By the time everything was done, Einar was left with weapons tinted in a soft blue hue, along with armour with bluish metal fittings and plates, and its leather parts becoming a bit darker as well.

“Now that I’m done refining your kit, I just need to pour the Zubralt into a mould for you.” She said, grabbing the crucible with her bare hands once again, putting it down on an anvil for a moment to scrape some slag off the top before pouring out the liquid metal.

It ended up needing two small moulds, the young woman holding her opened palms toward the red-hot ingots after putting away the crucible. Einar watched as the ingots quickly lost their bright colour, heat flowing through the air toward Rúna’s fingers. Soon the ingots cooled down completely, prompting her to free them from the moulds. She scraped the surface of the first one with a file, nodding slowly as she watched the result of her work.

“They turned out to be a better quality than I expected. Now, about my payment.”

“Right.” The giant hummed as he began to reach for his coin pouch, but the woman stopped him.

“Normally, I would ask for about twenty gold...”

“Twenty gold?” Einar asked back, his eyes almost falling out of their sockets from the shock.

“You’ve seen it yourself that working on God-blessed arms and armour isn’t the same as your ordinary smithing work. Only two people can do it in the entire capital and I’m one of them, so... yes. Twenty gold is even on the lower end. But, as I wanted to say, you can also pay with one of these.” She said while holding up the small reddish-hued ingot in front of him.

“The Zubralt ingot?”

“As I said, it’s one of the best mortal metals to use for mystical tools and talismans and it’s also quite hard to come by around here. The other one should be more than enough for you to get a talisman crafted. Or you could just pay in coins.”

“I’m not that wealthy,” Einar sighed as he reached for the other piece of refined Zubralt. “Fine. Keep the ingot.”

“Thanks,” Rúna said with a cheerful smile. “I was starting to get worried that I would have to sail out toward the Torn Serpent Isles without a proper talisman, but now I can ask Lady Hrefna to make me one.”

“The isle of the gods? You’re coming as well?” The young giant looked at her slightly surprised.

“Of course I am,” she replied, patting her forge apron-covered chest. “If it wasn’t obvious by now, I’m a God-marked as well. I’ve also only recently turned twenty-one, so I fit the age requirement as well.”

“At least I’ll know whom to ask when I need to further strengthen my equipment.”

“That’s right,” Rúna nodded as they left her workshop. “Looking forward to working with you Einar. You’re a lot nicer than Fólki and Herleif.”

“And those are?”

“Your cousins, I guess,” she shrugged. “Both God-marked and arrogant idiots to boot, but you’ll meet them soon enough. And anyway, what are you going to do now?”

“I plan on visiting this... Lady Hrefna about the talisman and a woman called Yngvildr for some...”

“No,” Rúna stopped him in his tracks. “Don’t waste your time with Yngvildr.”

“Why not? I’ve heard she can do tattoos and...”

“It won’t work on you,” she remarked. “It only works on pure-blooded humans. No one with an awakened non-human bloodline can have man-made tattoos. Your body would think of it as a poison and reject it.”

“But...”

“Just trust me on this one,” she said with a slight shudder. “I didn’t believe it either at first when my father told me about it and went to get one. The result was... unpleasant.”

“I see. But then how are we going to contend with those that have one?”

“Have you ever heard of the trial grounds, or proving grounds as some call it?”

“You mean the arenas where you prove yourself to the gods by overcoming some challenge? I did one back home. I had to fight nine waves of enemies.” Einar recalled his battle in the destroyed village.

“You usually get a bloodline-related tattoo the moment you finish your ritual of paths and awaken your bloodline, but getting more can be troublesome. The man-made ritual tattoos are meant to mimic ours and bestow minor blessings on their owner. My father told me that someone with an awakened bloodline can only gain tattoos by strengthening their bloodline or surviving on the proving grounds.” Rúna explained.

“I did get a scale-shaped tattoo, but I don’t know what it does,” the young giant admitted. Helga didn’t explain it and there was no record of it in my inner realm.”

“Scales are usually meant for defence, so yours should have a similar purpose.”

