face flushed quickly. He sighed, turned away, hugged his knees, and shivered, his eyes wet.

The next moment, Robert, half-awake, opened his eyes and returned half the blanket: “High priest, be careful of the cold!”

“Thank you, boy. You’re a good man!” The high priest stopped crying and leaned closer to Robert for warmth.

But within half an hour, Robert curled up into a ball, leaving the high priest shivering in the cold air, disheveled.