The thing Einar found strange was that the description of ‘Draconic Pride’ felt incomplete. Since nothing else appeared on the stone slab, he touched the third figurine. As his fingers brushed against the small stone statuette that showed a book with a sword on it, new flames flared up on the stone wall, changing the words on it.
{Skills}
{Bare-handed}
{One’s arms and legs can be mighty weapons if one knows how to use them. Each rank gained in the mastery of bare-handed fighting shall lower the effort it takes by 0.25 %. Every fifth rank increases the harm you cause by 1. Every tenth rank grants a minor perk. Every twenty-fifth rank allows you to choose a specialization.}
{Rank: 23 (beginner)}
{Progression: 12/30}
{Fortitude reduction: 5.75%}
{Harm addition: 4}
{Perks: firm grasp, firm stance}
{Reading}
{Spoken words vanish, but the written ones stay behind. You can read writings in the common language. Each rank increases the fluidness of your reading.}
{Rank: 1(beginner)}
{Progression: 17/20}
{Writing}
{Spoken words vanish, but the written ones stay behind. You can write in the common language. Each rank increases your writing speed and the readability of your handwriting.}
{Rank: 1 (beginner)}
{Rank progression: 14/20}
The young giant had to admit that he wasn’t a scholarly type, but it felt somewhat humiliating to see how low his skill in reading and writing was deemed. His only other skill recorded was about fighting without weapons and even that was deemed to be on the level of a beginner. For some reason, he knew that if he did things that would require some kind of a skill, those would be recorded here. With nothing else to look at, he tried to will the words on the stone to change, which showed lacklustre results. Only a few symbols appeared on the top of the stone slab, leaving the rest of it empty.
{Rituals and spells}
With nothing to see, he turned his gaze toward the small statue. The last figurine that depicted a warrior with its foot on the corpse of its fallen enemy made the altar reveal a new set of symbols with an obvious meaning.
{Bestiary}
{Black bear}
Charm:5-6
Deftness: 10-12
Divinity: 0
Grit: 11-13
Heart; 14-16
Luck: 10-11
Might: 15-18
Mind: 4-7
Soul: 5-7
It showed him a drawing of the beast he killed along with a short note on the range its attributes could take. With all four of the figurines checked, the young seeker decided to look around a bit in this strange place. As he walked around the altar, he found a neatly carved small wooden chest behind it with several rolled-up sheep skins inside. ‘These must be the star charts.’ He said to himself as he picked up one of them to check.
It depicted a simple drawing of what he believed to be a dragon. Fiddling around with the scrolls he felt a shard of knowledge run through his mind, telling him that it would take three thousand valour for him to use one of the lesser star charts while it would cost him four thousand to activate his ancestral stars. After putting it back, Einar continued to look around, but he found nothing else. The youth sat back down and closed his eyes, trying to leave the way he got there. When he next opened his eyes, he was back at the shrine of the village.
“I see you made it back,” Helga greeted him. “And quite fast as well.”
“Those figurines and the...”
“Time and experience will answer your questions,” the priestess cut into his words. “I’m only allowed to help you with your first steps. Now come! The gods seem to have decided on what to bestow upon you.”
Einar let out a dejected sigh as he stood back up, turning toward the altar where the furious fire was fast receding, a wide assortment of items appearing from beneath the flames.
“These...”
“They are yours and yours alone,” Helga waved him closer. “Don your arms and armour. Let the people at the feast see the seeker born on our island in all his might!”
The young giant stepped beside the altar, his fingers running across the surface of his new kit. He gazed at the chest piece that seemed to have been made of boiled leather with a pair of pauldrons. It had a large, layered and riveted piece that would protect him all the way down to the bottom of his ribcage and his side with the part at the stomach made to resemble scales.
There was a thick leather girdle-like piece with a belt going through it with a layered leather tasset. Both the bracers and greaves were made out of leather that was reinforced with iron plates or splints. Grey fur poked out from beneath the breastplate here and there with chain mail beneath the armpits, suggesting that it would be able to keep him warm and protected.
