The big day had arrived. It was finally Nameday. The day that marked the end of winter and ushered in spring. Normally a happy occasion for everyone in Northrend, with celebration and excitement. Alric mostly felt ill.
He couldn’t help but feel his nerves grow taught as the last days leading to the ceremony marched to a close. Pa and Sis both were ecstatic at the news that Alric successfully internalized on his own. Though Alric couldn’t help but grumble at Erin’s pride, considering she was one of the greatest talents to come out of Northrend in the past half-century. Alric just hoped their delight wasn’t misplaced. No, it wasn’t, couldn’t be. After all, he had successfully internalized. From this day forth he would be Alric Iron, son of the Ironforge clan. It just had to be.
As Alric pondered this, he couldn’t help but stare blankly at the ceiling. It felt intimately familiar at this point, with nary a morning spent not looking at its dull wooden knots, the rafters having been meticulously cleaned by caring servants. Not that they’d care soon. Again, the ever too familiar knock of Talbot at the door marked the beginning of a whirlwind of activity. Alric felt as though Pa had gone out and hired a dozen maids just to dress him for today. Alric never knew the point in having people dress you, made him seem an incompetent child. Though, the clothes were admittedly different than his everyday affair, a series of rich browns and vibrant greens reminiscent of a tree. Lady Weaver bless these fine silken threads. Didn’t know how Pa managed to get enough to make a doublet this far from Silland.
Though the true highlight was this cloak. Oh, the cloak! It was a muted brown compared to the gaudy doublet, instead opting for a luxurious inner fur lining. Alric suspected it came from some breed of a wolf on Deadman’s Tip. If Alric had to guess, he would’ve pegged Sis for the make of the cloak, always a stickler for utility. The clothes shouted Pa, one of his favorite past times is making a statement. Alric suspected it was to squash the rumors of him being useless. He was useless.
Sis was even more excited about Nameday than Alric was. She positively ecstatic, barely refrained from smothering him in sisterly love. There were a few close calls. Sis made sure to pounce on Alric the second he left his room.
“Oh my precious little brother is finally becoming a man,” Sis claimed while radiating pride. She threw him into a hug that squeezed any hint of happiness for today out of his body.
Alric tried his best to hide the truth… no, to show his own pride. There was an unsettling emptiness within him. It wasn’t just empty, it was a weight that held him down until he could no longer breathe. He needed to breathe. “Sis, could you stop? You're messing up my clothes,” Alric gasped out.
Sis let go, but the weight remained when Alric looked into her eyes. Oblivious, she chided him, “Alric look you already messing up your clothes,” straightening his clothes with much more force than those maids.
Things were more of the same when Pa saw him in the sitting room. It took some lightning-fast reflexes to avoid the jabs thrown Alric’s way. Neither his reaction speed nor spine was prepared for the death grip that followed. Nor the sudden weightlessness accompanying him being thrown in the air by his father. Though he could’ve sworn he heard shrieking while airborne. Took Alric a few seconds to realize that was him.
Pa, the gaul of him, actually started laughing, “Oh you make me so proud boyo! I knew you would do the Ironforge name well, no son of mine would be a layabout!” Talbot appeared in the background with a genuine smile that stung with a knife’s edge.
The weight came back twofold. Alric barely managed to gasp out, “Pa, we should really get headed to the temple if we are to get good seats,” even though the excuse rang hollow to Alric’s ears. Not that Pa noticed, through his own jubilance.
They all crowded into the luxurious carriage meant for special affairs and joined the slowly moving throng of people towards the temple. Even beyond the excitement for the Nameday ceremony, many were already celebrating in full force with the streets lined with all manner of improvised stalls and tents. Children and adults alike moved through the crowds and around the carriage, eager to make the most of the festival day. The mass of humanity seemed to grow more pack to the brim as they made their way towards the temple, though none bothered invading the boundary surrounding the horse-drawn carriage.
The temple, like all temples of the high court, was a display of the wealth that came from the stability of time. Its walls stood long before even the Riverfrosts came to govern Northrend, with generations of pious craftsmen adding all manner of ornamentation and sculpture outside the structure. Practically every fable even tangentially involving the Lords was shown, and then some more were added on for good measure. The result was a catastrophe of stonework to Alric’s eyes, no consistency shown between among the stones nor the artistic styles. The interior was similar if, with a brush rather than a chisel, all manner of paintings, frescos, or even tapestries lined the walls, each delightful and appalling in their own way. However, all of that rubbish stopped when entering the chamber proper, a large rectangular room with fittingly high vaulted ceilings stuffed to the absolute brim with mats. That didn’t stop the hoard of excited parents and worried students from occupying nearly all of the floor in a heap.
