Was this really a trial of luck? From what he understood he had pretty decent luck compared to others but this... thing seemed to prove otherwise. This time he came too close to falling and he doubted that he could count on his ice spear to hold his weight again. His... weight. It was then that an idea struck the young seeker. He summoned an ice spear and put it on the ground before himself. The spear was long enough to cross three tiles from left to right.

Einar pushed it two tiles forward before summoning another spear which he put on the tiles right ahead of him. Taking a deep breath he stepped on the spear’s shaft, careful not to touch the tile with his foot. A wide grin spread across his face when none of the tiles beneath the spear crumbled apart. He leaned forward and reached out to step onto the other spear, which held his weight without trouble. Using his sword the giant rolled the previous spear close, leaning on his weapon with one hand while he grabbed and moved the spear ahead of him.

It was pushed just far enough that he was able to step on it if he wanted. ‘One tile might not be able to hold my weight but three of them can.’ He mused as he began his back-and-forth game with the pair of spears, slowly making his way toward his goal. A quarter of an hour later he finally got close enough to the golden circle that he could have reached it in a few more tiles. Hearing a strange cracking sound made the youth turn around, only to see that the tiles near the starting line began to shatter apart on their own.

More and more tiles fell apart as the hole grew larger as if it wanted to chase after him. A chill ran down Einar’s spine as he saw the crumbling floor that prompted him to find a way to the golden circle in what little time he had. Taking a gamble, he placed the next spear facing forward instead of sideways and stepped on it with both legs. Even as the stone tiles started showing cracks beneath him, the seeker gained enough momentum to leap forward, landing awkwardly on the stone slate that had the golden circle on it.

“Some are born with the luck of the Gods,” the mysterious voice returned. “Others make their own luck. One must never forget that luck is a fickle ally. Sometimes it might work in your favour while other times it will work against you.”

The voice went silent again, but Einar cared little about it as he watched the stone tiles stop crumbling apart. It was as if time itself began to rewind, the shattered stone plates remade themselves one by one until the proving ground was hole again. The barrier that surrounded the area had disappeared while Einar slumped down on the ground, chuckling like a madman. ‘I can’t believe it’s finally over. He thought to himself, letting out a relieved sigh. His legs were still shaky as he stood up to turn towards the altar.

Walking closer he found a head-sized pale green cloud floating above the altar that rushed toward him the moment he held out his drinking horn. It filled the horn with a light grass coloured liquid which he drank to the last drop. Looking at the dusty stone structure, the young seeker found four items lying on it. The first one was a handful of gold coins that had a weathered surface with glowing symbols he couldn’t recognise. His second prize was a golden coin with the image of a four-leaf clover minted on one side and a one-leaf clover on the other.

The third item on the altar was another clover, but this one looked strange. Each of the four leaves was seemingly made out of a different crystal, one side blue, another red, the third one purple with the past leaf being yellow, each of them showed a different glowing rune on the middle of their leaves. ‘Is this a rune stone?’ Einar stared at the strange item for a while before putting it inside his world eater pouch. The last item of interest was a palm-long piece of bone that was roughly carved into the shape of a key. Not knowing what its purpose was, he put it away before looking around.

The sun was already falling and the air was beginning to turn colder with each passing minute. With no threat around, the young giant sat down and closed his eyes to meditate. The sensation of falling only lasted for a moment and when he opened his eyes, he found himself in his inner world once more. His own altar greeted him with the four tiny stone figurines as well as the golden coin that had the clover motif on it. As he grabbed the coin a creaking sound made him look at the stone wall behind the altar. A circular indent appeared above the arrowhead he previously embedded into the wall. Einar fitted the coin into the hole, burning words flickering to life on the wall.

{Luck of the clover}

{When a warrior has luck on their side, even a mundane attack can be remarkable. You have a one in four chance to cause increased harm when you attack your enemies. The amount of added harm is always double your luck attribute.}

‘Damn! That was unexpected.’ Einar mused as he read the short description of the blessing he gained from the coin. He touched the first figurine to see the changes of his heraldry.

