Chapter 2: Divine Burden
Date: 1003 After Dawn, May 15th
Indeed, Hilda didn't sleep as well as she should have. Taking a look
at the mirror, some slight bags have taken up residence under her eyes,
courtesy of that dream. While getting dressed, it doesn't take long for
her to hear some loud swooshes coming from outside. Seems like the
weather has decided to get very windy overnight and that bodes ill for
her.
Closing her eyes and clenching her jaw, Hilda walks down the bar's steps praying to herself: "Please, please, please..."
Her prayers go unanswered, unfortunately. One of the bar's rickety
windows has broken under the mighty gusts of wind and the whole area
around it, plus furniture, is filled with dirt and snow from the street.
"Of course..." she grumbles.
After nailing the broken window shut, Hilda finds herself a broom and
gets to re-cleaning the place up. It takes half an hour to get it all
done by herself. Her day is not off to a very good start. Taking a deep
breath, she calms herself down and goes have breakfast. Once again, the
usual bread and cheese – though, just this once, Hilda takes a small mug
of coffee. Her face scrunches up as if she licked a lemon on the very
first sip; she's never liked bitter stuff, but she needs to wake up.
Edda arrives just as she's finishing eating, covered from head to toe
in a heavy woolen coat and scarf, straining herself to close the bar's
door against the wind outside.
"Urgh... that's some awful weather we have today," she says with a gasping breath.
"You're telling me. It broke that window and made a mess of the place," Hilda answers, greeting Edda from behind the counter.
Edda sighs, looking at the weary girl with sympathy. "Oh, you really
should've waited for me to get here. I could've helped with that."
"It was no problem. Besides, the way things are looking outside, I reckon this'll be a very slow day."
"Hm, you might be right. People'll likely stay home." Edda hangs her
coat and scarf on a hook set by the kitchen. "The guild will need its
lunch, though, so there's that."
"You're up, then. I'll get the tables set up in any case." Hilda
punctuates her statement with one final drink of her coffee, her face
once again crumpling over the sharp taste. "Argh... How do people like
this crap...?"
"It's an acquired taste. You'll see, once you're older," Edda laughs.
Hilda gets the plates and steins all in their usual position and the
bar opens for business on time. But, as expected, no clients come during
the morning. Bored out of her mind and with nothing to do, she resorts
to flipping through Gustaff's book of drinks. His special recipes have
quite the many fans, so it's always good for the resident waitresses to
learn how to make them. That aside, there are only so many recipes one
can read before it starts to drag and, despite the coffee, the lack of
sleep starts getting to Hilda.
Propping her cheek onto her right hand, she closes her eyes and
begins dozing off. That is, until a voice cuts across the silence,
whispering to her – the same whisper as her dream. Looking around the
bar, however, there isn't anyone.
"Hello?" she calls out.
"What?" answers Edda, pitching her body over to the kitchen door.
"No, not you..." Hilda waves her off, still giving the empty
establishment the look-over. "Wait. Did- Did you hear that, just now?"
Edda shakes her head in negation. "Not a thing. Why?"
"I dunno," Hilda answers, confused. "I had this weird dream last
night and could swear I just heard the same voice I did then..."
"What voice? Saying what?"
"Again, no idea. The dream didn't make sense – just a bunch of random
stuff." Hilda shrugs, moving off the counter and leaning by the kitchen
door. "What do you think?"
A pensive frown forms across Edda's face. "Huh... that's strange,
alright. But since you were drinking coffee, I'm guessing you didn't get
much sleep. Maybe that drowsiness is making you hear things?"
"I guess," Hilda puckers her lips before setting out into the pantry. "Bah... I need some more of that crap, then."
"And, on the off-chance that you're going crazy, don't forget which
one of us has knives at arms' reach!" Edda jokes with a playful grin.
"Very funny, Edda," Hilda deadpans.
Regardless, she probably has a point. After drinking another cup of
coffee, Hilda's sleepiness fades away and the whispering along with it.
The boredom persists, however, as the bar's movement remains nonexistent
for the whole morning. Then comes one in the afternoon and off goes
Hilda to bring the mining guild their food.
Edda loans her coat and scarf to help with the cold but they don't
really do much against the wind itself – to say nothing of how difficult
it is to see. At least the weight of the food basket helps keep Hilda
from being tossed around.
The streets themselves are quite empty but not the mining district.
Barring a bona fide blizzard, they can't afford to ever stop their
production; the miners working in the open quarry, sorting the ore, have
it worse but they still soldier on. The guild leaders are serving as an
example, though, as Joan tells Hilda that they're also down there with
their men and women.
