I definitely have no desire to continue with the interrogations and torture. But I must make them all understand. I must make them all suffer equally, partially so that they if needed can spread the word to those who need to know. I should eat breakfast, but I have no appetite. Instead, we take a break and drink water. Kari takes care of the home because Iselin is busy making sure her parents are properly buried. I sure don't mind that the enemy's longship will be used to give them a ships burial, and that some of the parents' animals will be sacrificed.

Everyone on the islands are really angry at the enemy. We who made life here so much better, and brought riches here. We who in the future will make life so much better for everyone. Iselin's parents had already made several friends, because even though some were naturally jealous of their recent fortune, they were nice people who had worked hard before enjoying a good life in their older age thanks to their daughter and her powerful husband. Many dream of a similar thing. Gyra and Iuli certainly did not deserve to be tortured and killed by greedy Daes Vikings. Iselin receives plenty of help preparing for the funeral, and a rider has already been sent with an extra horse to fetch Völva Gauthild on Orusingen. Pedr and his workers are already repairing or replacing the windows and will fix the balcony. Hrappr and the maids try to clean up as much as possible. Many people are helping and everyone wants to contribute something, so the work goes quickly, and the preparations for the funerals go even faster, if possible.

If it is a more important person who have died, the funeral usually takes place a week after the death, when important summoned people have arrived and fine clothes have been made for the deceased. But the realities of life in a world like this, mean that this is not always appropriate or that a long time is needed. Iselin is their closest kin and the weather looks good, so the funeral will take place this evening.

Interrogations must be concluded, so I return to the basement with Ryla, Ciara, Alith, and Raneigh. The last three of the four remaining receive the same treatment, but I find it difficult to play the cruel Sejdmann Arnesson. However, my indifference is effective and affects them, especially after the first one dies of a probable heart attack before we even have time to start the lightning machine. They have heard muffled sounds and talk from all the previous interrogations and their comrades' pain and smelled the odours, and heard their comrades beg for forgiveness and say that they now understand what Sejdmann means. They know I came here with Bifrost last summer and that I am not an Elf. They have also heard Iselin shout that she is my wife and that they killed her parents, and enough of how her mothers killer died. They already feel deep dread when they have to be dragged out, and they understand that their pain is not to satisfy me and I no longer need their information. They understand that everyone else has spoken and why, and are so keen to give me any information the others might not have. They understand that I have complete control over their lives and souls, and I am only tormenting them because they deserve it. So that they too understand what Sejdmann truly means, and because Sejdmann Arnesson so easily can, without even getting up from his chair a few arm's lengths away from them. Sejdmann Arnesson just sits there, leaning back and indifferent, and effortlessly with a simple hand gesture, they experience pain in a way they never even had nightmares about.

It is not until shortly after dinner that the interrogations are complete. They were only tortured for a few minutes, and most of the time was spent listening to their stories. They were very focused on giving me everything, to make the most of their opportunity. Everyone is back in the basement vault under guard, but I doubt they even think about trying to escape. They don't want this to become an epic saga of revenge and retribution, and their families and relatives will live. We have even given them a couple of litres of water each. The staff are cleaning up the basement, the stench, and making sure everything is normal down there. As normal as it can be. I will never be able to forget what I did or their faces. The chair they sat on will be burned as part of the enemy's funeral. The same goes for the chair I sat on.

Maybe the lightning machine too, after we return.

I eat a little because I have to, just like most of the others, but it's difficult. Iselin just picks at her food. On the other hand, Ciara is satisfied. Satisfied that she got to torture those who hurt us and that one died of fear. She saw no joy in it, and I don't think she smiled until now, after it's over. Quite simply, they had to suffer and understand, and she needed to do it. Now it's done and she's satisfied and relieved because the world is a little more just. She has happily commented that the lightning machine is much better than a knife or vegetable peeler. Several of my sambos are definitely bloodthirsty by my standards, but this is their world. Nowadays, my world. And considering what I spent the morning doing, I fit in here all too well.

How many war crimes and other serious offences am I up to now?

I need to explain that the handles in the corridor outside my and Ciara's bedrooms do not detach the entire inner balcony, but only a section in front of the door to that corridor rotates to make it harder for an enemy. With the staircase, the alcove under the stairs, fireplaces, etc., it was difficult to make something stable and good for the other side of the corridor. As they know, the general plan has been to retreat to my room with my sambos and bodyguards, and the interior window in my office towards the mezzanine, stairs and balcony, is partly so that we can use firearms against enemies on the stairs. One thing that has been overlooked is actually having common shields available in our bedrooms, so that will be arranged, and we will also bring extra shields when we go camping, because my partners and I should have shields available.

