War of Dawn - Chapter 4

Chapter 4: First Step

The training grounds lie at the center of Valarheim Keep and this is, by far, the largest section of the fortress: a wide open area covered with almond-colored tiles. Despite the mighty gusts of wind that have been blowing outside of the keep, it is as if an invisible force keeps them from affecting the interior. No snow is seen atop the tiles, either, something that ought to be impossible in the Northern Reaches.

The entire room is surrounded from all sides by the walls of the Keep, which finally gives Hilda an idea of how the building itself looks: golden framed windows with walls of the same reddish brown color as the Scions' weapons, all built with clear gothic influences in its ornate facade and tall spires. She also sees several golden-edged balconies coming out the second floor dormitories, overlooking the area.

Ryouma points over to an empty spot in the southwestern part of the training grounds. "That way; there are always people training and sparring in here, so we'd best keep away as you're starting off."

Hilda sees one such pair of Scions sparring at such speed that she has a very hard time keeping them in sight. Colored sparks fly off their clashing weapons, as their clink-clang sounds echo far and wide. One of the Scions launches what looks like a fireball at the other, who deflects it skyward.

Hilda turns her gaze to chase after the spell but that immediately becomes an afterthought. She stops right in her tracks, stunned by the sight of a gigantic, transparent wall of golden light that stands above the Keep, set between it and the cloudy skies.  Like an enormous piece of cloth, it rises from the ground outside Valarheim and expands towards the east, west and north until it vanishes.

"This is your first time laying eyes on the Paling itself, huh? It's only visible here, where the Altr Prana within the Nexus Crystal enters and energizes it," Ryouma says, pointing out a section of the wall that's struck by the beam that shoots from the Nexus Crystal. "It covers the whole Northern Reaches and parts of Canada, Russia, Greenland, Finland, etc., in an unseen dome of about 3800 kilometers in diameter. The Valnr and undead can't touch it without burning to ashes so, even after one thousand years, it's still the greatest defense we have to keep the bulk of their forces from the rest of the world."

"But it can't keep them all away, right?" Hilda asks.

A dark cloud sets above Ryouma's face as he answers back. "No, it cannot. It doesn't affect humans, so their necromancers can still go and bring death into populated areas... Still, it's far less of a problem than if they had the same freedom as in the War of Twilight and, if we do our job, we can stop them before anything happens."

Hilda can see in Ryouma's face that things have been going less-than-perfectly on that front – it's a big world and there are only so many Scions to keep everyone safe – but he quickly recomposes himself.

"Regardless, let's get to work," he says, grabbing the sword by the sheath and pointing the grip towards Hilda. "Take it and we'll start with the basics."

She begrudgingly does so, her hands easily adjusting to the suede-wrapped grip. Ryouma corrects the position a bit until he's satisfied.

"Alright, that looks good. Learn this grip by heart as holding a weapon properly is essential, understand?"

Hilda nods in confirmation.

"Now, before anything else... Why don't you pull the blade out of the sheath for me?" Ryouma says.

An impish smile has formed on his face and while Hilda wonders what could be so funny, she does what he wants. Pulling the sword halfway out, she sees that it shares the color of the other weapons but, upon closer inspection, it actually isn't rusty. In fact, it is so smooth that it reflects like a mirror, with a beautiful wave-like pattern that runs from the guard to the tip of the blade.

"Why does it look like this?" she asks, seeing her face reflected upon its surface.

"I'll get to that in a moment. Now, are you holding it firmly?" Ryouma asks with poorly contained excitement and Hilda confirms. "Good!"

As he says that, Ryouma pulls the sheath out completely. Hilda barely has time to scream as the sword grows tremendously heavy and drags her face-first into the ground.

"What the hell?!" Hilda yells, grasping her chin in pain. Ryouma's grinning face isn't helping her mood, either.

"Now why did that happen, I wonder?" he asks nonchalantly.

"How should I know?! The thing just started weighting a ton!"

"Oh? That's strange," Ryouma slowly walks over to the sword and picks it up without any trouble. "It feels very light to me."

Hilda simply stares at him for a moment, her face crumpled in anger. You cheeky bastard,I'd love to punch you right in the nose...! she seethes inwardly, blowing the bangs on her hair off her eyes.

Meanwhile, Ryouma takes the opportunity to whistle, placing a finger right on the blade's spine and balancing it like it's a wooden stick.

She does her best to calm down before, slowly, asking: "Are you going to goof around or are you going to tell me what's going on?"