{Name: Einar Arnessen}

{Title: none}

{Ancestry: dragon/human/giant}

{Age: 18}

{Valour: 7550}

{Calling: Seeker}

{Renown: known by a few}

{Attributes}

• Charm:13

• Deftness: 23

• Divinity: 7

• Grit: 15

• Heart; 25

• Luck: 14

• Might: 29

• Mind: 15

• Soul: 20

Vigour/Spirit/Fortitude

71/105/69

This time it was his luck that increased by three and his divinity by one as well. His valour also rose sharply since the previous time he checked, allowing him to finally make use of the raven star map. Einar’s hands felt heavy as he held the sheepskin with the faded drawing on it. He focused his will on the drawing and allowed it to leech off his valour. His inner world trembled for a moment and as he looked up, he saw the same raven-like star formation appear high above him in the distant darkness. From the corner of his eye, he noticed burning words appear on the stone wall. The seeker stepped closer to read the text, his eyes further widening with each word.

{Raven’s blessing}

{Considered to be the heralds and spies of the All-father, ravens are both dreaded and revered by the common folk. Those who bear its mark are said to be blessed by the king of the gods, tasked to carry out his will in the word. The raven’s blessing permanently strengthens one’s divinity, grit and soul attributes by two.}

It was indeed a blessing and a powerful one at that. The increase in the three attributes was minimal, the words beneath the its description however were more than worth the large sum of valour they asked for.

{Raven form}

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{Those who carry the blessing of the All-father can call upon its power to turn into one of his heralds. Weave your spiritual power into feathers and wings, granting you the ability to fly through the vast skies unhindered. Each level in mastery strengthens your grit and soul by 1.}

{Spell type: transformation}

{Spirit cost: 1 per second}

{Casting time: 2 seconds}

{Spell mastery: 0/20}

{Mastery progression: 0/10}

‘A transformation spell?’ The youth muttered as he read it again to ensure he understood it right. After calming down his mind, he checked the other figurines but there were no significant changes besides his climbing and sword mastery increasing by a level each. Einar left his inner world, waking up to a slowly darkening mountain top. A slight itching spread across his left forearm and when he looked down, he could see a primitive raven tattoo appear on his arm.

It looked impressive in its own way but the power it held was far more imposing. After finishing the trial he thought that he would have to spend the night there since it would have taken far too much time to get down and go back to the shore, but now there was another way. Guided by an instinct that came from his new blessing, the young giant willed his spirit into the raven sigil. A moment later pitch-black mist burst out from his body while he let out an anguished roar.

A pain unlike anything he ever felt spread across his body that seemed to have shrunk as if he was being crushed from every direction at the same time. When the black mist dissipated a few seconds later, Einar found himself lying on the floor. He wanted to put his hands on the ground to push himself up but he instead found himself looking down at the pair of black wings with feathers that ended in a fiery red tip.

‘What is... this?’ The youth asked but the words were nothing but birdcaws. Trying to look down at his body he found similar dark feathers with dark red tips and two spindly bird legs. ‘I... I’ve really turned into a raven? But how do I...’ His panicked thoughts were interrupted by the black mist that spurred out of his body once again, only this time, there was no pain. When the mist disappeared he was kneeling on the floor, a human once again. It seemed like the spell answered his will when he wanted to shift back into his true form, the experience leaving the seeker reeling for a few moments.

A few minutes later when his mind fully calmed down, he tried it again, shifting into his raven form, without any pain this time. It was hard to move in an unfamiliar body but after some trial and error, he managed to stand on his new legs, hopping about for a short while before spreading his wings. Einar had seen plenty of birds in his life to know how they moved so he tried to imitate them, beating his wings with all the strength he could muster.

His feathered body slowly rose to the air in an awkward, broken rhythm which he tried to correct as he practiced simple flying manoeuvres until the black mist burst out of his body on its own, turning him back into his true form. ‘I must have run out of spiritual power.’ He deduced after feeling a strange weariness take hold of him. Some meditation later when his strength returned, the seeker switched form again and slowly flew up the stairs toward the edge of the mountaintop.