At least several of the damaged interior windows have been easily repaired by replacing them. Standardisation FTW! We have plenty of extra windows for the Academy in the same sizes and design. The outer windows will take time; the easiest thing to do is to remove and replace the most damaged ones because their steel mesh has been deformed, which has also affected some of the inner windows that are now just behind them, and it won't look good even if it is possible to replace the glass in place. Some windows had only one or two panes broken, probably broken by arrows or something similar, and the workers have already replaced those with new glass panes leaded in. Lighter fabric covers the windows to rooms where replacement was not possible, and we have closed the doors to those rooms, so the wind no longer blows into Thymheim and it is warm.

Time is of the essence.

We cannot delay the retaliation, as the attackers had a schedule, and then Jarl Arkanes will know something is wrong and may flee, fortify himself or call for help. We know the schedule, and we must go to Borgarsandr tomorrow, so Asta and the others are preparing the ship and are in the process of hoisting both cannons on board along with other stuff. Olafr, Birger and Gaermarr have said they will work through the night to make more shots for the bronze cannon. I didn't even have to ask, because Olafr heard me give the order to load the cannons onto the ship. He understands and asked. We make sure that all the gunpowder is loaded on board, and the bodyguards take turns casting. Not tin miniatures for the table top game, but many more lead bullets for the firearms and a couple of canister shots for the cannons. Alith and Raneigh do not leave my side, but when I am in the workshop, they can work there too, and also take turns casting bullets and have ensured that the air rifle tanks are filled, but the electric compressor does most of the work. We need a better solution for casting small items like bullets in large quantities.

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I make sure that the firearms have improved open sights by using the whitest horns, and some have a little of the best luminescent mineral hammered into the horn. Then I build a couple of explosive charges that I can detonate remotely or ignite with a fuse, and combine them with holders so that they can become claymore-like devices. We may need to blow up a hole where the cannon cannot be used, or just to quickly force a gate or something, and I explain to Alith and Raneigh what I am building and how it will be used.

Alith and Raneigh are right that some fire arrows would potentially be useful, but that is something I have never even tried to make before. The bodyguards have heard of fire arrows, but no one seems to have actually used one, although Alith apparently tried to make some a couple of years ago. According to Alith, wrapping cloth around an arrow and using the strongest mead or smearing it with heated pine resin doesn't work well, but cloth soaked in solidified fat works reasonably well. Raneigh knows and has seen a type of fire arrow that has an iron 'cage' behind the tip, where a black mixture or charcoal is pressed in, but these are not particularly reliable and are relatively easy to extinguish, just like Alith's design. Hard wood can also cause both types of fire arrows to bounce or not penetrate deeply enough for the smouldering embers or cloth to actually do any damage. They work against softer targets such as thatched roofs, where the arrow penetrates deep and reaches dry straw, etc. However, they have heard stories of really good fire arrows that burn for a long time and cannot be extinguished with water or soil and also give off unpleasant and toxic smoke. Of course, we all understand that if there really are very good fire arrows, this is incredibly important military knowledge that a ruler does not want anyone to have access to, and that a craftsman wants to sell instead of spreading information about how they are made to potential competitors. With what Ovdhon and others say, and what I have heard, it seems that people here in the north actually lack individuals who are truly working with alchemy-chemistry, even though a few Fjölkunniga-Gothi, etc., do so to some extent, but what I think of as real alchemists seem to exist in the kingdoms to the south.

I ponder the fire arrow problem while I manufacture parts for the second air rifles semi-automatic systems and assemble that. If we need to engage in close combat, it's an advantage. I myself am much more accustomed to fighting with semi-automatic weapons than having to think about pumping between shots.

Should I actually try to make some fire arrows before we leave? At least the cage model or the one Alith described in cloth and hardened fat can be made. It feels like a good idea to actually spend some time on fire arrow development after we get home and to try to make something really good.

We burn the dead enemies. The enemy gets a shared pyre out on one of the small rocky islands where the wind carry the smoke and ash out over the water, and their pyre does not defile a place that anyone needs to visit. A bonus is that cremated on a small rocky island surrounded by water is also a 'safety measure', as it prevents the soul from ever leaving the place. The dead are not given any weapons or grave goods with them to the next life, but arrive there destitute and without even clothes on their bodies. They have been beheaded and castrated at Iselin's insistence, and had a stake driven through their chests as an extra measure against them returning as draugr, i.e. undead. Usually, this is only done if someone is buried instead of cremated, to really nail them to the ground, but it was hardly a big deal to do even though we cremate them on an island. The fact that I am not in the least bit worried that they will return as draugr or that their souls will wander reassures everyone else, but the other big news is not reassuring.

