The Rise of Rurik

Dragon-headed warships sailed towards the bay.

One of Niya’s maids, with an exhilarating smile, burst into the tent, “Niya, it’s the leader! He’s back with the men!”

“Ah! He’s back?!”

At this moment, the overexhausted Liu Li, who had fallen asleep due to poverty, had his infant body suddenly lifted from the cradle.

Unlike a normal infant startled by such a scare, he did not cry his heart out.

Instead, he was held in the arms of his birth mother who abruptly left the tent.

In a few days, Niya had completely gotten used to the abnormality of her son, which perhaps was normal for this child.

She murmured, “Dear baby, you’re about to meet your father. You don’t even have a name yet; your father will give you a beautiful one.”

In the swaddle, Liu Li stared with wide eyes, unaware of what the wrinkled-faced, blonde woman holding him was muttering about, but it sounded like English.

If they were Vikings, their language would definitely be Norse.

Liu Li, a man of science, had once been forced to take the English Level Six test. He knew well that one important origin of English came from the Norse language of the Scandinavian Peninsula.

Now, everything seemed like a dream, and Liu Li, the infant, had no choice but to be brought by his birth mother to the docks.

At this moment, Liu Li widened his barely world-aware eyes, seeing the world still a bit blurry due to his young age.

He could at least see clearly that it was a bay, and today, numerous ships were docking.

People were cheering on the dock, welcoming the arrival of a massive fleet.

Niya, holding the child, looked eagerly and soon saw her husband, a handsome man with a large beard.

In Niya’s eyes, Otto was a great being, the bravest warrior, and a leader the entire tribe could trust.

Niya, holding the child in her left hand and waving her right, called out Otto’s name loudly.

However, her calls were drowned in the cheers of the people.

Seeing the people of his hometown, Otto’s tense nerves finally relaxed.

His expression softened as the ships approached the shallows. He was the first to jump off and, pulling on the ropes, used the ship’s momentum to run it aground.

One after another, dragon-headed warships laden with goods were intentionally run aground, and under Otto’s command, the unloading of goods began immediately.

The people of Rosfort excitedly inspected the wonderful items the leader brought back, but on one warship, someone uncovered a burlap to reveal the bodies of ten fallen warriors.

The joyous expressions of those who saw this instantly vanished.

They all knew these dead warriors, members of their tribe, now lying in the ship’s hold with fatal wounds.

The discovery of the dead warriors caused a stir at the unloading site.

Meanwhile, Otto, who had just landed, did not go to the tribal elders’ council hall but instead found his wife.

Otto had already seen his wife and the infant in her swaddle.

His wife’s appearance had changed greatly, so the child in the swaddle was indeed his own.

Otto excitedly stood in front of his wife, ignoring the advice of other tribespeople coming to him, and pulled his wife to a slightly quieter place.

Otto’s family stood on a small platform made of stones, from where most of the bay was visible, and this was also the place where the young couple used to meet secretly.

Once upon a time, the young Otto was very lucky to win the beautiful Niya’s heart, and their marriage was blessed by the elders. Otto did not disappoint and won the competition to choose the tribe’s leader.

But for Otto, the greatest misfortune in his forty years of life was the accidental death of his two sons.

In 9th-century Scandinavia, it was extremely difficult for a baby to safely reach adulthood.

Otto believed his victory in the arena and leading the tribe’s warriors to victory were blessings from Odin. But he had no healthy heirs, perhaps a price to be paid?

Now, it seemed things were changing.

Niya joyfully informed her husband, “Dear Otto, this is our third son. Look at his deep blue eyes, so much like yours.”

“Ah! This is my son!”

Otto, excited, tremblingly took the child from his wife’s hands, lifting him above his head.

After all, this was his son, and at this moment, Otto completely forgot the pain of the arrow wound on his left arm, happily lifting his child as if lifting the future of the tribe.

At this moment, Liu Li stared with wide eyes, seeing the typical Viking helmet-wearing, sweat-smelling, blonde strong man in front of him, his real father in this world?

Liu Li stared at the man’s weather-beaten face without crying or making a fuss, surprising Otto.

“Hey! Niya, is our child always like this? He doesn’t cry at all!”

“Yes! He is very special.” Niya eagerly spoke of the words of the female elder,

“Our Granny Velia, the wisest woman in our tribe. The night I gave birth to this child, Granny Velia had a strange dream. She must have received a revelation from Odin. She told me the son of the Ros chief will be blessed and lead us to prosperity.”

“Ah?!” Hearing this, Otto’s gaze at his child suddenly changed.

Those round, cute, deep blue eyes were no longer just adorable; they seemed like Odin himself was using the child’s eyes to scrutinize him.

Continuing to hold his child high, Otto hesitated for a while, then muttered to the child, “My son, can you really inherit my cause and bring prosperity to the tribe?!”

At this moment, Liu Li knew he lacked the ability to speak, his vocal cords too immature. He could only make “hmm” sounds, not knowing what the man holding him was saying, but it felt like a question.

Liu Li instinctively made two non-expressive “hmms,” and this so-called “hmm” sound shocked Otto and his wife.

In their eyes, the child’s response was clearly affirmative.

Niya’s eyes widened as she looked at Otto, “He responded to you.”

“I understand now!”

Otto slowly put down the child, looking at his beloved Niya, “We must raise him. This child must become the leader of the tribe in the future.”

Niya nodded, “The elders already know this. They have acknowledged that this child is extraordinary. Now, there’s only one problem, please give him a name!”

“The elders haven’t named him yet?” Otto asked in surprise.

“How could they? You are the tribe’s leader, this is your child, only you can give him a suitable name.”

Otto nodded, pondering for a while, then a name came to mind, “Let’s call him Rurik.”

“Oh? Why Rurik?”

“Rurik, meaning ‘once again prosperous.’ Also, because his brother, Orgeir’s son, is named Arik. The names of the two children sound similar. Dear Niya, from now on, you will be Arik’s mother as well.”

“You…” Facing her husband’s sharp gaze and serious face, Niya suddenly understood the other meaning here.

“Otto, does that mean Orgeir is…”

“He died in battle,” Otto said without changing his expression.

“Oh no! He was your brother.”

“But battles always have unavoidable occurrences,” Otto sighed heavily, trying to cheer up, “He’s gone, maybe we shouldn’t be too sad. He told everyone in his dying moments that he saw Brunhilde’s beckoning. He must have been recognized by the Valkyries, and perhaps Orgeir is now a spirit in Valhalla. Now, at least I have brought Orgeir’s body back.”

“You… We will properly bury him. Bury him in the tribe’s public cemetery.”

“Right!” Otto, holding his Rurik, looked affectionately at Niya, “Orgeir will be buried with his wealth underground, while his spirit is in Valhalla. As for Arik, from now on, he is our son.”