“Go ahead boy, knock em’ dead. I’m sure you’ll do me proud,” Pa consoled him with a push forward.
The weight returned. Alric pushed forward through the crowd, not bothering to search for Danny and took a seat at the front with the rest of his classmates. A few pleasant greetings were made, with short ends to conversations, and soon Alric was left alone. Well, almost alone.
“There you are, you big knobhead. Been looking for you everywhere,” Danny chided as if it was only a few hours since they last saw each other and not almost a month. Alric couldn’t help but return that same eternal grin plastered on Danny’s mug. Danny looked different… more at ease now. Alric wished he was anywhere close to being as comfortable in his own skin.
Despite himself, Alric sunk back into that familiar rhythm, “How could I have missed you? Your hair practically glows like the sun. Seriously who did you lose a bet with to keep dying it like that? Sure wasn’t me, no way I could think of a punishment that bad.”
Alric could feel Danny feigning being cross, “How would you know anything about the finer points of fashion? This is on the rage in Baymuth, the merchant told me so.”
Before he could come up with a retort, Alric was shushed by Gunter near him. Apparently, the ceremony had started and it was rude to the Lords to speak about mortal matters in such a divine place. Never had Alric wanted more to crawl into a hole and die. Danny just laughed to himself before telling Gunter to shove off. Alric just shook his head and paid attention towards the faithful of Leadership, giving a rousing speech in typical fashion for their order.
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“The Lords guide us always towards a brighter future, just as you too can,” the woman said with a slow, methodical pace, “There exists that potential within all of us to become Lords of our own or at least servants in their perpetual cause. That's why we honor the Senivirate for creating the Empire of today and ushering in an era of peace so every mortal can focus on advancing themselves as far as Lady Fate permits.” The woman flung her maroon sleeve towards one of the six statues behind her, a young woman that gave off a heroic air in the minimalistic armor she wore with a thin sword drawn and gaze ever skyward. Lady Fate looked as if she leapt out of a storybook, which Alric figured she had, considering she helped usher in the high court.
Alric’s gaze wandered to the other five statues of the Senivirate, wondering what the Lords must be like. Lord Time, a man who seemed to have one foot in the grave, with a back bent from weathering countless storms and beard scraping the floor, barely holding onto his staff that looked as ancient as he. Lord Fisher, a man looking more like a father who had taken up fishing in his free time which wasn’t far from the truth for the huntsman, his fishing rod draped over a shoulder and grin on his lips. Conspicuously between Time and Fisher grew a tree, one that seemed older than even Lord Time. Lady Growth, possibly Lord in the scripture currently, was belied by their statue, Alric heard they loomed bigger than a mountain which seemed likely considering they held two cities in their branches. Another oddity stood on the right side of Fisher, a mysterious cloaked individual with a hood so deep none could gaze at their face, Mystery. It was unknown what Mystery looked like, even their gender took after their name. There were many theories concerning them, such as the ability to change their form at will or had long since died in the great battle, being honored by the high court. Lord Space lounged between the cloak and Fate, looking more like a scholar than a hero complete with glasses and all. A book held firmly in one hand and a spear in the other served as a strong contrast.
It was certainly an eclectic bunch. Together the party served as the head of the high court, and the mass of minor shrines and emblems on the far wall behind the six statues denoting the other seventeen Lords in the high court. Alric wished he could just go and pay tribute to Lord Mend, maybe slink away to the forge. As he zoned out, several other faithful arrived on stage, carrying the giant barrel filled with a disturbingly blue liquid sloshing about. It felt delightfully unnatural to look at. Alric was glad he didn’t need the essence inducing concoction, though a touch disturbed that he still needed to drink it.
Tradition is tradition, after all, speaking of tradition… Alric’s pulse spiked as he desperately began searching for the chalice. Did he forget the chalice? His grandfather handcrafted that. Alric’s frantic hands began touching every pocket in a vain attempt to find the heirloom. Was he going to have to raise a scene in the middle of the ceremony? That was at least until Pa and Baron Riverfrost stepped onto the stage with each holding their own chalice. Then Alric could barely hold his laughter. Both were clearly designed by Grandpa and it was obvious that he pulled one of his stunts creating the pair. Where the Ironforge cup was composed of the most impeccable workmanship of the craft all created from varying forms of iron itself with every technique known by the family executed to near perfection. The Riverfrost’s chalice was a gaudy meshwork of competing metals and gems using only a single half-hearted technique. Alric would’ve been embarrassed to show that waste of money to his Pa, much less the entire city.
