Sanvika was not far away.

  Sailing west from the Port of Oslo took just over an hour.

  During the journey, Ga vomited repeatedly from seasickness.

  As the convoy neared its destination, island coves came into view.

  At the docks of those islands lay many Viking ships painted with Roman eagle emblems, and nearby, Viking adolescents could be seen fishing from small boats.

  These waters were clearly under their control.

  It was said that nearly twenty thousand Viking orphans had been relocated to Sanvika, and that they had since expanded further south.

  Though drained from vomiting, Ga could not contain her excitement.

  She rushed onto the deck, climbed up onto the railing, and stared eagerly at the Viking youths rowing their boats.

  Her gaze swept across the surrounding shores, where figures of Viking adolescents appeared everywhere—

  and then she noticed something else.

  On distant ridgelines stood tall silhouettes, unmoving like giant trees.

  They seemed to be watching her.

  Ga stared back for a moment.

  Then she turned her attention again to the Viking youths, excitement overtaking caution.

  Nearly half her body was already hanging over the ship’s side when the sailors hurried over and pulled her back down.

  Robert approached, sighing with amazement.

  “Ga, look at them,” he said.

  “These Viking youths are incredibly well-built. Remember what I told you? They can row large ships with their own hands—back and forth to Oslo dozens of times as easily as eating a meal.”

  “Oh?” Ga said, mimicking the motion of rowing.

  “I can do that too.”

  “You’ll need to eat more for that,” Robert replied with a wry smile.

  “You just threw everything up a moment ago.”

  A few minutes later, the convoy docked smoothly.

  A unit of Roman soldiers was already waiting onshore to assist with unloading.

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  As Robert stepped off the gangway, a man wearing a ship-shaped cap adorned with an official insignia—older and taller than the others—walked toward him.

  “Director?” the man said with a grin.

  “Since when did you switch careers and become a convoy cargo officer?”

  “Hah. Enough already, Andrew.”

  Robert and Andrew Makris, the centurion stationed at Sanvika, were clearly old acquaintances.

  They clasped hands, pulled each other into a brief embrace, and patted each other’s backs before standing side by side, watching the gangway.

  “So,” Andrew asked,

  “which one is the most important cargo?”

  His gaze swept over the sailors carrying crates down the ramp—

  until it stopped on Ga.

  She was stubbornly hauling a suitcase nearly as large as herself, wobbling dangerously with each step.

  “Don’t tell me it’s him,” Andrew frowned.

  “He looks about seven.”

  “That’s right,” Robert nodded.

  “But not him. Her.”

  “A girl?” Andrew hesitated.

  With Ga’s short hair and lack of a dress, the mistake was understandable.

  “Yes,” Robert said.

  “And don’t underestimate her. She’s far more resilient than she looks.”

  No sooner had Robert finished speaking than Ga, driven by curiosity, began looking around—

  missed a crate at her feet—and tripped.

  She screamed as the suitcase slammed to the ground, bursting open and spilling its contents everywhere.

  Jana rushed forward, helping Ga up and hurriedly repacking the scattered belongings.

  Andrew stared.

  “You’re sure this little weakling is resilient?”

  “Well…” Robert admitted uneasily,

  “I suppose I’m not always certain myself.”

  “Then why did you agree to let her come here to die?” Andrew asked, his tone sharpening.

  “How could I possibly agree to send her here to die, Andrew?” Robert snapped, then caught himself and lowered his voice.

  “It was her choice. We are bound by a contract witnessed by the gods.”

  “Unquestionable gods,” Andrew murmured.

  “Sometimes I think humans believe they can use divine authority to protect human interests—only to outsmart themselves.”

  “Careful with your words, Centurion,” Robert said lightly.

  “The gods are said to hear everything.”

  Once Jana had finished packing, she brought the disheveled Ga over.

  Andrew nodded politely to Jana.

  She returned a stiff, forced smile.

  Robert crouched in front of Ga.

  “Listen carefully,” he said.

  “We didn’t leave you any money—money is useless here. But there are things you can use.”

  He pointed to the suitcase.

  “There are sturdy clothes and shoes. Also linen gloves, to protect your hands at first. Once calluses form, you won’t need them anymore.”

  He paused.

  “You must be independent. Don’t expect to rely on others. Think instead about how you can contribute—because no one here will take care of you. Do you understand?”

  “No one will… take care of me?”

  Ga turned her head toward Andrew.

  Andrew met her gaze, sensing the sharpness behind her eyes.

  He bent slightly and said flatly:

  “My orders are to deliver you to the Viking territory of Sanvika. That’s all. I have no obligation to take care of you.”

  Ga snorted.

  “Fine. Whatever.”

  “Ga,” Robert warned,

  “this is a centurion. You should show some respect.”

  Ga looked Andrew up and down.

  Then she spat out a single sentence:

  “Fuck you.”

  Robert and Jana immediately grabbed Ga’s head, apologizing profusely.

  Andrew’s smile did not reach his eyes.

  “It’s fine,” he said calmly.

  But in his mind,

  he had already begun planning exactly how to give this child a proper lesson.