“Draconic hide,” Einar thought aloud. “I remember it saying something about damage resistance, although I thought it was part of my bloodline inheritance like the fire and frost resistance but...”

“No,” the young woman argued. “If someone awakens an element-related bloodline like us, the first bloodline feat they receive is usually a slight resistance to that element. Having a resistance to getting hurt sounds like a blessing granted by a tattoo. The one I awakened was the tattoo of the forge and, well... you’ve already seen what I can do with it.”

“I guess you lucked out.” He sighed, but the woman just rolled her eyes.

“You received a blessing that would help you in battle. Mine was meant to help me craft things. All awakened tattoos are meant to fit their bearer and can grow in strength. Who knows? Maybe you’ll become impervious to mortal weapons soon enough.”

“That could be useful against other God-marked early on.”

“Anyway, you should get going if you want that talisman. Lady Hrefna is a busy woman. Oh, and by the way. Wolfhold has a proving ground too. Just ask about it from any guardsman and they will point you in the right direction. See you at the feast?”

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“Hopefully.” Einar remarked as he left, his mind still heavy with the new knowledge he gained.

Why didn’t Helga tell him anything? He felt like a fool asking about every little thing that seemed to be common knowledge among the other God-marked. Or at least, the ones in the capital. He remembered how the others from Bear-rock Island and the people who joined them from the other two villages along the way seemed to be just as clueless as he was.

As for the older God-marked like Thorwald, they just kept saying that the young ones would figure things out with time. Still, Einar was glad that he found out about these things early on. Wolfhold was big, but thanks to the guards he asked while walking, the seeker made his way to a place that reminded him a bit of Helga’s shrine. The front area of the stone-walled building had two large granite slabs placed on both sides of the entrance, faintly glowing runes covering them.

There was a sign above the door, marking it as a shop of sorts, although the smell of incense that struck him upon entering told otherwise. Two women stood behind the counter, dressed in clothes one would expect to see on a seeress. Charms and jewellery of many shapes and materials hung from the wall behind them or were placed on neatly carved wooden cabinet shelves. He could see people trying to pick the right talisman for themselves, some discretely asking for a chance to meet Lady Hrefna if possible. When it was finally his turn to step up to the counter, the woman on the left called out to him.

“Welcome to Seeress Hrefna’s Talisman Emporium,” she said with a somewhat dull tone, the word ‘emporium’ rolling off her tongue with a clear distaste. “What kind of blessing do you seek to carry with you?”

“I came to meet with Lad Hrefna.”

“So does everyone else.” The other trader scoffed.

“Rúna Fireforge suggested I’d seek her out to get a talisman made out of this.” Einar explained with a steadily growing annoyance towards the two as he put the small Zubralt ingot on the counter with a bit more force than he should have.

The two shuddered at the sound of the ingot being pressed into the hardwood counter by his fingers, but their eyes soon turned wide as they seemingly recognised the red-hued metal.

“I’ll go and see if she’s available.” The woman on the left squeaked before scurrying away with hasted steps.

What followed was a minute of awkward silence as the other merchant didn’t dare to say a word or look the young giant in the eyes, the people behind him also standing quietly as only the bravest among them dared to peek at the Zubralt ingot from behind his left side. Soon, a woman came out from behind the door where the first shopkeeper disappeared, her eyes glued not onto the precious metal, but at Einar.

“A God-marked of fire and ice,” she said, her face filled with a morose surprise. “I didn’t expect Björn Arnessen’s runt to show up on my doorstep, let alone with such a thing in hand. Come, lad. Let’s not waste each other’s time.”

Everyone stood there, frozen in silence as the seeress ushered in the youth, the two disappearing into the back of the shop. Einar was led through a narrow hallway that opened into what we could only describe as the mixture of a shrine and a workshop. The smell of incense hung heavy in the air, along with the scent of bone, leather, metal and wood. Hrefna walked over to a work table made of thick wood which was covered with tools and the remains of materials she likely used to craft her talismans. She pointed at a sturdy-looking chair while sitting down on a smaller one herself.

“Tell me,” she finally broke the silence. “How is your mother?”

