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Alfheim’s sun was rising on a particular group of travelers. Its members could hardly have seemed more like they didn’t belong together, from their varied races to their clothing style. However, that wasn’t at all strange for a band of mercenaries, whose people often came from all the works of life.
Though they all looked tired and lacking in sleep, made obvious with the frequency at which one of them would yawn, three of them in particular were in worrying conditions.
When he was younger, Domor’s grandmother used to tell him stories about the previous ages the worlds had been through. Stories she had heard from her father, and him from his own mother. Domor was just a little boy eager to be amazed back then, just like the other little boys and girls living in a peaceful village that had been erased from the map.
Legends of the prime age would fill him with wonder, stories from the age of brightness would cause him to have nightmares, and thinking of the age of heroes made him want to find a dragon nest and fight them with his mighty wooden sword.
He had grown out of it, eventually. Stories were just that after all, stories. Myths that couldn’t be verified and only supposed to arouse the imagination. Real life had its own dragons, like finding work and paying taxes, and they sometime seemed far more cunning than the mythical ones.
“I think I’m kinda getting the hang of it,” said Domor, carefully and slowly repeating the movements Enok had showed them two days earlier.
“Ha, trust me, you’re not,” laughed a voice coming from a little ball of light hovering over the fire, “the stances are the Mother’s gift to the weak people so that they could stand up to the naturally stronger mystics, but to ‘get the hang of it’, you’d need to be either an aurosei or at least a wizard. And even then it would take years,” it mockingly added.
“Well, I know I’m feeling something. Also, you guys know a lot about the pagan gods, do you worship them or something?”
Hey, show it to me again, asked Kaja, not even trying to conceal her excitement, the screen with the blueprint.
Grunting, Enok once again opened his blueprint inventory, which only had one item. The night before they had discovered that Kaja could see the windows when looking through his eyes, and she had been bothering him since.
They had been back on the road with the first lights of the day, not even bothering with a proper breakfast. Domor, in particular, was worried about the nature of their cargo being revealed.
Since Enok had come to Alfheim, this morning was the first he had been able to relax. Ignoring the insolent mortals he had to deal with earlier, it could actually rank as one of the best of his human life. Then again, he had only lived a bit more than a year as a human.
Sitting alone at a table of the Fox’s Den, the only Tavern of the Foxlade village, he was facing a copious meal consisting of different dishes of bear meat.
Wolfing down the food and setting aside the empty plates in a growing pile, Enok made a mental note of rewarding Den, the orc owner of the establishment. Considering the various difficulties of cooking that particular meat and the quality of the assorted course that had been served, he was greatly satisfied.
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Since she had started using the Vanguard to move around, Kaja had been missing having a body a lot less. But in this moment, she felt like she was missing out on something amazing more than usual.
As she had figured, Enok’s transformation into a drifter had involved a lot of energy. But it didn’t violently unleash it in an explosion, it consumed it.
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