si-mexico Chapter 375: Family Feast
Chapter 375: Family Feast
"...No need to shout, guardsman... let us just walk in."
The guards looked at Eirik, who simply nodded. The guards stepped aside and pulled the velvet curtains back, pushing the doors open.
"Ragnar."
The single, deep voice cut entirely through the room.
Ragnar froze. He stopped talking, his hand hovering over the table.
Slowly, Ragnar turned around... standing in the doorway of the Great Hall were Ulf and Sigrid.
Behind them, peering nervously around their parents, were his brothers and sisters. Sigrid stood quietly by the doorframe, a small smile on his face.
For a long moment, the Great Hall was silent. Queen Ermentrude and King Louis watched curiously, sensing the massive shift in the room’s energy.
Gyda stood up from her chair, holding baby Floki, her eyes wide.
"Father..." Ragnar whispered.
Ulf smiled, his eyes crinkling at the corners. He opened his arms. He clapped him hard on the back, laughing a deep, hearty laugh.
"Look at you," Ulf grinned, pulling back to inspect his son. "...you are still entirely too skinny!"
"I have been busy building a city..." Ragnar laughed, his voice thick with genuine emotion.
Sigrid stepped forward. She didn’t say a word... she simply reached up, placed her hands on Ragnar’s scarred cheeks, and pulled him down to kiss his forehead.
"My son," Sigrid whispered softly, "You have done well."
"I missed you, Mother," Ragnar replied, holding her tightly.
He then looked past them, his eyes landing on the five youths shifting awkwardly near the door.
"By the gods," Ragnar breathed out, stepping toward them. "Look how much you have all grown. Helga, Astrid... you are women now."
Helga smiled shyly, stepping forward to hug him. "And you are a King. We saw the ships, Ragnar. We saw the lights... It is beautiful."
Ivar and Sigurd rushed forward, wrapping their arms around Ragnar’s waist. Little Arne grabbed his leg, looking up with a massive grin. "I rode in a carriage with glass windows, Ragnar! It didn’t even bounce in the mud!"
"I will build you one of your own, Arne," Ragnar laughed, kneeling down to hug his younger brothers.
Gyda quietly walked up behind Ragnar. She had a soft smile on her face. Baby Floki was awake, looking curiously at the large group of strangers.
Ragnar turned, wrapping an arm around Gyda’s waist. He looked at his parents. "I want you to meet my youngest son, Floki."
Sigrid’s eyes widened. She stepped forward, "A grandson?"
"He has Ragnar’s stubborn chin," Gyda smiled gracefully, bowing her head slightly.
Suddenly, a loud thump echoed from the floorboards.
Magnus, holding his wooden toy sword, marched out from behind the dining table. He stopped right in front of Ulf, looking up at the Norseman with fearless blue eyes.
Ulf blinked in surprise, then let out a laugh. "I am your grandfather!"
As Ulf kneeled on the rug, chuckling at three-year-old Magnus and his wooden sword, Louis the Stammerer slowly pushed his chair back and stood up from the table.
Louis stepped out from behind the table, offering a deep bow to Ragnar’s parents.
"Welcome to City Titan, Lord Ulf. Lady Sigrid," Louis spoke, his voice carrying a nervous but entirely genuine warmth. "It is an honor to finally meet the family of the Iron King."
Ulf stood up. "The honor is ours, King Louis, any man who sits at my son’s table as a friend is a friend to our bloodline."
Queen Ermentrude gracefully stood up as well, offering a polite nod. "Please, join us. The night is freezing, and you must all be starving from your long journey across the sea."
"Starving doesn’t even completely begin to cover it!" thirteen-year-old Ivar chimed in, his eyes locked onto the platters of roasted venison and hot bread resting on the table.
Ragnar let out a laugh, clapping his hands together.
"Leofric!" Ragnar called out cheerfully. "Tell the kitchens to bring out fresh plates, more bread, and three more pitchers of hot spiced wine! Tonight, we feast properly!"
Within minutes, the heavy table was completely expanded... the Great Hall bustled with life as the royal guards brought in extra chairs and the servants laid out a massive spread of hot, delicious food.
Ragnar sat at the head of the table, his heart feeling lighter than it had in months... to his right sat his beautiful wife Gyda and his children. To his left sat Ulf and Sigrid, completely mesmerized by the luxury of the castle.
The younger siblings wasted no time tearing into the roasted meats and sweet pastries.
"This bread is softer than clouds..." eleven-year-old Sigurd mumbled, his mouth full of honey-glazed rolls.
"Chew your food, Sigurd," Sigrid scolded gently, though a happy smile was plastered across her weathered face.
She looked around the lit hall, "Ragnar... this... this is beyond anything we could have ever imagined."
"I didn’t build it alone, Mother," Ragnar smiled, taking a slow sip of his spiced wine.
He gestured across the table toward Louis, who was quietly showing little Arne how to fold a linen napkin into the shape of a bird.
"...I had the designs in my head, but I needed brilliant minds to help me actually forge them, Louis helped me immensely with my inventions."
"He flatters me," Louis blushed deeply, waving a hand. "I mostly just tinker with the gears."
"He does much more than tinker," Ragnar corrected firmly, making sure his family understood the true value of the man sitting across from them. "Louis built the printing presses that are spreading knowledge across England... and just ten minutes before you walked through those doors, he revolutionized my new gun designs by inventing a carriage that could carry and pull heavy cannons."
As the plates were slowly cleared and the wine continued to flow, Ragnar leaned back in his chair, looking at his younger brothers... the last time he had seen them, they were practically toddlers.
"So," Ragnar started, resting his chin on his knuckles. "Tell me... how was your life in Denmark all this time? I know it couldn’t have been easy entirely leaving our home in Norway."
After hearing the question, the three boys groaned in unison.
"It was terrible!" Arne complained loudly, throwing his hands in the air.
"Terrible?" Ragnar laughed, raising an eyebrow. "Uncle is a good man. Strict, but good."
"He is too strict!" thirteen-year-old Ivar argued, leaning over his empty plate. "He made us completely chop wood from sunrise to sunset! We mended fishing nets until our fingers bled, and we shoveled sheep manure for five years!"
"And the smell!" Astrid wrinkled her nose in disgust.
Ulf let out a laugh, reaching over to shove Ivar’s shoulder. "Do not exaggerate, you little brats, your uncle kept you safe, and the hard labor put thick muscle on your bones... you are Norsemen, not soft southern lords. "
"Well, we don’t have to smell fish guts anymore!" Arne cheered, pointing out the large window toward the city. "I am never touching a fishing net again!"
Ragnar smiled slightly, "None of you have mentioned Bjorn... What, you don’t want to meet him?"