I came to, mind fuzzy, throat dry, the scenes before darkness reared its head trickling back into prominence. The last thing I remembered was a feeling of lightheadedness, which, mixed with the rollercoaster of emotions, created a concoction I had no desire to partake in ever again. Sitting up, I looked to be in what could be described as an infirmary. Numerous beds neatly arranged dotted both sides of the elongated room while their patients were tended to by the nurses. Noticing my rising figure, a nearby nurse came over and gave me a once over, asking if I felt any discomfort and whatnot—the usual medical spiel. After an excruciatingly rigorous examination, I was cleared for discharge, a notion I couldn’t agree to with any more ferocity even if I tried.

Accepting her offer to guide me out, I slid off the bed, doing my best to ignore the sufferers, moans of pain and anguish boring through my skull. I kept my eyes on the ground, trailing the women who promised to free me from captivity. Nipping at her heels provided just enough amusement to bypass the journey, sighing in release when I stepped into the main hall. I looked back and saw a large stone banner with block-like words spelling Healing Asylum over the decorated archway. It was held up on both ends by statues of women in healer’s garbs, united in their purpose, faces featureless, perhaps signifying that the only thing that mattered was their role as caretakers of the ailing.

Curiosity sated, I thanked the nurse, walking in the direction antithetical to when I was led to the abyss. Sticking to the side, I did my best to keep out of the way of rowdy warriors and hurried messengers, soon arriving at a monument that grew out of the hollowed mountain face. Two statues depicting grizzled warriors acted as supports, bearing the full brunt of the mountain so the passersby could travel in and out of it at their feet. Slipping into the stream of bodies heading outside, I tried my best to avoid the heated gazes of those around me, fully perceiving the rationale.

Under the watchful stares of the guards, I stepped out of the darkness and into the light, midday sun kissing my skin with warmth. The crisp air filled my body with renewed energy, and I took a moment to savour the feeling. Mind and body as one, I decided to first make for the Illugi mansion, and only after would I search for my father. Destination set, I realised that I was in Jörðgard, sounds of sparing and exertion filtering past my ears. The battle floor had changed to such an extent that if not for me participating in the trial, I would not have known it was even held here some time ago.

It was now a flat expanse of brown dirt, warriors of varied ages training with practised martial forms, weapons and chunks of earth all over. I climbed the closest set of steps as fast as possible, sprinting through damp streets, past heckling bargainers and metal clanging; my figure was a sore spot that had not yet healed for many. The pounding in my chest only slowed when I was well clear of the warrior’s quarter, adrenaline subsiding alongside the pumping of my chest. This ordeal had flipped me around, exposing a tender underside that I was unaware of. It was a painful but timely learning experience and one that I would use to better myself.

The ever-present noise of a busy day fell deaf to my ears, replaced by a slow clap that arrested my attention. My gaze rose from the weathered cobblestones that formed the pathway, searching for the source of the disturbance, bringing me to a halt. Men, women and children lined the streets, halting their busy lives, to give me their applause. More and more streamed out of bustling side streets, joining fervent masses adorned with smiles forming something beyond my wildest dreams. I thought all was lost, weeks of planning and years of training squandered due to losing myself to the moment.

“Sá er leysa!” someone roared, meaning “he who unfetters”. His voice was like a signal, a domino effect sweeping everyone to a fever pitch.

“Sá er leysa! Sá er leysa! Sá er leysa! Sá er leysa!”

Before long, that was all anyone could hear, cheers reigning supreme over the district. Colours swam in my vision as I fought back the tears, edging towards the looming house on the hill, casting a shadow over all that lay beneath.

I was flanked on all sides by avid supporters, their numbers barely reducing even as stores were replaced by the quaint abodes integral to the low-class residential area. Many heads peaked from high windows, halting their dailies, surveying the procession below, some even joining in on the revelry. Eventually, the parade lost its fervour, deterred by the grand longhouses coated in mythic engravings and their potential inhabitants. The stark contrast between the two had never looked as disparaging as it did right now, causing me to reflect on my previous perspective. Perception and sentiment I had previously taken for granted or overlooked with reasons like “this is how life just is” or “the strong rule the weak” meant so much more now.

Don’t get me wrong, it was not my core beliefs that miraculously changed but my outlook. If this fiasco could be attributed to any one thing, it would be my complacence. I had subconsciously bought into the noble’s way of life, assuming everything would go my way and turn out fine in the end. All it took was one mistake, one misstep, and everything came crashing down. I had gotten arrogant and prideful, looking down on my peers from a false pedestal, leading to the death of a boy just because he dared stand up to me. And what was I left with? Stagnation and displeasure amongst the upper rung of society. The bright spot out of all this was the admiration and gratitude of the commoners, who seemed to view me as some sort of folk hero they would tell stories of to their children at night.

Stolen novel; please report.

