Wooden walls would rot. Bilal knew this. He needed stone, and stone needed mortar that wouldn't wash away in the rain.
He sent his most trusted Muslim merchant brothers south, armed with chests of his White Gold and silver dirhams, with a very specific shopping list: Volcanic ash (Pozzolana) from the Mediterranean, and pure limestone.
While he waited for the ash to arrive, he locked himself in the forge. The Vikings used longbows—great for open fields, useless for defending a fortress wall.
Bilal used his modern engineering to forge the first Spring-Steel Crossbows in Northern Europe.
The draw weight was over 300 pounds. A normal man couldn't pull the string back; he had to design a mechanical foot-stirrup and winch. When fired, the steel bolt could punch clean through an oak door at a hundred paces.
"I am building weapons of mass destruction for the 11th century," Bilal thought, staring at the glowing steel. "May Allah forgive me."
His paranoia extended to his family. Runa was growing into a fiercely intelligent, beautiful young woman. Bilal lay awake at night, sweating at the thought of a cruel, drunken Jarl demanding her hand in marriage.
He took proactive measures. He scoured the local villages and found a "second son" of a minor noble—a boy named Leif. Leif had no inheritance, but he had sharp eyes and a quiet demeanor.
Bilal took him in as an "apprentice." He forced the boy to wash five times a day, to learn math, and to swear off ale. Bilal never told Runa, but he was secretly building a husband for her—a man he could control, a man who was safe.
But safety was an illusion in this age.
It happened during a trade feast in Bilal's Great Hall. A visiting Swedish merchant, drunk on smuggled mead, stumbled toward Astrid.
Astrid was 24, radiant and commanding, the undisputed Queen of the valley. The merchant laughed, reaching out with a filthy hand, grabbing her waist to pull her onto his lap.
Bilal didn't shout. He didn't draw an axe.
The 105kg Giant moved with a terrifying, explosive speed that defied his massive frame. Before the merchant could even blink, Bilal pivoted on his left foot. He unleashed a devastating, modern kickboxing roundhouse kick.
His hardened shin connected squarely with the side of the merchant's knee.
CRACK.
The sound of the femur snapping echoed like a falling tree. The merchant's leg folded completely backward. He hit the floor, screaming in a high, wet pitch of absolute agony.
The entire hall fell dead silent. The visiting guards reached for their swords, but they froze when they looked at Bilal.
Bilal stood over the writhing man, his dark eyes empty of all mercy.
"If a man touches the Queen of this valley," Bilal's voice rumbled low and slow, "he leaves without his hands. Take your trash out of my hall."
No one challenged him. They dragged the screaming merchant away.
Astrid looked at Bilal, her chest heaving, her eyes full of shock and an overwhelming, breathless adoration.
Bilal had just established the absolute, unbreakable law of Axiomra: The Giant protects his own.