Grabbing the money and yesterday's basket with Joan, Hilda starts
making her way back, fighting every step against the weather. As she
makes it to the center of town, however, the wind picks up in a hurry
and the gust surprises Hilda, blowing the empty basket right off her
hand. She lets out a growl of frustration and runs after it.
As it turns out, however, she didn't need to worry as the basket
suddenly shifts directions and slowly lands right onto the grasp of a
man standing right next to the bar. He's a rather tall one, covered in a
thick green cloak.
"Aah, Qujanaq!" she says in Greenlandic, as that's one of the more common languages among the townsfolk.
"I assume that's 'thanks'? You're welcome," the man answers in English, instead, his deep voice bearing a moderate accent.
Hilda still understands, thankfully. During the mining boom, she and
her family came here from Sweden and she needed to learn the language to
deal with the many Englishmen who'd done the same.
"Yes, yes – it was!" she yells, struggling in vain against the wind's howl, as the man supports her inside the bar.
Once inside, Hilda lets out a sigh of relief as the door slams behind her and notices that he's followed her in.
"Oh, you're a client?" she says with slight surprise before gesturing
towards the empty chairs. "Just a minute and I'll be right with you.
Please, take a seat."
As he does so, Hilda makes a quick stop by the kitchen and drops off the basket.
"Someone's finally come in, huh?" Edda asks, glancing at the man
who's decided to sit by the counter, right next to the fireplace. "Time
to get back to work, then."
"Yeah. Fire up the oven again and I'll let you know if he asks for anything," Hilda answers before heading back.
As she approaches and takes a closer look, she notices that the man
isn't only tall but also built very strong. His face is hidden by the
cloak but she can still make out a goatee across his slightly wrinkled
face. And that's saying nothing about the strange aura that wafts around
him - peaceful like a meadow bathed by the spring's sun and, yet, with
such fortitude that it feels he could withstand the end of the world.
"Sorry for the delay," she says, once again switching to English. "What can I get you?"
"Just beer, please," he answers.
Hilda nods, grabbing a stein and filling it up with a keg kept off to
the side. Normally she'd rather stay quiet but, taking sideway glances
at this strange fellow, her curiosity gets the better of her. "New in
town, are you?"
"Why you ask?"
Hilda hands him the stein, filled with Gustaff's bubbly, somewhat
foamy weissbier. "Nearly everyone here speaks Danish or Greenlandic.
Your accent isn't from around, either..."
The man lets out a quick chuckle and takes off his cloak, revealing
himself to be a strong-jawed Asian gentleman. His jet-black hair is
short but slightly scruffy, sporting a thin mustache along with said
goatee; the handful of gray hairs and wrinkles indicate someone at least
above his forties.
Asian men and women aren't exactly common sights in the Northern
Reaches – Hilda could count in one hand the number of times she'd met
one – but a quick look at the man's forehead answers that question: a
brand of three nested circles and, at the center, several diamonds
intersecting in a cross-like pattern.
"Oh, boy..." Hilda grunts, her brow reflexively furrowing with worry. "The Valnr up to something, Mr. Scion?"
Any northerner knows that, nine times out of ten, the Scions visiting
doesn't mean good things. And an incursion was about the last thing her
city needed right now.
"Relax," he says, sipping from his drink, "we haven't seen problems in this area for a while. Something else brings me here."
The man lays down his stein and looks at Hilda from head to toe,
seemingly sizing her up. Hilda notices and gets a bit annoyed with his
leering, crossing her arms and glaring back.
Letting out a small huff, the man smiles and takes another sip before
speaking. "Allow me to introduce myself: I am Ryouma Hirayama, the
General – that is, the leader – of Orlen Brigade."
"Orlen?" she shakes her head in confusion, eliciting Ryouma's face to frown with a bit of dejection.
"Each brigade takes name of its patron Altr god or goddess. I take it you're not Altrian?"
"Eeh..." Hilda shrugs. "Most folks around here are Catholics and
whatnot... even with a broken down church. I never really thought about
it," she answers while taking Ryouma's now-empty stein to be refilled.
Ryouma lets out a small sigh before recomposing himself. "That's
understandable, I guess... but it matters not. What I wish to discuss
hasn't anything to do with faith."
He looks straight into Hilda's eyes before continuing. "As
northerner, I presume you already know what the Corps of Scions is and
what we do. That saves time. It's almost certain that this
centuries-long battle with Valnr is something you've been exposed to, so
you understand the importance of our work, yes?"
