The battlefield was quiet now, the screams and clashes of war replaced by an eerie stillness. Smoke curled lazily into the dawn sky, mingling with the lingering mist. A mana storm brought about by the expenditure of so much magic loomed overhead like an aurora crackling with wild chaotic mana. Ingrid stood amidst the remnants of the druids’ forces, walking through a field of corpses. She was a warlord in her element; death was her business.

She walked up to Thyra who stood over, a small group of captured druids knelt in the dirt, bound and stripped of any magical tools or items of power. Some of them were being beaten for answers but mainly for intimidation. Ingrid already knew why they were here and how. She knew scared druids usually talked more and one of them might slip up and tell her something she didn’t know.

Ingrid’s piercing gaze swept over them as she questioned one of the prisoners, her voice calm yet carrying an edge that made the druid flinch.

“Your attack was bold but ill-planned,” she said. “Who gave the order to target this supposed wendigo stronghold? Was it your commander or did you receive information from an informant that this fort was understaffed and low on supplies?”

The prisoner hesitated, defiance flickering in their eyes before fear took hold. Ingrid could see the moment the druid realized that she already knew. Before he could stammer a response, the air around them shifted, charged with a sudden oppressive heat. A shadow passed overhead, and a mighty roar split the sky.

Ingrid turned, her sharp features softening in surprise as the massive form of Thrand descended, his crimson scales shimmering in the early light. The great fire dragon landed with a resounding thud, the ground trembling under his weight. On his back sat Lord Ulfar, his presence as commanding as the dragon he rode. His regal figure stood, and his piercing eyes scanned the battlefield. Behind him, Ragnar clung to the saddle, a mirror image of his father but in full combat armor.

Everyone waited for the Lord and heir to dismount. Ulfar’s boots crunched against the charred earth. Ragnar followed, his eyes wide as he took in the battlefield. Ingrid could not help but watch her son. It would be his first time seeing such carnage. The lord had prepared him well as he looked around and projected a sense of being unbothered by the mounds of bodies to be burned.

“Lord Husband, Heir Ragnar,” Ingrid said, her voice uncharacteristically soft as she dipped her head in respect. She stepped forward, gesturing toward the aftermath. “The battle is won. No losses among our forces, and the druids’ army has been annihilated. Only these few were kept alive for questioning.”

Ingrid continued, her tone becoming more measured as she gestured to a nearby pile of captured documents and artifacts. “We’ve uncovered evidence suggesting collaboration between the druids and the Nazem noble family. Nothing we haven’t already confirmed.”

Ulfar’s expression darkened at the mention of the Nazem family, his jaw tightening. Before Ingrid could elaborate further, he turned to Ragnar, placing a heavy hand on his son’s shoulder.

“Good,” Ulfar said, his voice firm. “Then this is the perfect opportunity for Ragnar to gain real combat experience. He will face the remaining druids in single combat—one after another.”

Ingrid’s breath caught, her composure faltering for the first time that day. Her sharp eyes darted between her husband and their son, who straightened at the words.

“Lord Husband,” she began, hesitating.

The words she wanted to say remained unspoken; she had no right to Ragnar anymore and her concern was not befitting the Sword. Her husband’s authority as Patriarch was absolute, and she knew better than to question his judgment openly. Instead, she drew in a slow breath and nodded. It was only right that Ragnar be tested. After all, Ingrid participated in her first life and death battle far younger than her son was now.

“As you command,” Ingrid said.

Ulfar’s expression softened slightly as he stepped closer to her. He did something he had not in years, he touched her face warmly and rubbed soot from her cheek. He looked at her with something besides duty. Their eyes met and she felt her feelings stir within her.

Ulfar’s voice was low enough for only her to hear. “He must learn, my love. If he is to inherit our legacy, he cannot be sheltered from battle.”

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Ingrid nodded as she gazed into his eyes. “I understand.”

Ragnar’s excitement was impossible to miss.“I won’t let you down, Lord Father. Mother. I’ll prove myself.”

Ingrid’s gaze lingered on him, “Then fight well, my son. But remember—strength is more than raw power. Use your mind as much as your magic.” She turned to Thyra. “Select his opponent and clear the field. The Heir will perform his Rite of Combat here and now!”

There was a stir in the air as the knights rushed to fulfill the order. Bodies were moved and burned in quick order. The arena was being set as the living druids were dragged forward, their defiance replaced by grim resignation. Ingrid took a step back, standing beside Ulfar. Her heart clenched, but her expression remained stoic.