“Mother,” the youth looked at her somewhat surprised. “She’s doing fine. Or at least, she seemed to be, although she was hiding her grief.”

“Yes,” the woman nodded. “I guess she took hard having to let you go. Astrid was always a kind and caring woman. Always quiet and docile. That’s why everyone was surprised when she decided to elope with your father instead of marrying King Baldr as her clan decided. And what about your father? Is the famous dragon hunter still as hotheaded as he was in his youth?”

“Not really,” he shook his head. “He acted quite responsible most of the time when I was around, although he could still anger mother with his antics.”

“I can imagine. Now, let me have a look at you.”

As she said that, Hrefna’s grey eyes began to glow softly. She stared at Einar for a few moments before letting out a deep sigh.

“I can hardly believe that someone could awaken two bloodlines so opposite of each other, but here you are. Your father’s deed of drinking from that dragon’s blood came to you as a blessing. Still, you will need more than that if you want to have a chance of surviving on the Torn Serpent Isles.”

“Is it that bad there?” Einar asked, recalling how most people spoke of the isles of the gods with veneration while others with dread.

“I’m sure they’ve already told you how King Baldr’s seeresses had the same vision, making them proclaim the whole God-marked gathering and all. While I’m sure he will tell you more about it, do not let his gilded words fool you. The Torn Serpent is full of beasts of myths and horrors best left unspoken. You will need every bit of ruthlessness, strength and wit you can muster if you want to survive.”

Her words painted a dark picture in Einar’s mind as he slowly began to understand that the glorious adventure they were being called upon might just cut his new life short.

“I see you’ve been lucky enough to come across some good materials to further refine the junk the gods so kindly ‘bestowed’ upon you. A clear proof that young Rúna is getting better at her craft. But you’ll need more than leather and steel. You’ll need magic. That’s where I come in.”

Here, the woman reached out to take the near palm-sized Zubralt ingot away from him.

“You might not feel it yet, but your soul is stronger than that of other mortals. All God-marked’s is. This... spiritual power flows through our world and you as well. I know what you must be thinking. You are a warrior, not a shaman or some such. Why would you want to learn the mystic arts? You will have to because sooner or later, your life will depend on it.”

“But I don’t know anything about rituals or spells.” Einar argued.

“Few people do,” she remarked while examining the small Zubralt ingot. “One needs to have a strong soul and a lot of effort goes into the use of rituals. For God-marked like you, it’s best to have a totem or a talisman that could channel your power for you. Your first talisman is of grave importance. It will bestow upon you a power to even out your weakness. Now think. What is it that you believe you’re lacking?”

“I’m not sure,” he admitted. “I have good armour, a fine sword and axes. But... I don’t have a way to defend myself against attacks or to hit distant enemies.”

“Good,” Hrefna nodded as she listened. “That’s a good start. I can help with those in more ways than one. However, the first solution to your ranged combat problem would only reach a spear throw distance. If you want a true long-range weapon, I would need to create a new god-blessed weapon for you.”

“You can do that?” The young giant looked at her surprised.

“Of course, I can, she said with unbridled pride. Both Magni Fireforge and I are capable of it, although he only works with melee weapons and armour. I, however, can create a bow for you. If you can get me some fine wood.”

“I don’t have much left after visiting the smithy,” Einar sighed as he began to pull out different sorts of materials from his world eater pouch. “I have a leftover ingot of Abralt steel and ebony wood from an Eastern trading ship, a long branch of Ash wood from back home, some linen and silk and...”

“That’s more than enough,” Hrefna stopped him. “That Ash wood branch is glowing with spiritual energy.”

“I got it from our seeress, Helga. She said that it could come in handy one day.”

“A wise woman that one,” the talisman crafter hummed. “It will serve well as the limbs. As for the ebony, that should be the core. A piece of silk should also be used for the bow and I’ll add some other pieces for you. As for your talisman, a pair of bracelets should be fine. They should fit well under your gloves and bracers.”

She explained her plans, the woman picked up the materials she named and brought them over to another table.

“Now go,” she said. “I need an hour or two alone. I’m sure you can find a way to spend your time until then.”