Chapter 16

“What’s going–erk!”

Ludmila elbowed Ilyshn’ish in the ribs. The Frost-Dragon-turned-Snow-Elf fell silent and turned a tearful look at her, but Ludmila only silently willed her to be quiet. She didn’t elbow her that hard. Dragons were extraordinarily resilient, besides.

Before them, Lady Shalltear stood before Gudrun. From behind, they could not see her expression. Her posture and tone of voice, however, indicated that something of great importance had occurred. The fact that Lady Shalltear had used a charm spell – which was considered a hostile action not just by Humans, but every race that she knew of – turned the situation even more weighty.

Ludmila did not know what imagery the Frost Giants associated with their lore. From the words of the recited segment alone, however, it did at least feel like a loose match. Lady Shalltear appeared before Gudrun as a figure helmed and armoured in blood-red, and her spear gleamed with power. On heaven’s field – which could describe one flying through the sky – was accurate to Lady Shalltear’s capability, and the white wings of her armour lent that impression as well.

“This lore has been kept by our people for centuries,” Gudrun said. “Passed down by Bards and mystics through verbal tradition.”

“How many–actually, sit down,” Lady Shalltear told her. “Looking up at you like this is annoying.”

Gudrun did as Lady Shalltear bid, returning to the makeshift seat of furs from where she had discussed many matters with Ludmila. Lady Shalltear returned to stand between Ludmila and Ilyshn’ish.

“Exactly how long have your people held this lore for?” She asked.

“I…I don’t know,” Gudrun answered. “It is beyond living memory; perhaps right after our people’s arrival on the northern shores of the Azerlisia Mountains. There is nothing to mark the passing of time: only events and the fates of mortals, monsters and the gods. As a Seer, I am responsible for keeping the prophecies handed down to us.”

“Do you at least know who left you with these prophecies?”

“I do,” Gudrun nodded. “In times past, a Valkyrie came to our people. She named herself Skuld: one of the three spinners of fate. During her visit, she not only offered us the future – the prophecies that the Seers keep – but the stories that make up a significant portion of our lore.”

Lady Shalltear’s eyes narrowed at the mention of another Valkyrie. Gudrun faltered, and worry creased her brow.

“Where did this Valkyrie come from?”

“From another place,” Gudrun replied. “Another world. Near the beginning of one of the prophecies, I believe Skuld speaks of herself and her travels.”

“Let’s hear it.”

Gudrun nodded and cleared her throat.

Remember yet | the Jotuns of yore,

Who gave me bread | in days gone by;

Nine worlds I knew, | nine in the tree

With mighty roots | beneath the mould.

“Ridiculous,” Lady Shalltear muttered.

The look on Lady Shalltear’s face matched her incredulous tone. Even her true appearance had an expression of bewildered shock. Gudrun shifted uncomfortably at her reaction.

“H-have I displeased you, Valkyrie?”

“I haven’t figured that out yet. Where did this ‘Skuld’ go?”

“This is unknown,” Gudrun replied. “She stayed with us for a time, until this lore was instilled into our people. When she departed, she left each of the nine tribes with a powerful heirloom to serve as a memento of her visit.”

“So in all this time,” Lady Shalltear said, “you have preserved the lore that this Valkyrie left you with…did she influence your ways, as well?”

“Regarding that, my lady,” Ludmila dared to speak, “I’ve been recording information on their customs and practices for the last few days.”

Lady Shalltear held her hand out to the side. Reaching into her Infinite Haversack, Ludmila produced a stack of notes. After placing it into Lady Shalltear’s hand, she produced another. Her liege frowned.

“This isn’t going to be another monstrous tome like the one from Fassett County, is it?”

“Ah, no, my lady,” Ludmila replied. “It’s just these two.”

With a suspicious look after receiving the two stacks of notes, Lady Shalltear started flipping through the pages. After several minutes, she stopped.

“Hanzos.”

At her word, five Hanzos stepped out of Lady Shalltear’s shadow. They lined themselves up neatly before her.

