Rune Praxis.
Amidst the northerners – much like the southerners – there was a certain set of rituals where the young ones were subjected to a 'Path.' These paths were what allowed the young'uns of this world to mature into individuals who would result in development of their respective villages, cities and in some cases, their kingdoms by reaching heights which are normally unattainable.
For an average human.
The course of development can diverge sharply in any direction—it can be a path of flourishing growth, or it can very quickly descend into a path of catastrophic ruin, where blood stains the earth like ink on a torn page.
Rune Praxis was the name of the 'Initiation Ritual' of this 'journey to enlightenment', which was observed in individual cities, and sometimes villages which were important. This importance was usually decided either based on geography or determined based on their political standpoints.
Drakensfjord was a small village whose influence was minimal, however; its significance was much more than what it had to offer at its face value. The people inhabiting this place were mostly 'hunters' and a small contingent of them were 'The Marked.'
Stagnating at lower sequences, "the marked" of Drakensfjord were unable to make too much of a significant impact on the general, overall standing of the village.
The only thing that gave any significance to this place was the 'geopolitics' of this village. It was located in the farthest corner of the North, overlooking the unexplored regions — 'The Fallow' or 'The Unclaimed.'
A land full of nature and man-made – the first men – horrors that threatened to overtake the land of living at every passing, breathing moment.
Since it overlooked the fallow, a lot of funds and soldiers were sent to the farther border—The Scar—of Drakensfjord, 65 kilometres away from the beautiful 'Starlake' —a giant lake which connects to the many rivers flowing through the towering mountains surrounding the village—which also acted like a fishing pond for the villagers.
Since it was connected to a running water source – and the lake itself was in a state of constant kinesis – there was always some aquatic fauna foolish enough to wander into it.
And while people were ordinary, the closeness to The Fallow gave the village enough significance to host the 'Rune Praxis.'
Rune Praxis is usually held after the coming-of-age ceremonies or small ale parties.
However; due to recent events which included—but not limited to—sudden deaths and disappearances of many elders—marked and unmarked— the age at which a child becomes a man was changed from 15 to 13.
From the looks of it, two years don't seem to pose that much of a threat, given how people in this world lived long – unless some creature killed them – it was still a huge concern.
Since three years for a fully grown adult may pass in a blink, but a growing kid's mind is something that goes through a lot.
'Finally, today's the day!'
Ragnar exclaimed internally as he slipped into his clothes.
It had been 12 years since Ragnar Valknarr – formerly Canute Larsen – reincarnated into this new world.
Over the course of these years, he has perfectly learnt the ways of this new world – the village, at the very least – and has seamlessly adjusted to it. The memories of his past lives still served as a bittersweet reminder of everything, sometimes a sweet, loving memory and sometimes his worst nightmare.
During this time, Ragnar had completed his basic education which included learning the language of this world, learning how to write and read. As for his physical activities, his father – Robert – had persuaded him enough to exercise daily so he was in a pretty good condition.
'Can't lie, I've got a decent mug on me.'
Ragnar snickered to himself as he observed his features.
His growth was quite extraordinary, compared to his former self, however; it was barely average when compared to others around him. He had grown to around 167 cm and inclined more towards the lean side.
His features were still chubby, not sharp, due to him still being a pubescent kid.
'Damn these fantasy writers. Do they not know kids can't have sharp, sculpted faces right from the start?! Seriously, touch some grass! Gave me wrong expectations too!'
Ragnar, once again, spoke to himself in his mind as he looked at his cute-sy, cherubic face.
His bleached orange hair had grown quite a lot and now stopped right above his brows. His hair was a little thin but it was strong, evident from how Ragnar would often comb his fingers through his hair with some force to see if he was experiencing any hair fall.
Although, it was still too early to determine he won't have it, given how he still was in the development phase. However; this repeated action was to give himself some reassurance. Since his hair volume was much less than his time as Canute Larsen.
'Kinda hate this Kirito hairstyle but eh- nevermind. I can always style them out better later on. Pretty sure they'd be sussed out of their mind if I suddenly demanded a weird hairstyle.'
His eyes – just like his mother, Hannah – were his more redeeming features. A pair of dreamy, siren eyes which looked like two orbs of crystallised blood. Since he was from earth, even looking at his own red eyes gave him jitters, sometimes.
"Can't wait to become a man already. Just one more year and then, it'll be time for…" He pumped his fist up. "...BOOZE!"
"Ragnar!"
"WAAH!"
The door burst open as silver locks which felt like threads made out of the moonlight itself frolicked in a menacing way.
"Ragnar! You are late!" Hannah raised her voice, her hands over her slim waist.
"Again." She added, narrowing her serene, crimson eyes.
