The group of young God-marked gathered curious looks from the people around, some even calling out to Thorwald to welcome him back, or to ask him if he was stuck guarding the youths like the other captains. The man just kept on walking at a steady pace, only saying a few words to the people following him.
“You will have time to explore Wolfhold after you’ve met the king.”
With those few words, the man cut through the crowd, leading them to a stonewalled fortress at the top of the hill overlooking the capital. The guards only stopped them for a moment before letting them through. Although the sailors told Einar before, he was still surprised by the look of the building inside the fort. Unlike the longhouse that served as Gunnar’s seat of power back in Bear-rock Isle, King Baldr had a literal castle with sturdy stone walls and whatnot. In the end, the young giant just shrugged and followed Thorwald through the large door, across a wide hallway to the throne room.
“Welcome back, Thorwald!” They could hear it from the depth of the throne room as the guards opened the door for them.
King Baldr sat on his throne, surrounded by his trusted advisors. The king himself barely looked over thirty, his hair still deep brown with no grey streaks seen anywhere. Most of his advisors were of a similar age with two being the exception. One had a head streaked with grey and another older man with milk-white hair.
“I see you found a couple of lads and lasses on your way.” The king said as he stood up to greet his friend and loyal warrior, his eyes stopping on the young giant.
There was a moment of awkward silence throughout the room as both the advisors and Thorwald turned to follow the king’s gaze.
“An Arnessen,” the king mumbled. “But the only ones out there... you’re Björn’s son.”
“His name is Einar.” The older seeker remarked as the king stepped closer.
“Good,” the king let out a relieved sigh to everyone’s surprise as he walked closer to pat the young giant on the shoulder. “The fact that you’re here despite Gunnar claiming that Björn had no notable brats means that you have also become a God-marked somehow. This means that my father’s edict is now annulled. Good.”
“My king...” One of the advisors tried to speak up but Baldr raised his hand to stop him.
“I won’t talk ill of the dead, only that his curse is finally gone from these halls. Send word to the Arnessen and the Unfrid clans. Tell them that a God-marked Arnessen arrived from Bear-rock Island.”
“As you command.” A messenger from the side of the throne acknowledged before leaving the room.
“Now that we have the matter of that baleful edict out of the way,” King Baldr hummed. “Let me welcome you all to Wolfhold! As you were already told, I aim to gather all the God-marked under the age of twenty-three and send them to the Torn Serpent Isles. You arrived quite late as tomorrow will be the last day we can wait for the incoming ships.”
A strange silence filled the room as no one dared to ask questions of the man.
“The morning after that you will sail out and hopefully reach the isles of the gods without any hindrance. For now, you are free to explore the capital and tomorrow evening we shall hold a farewell celebration in your honour. I will reveal more of your task during the celebration. Go now and enjoy your day.”
The group gave a slight bow to the king before they were led outside by the guards, Thorwald staying behind to tell the events of their journey. Once they were out of the fort, the young God-marked left in small groups to explore the city. Einar was left alone but cared little about it as he already made plans of his own. After all, he had a few ingots of Abralt steel to make use of and a small sack of Zubralt ore to get refined into something useable.
While walking through the crowded streets, he stopped a few times to ask different people, mostly guards and shopkeepers to see if they knew someone who could work with God-blessed equipment. The young seeker mostly received the same answer from the locals, pointing him in three directions. One was a blacksmith called Magni, who along with his daughter were said to be blessed forge masters.
The second was a woman known as Yngvildr who did ritual tattoos of power. The last one was a mystic called Hrefna who was supposedly a master craftswoman of talismans and the like. Spoiled for choices, Einar decided to first go to the blacksmith to sort out his metal-related issues. Following the directions given to him, Einar reached a large smithy near the edge of the rocky cliff overlooking the sea.
The shop was busy with half a dozen blacksmiths working at the back and a shop at the front. Warriors of different standings were waiting in line to either buy weapons or get their gear repaired. He too stepped in the line to wait his turn, but one of the shopkeepers immediately noticed him.
“Are you one of the God-marked that sailed here for the gathering?” The man asked, earning a slight nod.
“That would mean,” he waved him closer. “You’re here to get some work done on a God-blessed weapon or something like that.”
“Yes,” Einar agreed with the man’s assessment. “I came across some good forging materials on the way here and wanted to see if they could be used to strengthen my kit or to be made into something useful.”
“Figured as much. Wait here. I’ll go see if Master Magni is free.”
Saying that the man disappeared behind a corner door, only to return a good minute later with a young woman in tow. The woman was quite a surprising sight for Einar as she was almost as tall as he was, firm muscles covering her form beneath her bronze-tinged skin. Her topaz-like eyes shone as if a fire was burning behind them, a mess of crimson hair being tied behind her like a shoulder-long piece of rope. She stared at Einar for a moment, as if feeling a strange familiarity from him.
“You’re an Arnessen, aren’t you?” She asked after a few moments.
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“Einar,” he replied. “Einar Arnessen. Why?”
“The Arnessen are the only known clan with frost giant blood in their veins,” the young woman explained. “You likely awakened it during your ceremony of paths.”
“Are you...”
“No,” the woman shook her head. “I’m not an Arnessen. You must be some faraway clan member if you don’t know who I am.”
“I’m from Bear-rock Island from the edge of the kingdom.”
“I see,” she nodded while opening the waist-high divider to let him in. “That explains things. I’m Rúna, by the way. Rúna Fireforge.”
“Fireforge?” Einar couldn’t help but ask back after hearing the strange name.
“Yes,” Rúna nodded. “Daughter of Magni Fireforge, the best blacksmith of Wolfhold. While the Arnessen clan is blessed with the blood of frost giants, the Fireforge clan is a descendant of fire giants and a clan of master blacksmiths.”