Hilda exhales sharply through her nose and stares back at Ryouma in
silence. In the corners of her mind, she isn't pleased with his
question. Not one bit. Still, she can't well expect someone from outside
town to know anything. Following a small bite at her tongue to calm
down, she answers.
"... Sure. We don't have as many problems as others but still had
enclaves built around or a necromancer or two worming their way into
town. I'm sure you can find people who've good things to say."
Ryouma nods, bearing a serious expression. "Still, the current
situation of conflict shows that it takes more than gratitude for us to
prevail. Our divine burden weighs heavy on each of us and, more often
than we'd like, it claims the lives of comrades."
He stops for a second, taking a long gulp of his beer and finishing
it. Placing the stein squarely upon the counter, he wipes the foam off
his goatee and resets his gaze on Hilda.
"Despite what most want to believe, our struggles with Valnr aren't
limited to the Northern Reaches. Their influence can reach beyond the
Paling and, thus, it falls on us to act wherever they appear. That is
not a task that can be done with few people. Our forces are in constant
need of new, capable, men and women... and that brings me to you, Hilda
Solberg."
Hilda's face crumples, surprised that he knows her name. In a couple
of seconds, however, a strained gasp bursts out her lips, like she's
just had a bucket of cold water dumped onto her, as she realizes what
he's implying.
"Wait... are you—!" she blusters, backing away and knocking a few empty steins to the ground. "Ah, damn it!"
"Everything alright, Hilda?" Edda asks from the kitchen.
"It's fine – don't worry!" she answers, picking up the steins as fast
as she possibly can and standing back up to stare at Ryouma with the
look of someone who's seen a ghost.
Lowering her voice, she asks: "Back up, there. Are you asking me to join the Scions?!"
"Not quite. We gain our powers from ancient covenant with the Altr
gods and it is they who have final say on who'll join our ranks or not,"
Ryouma declares. "Potential Scions are presented so they may decide.
There are two ways this comes about: either general sponsors someone or
one of us receives vision from the gods indicating person whom they
believe has potential. This is called 'conscription' and it's your
case."
Hilda rushes up front and sits on the stool next to Ryouma. Confused,
afraid, shocked and angry all at the same time, she tries and fails to
protest. Her thoughts slip away through her fingers before she can pin
them down into coherent phrases, reduced to simply making random
gestures and grunting gibberish at the man.
Raising her tense hands up to her mouth, she presses against her
cheeks and breathes in deep to try and calm down. Eventually, her hands
slam onto the counter and she answers: "Listen, you must've heard that
'conscription' thing wrong because this can't be right – I'm a waitress,
not a warrior. I've never even handled anything larger than a kitchen
knife, for crying out loud."
"The body can be trained and fighting skills can be learned. What the
Altr look for is those who've the heart to stand firm in defense of
mankind. That's far more important."
Hilda shakes her head at him with such speed and force that it hurts her neck.
"No... Sorry but either your gods made a mistake or you came looking
for the wrong person in that vision of yours," she argues, her voice
trembling. "This isn't me. It can't be."
Ryouma doesn't look deterred, answering back in a firm, impassive
voice: "The vision was clear, Hilda. I could see your face as clearly as
now. There is no mistake."
"But—!" Hilda tries objecting again but Ryouma interrupts her before words even come out of her mouth.
"Haven't you heard the Altr's call? A dream bearing hushed whispers?" he asks.
Ryouma can see in her frowning, wide eyes that he's right. Hilda
stammers, her head shaking nonstop face this madness but still unable to
answer, so Ryouma continues: "Furthermore, while this may sound as
request, it isn't. Conscription is god-given order for Scion to find a
potential recruit and present him or her to them – it must be obeyed. Not even our commandant could oppose it."
His words hit Hilda like a punch to the gut. Stunned, she slumps onto her seat and lays her face into her hands.
"Mondoumuyou... literally, it's pointless to argue this
matter. I apologize for putting you in such situation but my hands are
tied. Our cause makes demands of both us and those who are in our
protection," Ryouma says in a somber tone, staying close but also giving
her some space.
Hilda gapes at the ground underneath her stool, unmoving. She had
never entertained the idea of leaving Litnir – working with Gustaff was
more than enough. And, now, this Scion suddenly says she has to? That
she'll possibly join their group? This is insane in more ways than one.
"What then, Hilda? Will you come without trouble?" Ryouma says,
speaking gently but with a firm note on each word that makes it obvious
he is very serious. "Or will I have to bring you by force?"