Initially startled, Ragnar composed himself and let out an awkward cough. "Ehm, m-mother, I was getting ready..."
"For the past hour!?" She stomped towards him.
Hannah Valknarr.
She was the wife of Robert Valknarr and the mother of Ragnar. While outward appearances suggested she was a frail woman with a body men would usually die protecting, it was not the case. The reality about her was totally flipped on its head.
Hannah was the member of the main platoon of hunters that hunted food for the village – Drakensfjord – in winters. She was skilled with a knife not just in the kitchen but also in the butchery where she'd skin even the most hard-skinned creatures. And her proficiency didn't end at a knife.
She was adept in archery just as much as she was in dicing things up.
"B-But mama! I need to style my precious, luscious locks– ouch, ouch!"
"Your tongue has been working too much these days, Ragnar." Hannah held her son by the ear and pulled it until he was tip-toeing. "Less words, more actions." Despite the strictness in her tone, she was barely suppressing her smile while looking at her only son. Gently tapping the back of her head, she left his ear. "Dress up and come out. Do not make me repeat myself."
Happily gliding through the door, Hannah casted a sidelong, loving glance at Ragnar, lifted her shoulders up in a barely suppressed giggle and closed the door behind her.
'Scary woman.' Ragnar exclaimed as he corrected his hair once again. Slipping his arms into his long, furred jacket.
Feeling it settle heavily on his shoulders he quickly skidded towards the door of his room. Tip-toeing he opened it and then ran out, taking a quick left turn and then descending the flight of stairs.
The Valknarrs lived at the edge of the cliff, on the other side of which was a deep fjord that was visible from the window of Robert and Hannah's personal room. The boundary of their dwelling was around 8100 square feet with the house covering around 3000 square feet.
It was an old-themed house – according to Earth's standards – which was supported by a few weathered wooden beams and had a sloped roof, covered in moss and vines.
The large and paned window of the hall looked out over a wild garden, filled with occasional flowers and overgrown herbs, which further overlooked a giant forgery with an equally big chimney, plumes of black and grey smoke rising from at random intervals.
Hannah was waiting at the door by the time Ragnar arrived. Casting a sheepish look at this mother, he quickly crouched down and slipped his feet into the leather boots and hopped towards her.
She was about to move but the door opened and Robert walked in, his orange hair short and well kept. He had started to grow an even longer beard now which suited him very much.
"Ah, darling." Hannah exclaimed, her eyes turning soft and her lips turning upwards.
Robert leaned down and hugged her tiny waist, kissing her lips tightly before releasing her.
"You smell delicious!"
"Stop!"
Hannah punched his arm, making him recoil. It would seem like he was exaggerating, given how tiny and weak her fist seemed. However, even from a distance, Ragnar could hear the little crack of his bones.
Robert chuckled and shrugged it off. Looking down, his eyes lit up.
"How are you today, son?"
"Alright, I guess…" Ragnar's words drawled at the end and his eyes shifted as he looked down.
It had been 12 long years since Ragnar had reincarnated. And while he adjusted to the idea of accepting Hannah as his mother due to him not even remembering his earthly mother's face, it was not the same for Robert.
It was quite evident from how he would treat her.
Robert looked at Hannah and breathed in a heavy sigh. He looked and seemed angry, but underneath that look, there was a small wound that hurt every now and then—whenever Ragnar would treat him like this.
'Come on now, don't look like that…it's not like I am being an asshole on purpose…'
Despite his attempts at it, Ragnar couldn't bring himself to treat Robert the same as his father on earth. Even to Ragnar himself, it made perfect sense that Robert was just as much of a biological father as his previous one, however; the logical part of his brain turned off when it came to his ties associated with earth.
"Aren't you in high spirits, ha…ha." Robert half chuckled and let out a tired sigh. He looked towards Hannan and pressed the base of his palms against his eyes. "I will be getting some rest, my love."
"Sure thing." Hannah replied with a flash of her pearls. "You should get more rest, Rob. There's still time before the winters come."
Robert shifted, a little uncomfortably. Ragnar eyed him with a little concern. It was rare for him to show such disposition, despite the situation. "Uh, yeah, but you know…" He looked down at Ragnar, "...things are happening. We need to be prepared."
Hannah let out an elongated sigh. "I understand. Just…just take care, okay? Lunch and dinner are at the table."
Robert turned and coiled his arms around Hannah's waist, smiling. "I really wish I could come along, my love. We could have had a good time in the woods."
A sudden flush crept up to her face, however; her expressions remained impassive, only the slight twitch giving way to how hard she was trying to suppress heer vulpine grin. "Shush, he's here."
Robert bent down and kissed her again, hugging her in closer. "He's a child, hah."
