Rick sat as if the safe keeping of the world had been placed heavily upon his shoulders, sitting tensely in the big wooden barrel that was his temporary bath. A bath made ready for him while he’d spoken to Brynjar, the bath made by the young man who had a hard time looking Rick in the eyes. A bath he sat squatting in, eyes closed and head resting on the hard wood behind, trying his hardest not to fall asleep in its warm embrace.

“Does the m-master wish for his ssscrubbing?”

The young man spoke uncertainly, standing a respectful distance behind with his head bowed. Rick shaking his head for the fourth time, feeling unbearably uncomfortable by the repeated question, his way of speaking to him.

“B-but. Master needs to be cleaned”

The young man says, making it even more uncomfortable for Rick. Uncomfortably stiff, forcing Rick into a situation where he is a master. Something he had never wished for, or thought he’d ever be.

Once again, Rick shook his head, firmer, while glancing behind himself. Motioning with one hand over his body whilst scrubbing it over his arm. The young man looking up meekly, seeming to understand the motion, but frowning slightly, like a child uncertain on what to do.

Rick leaned back into the wooden barrel and closed his eyes again, rubbing at them with a tired hand. Tired from being awake too long, tired from talking too long, tired from nerves. Like a chef trying to feed starving soldiers, finding himself worked to the bone without ever getting a break.

“W-why-why…”

The young man starts saying, seeming unsure on exactly what to say, pausing awkwardly with a stammer in his voice. Rick patiently sitting in his bath, quietly waiting for the words to come out.

“A-a.. Why did-“

Words cut off by a knock on the door, the young man quickly standing at salute while the door slowly opened. A head peaking in, bearded and full of braids, staring in and gazing over at the young man, changing to look over at Rick and opening his slightly scarred mouth.

“The champion wishes for you to finish with your cleaning.” The braided-bearded man said to Rick, turning towards the young man with a scowl slowly forming. “Why are you just standing there? Help the toymaker” He spoke harsher, the young man flinching back by the words, quickly fumbling forwards to help Rick out of the barrel.

The bearded-braided man left the two of them to finish up, leaving the door opened. The young man quickly and rather awkwardly toweled Rick dry with something rough feeling, like a tough hide. Rick trying to take away to towel to dry himself, pushed aside by the young mans sudden firmness in his actions, looking determined, if not slightly scared.

Letting him finish, the young man then helped Rick dress himself, doing so quickly before moving towards the door. But before the young man could escape, Rick let a hand drop on his shoulder, forcing the young man to look up and at his face. Giving him a knowing smile and a respectful nod, then patting him again on the shoulder, repeatedly.

The young man blinking in response, staying silent, motionless. Motionless until a clatter of a boot outside was heard, forcing the two back to the present. The young man quickly shuffling outside and away, casting one last shy glance into the bath before going out of view for Rick. Giving Rick a sight of a shy little smile.

Rick followed after, stopped by the braided-bearded man who, upon seeing Rick, spoke up.

“Very good, follow me toymaker.” Saluting swiftly before walking towards Brynjar’s room, away from the young man. Rick cast a last glance back to see if he could spot the young man, not doing so. Shaking his head, Rick followed the bearded-braided man, feeling very soft and, clean. Sniffing discreetly at his arm and smelt the soft fragrance of summer flowers. Making him feel like a soft meadow on a summer’s day. Feeling great, if not for his absolutely wrecked mind, a mind stomped to oblivion with the power of helplessness.

The two of them walked silently through the stony corridors. Brown-robed people walking past with haste in their steps. Doors passed with little differentiating them, making each corner feel like walking in a circle. Walking for what felt like hours, presumably only minutes.

Walking until they came upon the telltale sign of Brynjar’s door, the rune of Perthro making it stand out from all the other doors. But confusingly enough, they walked past it. The braided-bearded man glancing back and noticing Rick’s presumed face of surprise.

“The champion is in the library”

He said with little fanfare, little emotions, little of anything. Rick nodding in response, surprised that this church held a library, logically realizing that of course they had. The amount of power and wealth already displayed, a library wasn’t something to be surprised about anymore, even if such a thing was far from normal.

Soon enough, they came upon a uninteresting double door, guarded by an armoured knight and what appeared to be a receptionist sitting in front of the knight. Sitting by a desk with many books stacked atop, writing on what appeared to be a ledger, looking very focused, hunched over with charcoal in one hand and twiddling with a knife in the other. Seeming to not notice their approach.

The braided-bearded man walked up, stopped and saluted before speaking to the receptionist, whom still seemed unaware of their approach.

