Chapter 31

An empty stomach was more painful than a broken rib cage. It may not be like that for everyone, but it was the case for Hakon.

The sun was already at its zenith when he woke up to ferocious growls. His stomach was done waiting, its demands growing louder and more intense with every second. It twisted and cramped in ways Hakon never expected.

Being hungry was not new. If anything, every Barbarian knew what hunger felt like, because it was something they had been taught. To experience the weakness that came with hunger, but also to fight through that weakness. To never allow hunger or any other kind of weakness to affect a warrior’s power.

The servants noticed Hakon when he woke up. Some tended to the training ground as always, whereas others moved around hastily. They prepared food, not enough, for when he returned to the hut. Hakon did not rush. He checked the Ancient Scripture, went through the changes and additions of new Skills, and mused about what to improve next. He had a lot to do, but filling his stomach came first.

Sitting down at the table as the servants placed several plates filled with meats, bread, and other side dishes before him, Hakon grumbled. Neither of the dishes survived for long as he gobbled them down. His stomach was still rumbling when he finished three-fourths of the meal, which made the servants panic.

They left in a hurry and returned with more bread and baked potatoes, informing him that more meat was being prepared. Tears welled in their eyes as they spoke, which was… not all that unfamiliar. The servants feared them, for they were not Barbarians. Most were humans, their skin color was unlike that of the Barbarians. But that was all that separated humans from Barbarians. Other than their behavior toward the Ancestors.

“You don’t believe in the Ancestors, do you?” Hakon diverted his attention from the stone plates, scrutinizing the servants for the first time since–

Honestly, he did not think he had ever paid much attention to them. The servants were just there.

Skinny. Vulnerable. Fragile

That was what they were. They had no muscles, their belief was laughable, and they could not even stand up for themselves. Not all humans were like that, as the chieftain had mentioned in the past, but those that lost against his father in battle certainly were. If not, they wouldn’t act this way. They wouldn’t lower their heads and stare straight at the ground, trembling like shrubs in a storm while shedding more tears than a heavy downpour.

Hakon let out a heavy sigh.

“Come closer,” he grunted, motioning to the nearest servant.

She trembled even worse than before. Her sobs filled the hut, but Hakon remained emotionless.

There was no reason to feel sorry for the servant. He did not mistreat her, and he knew his father would not do anything to her either. She was not malnourished and was well taken care of in every other aspect as well, but that was to be expected of the chieftain’s belongings.

Barbarians treated their spoils of war with respect. They were part of their Saga and ought to be treated like that. Like an extension of the Ancestors’ blessings. Hence, their fear meant little to him, other than nurturing the dissatisfaction in his heart.

Humans really were weak. It was no surprise to him that their invasion of the Barbarians’ lands failed.

This time. Hakon corrected himself. He hadn’t heard much about humans, but the few things he did know were that they were numerous. Their numbers were much greater than all of the Tribes combined. Not all of them were weak either. If not for that, humans would have never managed to destroy several tribes all those cycles ago.

That was before Hakon’s father reached the 5th Ascension. It was even before the chieftain was born and long before the change. It was the Warlord’s era. Cycles filled with bloodshed. The Sagas of that era’s legends spoke of rivers of blood and palaces made of bones. Mountains of corpses, all offered as tribute to the Ancestors.

And some time ago, only a few cycles before Hakon was born, the humans had returned. Their reasoning was unknown, or maybe the chieftain simply did not care, but the result was obvious. The Barbarians had grown stronger ever since the rise of the first Warlord. And it was all owed to the Ancestors.

“H-How may I h-help you?” The servant was still shaking as she bowed.

She was small and barely reached Hakon’s nose even though he was still seated.

She was nothing like the women of Tribe Taskur. Frail and too easy to break. Compared to Barbarians, she wore too much clothing, which would only hinder her in battle. But all that clothing had been one of her wishes. It had been the wish of almost all servants to wear several layers of clothing. As little sense as that made, the Barbarians who owned them complied with their wishes.

Combat was none of the servants’ concern in the first place.

“Look at me.” Hakon lifted the servant’s trembling head, forcing eye contact with quivering blue eyes that were as bright as the cloudless sky. “And be honest with me. Do you believe in the Ancestors?”

He turned to the other servants when the young woman said nothing. She just stood there like prey caught by a predator.

Reading on this site? This novel is published elsewhere. Support the author by seeking out the original.

“You do not believe in the Ancestors,” he said to the others. “Why not? Who do humans believe in? Do they even believe in anything?”

One of the other servants shook his head when Hakon mentioned the first part. That confirmed what he already knew: that humans, or this group in particular, did not believe in the Ancestors. As for the rest… they never responded. The male servant who had shaken his head stirred, his lips parting, but it looked like he decided against answering.

“I see,” Hakon sighed in disappointment. “You don’t want to answer. That is unfortunate.”

He dismissed the female servant standing before him. “If you feel like telling me about your old home or your beliefs, I will listen.”