'Come on! I am a 27 year old man mentally! Stop kissing and making out in front of me, AHHHHHHHHHHH!!!!''
Despite the raging monologue, Ragnar just averted his gaze with a sigh.
When the voice of clothes shifting and creasing finally reached his ears was when he looked back. Hannah was easing out the creases in her shirt which was tucked inside her slim-fit pants, made out of some warm material.
Robert took a step back and shot a wink at her. "See you in a few days, my love." Then he looked down and ruffled Ragnar's hair.
'NOOOOOOOOO! YOU IDIOT! IT TOOK ME HOURS, YOU DAMNED GORILLA!'
"Keep your mom safe, eh?"
Calming down, Ragnar looked up and smiled weakly. "Will do."
—---------------------------
Ragnar walked in a close distance from Hannah, silently staring down at the dried grass crunching under their feet.
"Ragnar?" Hannah's voice made him shift his head towards her.
"Yeah?" He answered with an aloof questioning look on his face.
She took a breath before answering him, as they carefully walked through the woods. Her lips fluttered, hesitating. Shaking her head, she smiled warmly. "I was just thinking that my little Ragnar has grown so big already." She sized him from up to down with a proud look on her pale face.
He loved getting loved by her. At least his reincarnation gave him the chance to see the love of a mother. Reciprocating her smile with the same warmth, he looked ahead again, wondering how his mother back on earth would have loved him.
"Ragnar?" She repeated, this time with desperation in her voice.
"Yes, mama?"
"I know you're becoming a man yourself now, but my dear, your father will always be there for you. He loves you dearly, Ragnar." She pursed her lips, her crimson eyes gleaming with shimmer whenever she did that trick of hers.
Ragnar's expressions softened. I should not let her worry because of me.
"He's my father, of course. I love him too, mama." He gulped, "Men aren't very expressive, you know? Hehe!" He let out a half-sincere chortle.
She could see the playful smile he did everytime he would try to cover up something. She smiled.
"Oh yeah. You're a man now, eh?" A mischievous look appeared on her face as she ruffled his hair once again. "It's a men thing, huh!?"
"Hey, hey—come on…you know how long I spent combing it like this…ARGHHH!" He wailed around, but despite the weak ruffling, he didn't break away from it.
"Hehe. I know." She closed her eyes and looked at the meekly shining sun. "You worry about trivial stuff, my son."
"Hair is not trivial!" He quickly combed them back with his fingers. "It's what makes me the handsomest 12-year-old, hmph!" He dramatically gave his hair a flick.
Giggling, Hannah hugged him from the side, walking side by side with him.
As they enjoyed the scenery around them, their attention shifted to the flock of girls who rushed in towards the two of them and surrounded them.
Hah! Woe is me. I am so handsome that all of these girls can't help but flock to me! SMH! Suffering from success, I am. But nein! My heart belongs to—
"Miss Hannah, Miss Hannah! Do you like my midsommarkrans(1)?" A girl with light freckles under her eyes asked energetically, her blue eyes shining with admiration.
"No, no, Miss Hannah! Please check mine first!"
One after another as girls passed Ragnar and flocked around Hannah, he looked back with a horrid look.
H-Hmph! W-Who is interested in attention from these underage girls anyways!? That's so perverted. My heart still belongs to Olivia. And besides, if I wanted attention, I'd settle for nothing short of MILFS!
His thoughts turned on a rather odd tangent as he rubbed his hands together, thinking about…indecent things.
"This is very pretty, Mia, but summers are a faraway occurrence." She stooped down to cup Mia's cheeks and caressed them.
"I know, but!" The golden haired girl argued back. "This is for you. As good luck for your hunts!"
Hannah looked at them with a surprised look, placing her hand on her heart. "Thank you." She replied with a warm smile before accepting the flower crown and placing it on her head.
"Us tooo~!" The other girls started to push their flower crowns towards Hannah as well.
It was a rare occurrence Hannah would stroll the place like this. And because she was an accomplished hunter, a lot of young girls who aimed to become warriors looked up to her. Since there was no gender hierarchy, the disparity between the ratio of men to women hunters was negligible.
Seemingly having had enough, Ragnar ran into the girls and grabbed his mom's arm. "We have work to do." He spoke sternly. "Get a ticket or something."
After Ragnar had pulled her away from the crowd of girls who were glaring daggers at him, they started to walk straight again.
"You know, I didn't see Sofia in the group." Hannah spoke up. "Do you have any idea? Normally she'd be the first to ask for tips regarding her sword training."
Sofia was the name of the granddaughter of the village head. Since Robert made weapons for the village, and custom ones for Sofia's family, there was a good relationship between them. Due to this good relationship, Ragnar and Sofia were able to study together in her parents' library.
