The Son Of Ragnar

Tyr was blinded, but he managed to avoid the attack by taking a calculated jump back, trying to recompose himself as it was clear that Vigar was a fighter that did anything to win. Despite Tyr being a kid, he did not intend to underestimate him.

"You are nimble. You managed to escape the reach of my sword before I could reach you," Vigar commended the young warrior, but silence followed soon after. Tyr looked left and right frantically because he was still blind.

But an attack never came; the effects wore off in a minute or two, and Vigar was nowhere to be seen. He had no interest in fighting Tyr, and that whole sequence was for him to escape.

"That geezer!" Tyr cussed under his breath, and his eyes soon caught a glimpse of his father standing over Kåre, a sight that took him aback because this was a man even King Askild had failed to harm, but that was partly due to the man wielding strange weapons.

Tyr's eyes shifted to Sven fighting Signy and Asmund; he was surprised that Sven thought he could take them on alone, which was nothing short of arrogance.

Signy's arrows had even hit Erik The Berserker in their brief encounter.

Sven looked like he was about to fall; the duo had inflicted multiple injuries upon him. This included arrows protruding from his body and sword slashes that hit a little too close to being fatal.

The puddle of blood beneath his feet told Tyr that he would not last much longer, but Tyr saw an opening in all of this, he had the aerial advantage, but he knew he had to time his jump to perfection because if Signy saw him mid-air, there was no way to dodge his arrows.

-

"H-How are you so strong together,...?" Sven asked, coughing up blood, but he got no response.

The road to retreat was non-existent as he could not turn his back, or he was sure an arrow would find him.

Sven fell on one knee, still barely maintaining his balance. He was surprised that he had accumulated so much damage; the arrows did not just hit random parts of his body. They hit vital spots. It felt like his joints had been clogged, and his perception of time dulled.

He made a mistake, ending in his defeat, falling face-first to the ground unconscious.

Sven was out of the battle, the commanders of Kattegat were strong, but they could only do so much with limited nutrition over the past month.

Asmund turned and returned to his son; Signy was so happy because it reminded him of better times when he was younger. This was something they occasionally did when hunting.

His father's footsteps caused the foot depression, and Signy soon heard a thumping sound behind Asmund, his father.

The position and body size of Asmund not only hid the assailant's physique but made it impossible for Signy to provide backup.

Asmund tried to react, but Tyr, a warrior known for his speed, sliced open Asmund's tibia at the back of his ankle, forcing him to his knees.

"FATHER!!!" Signy screamed, his calm exterior finally cracking as he realized his father was in danger. There is nothing as devastating as losing someone you thought you had saved, and the defeat of Sven had instilled a sense of nostalgia in Signy, reminding him of simpler times.

But on the brink of losing it all, Signy dashed towards his father like he was in a race against time because he quite literally was. He could not hold back the tears, and he was approximately within five meters when his father's head was separated from his body, and with the absence of his head, Tyr was revealed. Even in his dying moments, Asmund wore a smile on his face.

Signy's face felt like he was the embodiment of wrath; every high-ranking warrior on the battlefield felt the killing intent that leaked from his body.

"W-What have you done?" Signy asked in disbelief, but Tyr was not surprised. He was lucky that Sven had provided the opening he needed, he used what they deemed an advantage to their disadvantage, and that was distance.

Maybe, just maybe, Signy might have been able to do something if he was closer, and the decline of Asmund's health finally caused him, but Tyr could not shake off a weird feeling he got before beheading Asmund as the king had whispered something.

"This is a war, and you have just left yourself wide open," Tyr warned; Signy tried to unleash his arrows on Tyr, but Tyr was a much smaller target than Sven and much faster to boot.

The arrows missed their marks, with Signy not in a stable emotional state either.

"A king that loses his cool just because his father died? Do you think your warriors have not lost more in this war, yet they fight? I will kill anyone in my king's way, for you have killed fathers too!" Tyr shouted. He wanted to give Signy a reality check because Signy was losing his head.

"Mourn your father, retreat and surrender Vestfold, or you will join him!" Tyr warned. He hoped he would get through to Signy because Tyr was unaware that Asmund would stop being king the moment he was in the enemy's hands, or he would have devised a different strategy, but something told him that Askild did. Askild had no intention of following his plan to begin with.

Signy looked at Tyr, and he could not believe the audacity of this child after killing his father.

The other warriors around noticed this as well, including those currently engaged in a fight.

This affected the morale of Vestfold negatively but had the opposite effect on Kattegat.

Bjorn looked especially disgusted by how his brother had killed Asmund; it was a backstabbing attack devoid of any honor whatsoever. Hagen had bought him breathing space, and there was no way he would miss his brother leaping from above as he knew his position prior.

"You just showed me that barbarians do not deserve my mercy…." Signy said, firing an arrow that dug into Sven's unconscious body, killing him instantly as he regained his composure.

"The only thing you brutes understand is blood… I understand now." Signy said. His eyes had turned cold, and Tyr knew words were pointless at this point.

Tyr moved to end the war, closing the gap between them both, and was within striking distance of Signy. He was about to deliver a fatal blow but met resistance from another metallic object; this was the sword of a man he was yet to meet.

It was the sword of Jan, the Earl of Vingulmark.

"Hello, children…"