“We are here to meet the champion, no books are to be borrowed” The bearded-braided man spoke clearly, standing at salute whilst waiting for a response. A response to be given not by the receptionist, but by the knight whom bent down a little, looking at the receptionist who wrote something down on his ledger before waving his hand in the air. The knight nodding, then standing up again and opening the door, silently.

Before Rick could dwell on the quick exchange, the knight opened the door to reveal what appeared to be an enormous room. Though calling it a room was an understatement. For it was enormous, enormous as in impossible big whilst staying perfectly lit. Lit by candles unseen with a ceiling reaching further up than what should be possible if one looked at the church from the outside. But most impressively, if not slightly terrifyingly, was the amount of books present. Stacks upon stacks of them, placed seemingly everywhere, both lateral and horizontally. Each book within a bookcase, each bookcase stacked both on top and very close to one another, creating miniature corridors that seemed to lead everywhere and to nowhere.

Gawking at the sight, the bearded-braided man walked forward into the chaotically ordered mess of a library, giving Rick something to focus on as to not get lost in the impossibly vast library, following him meekly.

Did you know this story is from Royal Road? Read the official version for free and support the author.

Before long, they made it to what appeared to be a small study, occupied by a single denizen, that being Brynjar who sat alone on a chair with its occupying table. On each side of Brynjar, there were more tables with chairs, but they were all empty.

As they came closer, Brynjar seemed to notice them, waving a gauntlet hand and speaking through his helmeted head.

“Finaly, took you long enough. Come, sit.” He said calmly, patting at the table in front, his other hand holding a finger above an opened book, a book Rick could only dream of what it said. Then Brynjar stopped his patting and turned his head slightly to look at the bearded-braided man.

“Tell the skólastjóri that we are not to be disturbed.”

The bearded-braided man saluted, then nodded quickly and walked away. Rick himself casting an unsure glance after him before sitting down on the bench with his hands underneath his butt, looking at Brynjar a little tiredly. Not too excited about yet another few hours of talking. Talking about his, as Brynjar called it, miracle talent for rune crafting. A weird choice of words considering Rick did not even know what rune crafting was.

“I hope the bath was to your satisfaction? I myself took the time to read up on a few basics about rune crafting, trying to refresh my memory whilst also seeing if I could find anything to, explain, what it is you do.”

Brynjar spoke as the braided-bearded man walked out of view, looking down on the book he was pointing at. Rick following the finger and also looking at the book, even if he didn’t know what he looked at exactly.

“Now, ahem, I know this library isn’t the most secure, but it has resources I could not find in my own study. So please bear with it, I still have a, uncleared question I’d like to ask.”

Rick nodded, still looking down on the book, finding the words or numbers weirdly entrancing to look at. At least more fun to look at than the slightly daunting library they were surrounded by.

“But first, to make sure I haven’t gotten anything wrong, I’ll tell you the- what, I’ve learned so far.”

Rick nodded again, noticing that the book was small for a book. Though if Rick was being honest, he didn’t really know how big a normal book was.

“Okay, to start off. You’ve had this, capability, since a very long time ago. Though exactly how long, I’ve yet to figure out, not weird considering you don’t even know what numbers are.”

Rick nodded, lifting one hand from his rump to lean his chin onto it. Blinking a little tiredly as he stared at the book.

“Now, to make sure I understood it correctly, I’ll tell you the mechanics of how you craft your toys. Okay?”

Rick nodded, blinking a slow blink.

“First, you carve the base as in the toys figure. Then you carve in the rune, to be more exact, the uruz rune. Then you push your lífið into it… And then, it just works. Am I correct?”

Rick nodded, pushing against his hand that was resting against his chin, mushing his face into a silly looking one. Blinking away the haze that came before his eyes.

“And that’s it… That took us over four hours to realise- I mean… for you to tell me… Are you sure that that is all?”

Rick nodded, letting his blink last in darkness a little longer, briefly feeling the darkness embrace his fatigued mind.

“You don’t carve any instructions? You don’t make sure, I don’t know, that it wont explode or anything? You don’t even use any basic rune-formulas?”

Rick nodded, then opened his eyes lazily and quickly shook his head instead, finding his mind a little foggy but clear enough to, eventually, hear and respond to what Brynjar was saying. Brynjar tilting his head a little to the side and asking.

“That’s a no or a yes?”

Rick shook his head.

“Sooo, a “no” that you carve instructions?”

Rick quickly shook his head, then nodded, but shook his head in confusion and then shook it harder.

“Okay okay, let’s take it from the top. You don’t carve instructions into your toys?”

