Thorfinn woke up with a start. He had been dreaming of home again, which occasionally made him uneasy. He dreamt of how happy he could have been had his father not been tricked into sailing to his death. His sister was still there complaining about Father’s naivety, his mother—although ill—was smiling and his father still came home every day from the forge carrying his awful attempts at smithing. The boy never enjoyed remembering his peaceful, happy past in comparison to what he now had…

Wait a second…

The teen looked around the room, completely befuddled. When he had gone to sleep, he was in the loft of a barn on the outskirts of a little village the troupe had just sacked in England. Presently, he was not in the loft, let alone in the barn. It was a room with plastered white walls and all sorts of odd-looking objects and trinkets cluttering the area. He was in a soft and fluffy bed more comfortable than any hay pile he had previously slept in and was…by Odin…! Missing his sword! In fact, he was barely wearing anything! Just this pair of rather short pants that made him cold and missing the bed as he searched the room for the location of his precious blade.

“What is going on here?!” snapped a voice. The door to the room slammed open, making Thorfinn jump mid-search. There in the doorway was… Ylfa?

It was Ylfa alright, looking just a little older than when he had last seen her in Iceland. She was wearing bizarre clothes for a woman—it looked like just pants and a shirt. Vibrant colors too; the kind only royalty could afford. How in the hell could she buy a bright red shirt like that?

“What are you wearing?” Thorfinn asked. Ylfa raised her eyebrow and let out a snort.

“Clothes, you barbarian… like you would know,” she sighed, taking a jab at her younger brother’s state of near nakedness. Thorfinn noted the odd-looking jacket Ylfa had slung over her shoulder as she placed it down on the bed. “Get dressed for school. You wouldn’t believe what I had to do to get that stupid blood stain out of your uniform.”

“School?”

“Yes, school. Today’s not Sunday now… is it?” Ylfa laughed as she walked out of the room. “Breakfast’s downstairs when you’re ready.”

With that the door closed, leaving Thorfinn alone with the Mystery Room once again.

Whatever band of Druids drugged him to perform their witchcraft, Thorfinn decided as he looked at the “uniform,” was going to die a very slow and agonizing death.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After a few trial-and-error attempts at dressing, Thorfinn finally managed to get the uniform on. He had found many sets of bound paper in the room, much like books although he was not all that sure as to why there were so many colorful book-like objects in this room, and saw a picture in one of another man wearing a similar outfit. He tried to copy the look, which was quite tedious due to all the little buttons on the shirt, but managed to get it about right. It was lucky for him that the piece of cloth that went around his neck was already tied in that stupid little knot, or else he would have left it (it was already loosely hanging around his neck so as not to choke him).

Strange clothes, colorful books that had perfectly recreated the image of a person, a private bedroom… had growing up into a machine of death been just a dream? Was he really rich?

No, he decided, because he was far from being a pansy-ass.

Thorfinn followed the smell of meat down the stairs and into what he assumed was the kitchen. Ylfa was already seated at the table set for two, still dressed in those bizarre clothes and… reading? Yes… she was reading a piece of grey-ish paper as she ate. Something was up; neither of them should have been able to read, since farm children never read anything.

They MUST be rich.

“Well, sit down and eat,” Ylfa said without even looking up from the paper. Carefully, Thorfinn took his seat and stared at the food. Well, at least this stuff was somewhat similar—eggs, bacon, some little sausages… a piece of fresh fruit! Did Ylfa marry well or something? Thorfinn stuffed down the meal in two minutes, only to look up and see Ylfa glaring at him.

“I swear, you act like I never feed you or anything,” she grumbled. “Teenage boys; always act like every meal’s their last.”

“Erm… thank you for the food,” Thorfinn said. He was not sure about how he should act, since although it was clearly obvious that this was his sister, she was a little different. Blend in; blend in and wake up to see a new day. He never liked that part of a warrior’s life, but it was something he obviously was going to need to resort to.