***

It took only moments for the battlefield to become a makeshift arena. Ragnar stood at the center, his staff in hand, scarlet electricity crackling faintly at its tip. His youthful face was set with determination. The first prisoner—a druid woman with a mane of fiery red hair—was shoved forward. From what Ingrid could tell she was nothing special, an elemental mage of some description.

She stumbled before catching her balance, gripping the staff returned to her with white-knuckled fingers. Her green eyes burned with fury as they swept across the gathered wendigo. She raised her staff and shouted an incantation, aiming a roaring jet of flame directly at Ulfar. The magic fizzled out almost immediately, the fire sputtering to nothing before it even left her staff. She froze, bewildered, as the invisible weight of Ingrid’s anti-magic aura pressed down on her. Ingrid’s sharp voice cut through the silence.

“Your opponent is not my Lord Husband.” She gestured toward Ragnar. “It is my son.”

She sneered, laughter dripping with venom. “A child? You send a boy to fight me? How fitting for fucking savages. What? Are you too cowardly to face me yourselves? The Salstars are a blite. Cowards. Savages.”

Ragnar said nothing, his grip tightening on his staff as sparks danced around him, the electricity responding to his emotions. Ulfar raised a hand, signaling Ingrid to release her aura. The moment the suppression lifted, the air thrummed with energy.

Without hesitation, Ragnar raised his staff and unleashed a bolt of arcane lightning. The crackling streak of power shot across the field, striking the druid in the head before she could even finish another taunt. Her body convulsed, her staff splintered, and she crumpled to the ground in silence.

“One down.” Ragnar exhaled, lowering his staff.

He turned to Ulfar, standing tall despite his small stature. Ulfar nodded, his expression unreadable. He gestured for the next prisoner. This one was different. A towering druid man was hauled forward, his antlers tipped with sharp metal caps, his presence exuding raw, unyielding strength. His weapon was not a staff or wand but two vicious axes. He gripped them with ease, rolling his shoulders as if preparing for a hunt.

The man’s lips curled into a wicked grin as he sized up Ragnar. “I know what a wendigo Rite of Combat is, so, I know no one will interfere, right?” He turned to look at Ulfar and raised his ax. “I may die today, but not until I make you watch me kill this Forest Father damned child of yours.”

Ragnar fingers flexed around his staff, the crackling electricity returning, but now tempered by the realization that this opponent wouldn’t fall as easily as the first. The moment the fight began, Ragnar unleashed a barrage of plasma bolts. Which shot out like red arrows of energy. The wendigo man was quick, his larger form belying his mana enhanced agility as he dodged and weaved between the strikes. He retaliated with a burst of toxic fog, the greenish haze spreading across the field and forcing Ragnar to retreat.

The boy raised a barrier of electrical energy to hold back the fumes, but the poison lingered, and Ragnar coughed. Ingrid knew that this was now a race against time. If Ragnar didn’t kill the druid fast enough the poison would make him an easy target. He was already beginning to slow.

The druid warrior pressed his advantage, closing the distance with brutal efficiency. One of his axes swung low, slipping past Ragnar’s defenses and catching him across the chest. The blow sent Ragnar sprawling, blood staining his armor.

Ingrid took a sharp step forward, her hand reaching for her sword, but Ulfar’s grip on her shoulder stopped her.

“No,” Ulfar said firmly, his voice low. “This is his fight.”

Ingrid’s jaw tightened, but she obeyed, her every muscle coiled with restrained tension.

Ragnar struggled to his feet, his breathing labored, but the crackling power around him intensified. The druid man came at him again, his axes spinning in a deadly arc. Ragnar ducked one swing and used his staff to parry the other. Sparks flew as the weapons clashed. The man’s aura prevented the electricity from traveling through his weapon and shocking him.

Again Ragnar showed his training and instead of taking the attacks head on he used his smaller frame and size to weave between strikes and wait for an opening. As soon as one appeared Ragnar thrust his staff forward, unleashing a surge of raw plasma. The attack struck the warrior square in the chest, sending him stumbling back, weapons flew from his hands as his armor was scorched and flesh was left smoking.

Ragnar twisted his staff and tendril of electricity caught one of the axes mid flight. With a decisive pull the axe flew back and buried itself in the druid's skull. The man fell to his face and Ragnar stood over him, chest heaving, his staff still glowing faintly. His face was pale, and blood dripped from the wound on his chest, but his expression was one of victory.

Ulfar’s voice rang out, breaking the tense silence. “Bring the next one.”