A small black fur mantle came with the armour that fit him well, sticking to his armour and back as if held there by invisible hands. The boots looked simple and the gloves only protected the first finger joints, but he still looked intimidating once he put all of these on. Strangely enough, he found no helmet amongst the armour pieces.
Beneath the armour was a medium-sized leather belt pouch with a serpent carved on its front, forming a circle as it bit into its own tail. When Einar grabbed it, his eyes glazed over as a dark and empty room appeared in front of his vision.
“Breathe,” he heard Helga’s voice as a gentle hand grabbed his shoulder. “It seems the Gods looked favourably upon your offerings if they decided to grant you such a treasure. Now close your mind away from what you see.”
As if guided by her voice, the young seeker’s vision shifted back into the real world he stood in.
“What is this?” He asked from the priestess as he held the pouch towards her.
“It has many names, but most would call it a ‘World Eater’ pouch. As you have felt first-hand, it has an enormous inner space. It will only ever hold what you decide to place there and only you can reach into it. Always keep it on you.”
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“How do I use it?”
“Like you would use any pouch. Open it to place and retrieve items from it.”
Einar nodded as he put the pouch on the left side of his belt before looking at the weapons lying on the altar. A sheathed seax knife and a pair of short-handled axes met his gaze first. The axes had long bearded edges on one side with a thumb-sized and slightly downward bent spike on the other one. Once the knife found a place on his belt and he put the axes in his ‘world eater’ pouch, the seeker looked at the last of his boons.
A sheathed blade lay before him unlike any he had ever seen before. It was slightly shorter than his forearm, but just as wide as his palm. It had a simple-looking leather sheath, along with a hilt similar to the foreign sword he once saw in the local blacksmith’s shop. Unlike the short and stocky hilts he was used to seeing, this one had a thumb-long cross guard with a handle that could be held in two hands.
The grip was covered with a dark red leather strip. Both the ends of the cross guards and the pommel were made to look like roughly carved dragon heads with their mouths slightly open. Einar kept looking at the weapon with his eyebrows raised as the priestess urged him on.
“Go ahead,” she said. “Unsheathe it!”
The seeker finally stepped forward, grabbing the sheath with his left hand while the hilt with his right. He pulled at it, drawing it free in one long motion as he felt the weight in his hand increase. Much to his surprise, he drew out a nearly four-foot-long sword of the small sheath that was as wide as his palm. It was roughly hammered, dotted with small rusty spots at places, but it was still an imposing weapon.
“A fine blade,” Helga spoke as she stepped away from the shrine. “It will serve you well in the future. For now, you should get going. The feast is about to start.”
“Will you join us as well?” The seeker asked as he slid the giant sword back into the small sheath that swallowed it back without any sign of straining.
“Later,” the priestess nodded. “I still have matters to attend to.”
“See you later then,” Einar said goodbye while putting the sword’s sheath on his belt. “And thank you!”
The well-walked path through the village felt different from earlier. The colours and shapes felt sharper than before and so did the smells and sounds. Einar revelled in the new sensations as he hurried along the torch-lit cobblestone path towards the village’s main longhouse that served as the location of the feast. Loud laughter and music could be heard even from a distance, becoming louder with every step he took. A pair of guards sat outside with mugs of mead in one hand, and roasted meat in the other.
“Halt,” one of them spoke as he noticed a giant figure approaching them, but he soon became more surprised than wary. “Einar; is that you lad?”
“Surprised?” He asked with a smirk.
“Damn, lad! You look even more terrifying than your father now.”
“I’m sure he’ll be glad to hear that.”
The giant youth opened the door after nodding at the guards and bent down so that he could get through the doorway. The inside of the longhouse was filled to the brim with merrily drinking and eating people, not leaving a step of free space to move about. As he entered, the seeker could only take a step or two before being discovered. The music died down as everyone turned towards him, those beside him backing away. After a moment of awkward silence, one of the warriors raised his drinking horn while roaring.