Hilda's eyes shoot up to look at him, her dejected face immediately
shifting to worry. She's lived in the Northern Reaches long enough to
know that you cannot refuse the call of the Corps. There have been
stories of people who tried to run or fight, only to be quickly
encircled by pillars of flame, raised high into the air by mighty gales
or pinned in place as the very earth engulfed their bodies. In the end,
the Scions always bring in who they came for.
A part of Hilda still wants to try her luck and go crazy, do anything
it takes to get away... but Edda is still in the next room and she
couldn't risk her being hurt. Trying anything could also mean Ryouma
might tear through the bar in order to capture her. After a few moments
of trying, and failing, to find another solution, she lets out a sigh of
resignation through gritted teeth.
"Damn it, no! I... I'll go," she answers, her unhappiness being very
evident from the deep frown in her face. "Just... Just lemme speak to
Edda and tell her what's going on."
"As you will. While is not certain that you'll be accepted by the
gods, if you are, there'll be much to be done. It may be a while before
you come back here," Ryouma nods with a whole lot of tranquility,
clashing with the frustrated aura that irradiates from Hilda.
She grunts in affirmation, rubbing her eyes as she slumps her way to
the kitchen. Edda's happily stirring a pot, humming, before she looks
over and sees Hilda's dejected countenance.
"Hey, what happened? Why the long face?" she asks.
Hilda lets out a long sigh before answering: "That man there is a
Scion and... he's here because they think I might be good enough to join
the corps."
Edda's jaw nearly falls to the ground, shocked as though someone had told her she'd won the lottery. "Are... are you serious?"
She looks over to the counter and, indeed, sees the brand on Ryouma's forehead.
"He is serious, yeah," Hilda huffs with anger. "I have to go with him, don't I?"
Edda clutches her chin, bearing a very sympathetic look. "You're smart enough to know that answer already, Hilda..."
"I do but... but...!" Hilda snarls and stomps the ground in frustration. "Rrgh, jävlar! This whole thing is insane! There's got to be some kind of mistake!"
"I wonder..."
"What, you're not actually buying this, are you?" Hilda asks, outraged.
"I don't know... but, honestly, I'd like to think you could do way
more than just waitressing." Edda shrugs with a slight smile. "I guess
the Scions will answer that soon."
"You're damn right, they will. Gustaff had hired some temps for today, right?"
"Yes, they were supposed to be here later but I can ask them to come in early," Edda answers.
Hilda takes a sideways glance at Ryouma before nodding firmly.
"Alright, good. I'll get this mess cleaned up and should be back soon."
"But, if that doesn't happen ..." Edda steps over and gives Hilda a
tight hug. "Just know that we'll all be here, rooting for you, OK?"
Hilda is taken aback, not even wanting to consider that possibility.
Surely it won't happen – it can't. "Don't say that... I'll only be away
for a little bit, you'll see..."
Despite her protest, she still hugs Edda back, praying to every god out there that things go her way.
"Alright," Hilda lets go of Edda with a weary huff, "I guess I should get going before the guy gets antsy."
"Take care of yourself, Hilda," says Edda.
Hilda nods, a dark cloud atop her head, and turning back to Ryouma.
Before she leaves, though, she takes a long look out the kitchen
window, towards an abandoned house across the street. The wooden
structure is rotted, the rocks that form the wall are dirty and the
earth around it is covered in tall grass. As Hilda walks down the
kitchen's stony corridor, she clutches away at pieces of the wall – as
though to delay to inevitable.
At length, Hilda she gets back to the bar, running her hands across
her misty eyes before meeting Ryouma's gaze with an angry glare. "I told
her what happened. Let's go and be done with it."
"I'm glad to hear it. Stand beside me and we'll be on our way," Ryouma isn't shaken by her attitude, answering with a smile.
He waves her over to his side of the counter and, as she does so,
shuffles through his pockets and pulls out a small white crystal – about
the size of his thumb.
"What's that?" Hilda asks.
"One of our many, many tricks. Now, breathe in, breathe out and try to relax."
Ryouma grips the crystal firmly in his hand and the white interior
starts swirling before changing into a bright green color. Small rays of
light start coming out of it as the crystal itself begins pulsating.
Hilda's confused by this display but doesn't have time to ask anything.
"Here we go."
At that moment, Ryouma tosses the crystal onto the ground beneath
them and it shatters, bringing forth a large symbol: a circle with two
triangles stacked on top of each other at the center.
