Emerging from the depths of the underground, the servants bowed almost mechanically in acknowledgment of my presence. Initially, they found it perplexing that a young man like myself would dedicate so much time to reading books instead of honing my skills in combat like the others.
(Even among our advanced society, the warrior culture remains deeply ingrained. While we boast many scholars, they are still a minority.)
Making my way to the throne room, I sought out Odin, knowing that he often spent much of his time there, entertaining emissaries from across Asgard and beyond. Politics, though strange to me, played a significant role in our realm. While we were the protectors of the nine realms, we refrained from ruling them directly. Each kingdom maintained its own sovereign rulers and governing bodies. We seldom intervened in their affairs, yet when the Allfather issued a decree, all responded in kind.
Upon reaching the throne, I bowed in deference, as was customary.
"Father, I wish to speak with you alone," I requested, hoping for a private audience.
Odin's curiosity piqued, he questioned, "What matter is so pressing, my son, that it cannot be spoken in the presence of my most faithful soldiers?"
I hesitated, reluctant to divulge such a personal matter in front of so many individuals, despite knowing their loyalty. But privacy was paramount for the discussion I intended to have.
"Runes," I stated simply, watching as a flicker of shock passed over my father's features. Yet, beneath the surprise, I detected hints of fear and anger clouding his expression.
Without another word, Odin rose from his throne with an icy demeanor I had never witnessed before. "Come with me to my chambers," he commanded, his tone devoid of warmth or patience. Without waiting for my response, he turned and strode away, leaving me no choice but to follow.
During the journey to my father's chambers, I maintained a solemn silence, feeling the weight of anticipation hanging in the air. As we ascended to the highest tower of the castle, I seized a moment to instruct a nearby servant to summon my mother.
"Please, inform my mother that I require her presence here. Let her know that I have called for her," I requested earnestly.
The servant bowed swiftly before hurrying off to relay my message. (My mother possessed a unique ability to assuage my father's anger, a skill I hoped would prove invaluable in this tense situation.)
Entering the opulent chamber, I found myself surrounded by grandeur – gold embellishments adorned every corner, while the walls boasted trophies of defeated enemies in the form of weapons and armor. My father sat at a table, a palpable aura of fury radiating from him.
I approached cautiously, taking a seat opposite him. The silence stretched on for agonizing seconds until Odin finally broke it, his voice laced with barely contained anger.
"When you sought permission to venture into that place, seeking your own path, I had my doubts. Yet, to return speaking of harnessing the most potent forms of Asgardian magic – despite being expressly forbidden to practice it alone – surpasses even my expectations."
The tension in the room was palpable, as if Odin's wrath was manifesting as tangible energy, crackling in the air around us.
"I didn't practice magic; I merely studied it," I clarified, hoping to assuage my father's concerns. "Rune magic may indeed be the most potent form of Asgardian magic, but the price of attaining the knowledge to wield it at its peak is too steep."
Odin appeared somewhat calmer but still harbored a sense of apprehension as he pressed for an explanation. "Then why inquire about it if you're not prepared to pay the price? What prompted your interest?"
Before I could respond, my mother entered the room, her presence instantly altering the atmosphere. As her gaze fell upon me, and then to my father, it was clear she sensed the gravity of the situation.
"Baldur, why have you summoned me?" she inquired, her tone betraying a hint of concern.
My father wasted no time in divulging the reason for my summons. "It seems our son has been inquiring about the runes," he informed her, his words carrying a weighty undertone.
Fear flashed across my mother's face, her maternal instincts kicking into overdrive. She knew all too well the price Odin had paid for his power and was determined to shield her son from a similar fate.
"No! I forbid him from delving into such magic," she exclaimed vehemently, her usually serene demeanor momentarily replaced by a surge of protective fervor.
As I witnessed my mother's unwavering devotion, I couldn't help but feel a swell of gratitude and warmth. To be loved so fiercely was a blessing that filled my heart with joy.