“You’re welcome, now run off to school,” Ylfa said. She pointed at a bag and what looked like a quiver for arrows in the corner. “Don’t forget your things again, because I am not dropping them off for you again. I have more important things to do than lug around your stupid stuff all over town.”

“…like…?”

“Are you really that stupid? I have an Amefuto game to cover, as well as a baseball tournament today and I have to plan for this weekend’s rugby match and the charity softball game. Someone has to report and photograph the games and it obviously is not going to be Ari.” She continued to mutter something about Ari being a twit, but Thorfinn grabbed the bag and quiver and rushed out before he could hear much more.

Outside the house, Thorfinn was even more confused. The ground was not right, much of it being an unnatural-feeling stone. There were neat lines separating the grass from stone and lines of paint on certain bits of this odd material.

“Thorfinn!” called a voice. The young man snapped his head to the side and saw Canute running up to him from down the way. He was wearing strange clothes as well: one of those stupid shirts he was wearing with a choking-cloth all the way where it was supposed to go, mostly covered by a sweater, a really short skirt and socks that went up to his knees. His shoes were a little different than Thorfinn’s too, although still the same plain black.

“What are you wearing…?” he asked. “Is there something you failed to tell me Princess?”

“You jerk,” Canute hissed. “This was all I had to put on. Last night I went to sleep in that barn-thing Askeladd told me to retire to and I wake up to find Ragnar alive and well and feeding me something called a scone for breakfast!”

“It was Druids,” Thorfinn said, scratching his cheek. Canute actually looked halfway decent in those clothes, he decided; fit his hair for sure.

Canute glared at him. “Druids.”

“Yes, Druids.”

“Are you daft?”

“No…?”

“I think you’re daft.” He paused for a moment. “This is why I’m the one who’s going to rule the Danes and you’re just my barbarian retainer.”

“Why don’t you try saying that again, Princess?” Thorfinn snarled, cracking his knuckles. Canute rolled his eyes, but they quickly went wide as he stared at something past the other teen. He quickly grabbed Thorfinn by the front of his jacket and dragged him up to the fence surrounding Thorfinn’s yard. Looking back, the two saw what looked like a green metal enclosed-wagon that was coming down the stone at a quick speed. It turned into the opening of the gate and a window glided down into nothingness, revealing Ari.

“Aren’t you two old enough to know to not stand in the middle of the street?” he asked. The man stared at Thorfinn and Canute, both of whom appeared to be seriously spooked. Thorfinn was even groping about for what would have been his sword.

“Whatever,” he sighed. “You two just get to school or you’ll be late. If I remember correctly, you’re in Askeladd-sensei’s homeroom and he’s never been the kind of man to be tardy for.”

“Askeladd…?” Thorfinn whispered to himself. He glanced over at Canute, who seemed to be assessing the situation. Canute then burst forward into a full run, rushing off in the direction he thought made sense for the school to be in, Thorfinn right behind him.

“Oi, Ylfa! Hurry up!” Ari shouted at the house. “We better get going! Your brother and his girlfriend’s being weird again and I’m not waiting for them to come back!”

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

After a while, Thorfinn and Canute found the school. Actually, Canute found the school while Thorfinn followed close behind looking frightening. It was an odd town they were in, filled with queer stone buildings and loads more of the disturbing stone ground. There were also countless people milling about as well. Thorfinn never saw the same face twice, leading him to believe that this town was even bigger than York. There were many more of those metal wagons without horses speeding about, taking up most of the space there was to walk. There was even a system of lights, the boys discovered, that ordered the wagons to stop and allow people to walk the street safely. Thorfinn even had to step between Canute and some man that was looking longingly at the skirt while waiting for one of these light-contraptions, giving him the meanest glare ever. No one should ever look at a guy like that, even if he is in a skirt.

“There it is,” Canute said, pointing at a building. It was tan stone and surrounded by a sizable amount of grass.