"You asked why our weapons look the way they do. Metals like steel, iron, bronze and the like are simply useless against the Valnr, you see," Ryouma explains, placing the sword back into its sheath like it's made out of paper. "So, when the corps was first starting, the Scions needed to look for something better and the gods delivered: Alterium."

"Huh...? That doesn't sound like any ore I've ever heard of."

"I would be surprised if you had because this metal doesn't exist here. It comes from the Altr's own plane of existence," he answers with a knowing smile.

Hilda's face breaks into an incredulous frown. "You're kidding."

"Not at all. See, the tears in the Divine Shroud that enabled the Valnr to enter our world are something of a two-way street. You remember how I said that Prana can bear the will of those who interact with it?"

Hilda nods, her anger having been momentarily placated by curiosity.

"Well, while we can't travel through a tear in the Shroud ourselves, Prana can. Alterium is extremely reactive to it, so we use a simple enough ritual to reach into the Altr's world, send Prana charged with our will into the ore, and pull it over," Ryouma explains, gesticulating like mad. "It can be infused into any weapon, transforming it into something capable of standing up to the Valnr... while also making it very heavy, as you saw."

"Then, what, are you just so strong that you can move it around like it's nothing?" Hilda's face frowns with annoyance once more.

"Scions do enjoy enhanced strength but, no, that's got nothing to do with it. Alterium-infused weapons retain the original ore's reactivity to Prana and, so, it'll react to what the Scion wielding it wants."

Ryouma demonstrates this by drawing the sword and making it light enough to rest onto Hilda's shoulder. She wouldn't even know that it is there, was she not looking at it. Then, then and there, he makes it extend all the way to a distant wall before retracting it to the size of a knife.

He finishes his demonstration by transforming it to a humongous size – two meters tall, twenty centimeters wide – and still managing to balance it on one finger.

"You can change its weight, shape, size, sharpness... anything, really. All weapons bear a piece of the owner's soul but this is doubly true for us: when a Scion wields a weapon, it becomes part of him – a reflection of his will," as he says that, he brings the blade back to its original size and sheathes it before placing it on the ground before Hilda.

"This will be your first hurdle as a Scion and as a warrior. Before you can learn to use this weapon, you must lift it off the ground. Try again."

Hilda doesn't well know how to respond to all this; it all sounds insane but she can't deny what she just saw. And now he wants her to do the same... he'd have better luck asking the Valnr to pretty please leave us alone.

Following a deep sigh, she squats next to the sword and tries picking it off the ground. She puts every single ounce of her strength into it, straining herself as her face contorts with anger and pain. Not only does the blade not move an inch, Hilda thinks it's actually getting heavier.

"OK, stop," Ryouma places his hand in front of her. "You'll never move it if you go at it like that."

"Well, what the hell should I be doing, then?" Hilda snarls at him, frustrated.

Ryouma walks up closer and pokes at the brand on her forehead. "As I said, Prana bears the will of the user and the Alterium reacts to it. If you think to yourself 'this sword is heavy', it'll be heavy. By opening your seal of the mind, you can already influence Prana, so focus and tell yourself 'this sword weighs nothing'."

Hilda looks at him with a dubious expression – it doesn't seem like he's toying with her. If, a few minutes ago, this whole thing felt like an elaborate joke, it is progressively crossing over into certainty. Still, she decides to humor him.

Staring at the damned sword, she lets out an angry huff and thinks to herself: this weighs nothing, this weighs nothing.

"The Alterium will bend to your wishes, so long as your mind is clear. Command it, knowing with certainty that it will obey," Ryouma adds as Hilda once again grabs the grip and tries to lift it.

As before, the blade doesn't move. Hilda keeps trying, her arms hurting as if they're being pulled apart. Her grunts steadily grow louder, sweat runs down her brow and it feels like she'd sooner push herself into the earth before succeeding in lifting the thing. Her attempt comes to an abrupt end as her sweaty hands slip away from the grip and she's sent reeling backwards and into the ground.

"Uurgh! Damn it, this is bullshit!" she exclaims, punching the floor in rage. "What am I even doing here?! I told you this isn't me!"

Ryouma crouches before her and looks right into her angry eyes.

"Is that what's going through your mind? It's no wonder you're failing, then."

"What the hell do you want from me, Ryouma?! I! Can't! Do! This! Henrik's—!" Hilda stops mid-sentence and, looking at Ryouma with a horrified gaze, moves away.

Hilda once more holds her face in her hands and shakes her head back and forth. Pacing erratically, she breathes heavily through teeth chattering with anger.

Ryouma approaches again and speaks to her in his calmest tone yet. "I will not assume that I know what brought this about – and I will not pry – but it seems to me that you're intentionally setting yourself up to fail. Why are you so hesitant to be here? What are you afraid of? Those are questions you should be asking yourself."

