Singer Sailor Merchant Mage

“It takes courage to grow up and become who you really are.”

E.E. Cummings

Dinner was a pleasant affair. We could eat a selection of foods rather than sticking to the simple fare we had subsisted on as we trekked across the endless ice. There still was not as much variety as I had become accustomed to on Wester Ponente, but I was passing as a half-blood bastard. I could hardly complain if it were not up to my Lordly standards.

“Enjoying the food?” Erik asked, interrupting my contemplation.

“Yes, it’s fantastic.” Especially the fact that with the cooking and spices, I could no longer tell which type of ice insect beast I was devouring. It all tasted delicious. “Where’s Bjorn?”

“Probably still reporting. The spoils had to be handed over to the process workers before he could go and report to the Thorpe’s Leader.”

“Who exactly is the leader?” I asked.

“The Chief Vievisier.” He repeated what Namir had told me but failed to add any more detail.

“A stone wizard?” I asked.

“In the common tongue, yes. Though I wouldn’t call that to his face.” He cautioned. “Here they come now.”

“Bjorn?” I asked, turning to see him approaching with another giant who dwarfed him. “Is that the Chief Vievisier?” Seeing him walking with a stone staff the height of a giraffe made it not too difficult to guess. It was a miracle the staff did not collapse in on itself. Maybe it had a metal core. It was a mini monolith covered in glyphs, yet he easily hefted it around. Planting it on the ground with every other step. It was difficult to tell if it produced any vibrations of its own compared to the giant it accompanied. They approached the restaurant we were eating at, looking for us and heading straight toward our table.

We rose to meet them. But I should have stood on the table to get closer, considering how they towered over us. Even if I had, he would still have looked down at Namir and me. I wondered if they noticed half of what happened down around their feet. It was like we were children running around their legs, and I couldn't say I liked it. It felt like I had only just stopped running around people's ankles, and here I was doing it again, even if it was a different species this time.

“Welcome to Kaldr Travellers. I am Volur, the Chieftan of this Thorpe. Bjorn talks highly of your contributions to the hunt. Productive passersby are always welcome to stay as long as they want.” His voice boomed as he gave a sweeping gesture covering the entirety of the Thorpe. His pitch was even deeper and rumbling than Bjorn's.

“Thank you, Chief, for the warm welcome,” Namir replied carefully. “However, we only hope to reprovision before heading south for warmer climates where we are welcome.”

“You are welcome here. There is no bad history with half-bloods here. Bjorn, Varvara (Erik’s mother), and Erik are testaments to that. Besides, Bjorn speaks well of your sensory skills. I am sure we could help provision you for a couple of patrols clearing out the pests from the local area.” He appeared to agree with our plans.

“We would be happy to help.” Namir politely agreed. Possibly the only way to talk to a being that towered so high above you that he could literally step on you if he so desired.

“Perhaps a patrol in each cardinal direction to ensure we have not missed anything.” He raised a hand, stopping Namir before he could begin. “You would not need to go anywhere near as far as the last patrol. Merely ensure the local areas are safe and secure.”

He then turned to focus on me. I felt his attention weigh heavily on me. It was difficult not to when I had to crane my neck to look up at him. He seemed to be confused at first as he stared down at me as if puzzled by how small my stature was for what were surely some tall tales told by Bjorn. Although Ding! Enigma (Lv2) highlighted a different issue he might be having with me. I frowned in return, keeping the smirk inside for once; I did not want to be stepped upon. Angering him would gain me nothing and I had apparently already managed to keep my status hidden or so I hoped.

He moved on from his confusion; even if he lacked confirmation from his inspection, he still had the report about our arrival and travels with Bjorn. “I hear you can also hunt using magic, but beyond that, you can also heal to some extent. I’m sure a few of us giants would appreciate a touch from someone so blessed by the Lodestar if you would be so kind. We do not often leave the Thorpe for healing; we tend to stand out among the cities of man. Furthermore, we are a little too far north for the human Church of the Lodestar, but still, we recognise the Lodestar’s importance to all of the Noble races and defend ours responsibly as the Churches tenets teach.” He seemed convinced that I was perhaps more religious than I was or that I had been taught by the church my healing skills.

Not that he was wrong. Healing had not existed on our isle until Bishop Bailie arrived. “Are many injured?” I asked, not noticing any significant wounds on our walk to the restaurant.

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“Defending the northern borders and the heart of our Thorpe is not without its risks. I doubt that there is a hunter or warrior without some scar to remind them of past battles or the mistakes they made in them. We care for them as best we can, but some wounds linger worse than others. If mana is an issue, for one so young. . .” He paused here as if expecting me to boast of my age, but when I did not, he continued, “. . . I or my apprentices would be happy to help out with the mana drain to help our people.”

“I would be happy to help heal those who need it for suitable supplies to travel south.” I respectfully replied. While keen to gain as much for what was a highly rare and desirable skill and service for his people.

“Between the hunting and healing, you’ll earn more than you can carry.” He cautioned against my avariciousness. Little did he know just how much we might be able to carry with us.

I was already plotting our escape south once we had sufficient resources to survive the journey. In the light of the Wyrm attacks, speed would be our ally. If we could pass through their territories without them noticing or before they could react, that would be best rather than battling our way ever onward.

