Becca Fox - Asta and the Barbarians

“Soon this table will be filled with admirers,” Bryn teased with his mouth full. “It won’t matter that you’re a woman.”

I scoffed. “I don’t wish to make friends while I’m here.”

“Then who will keep you company when I’m gone?” Bryn lowered his voice to ask, although the amused glint in his eye was still there.

I frowned at him. “I’ll keep my own company.”

We both looked up when someone approached our table. Viggo held his tray and frowned down at the pair of us. He had a fresh scrape across his brow.

Bryn leaned back in his seat and grinned. “Yes? Can we help you?”

“May I join you?” Viggo asked tersely.

“This is Asta’s table, didn’t you know? You have to ask for her permission.”

Viggo’s frown deepened and his grip on the tray tightened. I would have been fearful for Bryn’s well-being if I didn’t know they were such good friends.

Turning sharply in my direction, Viggo asked, “May I join your table?”

I found it very difficult not to smile, but I managed to nod.

He dropped onto the bench beside Bryn and immediately began discussing one of the classes they shared as if I wasn’t there. Soon Asger and the other two came to sit with us. They didn’t speak to me but nodded in acknowledgement.

I found my next class fascinating. During the lecture, I gained a clearer picture of Holger’s government structure. The king had a group of ten counselors, usually chosen for their loyalty and friendship, but also if they were known for making wise decisions. Meetings were held weekly to discuss country-wide issues, ideas for new laws to eradicate those issues, budget cuts, the raising or lowering of taxes, and any troublemakers who threatened to turn the people against their king. Anyone in the meeting could make a suggestion, but the king made the final decision. Always.

We were also going to be studying the different royal families the island had seen since its institution and the significant impacts each monarch made. To begin, I learned a great deal about King Tatsuo, the current king’s father and Holger’s Mighty Dragon, than I ever thought I’d want to know. It was he who proposed the Quest for Resources fifteen years ago. It was his dream to gather more natural resources and create settlements in other nations so that his people could live elsewhere without losing their culture. His counselors agreed until they heard of the method with which the king planned to do this. They wanted peaceful negotiation, assurance that immigrants from Holger would be happily received by their sister nations; King Tatsuo wanted a glorious, bloody war.

When the counselors failed to convince him to change his mind, they decided dethroning him would be the only way to save the other nations and preserve Holger’s good name. King Tatsuo wouldn’t step down quietly. He was tried and eventually executed. Torvald was the rightful heir to the throne but was only five years old when his father died. The counselors made most of the decisions until he turned fifteen and became of ruling age. The Quest for Resources was put on hold until a suitable general could be found to lead the militia that would follow the king’s diplomats onto foreign soil.

Halvar had grown up in the southern section of the island. The fire that had only marred his face had taken his parents’ lives. A kind stranger had paid for his tuition so that he could attend Dotharr’s Academy. He’d been an average graduate but his mysterious benefactor had, apparently, had friends in high places. Halvar had been given a job at a security firm that worked with one of the biggest banks on the island. There he built a spotless reputation for himself and caught the attention of the counselors. He seemed the perfect soldier for the job they had in mind. The counselors made Halvar a general and had him swear an oath to only step in if the king’s representatives were in danger. Then they set out to bargain for the resources that would save Holger’s people.

I gripped my quill until my knuckles hurt. Perhaps there had been some wisdom to Bryn’s plan of exposing the general’s lies to the public. His history would be taught differently if it were known why he had been murdered by Dotharr’s Miracle. I considered this as the class came to an end.

Battle Strategy was held outside, for which I was thankful. Despite the cloudy skies, it was a beautiful morning and I was tired of being cooped up. A wooden castle keep had been constructed in the grass for us to practice group infiltration. The instructor split the class into two teams and chose ‘commanders.’ Every day, a different person would be chosen to lead the assault on the keep or lead their team in defending the keep. Mobile curtain walls, turrets, and a gatehouse could be added to the keep to present each commander with a new challenge. We were given metal, plate-like chest and back protectors along with blunt swords and short bows that shot arrows with broad, rounded tips. One team’s armor was black, while the other team’s was white.

The instructor explained that if we sustained injuries to the arms or legs, we could continue participating. If we were shot or stabbed in the chest or back, the sound of the hit would be heard by all. That meant we were ‘dead’ and had to remove ourselves from the keep. If we lost our weapons during the scrimmage, we were allowed to steal the weapons of our opponents. All and any forms of self-defense were allowed. We were only prohibited from aiming for each other’s heads or groins. Once the rules had been explained, the teams split up. My team was infiltrating so we gathered a ways away from the keep to talk strategy. A young man named Rainer was chosen to be our commander. He was head and shoulders above all of us with a splash of freckles across his nose and spiky brown hair.

“Our objective is to eliminate every member of the opposing team,” he said. “When the battle is through, we only need one person from our team ‘alive’ in order to claim the victory. Instructor Gulbrand has given us the plans for the structure.” Rainer unrolled a scroll and examined it. “It appears there is only room for three people to stand on the keep’s roof. The stairway to the top of the keep is too narrow for more than one person to pass through at a time.”

We turned in unison to see the instructor and two of his helpers wheeling in more wooden structures. A gatehouse and two curtain walls joined the keep.

Rainer drew our eyes back to himself by clearing his throat. “Those walls are only long and thick enough to hold four people at a time. The gatehouse is our only true obstacle. According to this design, it has six windows; two on the front, two on the back, and one on each side. Six people can be standing in the upper level. Four people can also be standing on its roof and two people standing side by side can fit through the entrance. If I were defending, I would put as many of my people in the gatehouse as possible and only put a handful of my most skilled warriors in and around the keep. I propose we do the same. We will focus our numbers on the gatehouse and walls, and only send the five most accomplished among us to the keep.”

“How do we determine who should storm the keep?” a short man with a round, anxious face asked.

A lean, long-faced man toward the back raised his hand. “I’m due to be transferred to an intermediate Weaponry class.”

“As am I,” said another.

“As am I,” I added.

Those around me gave me distrustful glances. Rainer regarded me thoughtfully.

“I have seen her in action.”

I was surprised to see Brandt among us. He didn’t look at me, but I was touched that he had vouched for me at all.

Brandt shrugged when our commander raised his eyebrows. “She’s strong and quick on her feet. She’s also a woman. They won’t expect her to be capable of overwhelming them.”