"Enough with the analysis! You don't know the first thing about me!" Hilda yells before sitting on the ground, sinking her face between her knees.

He gently places his hand on her chin and draws her face to look at him, his dark eyes awash with kindness. She'd seen eyes like these before, though being reminded of them only serves to aggravate her further. Indeed, it is the last thing she wants to be reminded of right now.

"You're right, I don't know you – not yet – but I've known people like you: people who've allowed doubt, regret, sorrow and fear to hold them prisoner, those emotions eating away at their soul," he says softly but firmly. "You're a young girl and, yet, I see such weariness in your eyes. Your anger and frustration tells me that your spirit is alive but is unable to surmount what binds you; thus, you've shut yourself inside this comfort zone and lash out when something tries pushing you out of it."

Hilda is getting increasingly annoyed with Ryouma – this guy just can't take a hint. And the worst part is this know-it-all shtick. "Surmount what binds you"... he says like it's the simplest thing in the world. What the hell does he know? she thinks.

"Ciao, mi amore!" someone yells from afar, drawing Hilda away from her woes.

She turns to see a tall and slender woman, seemingly in her mid-forties, walking their way – she has long, wavy brown hair that goes down to the middle of her back, peach-colored skin, green eyes and glossy red lips bearing a large smile.

The woman walks over to Ryouma and gives him a quick kiss.

"Well, you're in a good mood. I trust everything went well?" he asks.

"Very! Everyone was rescued in one piece and Owen is showing great progress," she answers happily before looking at Hilda. "Oh... but I see you've been busy here. Lord Orlen finally picked someone?"

Ryouma confirms and the woman moves to take a very close look at Hilda, quickly making her uncomfortable.

"Excuse me... who are you, exactly?" Hilda asks as the woman eyes her down but she simply raises her index finger, gesturing her to wait.

The woman smells slightly of fine perfume but still has the bearing of a warrior, carrying a corseque - which, by the bloodstains on it, had seen recent use - on her back. She's wearing a studded leather armor and pauldrons, with laced leggings and a red sash that wraps around her waist and hangs down her left leg. The weapon itself is a large, triangle-shaped spearhead flanked by two knife-shaped blades at each side, all atop a shaft that is fully adorned with golden engravings of tree branches and birds. Everything shows signs of having been enhanced with Alterium.

"Hmm... Yes, you have a good pair of eyes on you, fine posture... and beautiful hair! I think you'll fit right in!" she cheers, her large smile returning. "But where are my manners! Vanessa Abbatangelo, general of Lord Taserus, god of wild animals, forests, diligence and honor. Pleased to meet you, miss!"

"Um... Yeah. Hilda Solberg. Good to meet you, too," Hilda's struggling to not appear surprised. She expected other generals to be grizzled men like Ryouma, not perfumed ladies, but the brand in her head – three nested circles and several interconnected triangles in a tree-like shape – proves otherwise.

Vanessa quickly sees the katana lying on the ground ahead and sighs.

"Ah, the old 'pick up the sword' song and dance... and, by the boo-boo on your chin, I wager my sweet husband didn't tell you about the weight before giving it to you, hm?" she says while giving him a chiding look.

Ryouma puffs his chest and puts on his most sage-like face before answering back. "Nangyoukugyou. It is by enduring harsh trials that one may achieve enlightenment."

"Don't you start with those, mister. We both know you did that for a quick laugh," Vanessa sasses, poking him in the chest.

She conjures a small green light in her hand and places it over Hilda's chin, quickly healing the bruise – not that the girl is paying attention to that.

"Wait, back up... You two are married?" Hilda asks, eyes wide with both shock and amazement.

"For many decades now, yes," Vanessa says, looking at Ryouma with an amused expression. "Word of advice: this 'wise samurai' has a mischievous little boy inside his head, so keep an eye out."

"Oh? And what does that say about you, then?" he asks with a wry laugh.

"That I'm a very patient soul and great with kids, honey," she counters, Ryouma grinning as though admitting defeat.

Their conversation is interrupted when someone comes blazing into the training grounds – literally, there is fire wafting around him as he comes in. He lands right next to Hilda before she even has a chance to realize that someone's incoming, the scare causing her to jump back.

As she takes a better look, Hilda sees a Scion kneeling before Vanessa: he wears his flowing blond hair trimmed slightly above his shoulders, his dark brown eyes bursting with seriousness and, despite appearing to be only slightly older than her, she can feel that he is far stronger. He's wearing a black gambeson with plate leggings, a pair of red and silver chakrams - as bloodied as Vanessa's spear - hanging from his large metal belt and, on his forehead, a single circle with one triangle showing that he is a Novitiate.