“Secure the building,” she told them. “You are to heed Lady Zahradnik’s instructions if she issues any to you. Ludmila, keep Gudrun here and ensure that no harm befalls her.”

“Yes, my lady…might I know where you’re going?”

“Back,” Lady Shalltear replied, “this requires further investigation.”

With that, Lady Shalltear teleported away. Ludmila directed four of the Hanzos to keep watch outdoors. The fifth remained in the building with them. Ilyshn’ish plopped herself on the ground.

“W-what was that all about?” She moaned, “I have no idea what’s going on!”

“Something important,” Ludmila told her. “A matter beyond our authority or understanding.”

“You mean you don’t know?” Ilyshn’ish frowned, “Then how can you act like that?”

“Because Lady Shalltear has been entrusted with certain duties by His Majesty, and I have vowed to assist her in those duties. Beyond that, she has my complete trust.”

Ilyshn’ish blinked at her blankly. Now that she understood how Frost Dragons developed trust, Ludmila refrained from attempting to explain further. Instead, she looked across from them to examine Gudrun.

“…are you still charmed?”

“No.”

“I see…I hope you won’t harbour any ill will towards Lady Shalltear. The appearance of another Valkyrie here is a matter of utmost importance.”

“I-Ill will?” Gudrun swallowed, “A Valkyrie is a servant of the gods! How can a lowly Seer like myself even consider such a thing?”

Ludmila felt Ilyshn’ish hiding behind her shoulder again. Gudrun’s heated response gave her pause.

“I’m curious,” Ludmila said. “What does a Valkyrie mean to your people?”

“They are the choosers of the slain.”

“The choosers of the slain?”

Frowning at the strange description, Ludmila wondered if there was some problem with the translation.

“When worthy souls fall in battle,” Gudrun explained, “the Valkyries come to take them up to join our honoured ancestors in the afterlife.”

You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.

“Your people place great emphasis on warfare and honourable conduct,” Ludmila noted. “But not all of your people are warriors. What happens to everyone else?”

“There are places for each sort,” Gudrun replied. “Women who lived and died nobly go to the fair fields near to the halls of our honoured ancestors. Those who toil go to halls of their own. Tarnished, unworthy souls, as well as those who have succumbed to infirmity and age with nothing to their name, fall to Niflheim, the realm of the dead. There, they will languish in the dark and misty valleys, partaking in sickness, hunger, and decrepit suffering for all eternity.”

The Frost Giants’ beliefs weren’t anywhere near the same as her own, but it still had a handful of similarities to her faith. Surshana judged the souls of the dead and granted the faithful eternal peace in his realm. The unworthy were granted eternal despair. She supposed that Demihumans would have even less patience for those who squandered their time and talents.

“When the Valkyrie just now appeared,” Gudrun said, “I was filled with sorrow and joy at the same time. I knew that Sigurd and Brynhild were dead, but they were also chosen…but then the Valkyrie left. Did I do something wrong? You are her servant – is there something you can tell me, Baroness?”

“Baroness,” Ilyshn’ish piped up from the side.

The both of them looked at her.

“Baroness,” Ilyshn’ish told Gudrun, “not Baroness.”

Ludmila furrowed her brow at Ilyshn’ish’s words.

“I see,” Gudrun said. “I wasn’t aware they were different.”

『What are you talking about?』

Ilyshn’ish started when Ludmila cast her voice at her.

“How–”

『Forget that for now, what do you mean by ‘Baroness, not Baroness’?』

The corner of Ilyshn’ish’s mouth twitched.

“Ah, that’s quite funny. Erm…” Ilyshn’ish knelt and started scratching out letters on the ice with a finger, “you’re both using titles that are being translated into roughly equivalent titles that the other party understands. The Frost Giants do not have ‘Barons’, they have ‘Thegns’. They do not have ‘Earls’, they have ‘Jarls’.”

“So I’m a ‘Thegn’?”

