Chapter 26: The Voyage & The Warning
Three weeks at sea, and Paul had learned to use the endless rhythm of oar strokes and wind-filled sails as the heartbeat that synchronized his supernatural training regimen with the growing certainty that half these warriors would never see home again.
"Use the time. Make them better. If I can't prevent the slaughter, at least I can reduce it."
The voyage had become Paul's final opportunity to transform Lagertha's core warriors from merely competent fighters into something approaching supernatural effectiveness. Each day brought new applications of Odin's Whisper as he sparred with them on deck, using those precious two-minute windows to show them flaws in their technique that would mean death against Frankish heavy cavalry.
"Your shield angle drops when you counter-thrust!" Paul called to Astrid as she practiced formations with the other shield-maidens. "Frankish cavalry hits like charging bulls—any gap in defense means broken ribs and spilled blood!"
The warriors absorbed his instruction with the desperate attention of people who understood they were sailing toward something beyond normal Viking warfare. Paul burned through Minor Mana Potions like water, maintaining the constant supernatural awareness that let him coach fifty fighters simultaneously through the kind of tactical evolution that should have taken years.
"They're becoming elite. Genuinely elite. Whether it's enough..."
But the training couldn't mask the darkness growing in the fleet like infection spreading through a wound. Paul watched Rollo's face during the daily briefings and saw resentment crystallizing into something harder and more dangerous.
Ragnar commanded the respect of every warrior present—his tactical brilliance acknowledged, his charisma undeniable, his legend growing with each day that brought them closer to the greatest raid in history. But Rollo's contributions went largely unnoticed, his strength taken for granted, his own ambitions dismissed as the jealousy of a younger brother who'd never learned to be satisfied with reflected glory.
"This is how it starts. Not with grand betrayal, but with small slights accumulating until loyalty becomes burden rather than honor."
Paul caught Rollo staring at the Frankish coast one morning, his expression carrying the particular longing of someone who saw opportunity where others saw only enemy territory. Paul activated Success Rate Analysis with the sick certainty of someone confirming a diagnosis he'd hoped was wrong.
[QUERY: PROBABILITY OF ROLLO'S BETRAYAL DURING PARIS CAMPAIGN]
[RESULT: 86%]
[FACTORS: ACCUMULATED RESENTMENT (HIGH), OPPORTUNITY PRESENTED (INEVITABLE), SELF-INTEREST OVERRIDE (CRITICAL), RAGNAR'S DISMISSIVE TREATMENT (ONGOING)]
[TIMELINE: BETRAYAL IMMINENT ONCE SIEGE STALLS]
Eighty-six percent. Locked in. Almost certain.
"When he turns, be ready," Paul told Lagertha that evening as they watched the sun set over waters that carried them toward disaster. "It'll be sudden."
"You're certain?"
"As certain as I can be about anything involving free will and the choices people make when they think no one's watching."
The storm hit on the twenty-first day at sea with the fury of gods expressing displeasure at mortal ambition. Waves rose like moving mountains, winds howled with voices that spoke of ships broken against rocks and warriors drowned before they could reach the battles they'd dreamed of winning.
Paul's Premonition Sense screamed constant warnings as the fleet fought for survival against forces that made Viking axes seem like children's toys. He activated Odin's Whisper in the midst of chaos, burning his mana completely to navigate two minutes of catastrophe with supernatural precision.
[ODIN'S WHISPER ACTIVATED]
[DURATION: 120 SECONDS]
[MANA COST: 100% CURRENT MP]
[REMAINING MANA: 0/29]
The world split into reality and perfect future, and Paul became the instrument that saved dozens of lives through warnings delivered with split-second timing. He saw the mast about to snap and crush Lagertha, his shout reaching her ears with exactly enough time for her to roll aside as timber the size of a tree trunk smashed into the deck where she'd been standing.
A wave that would have capsized the ship carrying Gunnar and Harald—Paul's warning about weight distribution allowing them to shift ballast and ride out the surge instead of disappearing beneath waters that swallowed entire crews without trace.