I doubt this would have been their response if things had played out as I wanted them to. When one door closes, another opens, and this was it. Thralls who begrudgingly accepted living under the thumb of the mighty in exchange for peace and stability that had remained longstanding for centuries was a misconception, ‘my misconception.’ Dreams of freedom trampled and spat upon by their oppressors lived on as smouldering embers buried deep in their hearts. While the cold war between the war houses, which could very well jeopardise this city’s survival, ensued, a demographic outnumbering the remainder by about ten to one had no say in it, one that was the lifeblood keeping this city alive.

I shook my head in derision, fully recognising my own naivety. Standing out so I could gain the approval of the Illugis? Is that not subjecting myself to their whims? Do I work my ass off for the rest of my life on the off chance things don’t play out as I expect again? Fool! They have all the power in that situation, my life in the palm of their hand. “No! The light does not place itself at the whim of another! It rises and falls according to its own desire! There is no if, only when! If they must accept me, I will make them accept me!”

I turned back and gazed over the city, gleaming under the sun’s outpour, so peaceful, so quiet, yet far more complex below the superficial. My eyes had been opened, new possibilities and opportunities stripped bare, ripe for the taking; all I needed was the will and foresight to bring them to fruition. A damp breeze blew by, ruffling my hair, winter was coming to an end, and a time of new beginnings was on the horizon. I continued ascending the chiselled stairs leading to the Illugi mansion, my home, my cage, my stepping stone.

The large front door lay ajar, beckoning as if to say anyone could enter but leaving was another matter. I paused a few lengths away, wondering what was in store once I entered the wolf’s den. While I was shielded by my status as a warrior seedling, that did not mean I was immune to the consequences. If not to uphold the law, something had to be done to appease the karls, more so the family of the one I had murdered.

A depreciating exhale escaped me, understanding I had yet to reap the total price for my folly. Whatever it might be, it didn’t matter. I would face it head-on and overcome, like a boulder weathering the flood. With a steely heart, I passed through the crack of doom, colliding with the sights and sounds inherent to the feasting hall.

‘What horrible timing,’ I silently cursed. We had no accurate timekeeping devices, relying solely on the sun’s position as a vague indicator, making it easy to misinterpret the signs. Thankfully, most of the members still in the house at midday were women and children, their attention being much less unnerving than the men. The aroma caused my stomach to rumble, a reminder I hadn’t eaten today. Seeing as no one had jumped out to clobber me or opposed my presence, I gravitated towards the pot of stew bubbling over dancing coals at the centre of the hall.

Ladling a few spoonfuls into a bowl, I found a secluded seat at the end of a long table, a good distance away from anyone. It did not take long for me to finish the stew, my appetite transforming my belly into a bottomless pit, emptying three bowls before I knew it. Hospital food could never compare to a good home-cooked meal; it was a universal law. With a satisfied burp, I left the hall heading for my room, intent on deducing if it had been rummaged through during my absence. My plans were dashed when a maid indicated that Lady Ronnow requested my attendance as soon as possible. Noting that this likely pertained to my punishment, I put up no resistance, wishing to get it over and done with as soon as possible.

I was led to an obscure area on the upper floor, tucked away from the bustle of a mansion housing numerous individuals such as this one. The auburn-haired woman lightly knocked on the door, waiting until the person within permitted entry. The room was of moderate size, not much larger than mine, with indented walls cradling a library of knowledge. Polished hardwood flooring under the sunlight accentuated its timber’s many knots and whirls. The decor looked more like something one would find in an institution of learning than a noble house based around physical prowess and was yet another reminder of my ignorance.

Unwilling to linger for too long, I turned to my left, noting a large desk, stained papers and unorganised books littering its face, and the… lady seated at it. Her brows were knitted, muttering beneath her breath, pen in hand, scribbling away at who knows what. She was clearly troubled if the pained look on her face was any indicator. ‘Could I have appeared at the worst possible time?’ After some deliberation, I decided to make my presence known as a sign of courtesy. Coughing lightly to get her attention failed to induce a response, so I closed the distance between us, the tangy scent of ink tickling my nose, and repeated.

Lady Ronnow paused, stillness rushing to fill the gap left in the absence of muddled scratching. The lull shattered with force as she ripped the sheet apart and crumpled it into a ball, tossing it at a large pile of similar specimens in the corner. The cursing that ensued was some of the worst I had ever heard, and it made me wonder just who this woman was before coming here. At the sight of me silently observing her antics, like a fly on the wall, she gasped, hand clamped over her mouth. Her eyes relayed shock, cheeks brushed by embarrassment, all while I tried my best to hold a wooden face. It didn’t last long, the usual icy calm she was famous for resurfacing.

“How long have you been here, svartr,” she uttered, tone and glare bringing to life a formless pressure that sucked the air out of the room.