“No, you’re a Baroness,” Ilyshn’ish tilted her head. “It’s your Human title, yes? You’re not a Frost Giant. There are no female Thegns, anyway.”

“Now I wonder what else I’ve been hearing wrong.”

Ilyshn’ish’s gaze drifted to Gudrun.

“A few things, probably. Volkhv is probably coming out as ‘Seer’ or ‘Shaman’ for you.”

“Volkhv…I know what that is, though.”

“What?”

In response to Ilyshn’ish’s confused reply, Ludmila knelt down beside her and lightly traced out the word.

“No,” Ilyshn’ish shook her head and wrote out a word beside it. ‘Völva’ is what Frost Giants call their Seers. I have no idea what it is that you just wrote.”

“I see…”

“You hear, you mean?”

Ludmila raised her hand.

“Wah!” Ilyshn’ish flinched away, “Don’t hit me! It actually hurts when you hit me.”

“How could that be?” Ludmila scoffed, “You’re blowing things out of proportion.”

“I’m not! Even an Adventurer hitting me on the nose with a sword didn’t do anything, but it hurt when you elbowed me just now…”

Ludmila poked her elbow out, and Ilyshn’ish reflexively jumped away. Maybe she was telling the truth.

“Well I’m sorry if I hurt you,” Ludmila said. “Are you alright?”

“Of course I’m alright,” Ilyshn’ish replied. “I regenerate, after all.”

Ludmila itched to hit her. She resettled herself, then turned to Gudrun with an apologetic smile.

“Please forgive the interruption,” Ludmila said. “I don’t believe you’ve done anything wrong. It should be as Lady Shalltear mentioned – she went to investigate the appearance of this other Valkyrie. She left the Hanzos to guard this place, and she will return when she has completed her task.”

“Is that so?” Relief flooded Gudrun’s face, “I was truly worried. I thought perhaps they had been judged unworthy.”

Could Valkyries really do as Gudrun said? Ludmila believed herself close to Lady Shalltear when it came to their relationship as vassal and liege, but she knew very little about her when it came to her true powers or her origin. Many beings appeared as gods to the peoples of the world – the Six Great Gods were counted among these beings – and existed alongside mortals for a time. It was not something that could be disputed; evidence of their existence abounded and Divine magic was granted through their worship.

Though they were not Ludmila’s gods, the Sorcerer King and his most powerful servants may very well be gods. A few of the Demihuman tribes already worshipped the Sorcerer King as one.

“How are worthy deaths counted in your traditions?” Ludmila asked, “For instance, my family – including all of my ancestors – died fulfilling their duties either in war or defence of the border. Border lords do not live to see old age, but we hold great pride in the legacy of our Houses. Their example is a beacon for me to follow, and I strive to do honour to their memory. Surshana – our god of death – welcomes worthy souls such as theirs to dwell peacefully in his blessed realm.”

“Hm…our ways are similar,” Gudrun pondered her words, “yet different at the same time. You should regale us with the tale of your battle against Sigurd and his warband, and I will tell you which deaths were worthy.”

Could she do that? Ludmila couldn’t remember anything that happened after the avalanche had overwhelmed them, and she wasn’t sure if anything was missing before that. Then there was Ishpen’s criticism about her being absolutely terrible at spinning exciting tales…

“I am unaccustomed to doing so,” Ludmila said carefully, “but believe that I can at least relate what happened.”

“Excellent,” Gudrun’s pale blue eyes gleamed and she rubbed her hands together with a relish. “Usually, our warriors cannot wait to boast of their exploits, but you are the exact opposite of this.”

The Giant leaned over to fish out a whole Nuk carcass out of a nearby satchel. She broke off a metre-long chunk and tossed it over to Ilyshn’ish. It must have been twice her weight, but she lightly caught it with sparkling eyes. Gudrun looked at Ludmila with a question on her face, but Ludmila held out a hand in polite refusal.

Crunching sounds filled the air as the two munched on the frozen-solid meat. How did their teeth not break?