He stopped to turn back and meditate, planning to regain his strength before trying to fly down the mountain. When he felt ready, Einar turned into a raven once again and spread his wings before hopping off the edge. The wind pushed hard against his feathers as he glided through the air but he managed to find his balance soon enough. Switching between gliding and beating his wings, he flew along the forest path toward where he came from, reaching the ground just before his spirit ran out.

Dropping down onto the overgrown path the young giant broke out into a run, sprinting along the path as darkness fell around him. Sometime later when he felt his spiritual strength return, he leapt forward, black mist bursting out of his body as he turned into a bird again, flying above the trees, only to glide back slowly. Like a child that found a new toy to play with, the seeker kept switching between his true and raven forms, his mind too busy to realise how dangerous the forest was at night.

There was a moment during his run when he was almost caught by a large wolf just after he turned into a raven. ‘You bastard!’ He screamed inside as the wolf’s fangs snapped toward his left wing, barely missing him. The youth beat his wings harder to fly high, noticing the faint embers that glowed on the tips of his feathers. On the horizon ahead of him, Einar saw the fires of the fishing village light the way. ‘It might not be the best idea to fly in like this.’ He cawed, gliding down toward the road. Landing a good hundred yards from the edge of the forest he returned to his true form before continuing his jog toward the lights.

“Took you long enough,” were Arvid’s first words when the warrior noticed the giant approach the village. “I was starting to get worried about you.”

“I ran into some problems on the way but I still managed to scout quite far ahead.” He answered absent-mindedly as he took in the sight of the fishing village.

A hastily erected line of wooden spikes formed a low wall that guarded the small village, campfires lighting the tents and mostly repaired houses. It was quite the sight, given that they had only a day to build all this. The village was bustling with life as God-marked walked about while talking or sat around the fires, eating and laughing. There were plenty of ordinary people too as the sailors and former thralls also enjoyed the crisp night air under the starry sky. The seeker’s musings got shaken up by his friend’s voice.

“Are you all right there? You turned silent all of a sudden.”

“I just took a look at the village. It’s quite impressive.”

“That it is,” the warrior agreed. “Since no one left the shore beside you and us, everyone else kept themselves busy with rebuilding the place. I’d say it will be as good as new in another two or three days.”

“Did you tell them about the first trial?” the seeker asked.

“Of course, we did. They would have found out soon enough so we might as well let them owe us a favour, right?”

“Figures.”

“What? It’s always a good thing to have others owe you one. Who knows when you will have to...”

“Einar Arnessen,” a heavy voice cut into Arvid’s words as a small group made up of both God-marked and ordinary people arrived. “Princess Brynhildr requires your presence in...”

“No,” Einar silenced the man with a cold-toned word. “If she wants something, she can come here herself.”

“You...” Several God-marked reached for their blades, but let go after a moment of hesitation.

“Don’t think so highly of yourself,” one of them finally broke the awkward silence. “Just because you already conquered the first trial, you’re still not the princess’ equal.”

“How about him being Harald’s chosen,” Arvid asked with a mischievous grin on his face. “Would that make him her equal?”

“Watch your tongue,” another God-marked growled. “Such a claim could get you thrown out of here faster than you could deny it.”

“But what if he...”

“Enough,” the leader of the small group silenced his doubtful companions. “Even if he was Harald’s chosen, he’s still a commoner while Lady Brynhildr is a princess.”

“She was a princess,” the young warrior argued. “We’re not in Valhalla any more, so her title is as empty as my wineskin. It’s only worth anything if she can make it worth something.”

“You...”

“Leave,” Einar stopped the argument with a commanding tone. “Tell her that if she wants something, she can come here herself. I won’t go and you can’t make me without drawing blood, but that will make the gods smite you into ashes. Now leave us!”

The warriors stared at him with an obvious hatred, but they soon turned around and left.