"You think she'll be around here?"
"I wouldn't know." He replied abruptly. Too quickly.
"Are you missing your little mistress~?"
Instead of overreacting like kids his age, Ragnar solemnly scoffed. A scoff that felt a bit too mocking.
The idea felt outlandish to him. Ragnar was now mentally reaching 30 years of age. The idea of little girls being his crush revolted him. Besides, no matter how gorgeous, no one felt as devilishly beautiful as Olivia did. His heart and mind—they were ruled by her.
Even after 12 years, he would still occasionally wonder how she'd be doing; how she must have handled the news of his demise; how she must have moved on. How she must belong to someone else now. How it was unfair to him. And how it was totally ok for her to move on.
After all, they liked each other in High School. A relationship that lasted a few minutes. Few minutes that were spent on his deathbed, away from each other.
"—nar…Ragnar?"
He came back to his senses with his mother's voice, realising he had been biting the inside of his cheek for too long.
"Yes?"
Instead of talking, she arched her brows, motioning with her head to their right.
There she was—Sofia—standing inside the boundaried fence of her lawn, her smile fading a little when her eyes met his. She waved at him.
He waved back, with a little nod.
Her blonde hair set in a braid rested on her shoulder, her eyes green like the lake in summer, her lips rosy pink, her dimpled cheeks full—he hated looking at her.
He hated her. He hated how she had the same olive eyes. And the same dimples in her cheeks. How she had the same small mole underneath her left eye. Because to him, it was an insult to Olivia's beauty. To replicate something so tenderly beautiful…was akin to blasphemy to Ragnar.
She smiled a little at Hannah and then turned around, picking up the scabbards that were scattered in the snowy lawn.
"She is breathtakingly beautiful." Hannah added as they both walked ahead.
"Yeah, she is." He said plainly. She was beautiful. But so what?
"Do you like her?"
"I like her face. It's decent."
"Do you love her then?"
"I feel nothing. For her, at least." he shrugged the thought laughingly.
"Is it someone else then?"
Ragnar looked down at his shoes that had a thin layer of white powder on them. "Yeah."
The teasing timber of her voice vanished as she saw Ragnar looking down with a crestfallen look. "You have your whole life, dear son of mine." She roughly ruffled his hair, "Come now. Make haste."
She said and the lively look on her face reappeared.
Ragnar let out a self-deprecating suppressed laugh. I've already exhausted one…well, let's not dwaddle on it.
Shaking his head, he matched his pace back with Hannah, walking side by side with her. He had already decided to not let his old life's mistakes or regrets weigh down on this one. As they walked, the land stretched beneath their feet. The crowds of villagers, the lively bazaar, the smells of fish and bison, the sweat laden air of the barracks and the lake which was soon to be frozen.
Hannah and Ragnar passed all of these, leaving them behind and climbed up a steep path. The rough surface of the mountain and spreading snow gave way to a dense forest at the top of the hill.
The forest was dark, and the smell of something eerie lingered heavily in the air. Hannah suddenly stopped and leaned against a tree.
"Mom?" Ragnar asked as Hannah came to a standstill.
"Have you been doing the exercises your father told you to?"
Ragnar's forehead creased as he looked at the air that changed around Hannah. "Uhh…yes…"
"Well then," Her chest rose and fell in steady breaths as she raised her arm. The covering on her arm blended so perfectly with her skin that even now, she hesitated, as if it might not come off. She pressed her thumb against the edge near her wrist and pinched, feeling the faint give of the material. Slowly, carefully, she began to peel it back.
"It is time for you, my dearest son…"
The covering lifted without resistance, revealing the skin underneath. No, not just skin—there, etched into her arm, was the rune. It looked old, carved deep and precise, as if it had always been a part of her.
The lines formed two squares, one inside the other, their shapes connected at perfect angles—the vertices of one square touching the centres of the other.
"...to step into the real world." Her bright crimson eyes were suddenly glowing. Ragnar took a step back, taken aback as he felt the air change and become suffocating.
The rune glowed faintly, its light soft and warm like the dying embers of a fire. The orange glow pulsed once, faint and steady, almost like a heartbeat. Hannah's hand trembled as she held the covering she had removed. Her arm felt cool where the air touched it now.
The forest seemed to darken further, as if the trees were leaning in closer, drawn to the faint glow on her arm. Hannah felt the weight of their eyes—her son's, the forest's, and something else she couldn't name.
"It is time for you to prepare for your Rune Praxis, Ragnar." She spoke, her voice distorted as Ragnar gulped in heavily, his mind a swirling maelstrom of thoughts. "And for me to reveal a little about my pathway." She grinned.