“Was that why I...”
“You felt a strange familiarity when you’ve seen me? Yes. It happens all the time when people from our clans meet one another. It’s the giants’ blood calling out to each other. Strange,” she muttered. “You’re supposed to be bearing the blood of the frost giants and yet... hold on. You said that you were from Bear-rock Island, right? Then you must be Björn the Dragon-hunter’s son. No wonder you have fire in you as well. I did hear he drank the blood of a fire dragon.”
“Sounds like my father is a well-known man here, even after all these years.”
“Are you kidding? Who in Wolfhold hasn’t heard of him fighting a dragon and then eloping with the then-future High King’s bride-to-be? Your father is a small legend told by the older warriors of Wolfhold whenever someone brings up that dragon.”
“Damn.” Einar couldn’t help but pinch his nose-bridge as Rúna brought up the reason why his parents were exiled to Bear-rock Island before his birth.
“Sorry,” she apologised. “I didn’t want to bring up troublesome memories. I’ve heard about the old king declaring an edict to banish your parents.”
“Since I’m here, that proves that the edict had been annulled, so it’s fine. Anyway, about my equipment.”
“Ah, yes,” the young woman cleared her throat awkwardly. “I was told that you had some ‘good’ materials to work with.”
“We came across the sunken Eastern trading ship on our way here and I got my hands on a few ingots of Abralt steel and some Zubralt ore.”
“Abralt steel is one of the best mortal metals to work with when it comes to arms and armour,” Rúna hummed as they kept walking through the large smithy that seemed to have been carved into the stone of the cliff-side. “As for Zubralt, that could be called its equivalent when it comes to the mystical arts. I can smelt it down for you, but after that, it’s best if you bring it over to Lady Hrefna. I’m sure she could craft something useful out of it. The best I could do with it would be to ease the flow of spiritual power through your equipment. While that could be useful, this early on, it would be better to just get a good talisman.”
“A talisman? Like those necklaces?” Einar looked at her confused.
“Among other things,” she remarked as the two reached a workspace that was walled away from the rest of the smithy. “Here we are, this is my forge. Let me see what you have.”
The young giant began to unpack his spoils onto a sturdy table, Rúna’s eyes widening as she watched the number of ingots and whatnot fill the table.
“When you said you have some Abralt steel, I figured you meant an ingot, maybe two. Not ten. And this ore,” she lifted the small sack. “I should be able to smelt it down into an ingot.”
While explaining that, Rúna grabbed one of the smaller crucibles and poured the Zubralt ore in it before putting the crucible onto the flames of the forge. This made Einar raise an eyebrow as she did so using only her bare hands. She then held her hands toward the forge while murmuring something, her fingers glowing red hot as the forge’s flame awakened under her command. Rúna turned back, noticing his strange expression which made her sigh.
“As I’ve said before, my family is the descendant of fire giants. Mortal fires like this one can’t harm us.”
“What did you do to the fire just now?”
“I lent it some of my power to shorten the smelting time. I also gave it a purpose so that it would refine a better quality metal. It’s one of the things that give my clan the right to be called the best blacksmiths in the kingdom. While the crucible is heating up, we might as well get the rest of your kit out of the way. Strip.”
“Huh?” Einar stopped breathing for a moment at the young woman's directness.
“Did you expect me to work on your equipment while you’re wearing it?”
“I thought you would strengthen my sword,” he replied. “Maybe my axes and seax too, but my armour? Beside the greaves and the metal platings of the bracers, it’s almost completely leather.”
“Those can be reinforced too, not to mention the bucklers and studs. I can also infuse the essence of the Abralt into the leather as well, making it tougher and more resilient.”
“Will it be similar to the ritual the priestess did to ask the gods for their blessing?”
“Not exactly,” Rúna corrected him while he pulled off his armour piece by piece. “I will use my gift to draw out the power of the Abralt steel and infuse it into your arms and armour. There won’t be any chants or rituals involved.”
“Oh.”
“Just take a few steps back and watch. It shouldn’t take long.” Einar nodded and stepped back so she could do her work. The blacksmith laid out the pair of axes, seax and the now fully drawn sword on a large stone block, lining up several ingots of Abralt steel next to them. She then took up the stance he had seen a few times his local blacksmith use when working. Rúna raised her right hand in the air as if grasping for something, fire seeping out from her skin to form a hammer made of pure yellowish flame.
She lowered the hammer atop the first ingot, the piece of metal melting away, only to be absorbed by the hammer. The woman then raised the hammer once again, her other hand grabbing the handle of the seax. She swung down her fiery hammer at the knife’s blade, a crisp ringing sound filling the room. It was followed by three more strikes, each one turning the metal red-hot and even brighter. Then, it was over.
The heat and light faded as if it was killed off by being quenched and Einar found himself staring at a seax that was now a soft bluish hue instead of the rust-spotted iron grey he remembered. Rúna handed his knife back to him to examine while she began working on the axes. Looking at the blade, it was now more... refined than before. Its spine and edge became straight, its surface smoother.
There was no sign of any rust. Or the dull grey iron for that matter. It was as if the blade had been forged from Abralt steel from the start. Its weight felt a bit heavier than before but it was a welcome change as it made it sink into his grasp a bit better. He sheathed it on his belt and then spent some time watching Rúna use up two ingots to refine his axes.
One could argue that a single ingot should have been enough to forge two new axes, but since he had no idea how her power worked, he decided to leave it as is. She checked on the crucible from time to time between two swings. Soon the axes were done and she could turn her attention to the great sword, her eyes burning with excitement as she swung her fiery hammer at it again and again. It took five ingots to finish it, leaving her with two more to spend on the young giant’s armour.