"Please, Mom, don't worry. I won't delve into the kind of runes that require such sacrifices. Let me explain," I reassured her, my tone gentle yet resolute. As Frigga took a seat beside me, her demeanor visibly softened, a glimmer of relief shining in her eyes.
"Very well, let's hear it," she acquiesced, her voice steady.
"I've been studying the runes," I began, meeting the gaze of both my parents. "While I acknowledge the steep price associated with mastering them fully, I've been exploring alternative ways to utilize their power. Take a look at this."
With a sense of pride, I presented the book containing the design drawing of my energy-converting rune, internally pondering a better name for it. (Perhaps "Primary Rune" would suffice?)
Odin and Frigga leaned in, examining the intricate details of the rune with keen interest. With his unparalleled expertise in runic sorcery, Odin swiftly discerned the rune's purpose.
"Truly remarkable," he commented, his tone betraying a hint of admiration. "Creating such a rune at such a young age is no small feat. It appears to be a converter, but what do you intend to do with it?" he inquired, his curiosity piqued.
"I intend to tattoo it onto my body," I declared, watching as shock rippled through both of my parents. They struggled to comprehend the significance of my unconventional plan.
"My inspiration came from the dwarven runes," I explained further. "They imbue their weapons with magical properties using runes. However, all these individual runes are merely simplifications of one overarching rune. I plan to adopt a similar approach, but instead of weapons, my body will become the 'weapon.'"
Odin appeared overwhelmed by the audacity of my concept. As the Master of Runes, he understood the theoretical possibility, yet the practical execution would be a monumental task. Frigga, however, seemed skeptical.
"You're attempting to manipulate magic," she cautioned, her concern evident. "Magic demands a price, and those who seek to circumvent this law often meet an unfortunate fate."
"But Mom, you misunderstand," I countered gently. "The price Father paid was for the knowledge to wield the great runes. I aim to recreate them using my own understanding. I'm not taking shortcuts; the power these runes hold will be directly proportional to my knowledge of them."
My mother fell silent, her gaze shifting to my father. Odin, meanwhile, appeared lost in thought, considering the implications of my proposition.
"You're correct," Odin affirmed, his tone resolute. "This path is indeed possible. However, you must tread it alone. Any knowledge I impart will come at a price."
His words resonated deeply within me, filling me with a newfound sense of determination. To know that my ambition was not merely a fanciful dream but a tangible possibility was more than I could have hoped for. It was akin to being handed the key to unlock a door to a realm of endless possibilities.
I bowed deeply, expressing my gratitude. "Thank you, Dad, for your wisdom and guidance."
A rare smile graced Odin's lips, a silent acknowledgment that his son understood the weight of his words. Even my mother shared in the moment, her smile radiating warmth and pride.
Rising from his seat, Odin enveloped me in a hug, a gesture that spoke volumes of his paternal affection. "I am blessed to have three such talented children," he remarked fondly.
After releasing me from his embrace, Odin posed a question that lingered in the air, hanging on the precipice of possibility. "So, what are you going to do now?"
"I will head to the Institute of Technology," I declared after a brief moment of contemplation. "I need to find a way to inscribe the rune onto my body without causing harm or compromising its magical properties."
Odin nodded in agreement, acknowledging the practicality of my decision. Just as I was about to bid farewell, my mother interjected with a reminder.
"Don't forget, you still have to compete in the arena," she reminded me gently. "You've stirred up quite a commotion and have yet to receive your title."
"It's time to discover what kind of god you truly are, my son," Odin added, his tone firm yet supportive.
As I pondered their words, the weight of the impending arena fight settled upon me. It was an opportunity to reaffirm my identity and capabilities as a god. Despite my recent struggles to activate my powers, I realized that perhaps a challenge of this magnitude was exactly what I needed to reignite the spark within me.
With a determined smile, I replied, "Yes, Dad, I agree."
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