“Einar the seeker!” The man yelled with the rest of the crowd following his example.
Everyone tried to get near the youth to pat him on the back and congratulate him as he was led to the main table where the rest of the God-marked sat as a sign of their importance in the celebration.
“Took you long enough,” Gunnar grumbled as the youth sat down. “We started to think you’ll keep Helga at the shrine all night.”
“It’s not that easy to keep me against my will.” A familiar voice resounded as the priestess appeared from the crowd, taking her seat at the main table.
“So it would seem,” the jarl nodded. “Now that all of the God-marked are present, the celebration can truly begin.”
Everyone in the longhouse raised their tankards and drinking horns as they cheered.
“But before that,” Gunnar waved them silent. “A messenger bird arrived a few hours ago. It brought news that concern everyone present. One of the king’s ships is on its way here and it should arrive in five days. Four, if the weather favours them. Although I don’t know the reason for this, but the message was clear. They asked us to present all of the younger God-marked.”
Silence reigned in the longhouse after the announcement as everyone kept staring at the nearly dozen people at the great table.
“Are they planning a new raid on the eastern isles?” One of the warriors asked after a minute of heavy silence.
“I don’t know,” the jarl admitted. “But even if they do, we can’t deny the king’s order.”
“Guessing about the future will only darken the present,” Helga spoke up, earning everyone’s attention. “Today we celebrate. Let’s leave the worrying for tomorrow.”
Her words rang true and the people agreed with her sentiment as the music returned to the longhouse. Tankards got filled and laughter resounded once again.
“Celebrate lightly,” Einar heard Helga’s voice in his head. “The king’s envoy never comes without good reason.”
The young seeker looked at the other end of the long table where his eyes met with the priestess’ gaze as her lips quivered.
“I have a task for you and with it, an opportunity. Meet me near the forest at the edge of the village tomorrow just before sunrise. Bring at least three day’s worth of food with you. Do you understand?”
He nodded without a word, earning a smile from the priestess before she continued.
“Good. The task will be dangerous, so prepare well. Now eat. There’s plenty to taste and enjoy. You’ll have to say no to young Kari’s charms though. You’ll need all of your strength for what lies ahead of you.”
With that, Helga stood up, whispering something to Gunnar before she left the longhouse. Einar had no time to wonder about the mysterious task as a soft voice called out to him.
“Congratulations,” Kari spoke with a charming smile. “Your mother said you changed after receiving a calling from the gods, but I never thought you would be so....”
“Weird?” Einar asked as he accepted the mug of honey mead she offered.
“Pretty,” she muttered as her face flushed red. “I wanted to say pretty. Your eyes and hair look so strange yet beautiful.”
“Him, pretty?” A mocking voice cut into their talk as Ingrid walked closer, her brother in tow. “He became an even bigger oaf than he was before, not to mention those creepy eyes.”
“At least he didn’t become stupider than before, unlike a certain someone,” One of the older God-marked said at the end of the table. “You already tempted fate once. Don’t push it, Ingrid.”
“It’s different now,” she straightened her stance. “I’m a shield-maiden now and Haftor is a reaver.”
“We are true God-marked warriors,” Ingrid’s brother puffed his chest with pride. “What is he; a seeker? That’s nothing but a glorified scout.”
“Seekers are not glorified scouts,” Gunnar spoke with a heavy tone that made his offsprings shudder. “They are knowledge and treasure hunters that often serve as either the king’s or the gods’ hunting wolves and executioners. The envoy sailing here with the high king’s orders is also a seeker.”
Gunnar’s words made both Haftor and Ingrid swallow hard. They looked at their father and then Einar before the jarl spoke up once again.
“Sit down on your arses and don’t utter another word tonight. I already had to pay a small sack of silver for the foolish feat you two pulled yesterday. I’m not going to pay a second time. As for you Einar; you ought to get going. Helga told you to rest, so rest!”
The giant youth nodded before drinking out the honey mead from his tankard and turning towards the door.