The tolling of the cloister bell made Wulfric look up from the manuscript he was illuminating. Surely it was not vespers already? The light from the candle on his desk flickered as he rose and crossed to the tiny window of the cell, but the clouded gray sky outside gave no indication of the time. On his perch, Dismas shifted, fluttering his blue and white wings. Wulfric was about to open the door when the sounds of commotion a voices shouting words he did not recognize in the hall outside made him draw back. Definitely not vespers.

Someone shouted something, and Wulfric thought it was "Stop!" Then there was the sound of metal striking metal, metal striking stone, and then a dull thud. This was followed by a sharp pounding at the door, and Wulfric backed up against the wall. He picked up the stool he had been sitting on and lifted it. When the door to his cell flew open, Wulfric threw the stool at the man who walked through. The man caught it and tossed it down. Dismas squawked and flew at the man, but he swatted him away with a casual motion of his hand. "Stay down, Dismas," Wulfric commanded.

The man turned to face him, and Wulfric was paralyzed before the warrior's intense blue gaze. His long blonde hair was braided down his back, and the sword in his hand and the leather armor he wore were spotted with fresh blood. The warrior held a finger to his lips before stalking around the cell. He went first to the racks of scrolls and unrolled several of them. He puzzled over the markings before tossing them to the ground. Then he turned his attention to the illuminated manuscript on the desk. As he flipped through the pages, Wulfric thought he saw a flicker of admiration in the warrior's eyes as he peered down at the delicate inking details. The man closed the book and smiled when he saw the gold embossed in the leather on the cover. He opened the book again and seized the pages.

"No!"Wulfric cried. He had spent two months on that manuscript.

The warrior turned to him with a flash of irritation. He considered the book for a moment and the collection of inks and brushes now scattered across Wulfric's desk. Then very slowly and with great care, he slid his knife into the manuscript's spine to separate the glue from the pages. He set the pages that Wulfric had slaved over on the desk and stuck the cover in his belt. Then, he pointed at Wulfric and motioned towards the door. Wulfric took his meaning and stood up to leave, gathering up Dismas as he did.

When the warrior glared at him again, Wulfric tried to seem adamant. "Please, you must let me take him. He's all I have."

Even if the warrior could not understand Wulfric's words, he understood the tone. The man nodded and shoved Wulfric out the door. They left the scriptorium, and Wulfric saw that the other cells had likewise been sacked. The corpses of two of the town guardsmen were slumped by the door outside. Wulfric almost vomited and cradled Dismas closer to his breast. He felt the Chatot stir and hoped the bird would remain silent. When they emerged into the monastery courtyard, another man was waiting for Wulfric's captor. This one was smaller, with a more wiry build, but covered in far more blood. He quipped something in the hard, staccato words Wulfric had heard in the corridor earlier and laughed. The slim man took a bite of an apple and sauntered over to Wulfric, looking him up and down. He scoffed and look up at Wulfric's captor. The larger warrior just narrowed his eyes and shoved Wulfric forward before turning to a Gogoat placidly grazing nearby. "Steinarr!" he barked. It seemed to be a name. The Gogoat looked up, took another bite of grass and walked to its master's side.

The warrior led Wulfric towards the chapel. As they passed by the open gates of the monastery, Wulfric looked down and saw the village at the bottom of the hill. Coumarina was burning. He was shoved through the doors of the chapel where more of the invaders were lounging on the benches. Several other monks and many of the townsfolk were huddled on their knees before the altar, cowering before the raiders. When Wulfric was pushed into their mass, he felt a hand seize his arm and pull him down. "Brother Wulfric!"

"Shepherd Aelffred!" Wulfric whispered. "Thank Arceus you still live."

"Would that I could say the same of Brother Godric and Brother Wilbur," the priest replied. "You and Dismas are both well?"

"Well enough. What happened?"

"The northmen came quickly. We couldn't stop them. They swept into Coumarina's harbor and stormed through before the town guards knew what was happening. Then they broke our gates down and… oh, it's terrible. Arceus have mercy on us all."

"What about Saewin? Or the Absol?" The priest's Alakazam and the local Absol had always defended the monastery in the past, and their combined might had always been enough to drive away any who might disturb the tranquility of the consecrated ground.

Shepherd Aelffred nodded to one of the northmen currently counting out the monastery's coffers from its small wooden box that was kept under the altar. He looked enough like Wulfric's original captor to be related. A brother or cousin, perhaps? A Doublade hovered by his head and a Talonflame perched near him, eyeing Dismas. "That one killed Saewin," Aelffred growled, "and two of the others got some of the Absol. The rest of them fled after that."

The prisoners lapsed into silence, but the northmen continued to chatter among themselves. The more he listened, the more Wulfric started to remember hearing the language before. When he had been a child living in the northern reaches, his father had traded with men from still farther north, and his father had known their tongue. Wulfric furrowed his brow and tried to remember what his father had taught him.