Rick shook his head, breathing out soundlessly and feeling his cheeks warm a little.

“Good, I was worried there that you contradicted your earlier statements.”

Brynjar said, then looked down on the book, pushing a finger alongside the words or numbers. Rick now realizing that it wasn’t just a book, but a journal, or a diary, or something that was Brynjar’s personal belonging. Brynjar quickly looked up from the journal to Rick before Rick could think more of it.

“Now, that’s all well and good. But what I don’t know is how you aren’t dead already”

Rick shook his head and leaned back a little taller on his chair, not as a response but more as a reaction, a reaction of surprise and mild shock, staring at Brynjar in confusion.

“Hmmhmm.. That reaction, explains a few things, though considering you lack of knowledge, I’m not too surprised.”

Rick still stared in confusion, wondering if he should feel offended by Brynjar’s implication.

“What I mean with my statement, is that you lack the basics, the fundamental knowledge about rune crafting. An art that, to those who do not understand it, usually gets themselves into situations where they die. I mean that very, very sincerely. I would not trust a rune crafter who hadn’t, at least, studied the art for more than five years. Though that might just be me.”

Still, Rick stared at Brynjar in confusion, wondering if the words he was speaking were complicated, or if he was just too tired to understand them fully. Brynjar didn’t seem to notice, continuing on with his spiel.

“The basics to ANY runecraft, to crafting anything containing runes, is to first craft the thing, then imprint the rune, then, most importantly, give the rune a directive, a purpose. Without it, the rune is directionless, purposeless, and it can do whatever it wants too once the user gives it lífið. For example, the rune you seem to only use, the uruz rune, can make something explode with unrivaled energy, or create a torrent of endless water, or make something grow grass untill it broke, or something else entirely. Do you understand why your toys make me question, well, everything.”

Rick blinked, blinked several times, sitting still, staring weirdly and a little, frightened at Brynjar. Brynjar’s helmeted head staring back, tapping his gauntlet finger on his journal.

“I have theories though, toymaker. What you do should be impossible, but as a champion, I know a few things related to runes that any normal person, or runemaker, would not know.”

While Brynjar spoke, he slowly pushed himself up on his feet, closing the journal and grabbing it.

“Even if there is so much I don’t know, I’m quite sure you won’t be able to answer them with your, ehm, condition. So I’ll ask this last question, then I’ll leave you and call a servant to take you home.”

Brynjar spoke calmly, without haste, walking around the table towards Rick with the same calm as a prowling wolf seeing a wounded deer. Rick having to turn his head a little awkwardly to follow Brynjar’s slow walk.

Brynjar stopped, standing a breath away from Rick, staring down on him and placing one gauntlet hand on the table, speaking up, slowly.

“Have you spoken to any god, recently or otherwise?”

A question that took Rick off-guard completely. Expecting a weird question, not an impossible one. He shook his head quickly while staring up weirdly, wondering how in nifleheim Brynjar would ever believe such a thing.

Gods were not to be spoken too, only spoken about. The gods only showed themselves to exceptional people, albeit some gods doing so more often than others. And Rick was not that, not even close. So he shook his head, shook it vehemently, almost fervently.

Brynjar staring down silently, staying still whilst Rick shook. Staying still even as Rick stopped shaking. Silent, the two being. An encompassing silence that seemed more silent and pressing within the confines of the huge library. Rick swallowing a bead of saliva, wondering why, why he felt nervous.

Silence broken by a sigh, followed by Brynjar speaking up.

“There is no deceit in your voice or face, darn. That’s rather annoying, for it would explain so many things. Now things will stay complicated. I hate complications, can’t stop thinking about them.”

Brynjar said calmly, sounding a little angered, shaking his head in dismay whilst turning away from Rick. A few seconds of silent thinking passed before Brynjar spoke.

“You can leave, tell the skólastjóri to fetch a servant to lead you home. I’ll call for you tomorrow, I’ll have more questions by then. Now… Now I need to read up on some, things. Maybe call in a few favors.. Hmmhmm.”

Brynjar spoke, both to Rick and to himself, Rick assumed. Still sitting awkwardly, but after a few minutes, realizing that he could simply leave, and did so.

Walking away from the brooding Brynjar, out of the scary library and towards its exit. Breathing out a soundless breath of relief, feeling as if he’d just managed to escape something. Escaped what, Rick could not tell, assuming escape from Brynjar asking questions about the little beast.

A little beast that was still in danger, more so now that Rick knew what it was.

For it was a dragon, and such legends could not survive in a human world.