The room fills with light, blinding Hilda, and when she opens her
eyes, she's no longer at Gustaff's bar. She now finds herself standing
in a wide open room: the floors are made of oak, with magnificent red
carpets covered in intricate patterns set about; the walls are covered
in dark red silk wallpaper with silver and gold-colored embroideries.
But what truly snags her attention is this massive prism crystal -
almost as tall as her. It stands front and center in the room, floating
in mid-air as if held by an invisible tether. From its bowels, rays of a
supernatural golden light spring forth and shine in all directions as
they're reflected by the crystal's many facets.
"What the hell...?" Hilda asks no one particular, staring in
confusion as her eyes dart throughout the room, going back and forth
between the crystal and the fine furniture.
A man is sitting in a wooden chair next to the crystal. He speaks
something in a language Hilda doesn't understand and Ryouma answers back
with equally unintelligible words. Despite this, they both seem to be
able to communicate without any issue. Without allowing any moment to
put her thoughts together, Ryouma beckons Hilda towards a wooden door
leading out the room.
"Come. Follow me."
"Hey, hold on! What happened back there? How did you...?" Hilda demands an answer, her gaze moving across the room in confusion.
Ryouma holds the door and gestures for her to wait. "Patience. I
explain everything soon but, right now, the only thing that matters is
presenting you to Altr, alright?"
The room outside is far grander than the previous one, albeit
strangely decorated. Pieces of many different armors, weapons and
shields are displayed across it all but that is not what'd catch the eye
of any visitor. The most significant pieces of decor are the thousands
of glowing, ornate glass orbs of varying colors that are set throughout
the chamber. Some hang from the walls while others are arranged in
shelves. Hilda would've taken these as someone's odd collection of
knickknacks but the orbs feel strangely natural... No different from
watching, say, the stars at night.
All this is illuminated by a massive golden chandelier that, instead
of candles, uses five different colored lights – dark blue, red, orange,
green and white – which glow far brighter than fire.
"This is Valarheim Keep, headquarters of the Corps of Scions."
Hilda looks at the room slack-jawed. She's never seen anything as
impressive in her entire life but, as the surprise subsides, something
strikes her as odd.
"Wait, Valarheim Keep is around the border with Greenland, isn't it? That's hundreds of kilometers away from Litnir!"
"Like I said, we've many tricks," Ryouma says with a sly grin as he
directs Hilda through one of two large passages leading out of the room
and into a wide hallway.
Decorated in the same style as the room with the floating crystal,
the hallway stands firm under the support of carved, round wooden
pillars. Tall windows, its golden frames crisscrossing in an elegant
pattern of flower stems, rise up its walls and bring a clear display of
the windy tundra outside. Mighty brass candlesticks lay dotted
throughout giving a faint glow to the wallpaper's elaborate
embroideries, reflected off the polished planks that make the floor.
It is comparatively simple to what Hilda expects from a grand
garrison but with a tinge of militaristic refinement. Still, it seems
appropriate for a place tasked with being the Corps headquarters. The
main structure of it all does appear to be as ancient as the
legends themselves, with the wood showing cracks, tears and stains in
its dull skin. That said, it does not feel weak in the slightest. Hilda runs her hand over one of the pillars and it is warm as though it is alive.
They pass by several other Scions as they walk down it; men and women
of many different races and nationalities, each one bearing brands of
varying degrees of complexity on their foreheads. They all seem friendly
to Ryouma and while Hilda still can't understand most of the languages
being spoken, a couple do speak to him in English. Ryouma still replies
in his own language, much to her confusion as he'd shown that he had a
good grasp of it.
After a few minutes, they arrive before a large set of wooden doors -
each one decorated with an intricate carving depicting a battle between
Scions and Valnr. On the left door, a large army stands ready to fight,
basking under light that shines from the heavens. On the right door, a
mob of undead and hooded, human-like beings are being directed by what
looks like an enormous, winged creature.
A couple of Scions are standing guard before it and, after a small
conversation with Ryouma, they pry the doors open. Unlike the previous
rooms, the one within is completely made of a pearly white stone. Dozens
of strange symbols are engraved on the walls but Hilda has no idea what
they're supposed to mean. As for objects within, there is only a single
one: a small, amber colored crystal. It is about half a meter tall and
standing atop a marble pedestal. A small beam of light shoots from it
and exits the room via a tiny opening right above.
