Chapter Forty-Four: Prepare for a Burial at Sea

The use of spears and javelins was strictly prohibited, as the disparity in lethality between a slash and a puncture wound was immense. Given the medical limitations of this era, a puncture to the torso was effectively a death sentence. It was precisely for this reason that Ouni adamantly forbade the use of javelins.

Ralph stood in the center of the arena, his throat parched and his heart hammering against his ribs as if it might burst through at any moment. He took a deep breath, and a surge of primal power seemed to flood his body; his muscles tightened, saturated with a savage craving for battle. Yet, this intoxicating rage also brought with it a disorienting hallucination—the world before him blurred, and his body began to tremble uncontrollably.

"The duel begins!"

At Robert’s command, Ralph’s opponents exchanged glances and quickly dispersed, encircling him to launch a coordinated assault. Ouni frowned; the tactics employed by Jorgen and the others were fundamentally flawed, as they failed to leverage their numerical advantage. They should have stood shoulder-to-shoulder, ensuring that no matter which of them Ralph attacked, he would be struck by the others simultaneously.

Ralph’s gaze darted left and right, locking onto Jorgen, whose hostility was most palpable. With a roar, he kicked up a cloud of dust and charged toward him like a maddened grizzly bear. Jorgen did not flinch; he swung his axe and sprinted to meet the challenge.

"Clang!" The two collided with violent force, their shields slamming together.

Jorgen felt his fingers vibrate as if he had run headlong into a rampaging bison, forcing him to stumble back three paces. Just as Jorgen raised his weapon to counterattack, Ralph—fueled by his frenzy—moved with superior speed. Jorgen’s heavy armor hampered his agility, leaving him a split second slower than his opponent. Seeing a heavy, sweeping axe blow aimed at his head, Jorgen reflexively raised his shield to protect himself.

Suddenly, a massive force struck him. The axe pierced the wooden shield and bit deep into his wrist.

*Impossible!*

Jorgen’s pupils contracted. His arm went numb, and blood cascaded down his wrist, the searing pain forcing him to drop his shield. His own axe, carried by momentum, became wedged in the shield Ralph held to his left. Before the blood from Jorgen’s wrist could even hit the ground, Ralph unleashed a second blow, using the weight of the shield stuck to his own to slam into Jorgen’s face.

The shield shattered under the violent impact. Jorgen’s helmet buckled, one of his eyes was crushed, and he collapsed to the ground, instantly losing consciousness.

Ouni leaned forward, silently marveling at the intensity of the fight. At the same time, she resolved that unless absolutely necessary, she would never take the field herself; remaining in the rear was far safer.

"Ralph! Ralph!" The crowd erupted in cheers, celebrating Ralph’s first takedown.

Yet, at that very moment, two enemies seized the opportunity to strike from behind. Two axes descended upon Ralph; he was struck before he could even turn, but he acted as if he had felt nothing, showing no concern at all. Ouni gripped her hands tightly, watching as enemies swarmed in from all sides.

The encirclement was complete; if Ralph remained pinned, he would face the strikes of six weapons at once. Ralph spun around and swept his axe in a vicious arc, knocking the helmet off one warrior, who promptly fainted. Another warrior, seeing Ralph ignore two deep axe wounds as if they were mere scratches, was struck by terror and lost his composure. "Woden..."

Before he could finish, Ralph’s axe descended toward his head. The man tried to deflect the downward blow with his shield, but with a thunderous *crack*, the axe shattered the shield and bit directly into his helmet, dealing a fatal blow. He slumped to the side, eyes wide with horror and disbelief as he fell.

"My Lady, do you think it would be better to let a berserker use a two-handed axe?" the High Priest mused.

Ouni shook her head. "That would likely kill more of his own side; no one could get near him." The High Priest’s question seemed absurd to her; heavy two-handed weapons were never permitted on a standard battlefield, as they would only result in friendly fire.

The battle raged on. Ralph was covered in wounds, yet he fought as if oblivious to them. Surrounded by three shield-maidens and two riders, he traded blow for blow, fighting with every ounce of his strength to hack them down one by one. True combat is often swift and brutal, not the theatrical, drawn-out affair seen in stories. While it lacked the dramatic choreography of a long duel, the visceral impact was absolute. However, this left Ralph’s body covered in seven or eight deep, gaping wounds.

