Saga spent the entire afternoon transforming the living room and the adjoining dining area. She set up countless candles, lit small lamps, arranged flowers, and filled the air with the scent of incense. The most striking pieces lay in the corner of the dining area: two headless mannequins draped in Nerier and Rudr's attire. Between them rested a bouquet of flowers atop a small stool, surrounded by a delicate, glowing fog from an artifact, casting soft, serene luminescence. This mist highlighted the possessions of the dead, honoring their memory.
While Saga decorated, Yrsa prepared a lavish feast. By evening, just as Saga and Yrsa had completed their work, Vor returned home with Siren.
Vor pushed the door open, whistling in approval, while Siren stared around, her eyes wide.
"Holy shit!" she exclaimed. "This is the Norn house, right? Or did I miss a turn and end up in a candle store?"
The remark jolted Saga out of her meditative state. She'd spent the whole afternoon absorbed in a spirit of remembrance, meticulously decorating the room. Now, her trance shattered, she stared at Siren, visibly stunned.
Siren, oblivious, sniffed the air. "What's aunty Yrsa cooking tonight? Can't smell a thing with all this damn incense! Isn't smelling half the meal?"
Saga's shock turned into smoldering rage. She clenched her teeth, fixing Siren with a glare. The last thing she wanted was a quarrel tonight. But as she braced herself to deliver a sharp retort. Maybe telling her that she really did come to a candle store filled with incense and she should go out there and find the real Norn house where they're not having a feast of remembrance for their dearly departed.
Vor spoke up first.
"No," Vor said, his oblong face serious behind heavy rectangular glasses as he surveyed the room with admiration. "I think we should be grateful to Saga for all the time and effort she put into these decorations. My sister and Yrsa's brother must feel truly loved and honored by what their daughter has done for them. And besides, today is special." He adjusted his glasses and gave Siren a sidelong glance. "So, play nice."
Vor walked over to Saga and patted her head gently. "Thank you, sweetheart. You've done a wonderful job. I'm sure Nerier and Rudr are proud."
"Thanks, Uncle! It was nothing, really," Saga replied, her anger fading into a bright smile.
Meanwhile, Siren, thwarted, followed her uncle into the dining area with visible reluctance. Though Vor's tone had been calm, his words carried the heat of a reprimand, leaving Siren stung as if she'd been scolded.
Just then, Yrsa came downstairs, freshly dressed, and called out as she approached. "Oh, when did you two get home?"
"Just now, dear," Vor replied, holding up the basket in his hand. "And we come bearing gifts."
"Oh-ho, nice!" Yrsa beamed. "Come, take your seats. Let's start before the food gets cold."
"Yeah, top-notch liquor!" Siren grinned, pulling out a chair. "Uncle grabbed the most expensive one on the shelf. Tonight? I'm going to feast."
"Not before we recount the tales of the dead," Yrsa said, her tone firm. "And offer prayers to the Almighty Narld."
Siren rolled her eyes, but settled in, stifling her usual irreverence for the night.
"Let us join hands," said Yrsa. Once everyone linked hands around the table, she continued, "The mayor of Keisha village was an old woman known for her false predictions. When she approached the adventurers' guild, begging them to defend her village from an imminent bandit attack, they dismissed her. It was a small guild, and they had no powerful adventurers; besides, the old woman had little to offer as a reward. Heartbroken, she went to every adventurer she could find, but they all refused, except two. These young adventurers believed her and followed her to the village. Though none of her past predictions had ever come true, this one, tragically, did.
"The bandits attacked at night. They struggled to enter the village, thwarted by the traps Nerier had set up. And wherever the bandits managed to push through, Rudr was there to meet them, fighting to protect the villagers. Through the night, the two defended the village, fending off the attackers alone until sunrise, sparing Keisha from slaughter, pillage, and worse. While the guild's reputation was ruined by this incident, Nerier and Rudr became the heroes of Keisha."
Yrsa paused, her gaze moving around the table. Vor's eyes were closed, his face solemn. Saga mirrored his expression, and even Siren looked unusually quiet.
Vor opened his eyes and asked, "Do you know why your parents chose to believe the old woman when no one else would?"
"Why uncle?" Saga asked.
"Because," he said, the candlelight flickering in his glasses, "if the bandits had attacked, the villagers would have met a dark fate. Your parents couldn't stand by and let that happen. They were those kinds of people. Heroic. And even if the bandits hadn't come, what would they have lost? Just a single night."
They sat in silence for a long moment before Yrsa spoke again. "Alright, time for prayer." She closed her eyes. "Narld, please watch over our family. Protect us from darkness, as you once sacrificed yourself to save the navian people. Shield us with your eternal frost. Hail."