Again the lady that gave the introductory speech stepped forward to begin the ceremony proper, “It’s due to the benevolence of the Empire that we stand here today. Why is that? It’s because the Emperor as a faithful servant of the Lords believes in helping all its citizens to achieve their divine potential. To have a country full of Champions for their Lords. Can you imagine that? A country filled with champions. Wow, powerful stuff. To that end, the Emperor created the essence induction potion to help everyone gain a step towards their potential. What they do beyond that is up to them,” the woman seemed awfully fond of dramatic pauses… and rhetorical questions.
The woman continued, “To continue that tradition of potential we are allowing those among you who come from potential to set an example for all to strive for. First, we have our own ruling family of the Riverfrosts, presenting Bruno, seeking a name before the high court. Bruno, please present yourself.”
Bruno stood up from his spot at the front of the class. Lords above, he looked several times more smug than usual. Guess he never got the notice that without his backing goons he looked more a preening rooster than a dangerous wolf. The fact Bruno was wearing what looked to be seven layers didn't help, each what appeared to be breathable cloth. Alric vaguely recalled that might have been the favored dress of the Faiwer Sea, but it looked like he hastily wrapped himself in several bolts of blue cloth, each embroidered with all manner of rivers and sea imagery. Didn't seem practical at all to Alric, how would Bruno move in that without tripping over himself?
Wait, was Bruno leering at him? That has to be the pettiest move Alric had ever seen. Seriously couldn't even focus on finishing the ceremony first before gloating. After Bruno felt satisfied Alric knew his place, he turned towards his father and took the proffered chalice. Bruno dunked the cup into the barrel with the grace of a marauder. He made an equally slapdash job of guzzling it down, half the potion spilling out over his garb. At least Bruno managed to get the bowing and returning the chalice to his father right. Bruno jabbed his meaty claws onto the essence stone, resting firmly in its dais.
Suddenly Bruno was standing not on a stage but on a roaring river. Well, the hazy outline of one, and Alric thought he could faintly see some ice within the twisty maze of mist. Then just as soon he was back on the stage looking all the more insufferable for it. The faithful near the dais dully announced, “From this day forth Bruno shall now be known as Bruno River. May he be able to serve the high court.”
“Next we shall present an example of hard work paying off, of the knights Ironforge, presenting Alric, seeking a name before the high court. Alric please present yourself.”
The executioner's call had sounded. Alric felt the weight of the emptiness again, all levity seeping out with his shallow breaths. Alric wasn’t clear on how he got onto the stage; everything seemed to halt when he looked into his father’s eyes. The love and warmth on display beat into him with the intensity of a forge. This would be his moment, to prove himself before the whole of Northrend. Alric broke eye contact. The chalice at least served as a pleasant distraction, with the metalwork being astounding. It felt surreal to finally hold the masterpiece that had been behind a glass display.
Alric filled the cup with as much reverence as he could currently muster. The concoction was even more revolting up close, holding the same shade as a clear sky and glowing ever so slightly. It tasted like bitter spirits; Alric had to gag it down. Wiping his lip, Alric returned the chalice to his father with a deep bow.
The essence stone loomed before him. Alric felt the weight inside of him once again, that heady concoction of fear and nervousness swirling around seeming to be almost tangible. Then suddenly it was gone. For the first time in days, Alric felt some semblance of inner peace. Gone were the crowds with their mocking faces and in their place was the familiar froth of the tides. Alric found himself once again on that faithful cliff overlooking the sea, able to relax with the roaring tides in their perpetual battle with the rocks. Then just as suddenly it was gone.
In shock Alric looked over to the faithful who was grasping his wrist, appearing ever so slightly flustered. Between gasps of breath, she whispered, “Sir it would be unbecoming to let such an aura linger on the audience.” Alric looked back over the crowds and noticed now how most were sweating slightly with blanched faces. Lost in his thoughts, Alric barely noticed how the faithful announced his name, “From this day forth Alric shall now be known as Alric Tides. May he be able to serve the high court.”
Things were worse than he feared. Alric turned towards Pa and saw not pride, but confusion and hurt. Alric felt the weight return, overwhelming him all at once. He wasn’t sure what to do, so Alric ran. He wasn’t sure where to go, but he ran anyway.