“How do you know?” Thorfinn asked.

“I was rummaging through the room I woke up in and found a bunch of pictures,” Canute said. He stuffed his hand inside knapsack and pulled out a handful of photographs. “This place employs loads of technology that we are unfamiliar with, allowing for the ability to capture the image of events as they happen instead of describing it to an artist to draw it all out.”

Thorfinn took the pictures from Canute and looked through them. There was a picture of him holding a wooden sword in what looked like a painfully-fake duel. There was an image of him and Ylfa, cheerily covered in mud and his sister holding out an oval-shaped ball while draping her free arm around his shoulder. Ylfa, Ari and Thorfinn were in another picture, apparently at some sort of festival. There what a picture of the school and one inside the house Thorfinn woke up in and another of Ragnar in a kitchen Thorfinn was unfamiliar with.

“This is beyond technology,” Thorfinn said, astounded at the photographs. “This must be witchcraft.”

“Something tells me it isn’t your pesky Druids,” Canute deadpanned. He pointed at one of the photographs, which was of the two of them, one arm around the other (no, wait, Canute had both his arms around Thorfinn like a little girl) and looking extremely close; no, more like uncomfortably close. “I don’t think that you’d be that relaxed with witchcraft so close like that.” Thorfinn raised an eyebrow in disgusted curiosity.

“I remember none of this,” he said defensively.

“Well, according to what I found, you live with a woman who is some sort of news herald, fight mock battles for fun and are a troublemaker at this school. I’m supposed to be the top pupil, in charge of a counsel and still wear these pointless skirts all the time. We’re also very good friends, apparently.”

“This is definitely worse than the time I accidentally ate one of Bjorn’s mushrooms as a kid,” Thorfinn grumbled, shoving the photographs back in Canute’s hand. He stomped onto the school grounds, Canute close to follow.

Dozens upon dozens of people their own age were there, some a little younger. They all were scattered around in little groups and in pairs, all dressed either the same as Thorfinn or Canute. Some even stared at Canute and Thorfinn as they walked into the school. They wandered around for a while and finally found the proper room they belonged in.

They knew because Askeladd was in it.

“Alright you two brats, sit down and open your mythology books to page seventy-three,” the old man hissed as he wrote something on the green slab affixed to the wall. Canute sat down at the nearest open desk, but Thorfinn still stood at the front of the room, giving Askeladd a sour look.

“Don’t order me around, shitty old-timer,” he spat. “Screw off.” The rest of the room, populated by faceless mannequins, giggled.

“It’s not even five minutes into class and you’re already picking fights?” Askeladd sighed, still concentrating on what he was writing. “I will send you to the principal if you don’t straighten up.”

“Sit down!” Canute whispered, motioning at the empty seat next to him. Thorfinn slumped down into it and growled.

This school thing was beginning to really grate on his nerves.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

A while later, a bell rung and the students began to leave. Thorfinn and Canute got up and walked out into the hall.

“This is obviously some sort of undercover thing,” Canute whispered softly as he and Thorfinn walked side-by-side in the hall. “Askeladd didn’t seem like he found anything to be off.”

“I hate this place,” Thorfinn said between his teeth. “I don’t like it one bit.”

“Just relax and follow my lead,” Canute said. “You’re horrible at this undercover stuff.”

They walked into another room and found themselves in a class run by a faceless woman. Neither Canute nor Thorfinn could figure out why so many of these people walked about without faces, but did not care that much. This class was about something involving numbers, which Canute seemed to somewhat understand. It was much less interesting than Askeladd rambling on about Avalon (which Askeladd was never interesting to Thorfinn, ever) and time drug on like a sleepless night until another bell rang.

