"Not necessary." Upon hearing the girl say this, Barnett let out two soft laughs. "If you won't speak up, there are plenty of others lining up to tell me. You want equal rights for every member of your tribe, whereas some might only want an extra slice of bread."
Having said that, Barnett chuckled, rose to his feet, and turned to leave without a moment's hesitation.
"Damn you—you'll burn in hell! You cursed bastard!"
The girl froze for two seconds upon hearing Barnett's words. She never imagined anyone could be so impervious to reason. Then, her outrage exploded into a torrent of curses directed at Barnett's departing back.
When the door swung open, a pack of Viking warriors who had been eavesdropping outside erupted in wicked laughter. At the sound of the girl's tirade, each of them cast Barnett a knowing, mischievous grin—one that, as any man well knows, speaks volumes.
"Rogues," Barnett spat at them. He then raised his right hand above his head and extended his middle finger. Perhaps thanks to the system that had generated these Viking soldiers, every single one of them understood this unmistakable gesture. They roared with laughter and dispersed.
A sudden thought struck Barnett: truly decisive victories require well-trained, well-equipped soldiers who obey discipline. Perhaps the Germans might fit the bill—although that culture probably hasn't emerged yet in this era. But such matters could wait. For now, his priority was to clarify one thing with the System Sprite:
"Is this world populated by multiple races? Surely not only Humans, right?"
"Yes," the Sprite replied, rattling off a list in a single breath: "Elves, Dwarves, Half-Orcs, Centaurs, Gnolls, Kobolds, and so on." Barnett felt a twinge of dissatisfaction at the sheer variety.
"Why didn't you tell me sooner?"
"Did you ever ask?"
"Well, since these races exist, what about Dragons, Behemoths, Angels, Demons?"
"If I said yes, would you be okay watching your hard-earned tens of thousands of troops annihilated by a single forbidden spell?"
"I wouldn't."
"Supernatural powers do exist here, but none are truly world-ending. For example: extraordinarily rapid healing, supreme medical skill, enhanced crop yields, the ability to understand lower beasts' tongues… powers along those lines."
"Alright. Now tell me about the Dwarves."
"Dwarves—literally "short people." Not that they're short; a sturdy adult Dwarf typically stands over 1.7 meters tall. They're called Dwarves because their limbs are proportionally shorter than Humans', they carry large bellies, and they have heads as wide as a hog's. Their bodies are stout and round, but they're still "people" in that their facial features are recognizably human.
Culture & Customs: Dwarves resemble the Norse Vikings: they love strong drink, they relish combat, and they glorify violence. They burn with fierce passion and harbor a relentless hatred for injustice. Unlike Vikings, the mountain-dwelling Dwarves cannot swim—but their mining and smithing prowess is unmatched. With their superior weapons and armor, Dwarves are invincible in land warfare.
Political Structure: Much like the Norse, Dwarves live in scattered clans under a tribal alliance system. They elect a Dwarf King by popular vote; his term lasts a lifetime. Recently, the legendary Dwarf King and his ally the Norwegian Grand Duke fell together on English soil. Now the Dwarven clans are selecting a new king and plotting vengeance against England.
That is all the information I have on the Dwarves."
"Hmm, that sounds like a faction worth leveraging. After all, the enemy of my enemy is my friend." Barnett pondered briefly, then nodded slowly.
The next morning, the Viking warriors maintained the fine tradition of a disciplined army. Despite last night's revelry, their constitutions were ironclad. At six o'clock—long before dawn—they rose, rubbed snow over their bodies, carved several ice holes by the lake, and plunged into the bone-chilling water for a cold bath. Afterward, they launched into a brutal sparring session to work up an appetite.
Watching these fearsome Vikings, Barnett felt speechless. To save face, he mimicked their routine—until he nearly passed out halfway through.
"…Quick, quick, convert for me—convert to Advanced Cold Resistance and Advanced Physique…" he stammered internally, his body trembling as he addressed the System.
"If you do that, the gold you earned these past two days of battles will be all but gone," the System warned.
"Shut up!"
With that, the conversion completed, Barnett finally possessed the constitution befitting a true Northman. Coupled with his Intermediate Berserker Axe skill, his personal combat prowess now rivaled that of an elite Viking warrior. Of course, a consummate coward like Barnett would never lead a frontal charge—so these newfound attributes would see little direct use. Yet he instantly felt the biting cold subside. Alas, the price in gold was painful: three thousand gold—nearly an hour of his life's span!
Thus ended his morning training and breakfast—each moment tinged with regret.
After the meal, the Vikings prepared another training session to aid digestion. Barnett, having recovered from his heartache, recalled last night's events. He ordered a few Vikings to haul the bound girl back to a village as a serf. He summoned the captain who captured her, learned her tribal name, and then dispatched his Royal Guard knights to discover which villages held her tribe enslaved. He instructed each village elder to round up the former tribe members and interrogate them: anyone who could identify the Dwarf clan and explain how to contact them would earn two extra loaves of black bread.
By midday, his Royal Guard had accomplished the task. In exchange for the promise of two loaves of bread, the former tribesmen—now serfs—spilled every detail they knew about the Dwarves, eager to outshine their peers. Barnett's reward: another gained attribute, "Sly Manipulator" (+1 Shameless).
What the hell is Shameless, anyway?!
Barnett pressed the System for a definition, but the Sprite only replied that it was an easter-egg attribute with no combat effect—yet Barnett remained uneasy, feeling cheated.
He then analyzed his second quest. With ten loaves of black bread spent, the knights had returned intelligence: a certain Dwarf clan—whose location no one clearly knew—sent merchants bearing iron wares to trade for malt beer every few months. From these merchants, the tribesmen learned the clan's name: "Great Axe." They dwelt within the Scandinavian Mountains, some fifteen days' journey from the nearest human settlement.
That was all the information available. When the Dwarf merchants next reached the vanished tribe's territory and found no one to trade with, they would likely shrug and seek another market.
—But alas:
All twelve surrounding tribes had been eradicated by Barnett. According to the system map, the nearest other Viking tribes lay nearly three hundred kilometers away. In other words, even without his intervention, Dwarf traders would walk straight into his net.
Truly, had he agreed to the girl's bargain last night, it would have been a grave mistake.
Barnett privately congratulated himself—though, given his fickle nature, he might yet break his word.
Resolving that the second quest could safely be set aside, Barnett focused on his first objectives: tangible upgrades to two buildings and veteran experience for his troops. Those were real, concrete benefits.
With fifteen days remaining until the town fully upgraded, and two days until the end-of-month tax collection—and now penniless—Barnett rotated among the barracks, staying one night in each to bond with his warriors. Unexpectedly, this earned him another attribute: "Close to the Common Folk" (+1 Morale, +5% Popular Support). Now morale woes seemed minor.
Month's End: Barnett collected over 5,000 gold in taxes—a windfall that elated him.
"Money, money—once I prized you in my past life, but now I realize you matter even more," he mused, eyes fixed on the treasury screen reading 5,106 gold.
"Get a grip—are you so shallow as to get giddy over a few coins?" the System Sprite jeered in disdain.