The Rise of Rurik

Rurik finally turned seven years old, reaching this age by the autumn season.

The year was now 828 A.D., and the Danes intensified their raids on Britain, reaping considerable rewards in the process.

Meanwhile, the surrounding tribes, especially the numerous Swedes, either vied with the Danes over pastures on land or intensified trade with the Baltic coast’s southern tribes, particularly with the various Lithuanian groups.

Over the years, the Ross tribe mastered the secrets of navigating the inland waterways of Eastern Europe. Their biannual majestic tribute voyages accumulated wealth steadily.

Gradually, the relationship between the Ross tribe and their Swedish brethren became increasingly nuanced.

It seemed as if they might become a distinct group of people.

As time slowly passed, the whole of Europe continued its gradual development.

Rurik, now seven years old, was not short for his age, but he appeared somewhat thin.

Boys of any tribe at this age generally looked like this: playful and energetic, yet as thin as monkeys.

Compared to the robust Otto, Rurik was indeed too slender.

Nevertheless, Otto felt that the time had finally come, just before this autumn’s tribute voyage.

On a sunny morning, Otto, with a serious face, called his son over and said meaningfully, “Now, you should try to be a warrior.”

“Now? Does that mean I’ll be joining in battles?!”

“No!” Otto patted his son’s thin shoulder with satisfaction. “You’re still too weak. A single punch from your enemy could be fatal. Child, you must start training now. You need to become strong quickly.”

“So, I have to become strong?!”

“Yes! Only then can you inherit my position and gain others’ recognition. Do you know? They respect strength, and Odin favors the brave and the warriors.”

Over the years, Rurik understood one thing, his destiny – to become a berserker.

The Vikings, particularly the Danes, were primarily farmers and herdsmen, but they were also adept at exploration. Without any strict laws to bind them, discovering treasures of other tribes naturally led to assembling warriors for plunder.

In peaceful times, they were ordinary farmers.

The climate of the Jutland Peninsula was milder, but in the northern regions of Scandinavia, where Rossburg was located, the cold climate meant little hope for wheat cultivation. Fishing and hunting in the forests became vital means of livelihood.

The harsh environment forced Viking children to develop skills during their limited childhood.

Even by tribal customs, a boy was considered an adult at twelve, expected to row in longships and bravely participate in battles.

Otto felt that the “fighting spirit” he had instilled in his son over the years was now ready to be put into practice.

He stroked his son’s head and said deeply, “I will find you some children of your age to train with. Don’t worry if you can’t handle a sword. You can practice with a wooden stick for now. Remember, no crying!”

“I understand,” Rurik nodded deeply, accepting the challenge without any sign of refusal.

Otto nodded with satisfaction and then called his nephew Arik, instructing him fervently, “Arik, I want you to train your brother well. Although you are still weak yourself, I have taught you all the fighting techniques. Now, it’s your turn to teach your brother the basics of combat.”

“I will make you proud,” Arik responded.

Overall, Arik liked his brother very much.

However, burdened with the title of “Odin’s Blessed,” his brother always seemed peculiar. Over the years, Arik felt an unspoken discomfort in their relationship.

It seemed his brother’s mind was filled with too many unusual ideas.

Maybe his brother was naturally introspective? Nevertheless, he must become a true warrior to deserve his inherent title.

On a pebbly area near the sea, where waves constantly lapped against the shore, stood a blond boy in cotton clothes – seven-year-old Rurik.

Unlike other tribal children, Rurik’s blond hair was not simply dangling; he tied it into a small ponytail at the back of his head, thinking it gave a somewhat feminine appearance.

True, he was dressed in cotton pants, which were essentially linen stuffed with wool and sewn together.

As the climate cooled, both men and women of the tribe wore comfortable cotton clothes and donned boots made of deer or bear skin, often topped with fur hats.

Rurik’s clothes, all made by his mother Niya, a skilled seamstress, were no exception.

Rurik, just a child, held a small round shield in his left hand, firmly strapped to his arm.

In his right hand, he held a sword-shaped wooden stick. Though not sharp, one could imagine the damage it could cause.

Rurik became a juvenile swordsman, facing another child of his age.

Unlike Rurik, who maintained cleanliness, the other child appeared more unkempt, wilder, and more aggressive.

Rurik knew this child was a “playmate” found by his father.

The child’s name was Kanuf, the son of a trusted warrior under his father’s command.

Though a playmate, Rurik fully understood that what was to come was not merely play. The use of wooden sticks did not imply simple sparring. The onlookers, now numbering over a dozen, added a subtle tension.

These spectators hoped to see a “battle” between the two children, to conjecture on their potential as future rowers and warriors.

“Oh? Is that the so-called son of Odin?”

“Not Odin’s son, just the chieftain’s son.”

“But the priests say he’s extraordinary. I think he really is.”

“Can you tell just by looking? If Rurik is no mere mortal, he should be able to defeat Haraldson’s son.”

“Let’s wait and see…”

Rurik heard the onlookers’ discussions, some doubting him, others filled with anticipation.

Undoubtedly, his parents watching were full of expectations.

Now, Rurik’s mind was cluttered, especially remembering the recent “combat tips” his brother Arik had taught him.

What were these tips? Essentially, they could be summarized as: “Lift your weapon and smash it hard on the enemy. If you’re strong enough, all problems are solved.”

That was nothing but a brute’s tactic! Yet Rurik realized that the Vikings understood tactics, and in real battles, they were more organized than the disorganized Western Europeans of this era. This alone made them easily victorious against disorganized, undisciplined peasants hastily gathered by lords.

On further thought, Arik’s words were not entirely without merit.

As the saying goes, raw strength can overpower technique. A powerful swing of an axe could be lethal.

However, Rurik could hardly expect his slender arms to wield such force.

TL Note: I am changing the name from Rus Tribe to Ross Tribe. Also, sorry for the inconsistency. MTLing is hard. I will try my best to maintain the quality without different names.