The news about me.

I don't know who said something, or if it was planned by Kari or Iselin, but the staff, islanders and workers have even more respect and clearly some fear in my presence. For it has become known that I am not an elf, and the souls of the dead are not with the gods. They are mine. No one seems to doubt that. So either the gods have allowed me to have their souls, or the gods cannot stop me from taking the souls. Both are, of course, frightening thoughts for an ordinary person, and some surely wonder how the souls suffer, while others clearly 'don't want to know'.

Gisela is deeply shocked that neither Jane nor I are elves. She too saw the Northern Lights in southern 'England' this summer, and their House of Heaven priests explained it as an omen of an injustice that had occurred. That a martyr had entered heaven and God allowed them a glimpse of heaven's magnificence if they lived their lives well and piously. We guess they had some agenda they wanted to push and took advantage of the opportunity, or couldn't think of anything better. It's not like spread out priests could have a quick telephone meeting and decide the story. As Gisela now understands it, our arrival affected the sky so incredibly far away that the priests there lied. I don't know what the hell Gisela is actually thinking, because in her religion you either go to heaven or hell. There is no third alternative. There are no other worlds, and our pagan beliefs naturally condemn us to hell. Aesir belief with its nine worlds, where the gods occasionally visit Alfheimr or the other worlds and fight frost giants, has of course been strongly confirmed by my and Jane's mere existence and the fact that we came here from Midgård.

Gisela seems frightened by my mere presence or gaze, and she is probably overjoyed that I have not taken her as my wife, concubine or bed slave. She keeps as far away from me and Jane as she can, but is very respectful.

Iselin's parents are given a ship burial at the south coast of Large Ackerek, a short distance from their home. The enemy's longship has been pulled up on a beach there and the funeral pyre has been prepared. This has caused some talk, and I understand that being buried in this way - in an expensive longship with many offerings and grave gods that is set a blaze - is something usually only done for a Jarl or very wealthy Storman. Not common people and certainly not former slaves. But I have no objection to Iselin 'burying' her parents in this manner. It is important for Iselin that they are given grave goods, offerings and food, and in addition to their clothes, knife and tools, there is also a sword, shield, axe, bow with arrows and a spear belonging to the enemies. Many think it is very right that their daughter can send the weapons of their dead killers with them, and impressive that they are given a ship burial in the ship of the men who killed them. Even though Iselin should know me and my lack of faith well, she finds comfort in my words that not only warriors and heroes go to Folkvang, but her parents were defiant until death. They did not reveal important secrets under torture, such as the windows iron lattice security, which we know they knew about. For the locals and Caecilia, Unn and Völva Gauthild, there is no doubt that Iselin's parents are in Folkvang with Freya, and that also helps to comfort Iselin.

It is dark when the rituals and words are finished, and we stand with torches as Iselin steps forward and places her torch on the wood that has been piled up under and around the boat. Then, one by one, we step forward and throw our own torches onto the fire. In the evenings darkness, we drink mead and watch the flames rise high from the burning ship. I hug Iselin from the back as she watches the fire, and we both cry to Caecilia's song of sorrow. Jane is taking photos and recording, because Iselin has asked her to. Jane will, of course, fulfil Iselin's wish to have three paintings done. Two of her parents dressed up and looking happy at our wedding reception, and one from this funeral. Her parents will be remembered. A runestone will be erected here.

I am considering erecting a runestone for future fallen warriors that fought for me or my Furstdom. Who may start dying in just a few days.

No one wanted to be alone in their rooms and beds, so after Iselin and I had sex, all my sambos joined us in bed. We just hold each other, and I have Ciara lying partly on top of me. Alith is sleeping on the floor in a sleeping bag next to the bed, and Gunhild and Ryla are sleeping in sleeping bags by the sofas. It takes a while before we start to fall asleep, but it feels good to have my sambos here. All the other women on staff are sleeping in sleeping bags in the main buildings attic, because I saw how hesitant they were, when sleeping in the wing and the wing attic came up. Everyone was so grateful and relieved when we temporarily offered the attic, and of course I understand that they don't want to sleep so far from the bodyguards, even though we have volunteers guarding outside who will do so during the whole night. The knowledge that a large enemy force that surprised us did not even manage to get inside, does not really help since people feel unsafe, and I know there are some spears, axes, bows, crossbow and such up there. Only Hrappr sleeps in the wing in his own attic room, mainly to show his manliness, but I guess he now has at least an axe in that room, and I won't ask how well he slept or how happy he is with the lock on his quite solid door and window.

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