After felling his opponents, Ralph did not stop; he charged toward the crowd, attempting to strike anyone in his path. He had completely lost his reason, consumed by his fury. The onlookers, realizing the danger, panicked and scrambled back as Ralph cut down three or four more people.

"Shield wall! Press in and contain him!" Robert, alarmed, ordered his men to surround Ralph. The warriors formed a tightening wall, using their shields to compress Ralph’s movement. Under the crushing pressure of the shield wall, Ralph struggled wildly, but he was pinned so tightly he could not even raise his arms. He was suffocating.

"Hold him down and carry him to the smithy!" Ouni commanded the shield wall to break, rising to her feet and heading toward the forge. She hoped to treat his wounds before the adrenaline of his frenzy faded. The warriors grabbed Ralph, hoisted him overhead, and rushed toward the smithy.

Upon arriving, Ouni pushed through the crowd and looked at Ralph’s still-heaving chest, smiling. "Congratulations on your victory."

Hina and the others stepped forward to assist, handing Ouni glowing, red-hot sword and axe blanks. Amidst the thick, charred smoke and the sizzling of flesh, Ralph—stripped bare and held down—convulsed. It was a brutal process, but in this era, both Christian priests and pagan healers treated soldiers' wounds with such directness. Cauterizing with hot iron forced the severed blood vessels to contract and seal, effectively stopping the bleeding.

Though the method was crude, in the absence of modern medical care, it was the most effective approach. Under the influence of his frenzy, Ralph felt only a fraction of the agony, and he made no sound. Ouni watched the cauterized wounds fuse shut and tossed the red-hot iron into a quenching bucket of oil, letting out a sigh of relief.

The wounded riders and shield-maidens who caught her eye shivered; such a savage method of treatment was akin to tending to livestock. Yet, everyone had to admit it was the fastest and most effective way to stop the bleeding. In emergency battlefield medicine, one often had to resort to such extreme measures. If such care were available on the front lines, many lives would be saved.

She turned her attention to the others—the three men and two women who had survived Ralph’s assault, as well as the bystanders he had wounded. She ordered Hina and the others to clear the area, keeping only those who had subdued Ralph, and instructed them to strip the wounded to inspect their injuries.

She employed the same technique, ordering her men to hold one of the wounded down. "Get ready. I’m counting to three, and then I’m cauterizing!"

"Wait—aaaah!" Before the man could react, the iron hit his flesh, and he nearly choked on his own scream. His face contorted in agony, his eyes rolled back, and he muttered incoherently, seemingly complaining about the surprise, but Ouni did not stop. She used the iron to melt the wounds shut, intentionally being sudden. She hadn't expected one man to succumb to the shock and expire on the spot.

She offered a second of silence, then moved to the next person, assuming no one would dare challenge her medical methods. Throughout the process, the men were repeatedly jolted awake by the heat, screaming and begging for mercy, but Ouni ignored them all. Survival was paramount.

She had gentler methods, but she chose not to use them. She would not act like a surgeon, meticulously stitching wounds with needle and thread; the risk of excessive blood loss during such a slow process was too great. Whether these people had internal injuries or would even survive was a gamble. One could only do their best and leave the rest to fate. If vital organs were damaged, the survival rate was abysmal even in the future, let alone here.

Ouni had fresh Eberwaltz roots gathered—a plant containing phytochemicals with antibacterial, anti-inflammatory, and analgesic properties—and applied the mash to the cauterized wounds.

Whether the blood-drained Ralph would live or die remained to be seen. Ouni suspected he was as good as dead; no one could survive such blood loss.

"Prepare for a ship burial! If he isn't dead, bring the High Priest to take him," Ouni said, meeting the expectant eyes of those around her. She washed her hands, having effectively signed Ralph’s death warrant.

How to appease the families of the two Jarls who hadn't dared to attend was a major problem. If Ralph died, it would be manageable; if he lived, it might spark a rebellion. Regardless, had she been in their shoes, she would have killed Ralph regardless of the duel's outcome; she didn't believe others were any more noble than herself. For now, she could only wait and see if Ralph would succumb to his wounds.