Another class came and the pair found themselves outside with Bjorn, of all people, directing them in some sort of game. Canute’s face had been beet-red when he joined Thorfinn outside, having been forced to dress with the girls and never seeing that much girl-skin in his life (they never even realized Canute was a guy, but Thorfinn attributed that to the magic that allowed them to be faceless). The game had something to do with hitting a thrown ball with a stick and running in a lopsided square. Pointless, really.

Lunch came after they were changed back into their previous clothes and it was filled with many people whispering and giggling while Canute and Thorfinn ate their lunch together off to the side.

“I never, ever want to do that again,” Canute said into his curry.

“What, so you’re telling me you like guys or something?” Thorfinn scoffed casually as he slurped up some noodles.

“No! It’s just that they act just like I’m one of them!” Canute said, hushing his voice so only Thorfinn could hear. “This is not right!”

“What’s not right is me not having my sword,” Thorfinn said. “I feel vulnerable without it.”

“Yeah, well, everyone thinks I’m a girl!”

“How’s that different than normal?”

“Why you insolent…!”

“Canu-chan!” giggled a gaggle of girls as they migrated their way over to the table. They were the same faceless beings as most of the others were, which really unnerved the boys something fierce. “You are going to come to the Student Council meeting after school today, right?”

“Uh… I…”

“You aren’t going to skip again, are you? You’ve been missing more and more since you began hanging out with Trollson-san!”

“Got a problem with me?” Thorfinn growled. The girl-beings giggled, confusing him.

“You hog Canu-chan too much! You’re such a delinquent that we fear you’ve become a bad influence!”

“Don’t worry about me girls,” Canute said, trying to wave them off casually. He needed a lie… quickly. “I trust the council is in good hands. I just have to help Thorfinn study today.”

“Have fun studying then,” they smirked before wandering off elsewhere.

“What was that about?” Thorfinn asked, staring at the pack of faceless females.

“Nothing,” Canute said, his face going the same shade of red as the curry he ate. “Just finish eating so that we can get to class. I think we have a history lesson next.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

Canute was right; they did have a history lesson after lunch. Leif Eriksson lectured for two hours straight on the Viking discovery of some place called Canada, which sounded oddly familiar to young Thorfinn. Leif could still tell a good story though, so Thorfinn was glad to not be as bored as he had been for most of the day. It was all Canute could do to not laugh at the boy next to him, looking as though he was listening to one of his favorite childhood bedtime stories.

“Looks like the next class is just a free period for today,” Canute said as he stared at the small scrap of paper he scribbled the schedule down on before leaving his house. “I guess that means we can do what we want.”

“So we can get out of this joint?” Thorfinn asked, trying to keep up with Canute in the hallway scattered with students and faculty. Canute rolled his eyes and frowned.

“I doubt it. I remember someone talking in the hall earlier about Thorkell the Tall being the one who runs this school. I’m sure that in our current state, we do not want to answer to him as a disciplinarian.”

“This sucks,” Thorfinn grumbled. “I almost want to go back.”

“I just want to know how you went through the whole day without being able to read.”

“Shove off.”

“Peasant.”

“Princess.”

“Ignorant.”

“Push-over.”

“Murdering thief.”

“Jail-bait.”

“What…?”

“Heard some of the other guys use it… you know… while you girls were getting changed.”

“I hate you.”

“Likewise.”

Thorfinn and Canute were so busy bickering that they did not notice Askeladd walk towards them in the hall. Even though he was not the same Askeladd Thorfinn wanted to badly kill, but he was still just as bitter. He walked in such a way that Canute ended up tripping over his shoe, though it looked like the skirt-clad boy simply caught his foot wrong. Canute went down towards the ground with a reluctant squeak and tried to steady himself by grabbing onto the nearest thing: Thorfinn’s wrist. It did no good, however, as Thorfinn was just as off-guard as Canute was and both of them quickly met the floor.

“Trollson, Riki, can’t you two wait until after school lets out for that sort of thing?” Askeladd asked as he spun around, right on cue. He smirked as he saw that Thorfinn had landed on top of Canute, making for a very interesting-looking scene in the hall.