Bjorn swept overboard by a wave that struck like a giant's fist—Paul's hand closing on the young warrior's belt at the exact moment that meant the difference between rescue and watching Lagertha's son disappear into darkness.
When Odin's Whisper ended, Paul immediately consumed a Major Mana Potion, the liquid burning down his throat like liquid lightning as it restored enough magical energy to function.
[MAJOR MANA POTION CONSUMED]
[MANA RESTORED: 50% - 14 MP]
[POTIONS REMAINING: 1 MAJOR MANA, 2 MAJOR HEALTH, 1 MINOR HEALTH SALVE]
The storm ended as suddenly as it had begun, leaving the fleet scattered but largely intact across waters that reflected the pale morning sun like scattered silver. Ragnar found Paul slumped against the mast, exhausted from mana drain and the particular fatigue that came from pushing supernatural abilities beyond their intended limits.
"Without your sight, we'd have lost half the fleet before the battle," Ragnar said, his voice carrying genuine gratitude mixed with the calculation of someone who understood the strategic value of reliable prophecy.
"Remember that when—" Paul stopped himself before revealing knowledge he shouldn't possess. "When we reach the walls."
"Remember that I saved your people when someone who shares your blood decides you're worth less than Frankish gold and titles."
Later that day, Paul found Athelstan praying in the bow of their ship—a strange sight in a Viking fleet, but one that spoke to the monk's particular struggle with loyalties that couldn't be easily reconciled.
"Do you believe we're meant to survive Paris?" Athelstan asked without looking up from whatever god he'd been addressing.
Paul considered the question with the weight of someone who'd seen too many possible futures to believe in simple destiny.
"I believe we'll pay a terrible price for trying," he said finally. "But survival isn't guaranteed for anyone, regardless of what the gods intend."
"Your sight is a burden."
"Every gift is."
The conversation carried the particular intimacy of two people caught between worlds—Athelstan between Christianity and Norse paganism, Paul between knowledge and ignorance of futures that approached with inexorable momentum.
"He won't survive the series long-term. I remember that much from the show. Another person I care about whose death I probably can't prevent."
The next morning brought their first sight of Paris, and with it the confirmation that Paul's Monthly Vision had been horrifyingly accurate. The walls rose from the Seine River like a declaration of impossibility—stone towers that made Kattegat's wooden palisades look like children's toys, fortifications that spoke of engineering beyond anything the Vikings had faced in their raids across defenseless coastlines.
The fleet went silent as three hundred ships processed the reality of what they'd come to conquer. Paul watched warriors' faces shift from anticipation to apprehension as they calculated the odds of success against defenses that seemed designed specifically to break Viking warfare against immovable stone.
Ragnar's face hardened with the particular determination of someone whose entire identity depended on achieving the impossible. But Paul could see the first cracks forming in his legendary confidence—doubt seeping in through gaps that would widen with each failed assault.
[SYSTEM POINTS EARNED: 200]
[TOTAL SYSTEM POINTS: 825]
[MENTAL STRAIN: 82% CLARITY]
[NEXT PHASE: SIEGE OF PARIS INITIATED]
That night, as the fleet beached outside Paris and warriors prepared for battles that would define the rest of their lives, Paul activated Success Rate Analysis one final time before the slaughter began.
[QUERY: PROBABILITY OF PERSONAL SURVIVAL THROUGH PARIS CAMPAIGN]
[RESULT: 67%]
[FACTORS: PRECOGNITIVE ADVANTAGE (HIGH), ENHANCED EQUIPMENT (MODERATE), LAGERTHA'S PROTECTION (HIGH), CATASTROPHIC CASUALTY RATES (SEVERE DISADVANTAGE)]
Sixty-seven percent. Not comforting, but I've beaten worse odds.
Paul touched the handle of his Fate-Carved Seax and tried not to think about how many of the faces around him would be memories before the campaign ended.
"Forward. Always forward. Even when the walls are impossible and the odds are terrible and you know exactly how much it's going to cost."
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