“Thank you for your kind offers.” Namir redirected his attention to him. “We look forward to taking you up on them once we are settled in.”

“Wonderful, wonderful. Find Bjorn when you are ready to go on a local patrol, Namir, or me if you require mana for healing Kai. I will leave you to your meal.” Were his parting words to us but he also left Bjorn behind with us as well.

“If you have finished eating, we’d love to welcome you home to meet my wife, Varvara and have an aperitif. She would love to see the one who helped heal Erik.” Bjorn explained.

“A scar would have been nice,” Erik mumbled. It had been his first patrol with his father, and the scars of a successful patrol were part of the rite of passage. He was now an official hunter.

“No, it wouldn’t.” Bjorn refused to let that slide. “Anyway, I didn’t see you objecting at the time!” Reminding him of the time and how grateful he had been to have his wounds sealed, healed and the pain end.

“We’d love to join you.” Unusually aware of the social niceties, Namir interrupted the awkward moment. I had not realised that Erik could be sore over scars or the lack of them. Reminding me that he was the younger of the four giants we had got to know.

“Great. The meals on me.” Bjorn quickly moved on, avoiding his son’s immaturity, paid for the meal, and led us to his home.

. . .

We soon arrived at the Bjorns’ household. I was expecting a dwarf wife based on her son’s double racial traits, but I had forgotten that she was half-cast and she was human sized if a little tall. How that worked out logistically, I was not sure I wished to know, but it had judging by the existence of Erik, who already stood head and shoulders above his mother.

“Welcome.” She beamed at our arrival. Smiling at my surprise, “You were expecting someone shorter?”

“No, not at all.” I lied. “Thank you for inviting us.”

“Not at all,” She mimicked. “It was the least I could do for the individual who helped bring my son home whole.” She smiled, pulling me in for a hug.

“Bjorn mentioned something to drink,” Namir attempted to move the conversation on and get us over the threshold, possibly without being enveloped in another welcome hug.

“Of course, of course. Come on in.” She stepped out of the way, leading us toward their hearth, and Namir could slip in without her intruding on his personal space.

No logs burned; instead, a series of large rocks with stone glyphs filled the base of the chimney. The area was clearly used for cooking. Having seen the glyphs on our journey and tour of the Thorpe, I was not surprised. What was surprising, though, were the metal runes she must have been working on when we arrived.

“Works in progress,” she pushed them aside after noticing my interest.

“You craft dwarven runes,” I asked, surprised once more. Why was I expecting a dwarf on the one hand, yet not expecting some proficiency with runes? Perhaps it was the fact that I had seen few to no runes decorating the Giants Thorpe.

“Well, I am half dwarf, after all. It’s part of my heritage.” She answered unabashedly.

“I’m surprised. I thought Giants stuck to their Stone Glyphs rather than worked with metal runes.” Each race seemed inordinately proud and possessive of their own magics.

“There is no reason they can’t coexist. Find the best magic for the job.” She argued.

“I agree completely.” I opened my outer fur pelts to reveal the elvish robes beneath them to demonstrate what I carried with me and how I agreed with her completely.

“Elvish enchantments?” She quizzed.

“Yes, my tutor . . .” I started before I was stopped.

“Kai.” Namir interrupted, cautioning quietly. The rest of our company might not have noticed his quiet comments without superior senses, but my sudden silence was noted.

“What do they do?” Varvara asked, leaning in closer, ignoring Namir’s sudden warning and encouraging me to continue.

“I think . . . They are the only reason I’m alive,” I reflected on our arrival and the time before I could cover them up with furs. “They keep me cool in hot weather . . .”

She laughed at the absurdity of that being required on the endless ice.

“And welcomingly warm in cold weather, and whether the weather is hot or cold, I stay dry within them.” Which was equally important

She stopped laughing, “Now those are some useful Elvish Enchantments. Find the best fit for the job. You couldn’t do that with stone glyphs or metal runes unless you were planning on general climate control or were wearing metal armour.” She continued.

“Stone glyphs are fantastic for longer term permanent barriers, changes to the climate, defences, offences, etc. But if you wish to work on a closer, more intimate form of magic, Runes are the way forward. They are so much smaller, and you can fit many more on smaller items you can hold or larger items you can actually move.

I nodded, remembering my work with the simplest runes on my second ship. That had been a beauty. “I know a few runes. Our boat had runes for invisibility, speed, wind, buoyancy, and a shield should we be forced to fight.”

“I’m surprised it sunk with such magical protections.”

“Object meets immovable coastline. I don’t remember, but without my mana to hold the ship together, it sounded like the ship. Concertinered when it crushed against the cliffs of endless ice.”

“We will have to swap runes and exchange ideas.”

“What do you have to offer?” I asked, intrigued.

“Plenty, more than you by the sound of it. I did not always live here. I was too tall to fit in the Dwarven domains; I could just about pass for humans but could not stomach some of the human-central approaches of the humanist policy in Tramontana. I moved on to the next kingdom over and ended up here. What are you looking for?” She asked.

“What do you have?” I asked once more.

. . .

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