Chapter Five: Fortunately, It Wasn't Called "Sow"

The petals of this plant resembled delicate little bells, gently swaying. Its calyx was like a layer of fine velvet, covered with tiny glandular hairs that emitted an unsettling aroma.

This was an essential material for priests to communicate with the gods, capable of conveying the priests’ intended messages.

The Viking berserkers were born because of this plant.

She intended to use this plant as a means to cultivate a group of mad warriors—irrational, fearless of pain, and unafraid of death.

A surge of guilt welled up in Onni’s heart. She understood the power of this plant, but for the sake of the team and the battles that might lie ahead, she had to steel herself.

Losing reason in battle was better than defeat, but it was not suitable for children.

“Hina, Vanessa, gather more, but don’t smell it. Remember to wash your hands when you return! This stuff can drive a bear mad and kill it!” Onni warned cautiously, her eyes filled with apprehension.

The two girls exchanged glances, clearly surprised.

“Don’t tell anyone, understand? It is a gift from the gods!” Onni added anxiously. “Later, I will teach you more, including medicine and how to please the gods. Would you like to become priestesses of Woden?”

“Really? Miss Onni?” The girls’ eyes brightened, clearly intrigued by the idea of becoming priestesses of Woden.

Though those priests never participated in Viking raids, they were the wealthiest and most revered.

“Of course! Woden favors brave warriors because Ragnarok is approaching. Yet, He does not reject any devout priestesses; they bring Him more warriors and please Him!”

“We want to!” they answered eagerly.

Onni planned to train them to become true priestesses of Woden—not the second-rate clergy of the local territory, but genuine “mediums” who could truly convey the will of the gods!

In truth, they were charlatans.

Had she lived in a Christian society, she might have been labeled a witch and faced the risk of being burned at the stake.

But in this polytheistic society, there was no such fear.

Onni’s gaze lingered on the girls’ faces; she saw their determination and her own hopes for the future.

…

Back at home, the two girls covered their mouths and noses with damp cloths to filter the poison and took turns stir-frying the leaves of the “divine plant,” altering its alkaloid content and chemical structure. Onni let the boys rest for a while and went to prepare lunch.

Unlike the morning meal, she made a pot of stew and encouraged everyone to eat heartily, until they could eat no more.

Since five hours had already passed, no matter how much they ate, it was just soup in the end. It digested quickly, so there was no fear of them overeating.

After eating their fill, Ralph set out with food to continue searching the territory for orphaned children under fourteen.

Unconsciously, these children had already begun to obey any of Onni’s commands instinctively—an essential step in training a strong army: obedience.

The forest near Onni’s home was part of the territory. She ordered the remaining boys to fell trees and directed one of them to dig a kiln, hollowing out the earth inside but leaving a few smoke holes.

She did not join the labor herself, well aware of her physical limits. If the “brain” of the operation fell ill from exhaustion and delayed progress, it would cause many problems.

A person’s energy was limited; she needed to rest and have idle moments to think deeply and find any flaws in the plan.

“Robert, dig a little deeper here!” Onni squatted nearby, watching others work, pointing and giving instructions.

She had a small plan: through labor, she hoped to develop their endurance and physical strength to prepare them for future combat training.

She never intended to participate herself.

Estrogen inhibited muscle growth; no matter how hard she trained, she would never become a powerful warrior and might lose her greatest advantage as a woman.

Unless she was willing to eat more things that would cause her to grow a beard.

However, she had thought of another way to compensate for her lack of combat prowess. She gathered some belongings and headed toward another part of the settlement.

When she returned, she was leading a donkey by its rope, dry grass stems caught in its hair. From now on, she declared, she was a donkey rider.

“Hmm-haw~” The donkey, still making its clacking sounds, regarded her with an “intelligent” gaze, seemingly acknowledging her idea by staring at the faint hoofprints on her rear.

Mainly, the donkey was too wild, unsuitable for other children to practice riding. It was definitely not because it kicked her once when she got too close, causing her to be wary.

Onni rubbed her backside. “Ouch, that hurts…”

Recalling the donkey’s owner’s half-smiling, half-mocking look, she felt a moment of “Rabbitski”-style frustration.

…

Days passed. As time went on, the number of children gradually increased. Except for one who died of a high fever and could not be saved, there were now forty-six in total. Orphans from the settlement and surrounding areas were all gathered by Onni.

Her heart raced. She knew taking in all these war orphans was a gamble; failure would mean losing everything.

Onni’s actions attracted the attention of the settlement’s people. They had given her two nicknames for frequently appearing in the morning mist, distributing food and gathering orphans.

They called her the “Mist Woman” and the “Guardian.”

Hearing Ralph’s account, Onni felt somewhat puzzled about her nicknames.

In Norse culture, only those with high prestige earned nicknames—such as her father, Feld, known as “Forked Beard,” which in Old Norse sounded like “Svein.”

What she did not know was that the people hoped that if misfortune befell them, Onni would take in their children. Her altruistic deeds quickly spread her reputation throughout the settlement.

Of course, some mocked her as foolish, wondering how anyone could be so silly as to think there was too much food and give it to orphans.

Therefore, some freemen came to provoke her, attempting to seize the food, but Onni and the children surrounded them and drove them off.

Without the ability to kill, even the strongest were no match for a greater number of opponents who used underhanded tactics targeting weak points.

“They didn’t follow the traditional custom of single combat—that’s not Viking at all!” people whispered.

Still, the nickname “Guardian” eventually spread farthest. The community seemed to accept it, and even the Avar lord had heard about this strange event in his territory.

“Yes!” Onni was a little confused after hearing her subordinates’ words.

Never mind, it didn’t matter! It was better than being called names like “sow.”

Never doubt the Norse sense of humor when it came to nicknames; historically, someone had indeed been called “sow”—Harald III’s father, because of his gentle nature and dislike of all the raiding and adventurous Viking activities.

Among her nicknames, “Mist Woman” was sung by the children, symbolizing beauty and hope wherever she appeared, connected to the goddess.

The goddess Frigg was the wife of Woden (Odin), king of the Aesir gods, called “Queen of the Gods” or “Heavenly Queen,” and goddess of marriage and family.

She presided over love, fertility, family, marriage, and household affairs, particularly revered for motherhood and domestic arts.

The Heavenly Queen was described as having divine duties related to mist; her palace was called “Fensalir,” meaning “Hall of the Mists” or “Hall of the Sea.” The “Mist Woman” represented a maiden from Fensalir.

To these children, Onni was a symbol of female strength, wisdom, and compassion—especially admired by the boys as an object of their affection.

Meanwhile, the title “Guardian” was known to outsiders.

A strange phenomenon, but Onni paid it no mind. What troubled her was that her food stores were steadily diminishing.

There was still some time before the autumn harvest.