Ludmila stepped out to the side between them, trying to piece together her memories of the battle into a coherent tale. She started from the beginning of that day, with the expedition’s Rangers being dispatched as sentries for the survey. When she reached the part where Sigurd’s warband appeared with the storm at their backs, Gudrun leaned forward.

“Humans cannot see through violent storms like Frost Giants appear to be able to,” Ludmila said, “so I waited out of sight behind a large boulder to avoid being struck down at range from an unseen opponent. That was where I encountered the first of Sigurd’s band.”

“What was their name?” Gudrun asked.

“He appeared suddenly,” Ludmila answered. “His boot came down right beside me with no warning, so I believe he was a hunter. I thought he might reach down and swat me like so many of the Undead across the ice, so I drew my weapon and sheared his leg off at the ankle. He roared as he fell forward, and I finished him off before he could alert anyone else to my presence.”

“A fight between hunters,” Gudrun mused. “They are usually decided at range, but it is not unheard of to end this way. An acceptable death, I believe.”

The way she simply analyzed the account without any anger or resentment at the death of someone who was at least an acquaintance made Ludmila feel that even her own reactions to loss were soft by comparison. No, it was probably the wrong way to read it: in place of mourning – or perhaps as a form of mourning – these people celebrated those who fell. In a strange way, they were just like her, but she had no one to share the passing of her people with in that manner.

“I moved down the slope to the next suitable piece of cover,” Ludmila continued, “but the next Giant – a warrior – was either not fooled or cautious of what felled the hunter before him. He used his axe to split the boulder I was sheltering behind, and mentioned something about my previous opponent being his brother.”

“Ah,” Gudrun nodded, “I know who they are now. The warrior was as cautious as his brother was heedless, so it makes sense that he would suspect someone lying in wait nearby. What happened then?”

“I kept my distance, firing arrows to hobble his movement. The fight, at that point, had drawn the attention of the swarms of Undead nearby. I managed to get behind him and lunged forward, severing his tendons at the heel. He fell onto his knees, continuing to destroy the Undead that attacked him…and that’s when Sigurd and Brynhild arrived.”

Gudrun swallowed and set down her Nuk, and even Ilyshn’ish appeared to be giving Ludmila her full attention.

“Brynhild threw a boulder, and she prevented me from choosing a new place of battle. Sigurd…he seemed impervious to my arrows: even ones that would light my foes aflame did nothing to him…”

“That would be the work of his Frostreaver,” Gudrun said. “It can be used to render even powerful spells of fire impotent. Those who wield this weapon are the bane of magic casters. Even as they wonder why their magic fails, they are cut down.”

The enchantment sounded extraordinarily useful for the forces that she planned on training in the future. It seemed that the Frost Giants already had something unique to trade should they enter into some sort of amicable relationship with the Sorcerous Kingdom.

“I continued to keep my distance for a while,” Ludmila continued, “trying to figure out how I could get past his Frostreaver. In the end, I took three concussion arrows – arrows that create a shockwave when they rupture – and released them towards the ice above. After that, we were fighting the mountain itself. Our resistance went on for a while, but, in the end, the mountain took us all. When I next woke, I was buried under Sigurd.”

Silence fell as Ludmila concluded her account…until Ilyshn’ish resumed eating her Nuk. Ludmila and Gudrun both looked at her as the noisy sound of her munching filled the air.

“What?” She said between bites.

Ludmila shook her head. She glanced back up towards Gudrun, wondering how she felt about her tale.

“You are a huntress,” Gudrun said after several long moments, “the way that you fight speaks plainly of this. Considering it was against four in such a short period, there would be little doubt over how impressive your feats were. If not for Sigurd and Brynhild’s arrival, you would have most likely prevailed over your second opponent.”

“And what about Sigurd and Brynhild?”

Gudrun frowned, staring down at the ground between them with a troubled expression shadowing her handsome features.

“By the measures of your people, theirs would be a meaningful death: they were there to drive threats away from our territory, and in doing so, fell. By the measures of mine…I don’t know.”