Forgive me!
I missed your heart.
I'll end it quickly!
Askeladd.
I wanted to be your friend.
Yes, Bjorn.
You…
were my only…
true friend.
Send me off.
Now then.
Sorry to keep you waiting, kid.
Come.
I'll play with you.
EPISODE 22: LONE WOLF
Damn it.
He's different from usual.
So, who do you think will win, Prince?
Want to bet on it?
It doesn't matter who wins.
I'll stop it before either dies.
How could you say a thing like that?
A duel between two master swordsmen is not something you see every day.
In that case,
who do you believe is stronger between them?
Me?
Let's see…
Askeladd, I guess.
I'd bet one pound of silver on him.
I'm not betting.
Why do you think so?
That's the impression I get from his aura?
Thorfinn managed to beat you.
Is Askeladd even stronger?
Little prince, are you mocking me?
Between the three of us, there's no way I'd be the weakest. Got it?
It's not just a matter of who's stronger or weaker.
It's interesting because there is no measuring who will win or lose.
I'm not interested.
You really are a girl.
What's wrong, Thorfinn?
Attack me.
Let's finish this before more snow falls.
Guess you leave me no choice.
There. This will should simply things.
Come on, brat.
See?
You still don't get it do you? Why it always ends like this?
I stand corrected. This isn't a duel at all.
Askeladd knows all Thorfinn's tendencies. He sees right through him.
They have fought quite a few times.
I wonder what the reason is.
I don't know.
I didn't ask.
Good grief.
This kid never learns.
Did you get cocky after beating Thorkell?
I'm getting sick and tired of this.
Stop! That's enough!
You really thought you could beat me with one arm?
Good God.
I sure am having a wonderful day.
Stop!
That's enough!
He's unconscious.
You've won.
Are you serious?
Thorfinn.
Hey, Thorfinn.
You understand?
The duel is over.
You lost.
Stop. It's over.
You bastard!
You lost consciousness.
He could have ended you.
Duel again once your arm heals.
That won't change anything.
The arm's not the problem.
That fool lost because he's an idiot.
Normally, you think when you're fighting.
But you screw it all up when you lose your temper.
I can tell by your gaze that you're aiming for my jugular.
You rage, shriek like a madman,
and wave your daggers like an amateur.
How tiresome it is. Not one of you has a shred of beauty.
It's just as Bjorn said.
I hate warriors.
Especially you Norse warriors, you Vikings.
The first person I killed was a Norse warrior.
And he too was devoid of beauty.
That man was my father.
Boy.
For future reference, I will tell you…
how to properly kill
the man you despise.
-Oh, this is hot. -I'm getting too old for this.
Watch out.
My mother was a slave.
My mother was sick, so she couldn't work.
As far back as I can remember, I worked with a blacksmith in stables.
I was always covered in ash, soot, or horse shit,
turning me black and white.
So they called me "Askeladd."
It means "covered in ash."
Lord Olaf has returned home!
He was victorious once again!
My father came from a powerful Jutland family.
-Lord Olaf! -Welcome home, Lord Olaf!
He liked booze, women, and killing.
He was as typical a Viking as they come.
He had many other children like me born to other women.
But he only gave names to his older children born to his wife.
He probably didn't know the faces of his other children.
When my mother was young,
she seemed to be my father's favorite slave.
But when she fell ill, he treated her no better than a dog.
I understood then that life was full of strife.
But somehow, my mother still maintained hope.
My mother often spoke of our ancestor, the hero Artorius.
She told the same story countless times.
It was the legend of the general who protected my mother's homeland
from a barbarian invasion 500 years ago.
She believed in the legend of that hero's return.
That someday he would return to free her from sickness and slavery.
She repeated it so many times that I began to believe it myself.
She said that beyond the far west,
there was a perfect place, that no ordinary person could reach.
The hero Artorius lived in that paradise.
It was a promised land
of peace and abundance, where no one aged or died.
Supposedly, that hero is still there tending to his battle wounds.
Someday, he will return to lead the army that will vanquish the barbarians.
And he will rule over the world.
My mother's people continue to wait for that day.
They have been waiting for 500 years.
But their hero
has yet to appear.
But think about it.
If my ancestor was truly living in a such a wonderful place,
he would never give that up to come back to this world.
And then,
when I was 11 years old, my mother's spirit finally broke.
Mother!
Of all people,
my father happened to be passing by, and she decided he was the hero Artorius.
I realized at that moment…
that if Artorius did not appear then to save my mother,
he would never appear for all eternity.
Do you understand, boys?
Somebody must do it.
It won't be a hero or a god,
but somebody else.
It was a mysterious thing.
It was my first time using a sword, but holding it felt natural.
I instinctively knew how to wield it.
It seemed proof that I had that bastard's blood flowing in me.
It was a sad spectacle.
It pains me to this day.
You.
Are you that woman's child?
Are you my child?
Yes.
You have promise.
You will live in my home.
I certainly didn't think that an 11-year-old could kill him.
But the first step was to get his attention.
This I had accomplished.
At his manor, I refined my etiquette.
I learned the arts of swordsmanship and equestrianism.
I also got along well with my older half-brothers.
-Well done, Askeladd. -Not bad at all.
I was always careful to show respect to my father.
I was his faithful son.
I never forgot that he saved me from slavehood.
Before long, his servants and men completely accepted me as his son.
I lived like that for two years.
I was waiting for two things,
a moment when he'd be careless and the rights to his inheritance.
I wish you boys could see the look on his face.
My father's face asking, "Why?"
I used my older brother's sword.
I stole it from a son who didn't get along with him.
The other brothers believed he was the murder.
So they hung him from the bough of tree,
the simple, naive fools.
They were all stupid and obscene,
a horde of crude barbarians who knew nothing but greed.
Ugly bastards like that sprung out from every place I looked
and made their presence known.
I could have never killed them all.
It doesn't matter if it's Artorius, Ragnarok, or the Last Judgment.
But if something is coming, I wish it would hurry up.
Well, when that day comes, I probably won't survive it.
I've rambled for too long.
To put it simply, Thorfinn…
since you've failed to defeat me over these past ten years
you are an idiot.
Shut up!
No matter what happens, I will kill you!
I swear I will kill you!
Good grief.
You still say that after what I just told you?
You're like a dog chasing his own tail.
I respect your determination and work ethic.
All I've had to do is agree to these ridiculous duels,
and you've eagerly gone off to challenge even Thorkell.
What a useful brat you've been all these years.
Goodness.
I should be grateful to Thors too.
Wait.
Wait!
Enough already.
Shut up!
Keep your mouth shut!
Heal your wounds.
Wait.
Just stop!
Pathetic.
Good grief.
You're stiff as a board now, Bjorn.
Wait.
Why me?
You're the descendant of a hero, Askeladd.
And you're wise.
Don't you think that if you were king, you could change the world?
That's hilarious.
Didn't you hear my story?
You are more suited for the throne.
More than me or King Sweyn.
I can tell by your face.
I am but a Viking.
Subtitle translation by Astrid Oliver