Chapter Seven: Refusing to Eat the Food of the Lowly

"Get out! Don't make a spectacle of yourself here!" Robert said coldly, pointing toward the door.

Under Oni's pensive gaze, Harold stood silent for a moment before turning on his heel in a fury.

"If you dare to hurt her, I won't let you get away with it!" He stopped at the threshold, cast a sideways glance at her, ripped the curtain down, threw it to the floor, and marched out.

Oni had been watching this sibling squabble, but now she was cursing inwardly, feeling as though she had been thrust into a grave crisis. Harold's words hadn't been a shield; they had pushed her into the abyss, leaving her trembling with anxiety.

It was like someone in the heat of anger pointing at a bowl and shouting, "Go ahead, try dropping it." Even if the other person had no intention of breaking the bowl, that very provocation would likely lead them to do it.

She was that bowl now.

Sure enough, the humiliated Lord Robert turned his gaze toward Oni, his eyes glinting with a cold light. "No one has ever dared to refuse me!"

"I am merely a woman, and I have committed no offense against you. In my heart, you are not a cruel leader," Oni attempted a form of manipulative flattery, hoping to steer him in a direction that might save her life.

He asked, "I want to know why. You must understand, there are many women who would crawl into my bed! And they would do it without asking for anything in return!"

"That is because they want much in return, though I cannot rule out that some might simply admire your appearance," Oni said, intentionally stroking his ego while rubbing her legs, which had gone numb from sitting.

As for anything else, he was truly repulsive.

"And what about you? What do you want? Does my estate not hold everything you desire?" He seemed to be in high spirits—provided he couldn't hear Oni's inner thoughts.

Oni seemed stumped. She parted her lips, realizing she had never actually asked herself that question. She wasn't sure if she could survive long enough to bring Field's remains back to their homeland, or if she had even considered what she would do once she had found her father’s bones.

In that moment, a flood of images surged through her mind: the Eastern European slaves sacrificed to the gods, the starving children who had lost their parents, and this lord before her, flaunting his power, trampling on her dignity, and threatening her life.

She was determined to survive, to never be threatened again, and to live more brilliantly than anyone else! She yearned for the status of a lord, but certainly not in the way he had proposed.

If she said that aloud, she would likely be dragged out immediately and turned into a gruesome "blood eagle," wouldn't she?

Under Oni's puzzled gaze, the steward shifted slowly until he stood behind the lord, seemingly waiting for something.

***

Robert ignored the steward, watching the confused Oni as he paced. "It seems you don't know what you truly want?" He paused and continued, "Those orphans you've taken in—what is your true intention?"

Oni stared at his legs, sighing deeply, her hands hidden beneath her sleeves, nervously picking at her fingers. "No intention. Too many people have already died. I just want them to live," she replied.

With no food left at home, she knew she could not stay here much longer; every day of delay increased the risk of her plans collapsing. She was willing to sacrifice some things just for the chance to return safely.

Thinking this, Oni felt her legs go numb. She struggled to stand up, silently chanting to herself, *Death is death!*

She stood, wincing and bracing against the soreness, unable to endure the torment of kneeling any longer.

Robert’s expression shifted, a flicker of surprise at her boldness. The Viking warriors beside him moved to stop her, but the lord raised a hand, signaling them to stand down.

His eyes darted back and forth as he pondered for a moment before saying, "A reason! I do not believe you have no reason!"

"I want to bring back my father's remains," Oni replied firmly. "Bring him home."

Robert laughed contemptuously, as if this were the most ridiculous thing he had ever heard. "You?" he mocked.

"Yes, me!" Oni looked him in the eye with unwavering resolve. "Do I look like I'm bragging?"

Robert fell silent, then sat down on the spot. The steward beside him looked frantic, rushing over to act as a human cushion.

Oni’s mouth twitched slightly. She had gained a new understanding of the lord's terror and dominance; no wonder the man sitting there was the lord, not Harold.

They weren't even on the same level.

She had expected the steward to do something else, but she hadn't expected this.

"You certainly have courage. But without a ship, how do you expect to sail?" His tone had softened, as if touched by some hidden emotion.

The two locked eyes. Oni did not flinch; she narrowed her eyes and countered. "I didn't have one before, but I do now," she replied. "My Lord, you will lend me a ship!"

Oni, of course, would not mention her plan to build a ship herself, as that was strictly forbidden within the territory. To say nothing of the rest, the crucial anchor technology alone was not something an ordinary person could craft; it required a master blacksmith. Otherwise, the ship would be useless. That was why she had started by smelting iron.

***

"Delusional woman, why should I lend you anything?" Lord Robert laughed out loud in disbelief.

"Because I can bring you even greater wealth!" Oni replied confidently. "Are you willing to come with me? I will prove it to you!" Her confidence piqued even Robert's curiosity.

"Then I shall see what kind of game you are playing!" At Oni's invitation, and deciding he was bored anyway, Robert agreed to follow her to her house.

The steward did not follow them. After scrambling up from the floor, he clapped his hands, his eyes darting around as if calculating something. Then, he hurried toward Robert's bedchamber.

Inside the room, a beautiful woman was lazily stretching on the bed. Seeing the steward enter, her face turned pale with panic. "Why are you here? Get out, quickly!" she hissed.

"Give it to me, fast. You don't want the Jarl to find out, do you?" The steward flipped her over and struck her hard.

Who would have guessed that the steward, so subservient before the lord, could be so duplicitous when violating the Jarl's wife? And that the seemingly dignified Jarl's wife would behave in such a way in private?

*Smack!*

"Ah!" The Jarl's wife cried out, turning her head while still on her knees, her face twisted in fury.

"What are you screaming for? I'm not Oni!"

*Smack!*

Inside the small shack, filled with boys and girls, Oni placed a bar of ordinary soap infused with rosemary extract on the table.

On a stool beside the table, Lord Robert held a horn cup, leisurely sipping the "Field-brand" home-brewed ale. This malt ale, brewed from sprouted barley, was effectively a raw, high-alcohol beer with higher sweetness and no bitterness—the favorite beverage of the Norse people.

"I do not eat the food of commoners!" He raised a hand to refuse, but his nose twitched, and his resolve wavered.

"Commoners?" Oni paused, looking at that face filled with disdain, then at the ale in his hand—the very ale Field had brewed. She forcibly suppressed the urge to punch him to death.

She turned to prepare a wooden basin of water, intending to let him try the soap. But in the next moment, she stumbled, nearly dropping the basin to the floor.