"What you're looking at is the Nexus Crystal, crux of our
organization. It is the very same crystal that Altr gods presented
Eliina Vanhanen over a thousand years ago as proof of alliance," Ryouma
explains, going back to speaking with his accented English. "This is
what sustains the Paling and allows communication with the Altr to
receive their blessing."
Ryouma beckons Hilda closer with his hand as she looks deep into the
crystal. At closer glance, its amber color seems to come from this light
that swirls within.
"What happens now?" she asks.
"Now you present yourself before them. While conscription occurs when
they sense potential within someone, they are not all-knowing and can
make mistakes in initial assessment. Once you lay your hand atop the
Nexus Crystal, though, your very soul will be laid bare and they'll
decide whether you truly have the necessary qualities to join our
ranks."
An inquisitive, and accusatory, look forms on Hilda's face. "Didn't
you say that the Scions are always in need of new folks? Should the Altr
turn down people who could fight, especially when they were very likely
much better than me...?"
Ryouma chuckles as though he's heard that question a thousand times before.
"While our need for recruits is ever present, that does not make it
wise to bring everyone into Corps. Would you give sword to someone whom
you felt wasn't capable of wielding it responsibly or with good
intentions?" Ryouma asks, nodding at Hilda with a knowing smile. "The
Altr each have their own ideas of what they're looking for in Scion but,
throughout all of them, there is one constant: a Scion must be someone
who has the determination to oppose the Valnr's campaign of death, no
matter how dire the situation."
In Hilda's thoughts, this is all still one hundred percent nonsense.
Her? Opposing anything? Maybe an unruly patron, sure, but certainly not
an undead or Valnr. Still, it's clear she has no choice in this matter
and all she can do is stew in her anger.
"Fine... let's see if your gods have some common sense. I just touch this crystal thing?"
After Ryouma nods in confirmation, Hilda takes one last step forward
and places her hand onto the Nexus Crystal, close to the beam of light.
Its smooth surface is warm and despite not knowing the first thing about
the Scions' magic, she feels at ease in its presence.
"Close your eyes and relax," Ryouma tells her gently, "there's nothing to worry about."
As Hilda does so and takes a deep breath, the sounds surrounding her
start fading away. After a few moments, she no longer hears the bluster
from Scions passing by the room or the wind that blows wildly outside
Valarheim. In fact, she soon even stops feeling the Nexus Crystal, where
her hand is supposed to be resting upon, or her feet touching the
ground.
She starts to get worried, wondering what could be happening. Is this
part of the test or, maybe, something has gone terribly wrong?
"Ryouma? You still there?" she asks but no answer comes.
Hilda's concern is growing by the second and she decides to open her
eyes to, at least, see what's going on - when she does, her jaw drops
once again. The Nexus Crystal and its room are gone and, now, she stands
amidst an endless sea of stars with dozens of colored lights
surrounding her. She can feel she is being watched and it quickly dawns
on her that these must be the Altr gods. The lights draw closer and
start moving around her, dancing like embers, as waves of energy start
wafting from her body.
Soon, a few lights stop moving, disappear and are replaced with other
lights who also begin circling around Hilda. This process goes on for a
couple minutes until only two remain: a cyan colored light and a dark
red one. As the waves of energy stop emerging from Hilda, the two lights
end their dance and move a few feet away from her. They begin
flickering and shaking towards one another.
"Are they talking to each other?" she ponders.
At length, the dark red light disappears but the cyan one stays
behind and slowly moves closer to Hilda. It stands in front of her for a
moment before floating towards her forehead. The light moves closer and
touches her forehead. She hears it speaking in the same weird language
of those previous whispers before it unleashes a blinding flash. Hilda
falls to her knees, feeling her entire body tingling and surging with
warmth.
When she opens her eyes, they slowly refocus to show the Nexus
Crystal standing right before her. Hilda feels very disoriented, her
head burning like it's on fire. As she tries to make sense of what she'd
just been a part of, the words the light spoke just now echo in her
thoughts but, this time, she understands them.
"The burden of life is now yours to uphold. You stand a champion
among men, a force to stem the tide of destruction. From this moment,
into eternity: Hilda Solberg, Scion of Orlen..." she repeats aloud.
As Hilda slowly shuffles around, she looks at Ryouma: for the first
time since the moment she met him, his calm demeanor has changed into a
look of surprise. At length, a large smile forms in his lips as he lets
out a laugh.
"'Scion of Orlen'... Very good. Very good, indeed!" Ryouma cheers. "Welcome to the Corps of Scions, Novitiate Hilda!"
Points: 23295
Reviews: 264
Donate