“What the hell?!” Thorfinn yelped, realizing the position he found himself in. He almost leapt off of Canute, allowing the other boy to sit up and rub his sore shoulder, as it had made first contact with the ground. Canute just glared at Askeladd, as if he knew he had been tripped, but was unable to declare it.

“I hate that man,” Thorfinn hissed once everyone had cleared from the scene. He helped Canute up and the two thusly snuck off campus, no longer worrying over the fury that could come with Thorkell’s wrath.

-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-_-

“I have no idea what to do,” Thorfinn grumbled, beating the back of his head against the edge of the couch. They were in his house, or at least what was supposed to be his house, just lounging around. Canute was lying down on the couch, reading something he found on the table.

“I’d tell you to read a book, but I do believe that would be pointless,” Canute lazily said.

“Why don’t you go back to your place?” Thorfinn asked.

“Ragnar scares me.”

“The man who raised you scares you?”

“You’d feel the same if you knew you were only going to go home to a dead man.”

“Point.”

Thorfinn tilted his head to see what Canute was reading. It looked like a compact storybook with little bubbles of words in the pictures. The art was flowery and graceful… like a girl.

“That looks kinda girly,” Thorfinn remarked. Canute snorted and flipped the page.

“It was there so I read it. It probably belongs to that woman you live with.”

“You mean my sister?”

“Sure; didn’t know you had a sister.”

“You never asked.”

The room remained silent. Allowing his head to fall to the side, Thorfinn looked out the large picture window at the fake clearing in the back of the house. A tree was in the corner of the fencing and there was a square area comprised of rusty-red bits of smooth stone that had shiny metal furniture on it. There was even a little wooden hut in the yard, connected to the odd grey stone that was all over the town. What kind of place had he fallen in?

Out of the corner of his eye, Thorfinn saw Canute shift in place on the couch. Some of the pleats in his skirt fell, exposing more leg. Maybe Thorfinn did not blame that weird guy from this morning after all…

No… ew… what the…? Not normal. Not normal. Thorfinn deliberately flung his head forward in order to connect his forehead with the coffee table in front of him.

It felt like his brain exploded. Twice.

Blearily, Thorfinn came to. It was dark and the air smelled sweet, like after a good midnight rain. He could feel the hot blood coming from his forehead before he could even see. There was something uncomfortable and squirmy underneath him, muffled cries ordering into his back to get off. Thorfinn groggily rolled off the haystack and landed on the dirt with a thud.

“What was that?” he asked to no one in particular.

“That was you trying to kill me, that’s what!” Canute roared, finally free of Thorfinn’s limp body suffocating him. The young warrior glared up at the prince and shook his head.

“I must have hit my head harder than I thought.”

“What are you talking about?” Canute asked, suddenly curious.

“Nothing; just a dream.”

“A… bizarre dream?”

“Yeah. Beyond explaining.”

“Same here,” Canute said.

“You too?”

“If you involve strange, faceless beings, a living Bjorn and Ragnar, a school and odd metal wagons that moved without horses… then yeah.”

“…and you in a girl’s skirt.”

“As your future sovereign King, I demand you not talk about that.”

“Whatever, princess.”

“Good, now let’s see if we can get some bandages for that cut on your head. Can’t have my retainer collapsing due to blood loss now.”

“Che.”

So Canute figured that Thorfinn had rolled too much in his sleep and fell from the loft, striking his head on a protruding beam on his way down. Still feeling rather dizzy, Thorfinn grudgingly allowed Canute to walk alongside him on their way up to the cottage the rest of the band was supposed to be staying in. They only made it past the door when Canute ended up tripping in the mud, dragging down Thorfinn as well into a frighteningly familiar scene.

“Well, well, well…” Askeladd smirked. “How… compromising.”

Thorfinn reached for his sword and forgot about any orders to bandage his head.