The slim warrior from before walked into the chapel accompanied by a Breloom and strode up to the altar. The man with the Doublade glanced up at him and went back to counting out the coins. The slim northman smirked and went to the shrine behind the altar where the golden four-pronged disc was displayed. The raider removed it from the wall and set it atop his like a crown. He called out to his comrades, and several of them laughed. Shepherd Aelffred gritted his teeth, but could do nothing. When the slim warrior began to prance around, Wulfric could take it no longer. He jumped to his feet.

"Stop that now!" he said in the language of the northmen. "Put it back."

"You can talk?" the slim man said, the smile dying on his lips. "A shame you sound so stupid." He drew the axe from his belt and prepared to strike Wulfric down. Dismas jumped into the air with a cry that knocked the warrior back. The Talonflame on the altar spread its wings as the slim warrior prepared to strike again.

"Skaldi!" Wulfric's captor stood at the door of the chapel, his arms crossed. "Put it down." Wulfric was thankful they were using such simple words. His captor walked forward, and the group of prisoners moved aside so he could walk to Wulfric unhindered. "You speak our tongue?"

Wulfric nodded. "A little. From when I was small."

The warrior raised an eyebrow. "And you could teach me to speak your tongue? And make the marks?"

"I… yes, I… what? Marks?"

"From before. The marks." He held up the cover of the book. "In here. I would like to learn your marks and your words."

"I know the… marks."

"Then you will come with me."

"I… what?"

The man with the coffer box looked up. "I thought we weren't taking thralls today, Halvard."

"This is a special thrall, Torvald. He is a gift from the gods. I would be a fool if I did not take him."

Torvald rolled his eyes and put the coins back into the coffer box. "As you say, brother. We're done here. Skerast, Branna." The Doublade shifted and seemed to wake up, though with some of the spirit aligned, it was difficult to tell. The Talonflame fluttered onto his shoulder.

Halvard pursed his lips. "Bring what you can carry. I'll tell Ragnhildr to be ready to sail. Ivarr and Ulfi will bring up the back." He turned on his heel and walked outside, jumped up on his Gogoat's back and cantered out through the gates. Torvald wrapped his hand around Wulfric's hand dragged him out of the chapel.

"Welcome to the clan, priest," Torvald barked with a laugh. He, Skaldi and the other northmen filed out of the chapel. Once they reached the monastery gates, Torvald snapped his fingers. His Talonflame flew off his shoulder. One of the other northmen nodded to his companion pokemon, a Flareon. The two fire aligned both unleashed a column of flame at the chapel, and in an instant, the entire building was in flames.

"You'll kill them!" Wulfric cried.

Torvald held out his arm to give his Talonflame a perch. "Perhaps. If they're quick, they'll live. If they aren't, they'll die." He smiled. "We didn't even lock the doors this time."

"You're monsters." Wulfric hissed.

Torvald only shrugged, and Skaldi laughed.

Wulfric was marched down the hill to Coumarina's harbor. Many houses in the village were burning too. When he saw Wulfric staring, Torvald rolled his eyes. "We only burn the ones who try and fight. We may be monsters, but we're not savages."

At the harbor, a knot of northern warriors waited before four sleek longships pushed halfway up the beach. Wulfric was surprised to see several women standing there, armed and bloodied like the men. "Your women fight too?"

Skaldi made an expansive gesture with his hands. "If they want to. I'm not standing between a woman and a fight she wants to be in."

Halvard smiled when he saw Wulfric being led to one of the ships, but there was no mirth in it. The monk was forced down between two barrels taken from Coumarina and watched mutely while Halvard exchanged words with a striking woman with two small scars running parallel on her face. She too resembled Halvard, so perhaps a sister? Their conference finished, and she swung up into the furthest boat, one that had a Noivern clinging to the stern. Several other warriors and their pokemon mounted the ramp and took their places at the oars while the warriors did the same on the other three ships. Halvard stood at the end of the ramp and turned to take one last look at Coumarina before he put two fingers in his mouth and whistled.

The water in the middle of the harbor began to seethe as something massive stirred beneath the surface. With a roar that nearly deafened Wulfric, a massive blue creature rose from the waves of the bay and roared as the water sluiced off its back. Even in the flat light, its sapphire and gold scales glittered. It undulated its serpentine body as the northmen began to row. Wulfric turned to Halvard and struggled to keep his voice level. "Y-You have a Gyarados?"

Halvard was running his hand through his Gogoat's leafy ruff and whispering into the grass aligned's ear. He turned and smiled at Wulfric, and this time Wulfric saw the pride etched into every part of his face. "That's Uthald. My pride and joy." When Steinarr snorted, Halvard cringed. "My other pride and joy."

"No one has ever tamed a Gyarados," he said.

Halvard laughed. "No one but me!" He leaned against the rail of the ship. "Rest while you can, priest. As soon as one of my men gets tired, you're taking your turn at the oar."

Wulfric paled as he watched the northmen pulling at the oars of the longship, their muscles straining. He curled up tighter and held Dismas close as he looked out for the last time on Coumarina, the smoke from the chapel rising up towards the clouds and Arceus's hallowed halls. He fumbled for the four-pronged ring he wore on a leather cord around his neck and clutched it in his fist, muttering a litany of prayers to Arceus.

After all, it was time for vespers.