They all echoed "Hail" around the table before reaching for their plates. The day's tension had melted away as Aunt Yrsa removed the lids from the dishes and began serving. Saga felt a lump in her throat as she looked at the spread; the table was filled to the brim, and two dishes were even turkey. One was a bubbling turkey bake with minced meat and melted cheese, while the other was stir-fried turkey tossed in vegetable oil with a fiery mix of chilies, garlic, sesame seeds, onions, carrots, coriander, and ginger. Aunt Yrsa had even prepared Saga's favorite sides: sweet potatoes, crisp nut-and-honey stuffing, and a generous serving of coleslaw.
Now, this was a feast.
After dinner, Saga and Siren helped their aunt and uncle wash the dishes and tidy up the house. When their aunt and uncle retreated upstairs, Saga settled in the living room to study, spreading her books beneath the warm glow of the fire lamp hanging from the beams. Her stack included:
- Codex of Conquerors, a historical text on the greatest warlords and kings of the continent
- Grimoire of the Arcane, a book exploring magical laws and phenomena
- Guidebook of International Politics
- Intermediate Herbology
- Intermediate Biology
- Intermediate Art of Healing
- Runes: Book on the Magical Language
- Intermediate Mathematics
- Strategies and Theories of Continental Warfare
- Folks of Ufan: Sentients, Monsters & Animals
Vor had helped her acquire these books from a traveling merchant hailing from the human nation of Mancrest. Human magic academia was unmatched in quality on the entire continent, and Saga often wondered what it would be like to study there. But for her, it was out of reach. Her fume- the ingredient needed for magic produced by one's soul- was dormant, if she even had it at all. Without fume, there was no place for her in any magic academy.
Besides, she belonged to Serenvale, bound by the eternal oath of protection of the chronali. Navians never abandoned their duty. These books were as close as she would ever come to the human academies. Looking through the metaphorical window, she could never taste the pie, only savor its aroma from afar.
With ferocious hunger, she dove into her studies, feeling uplifted. Despite the day's odd twists, it had ended on a high note. Next to hunting, studying was her favorite activity. She didn't care much for sword fighting or the other pursuits that occupied the kids in town. But studying and hunting? Those were her domains, and she excelled at both.
Just as she became fully absorbed in her books, a stamping noise jolted her out of her flow. She looked around, startled, and spotted the source: the front door was wide open. Out on the porch, Siren was wielding her steel sword, slashing at an invisible enemy. What on earth is that swordbrain doing out there so late?
Siren's movements were fluid, almost graceful, as she danced across the porch, her blade glinting in the firelight. Saga's irritation simmered. Couldn't Siren practice another time? Does everything always have to be about her? Saga thought with a scowl, feeling her focus slip away as Siren's feet stamped and slid across the wood, disrupting the night with every step.
"Could you please shut it?" Saga snapped. "Some of us are trying to study here, you know!"
"Can't," Siren replied without even glancing her way, still practicing her moves. "I've got a test tomorrow."
Saga blinked, astonished. "You've got what?"
Since when does a swordbrain like her need to take a test? She has never studied anything in her life…
"Uh-huh," Siren said, sweeping her blade in a sharp arc. "I have to demonstrate this technique perfectly, or Sir Boris will have me flayed."
Sir Boris Wildheart, a retired knight from Mancrest, had been hired as Serenvale's resident sword master three years ago, tasked with training the future protectors of the village.
"I don't care about your stupid dance lesson, Siren!" Saga's voice rose, frustration seeping through her words. "Just stop bothering me. Go practice somewhere else!"
Siren paused and fixed her twin with a piercing gaze. "And what exactly are you doing that's so important, huh? Think your little books are going to get you out of this dump? Take you to the big cities? Maybe into a magic academy?"
Saga's glare deepened.
"Don't make me laugh," Siren sneered. "You're a dud, Saga! You can't use magic. Why don't you throw away those dead leaves and pick up a sword or spear, for Narld's sake, and make yourself useful?"
Saga's gaze dropped.
Siren softened her tone slightly, though her words cut just as deeply. "Saga, this continent has been at war since Yahlvern. A thousand years of peace ended fifty years ago. The only things that matter now are the sword and the fume, and those who know how to wield them. It's time you grew up and faced reality."
She held her longsword high, eyes glinting with determination. "Mark my words, Saga. I'll be a great warrior one day. They'll sing my name like they did for the last heroes who defeated the Hellbringer. Our parents are gone, our uncle and aunt can't have children. We're the last of our line, direct descendants of Wahrmar the Berserk King and Bodak the Dark Lord. I won't let our family's name rot and die out with us!"
With that, she resumed her practice.
"I'm warning you!" Saga's voice wavered. "I'll go tell aunty Yrsa!"
Siren laughed. "Go ahead, nerd. See if you want a spanking. Aunt Yrsa spent the entire day in the healer's station, performing surgery on a protector who got mauled by a monster. Then she came home and cooked up a feast for her family. She doesn't have time to deal with your whining."
Tears stung Saga's eyes. How could she be so cruel? I'm the only family she has left, so why can't she ever just be a good sister to me?
Leaving her books scattered on the sofa and fighting back tears, she stormed up the stairs to her room for the second time that day.