"My lady Vanessa, I've finished our report to the commandant. She asked me to inform you that today's meeting will be delayed until 2200 hours as Lord Ragnar and Lady Alexandra have yet to return from their assignments," he reports in a deep British voice, bearing a very professional tone.

"Thanks for telling me, Owen," Vanessa gesticulates for him to stand up. "You've arrived at good time, actually. Let me introduce you to Ryouma's new apprentice."

Hilda feels Owen's gaze sizing her up far more harshly than both the generals'.

"Hilda Solberg, Owen Kendrick – my own little apprentice," she says, bringing both young Scions face to face and Hilda does her best to look Owen straight in his eyes. "Scions of Orlen and Taserus work in pairs whenever possible, so the two of you'll be partners once she's up to speed."

Owen keeps a straight face but Hilda sees his lips narrow a bit – he's not too happy with this arrangement.

"You... you are no warrior, hm?" he asks with a voice cold like the winter's breeze. "You reek of fear, your hands and muscles show how little – if any – training you've had in your life... Did Lord Orlen actually accept a civilian into our ranks, Lord Ryouma? And you say she's to be my partner?"

A small frown finds its way to Hilda's face as she hears him speak. While part of her is glad to have found someone that sees her for what she is, much to her surprise, another part of her is feeling somewhat insulted. Why, though? It's not like what he said wasn't the truth, she ponders.

"You are far too quick to judge, Owen," Ryouma argues calmly. "I'm sure Vanessa has told you that there's more to being a Scion than the obvious."

"You'll have to forgive me, my lord, but there's a limit, no? The battle against the Valnr requires experienced warriors, not mewling pups. I thought the Altr gods to be wiser than this," he fires back, Hilda clenching her teeth as her annoyance with him grows. She is just about to speak up but doesn't get the chance.

"That's enough out of you, Owen," Vanessa cuts in, slapping him upside the head. "You might not agree but Lord Orlen has made her his Scion, so you'll treat her properly – we're all family here."

Owen runs his hand through the back of his head and stays silent; still, Hilda can see his harsh eyes trail over to the sword lying on the ground, painting a clear picture of how little she's capable of.

He sighs and shakes his head with a dismayed look. "As you wish, my lady. Now, if you'll excuse me, I have a few spells I'd like to practice while I've the free time."

As Ryouma and Vanessa dismiss him, he proceeds to once again conjure fire around himself and dashes away in high speed.

"Don't mind him, Hilda," says Ryouma. "Owen is a good man but he comes from a family of renowned knights, so he holds everyone to an exceedingly high standard."

"But he's right – I'm no warrior and I shouldn't be here. You can see that, right...?" Hilda asks Vanessa, hoping she'll be reasonable.

"Things are never as black and white as that, dear," says Vanessa with an understanding smile. "You might not be a warrior now but that doesn't mean you can't become one. All it takes is training and you'll get as much you need to get ready."

Hilda knows she's trying to be supportive but it does not matter. Vanessa's words painted a very clear picture regarding her attempts at persuading them to release her: it wasn't happening. They were convinced that they could make a Scion out of her and were intent on doing so – intent on making her fight the undead – no matter how long it took.

There is no way out, no excuse or appeal that will work and the fear and frustration welling up within Hilda quickly reaches the bursting point as this all sinks in.

"What... what is wrong with you people? I'm not right for any this! I've been telling you that all this time, damn it! Why won't you just leave me alone?!" she yells in rage.

"You know we cannot, Hilda – humanity needs you to fight in its stead. Despite how you feel, this is the path you're meant to walk and you'll have to make your peace with that," Ryouma says firmly.

"To hell with you and your path!" Hilda explodes before running off into the keep. Vanessa is about to go after when Ryouma stops her.

"Give her time," he says.

Hilda dashes through the main corridor, the Scions within jumping out of her way, and follows it until she finds Valarheim's portcullis not too far away. It is open and the guards don't try to stop her as she makes her way into the snow-covered tundra outside.

There's nothing but earth, snow and a few bushes ahead of her. She has no idea where she's going and, even if she did, Litnir is days away. Still, something inside her has taken control and all she can think of is that she needs to get away from this insanity – she needs to run.

This is wrong...! The Scions, the Altr... they made a mistake... It has to be a mistake...! Hilda repeats to herself.

She wants to go home – back to Litnir and Gustaff's bar – and forget all of this. It's the best for everyone; it's the way it should be.

Hilda runs for over an hour and, as time passes, the windy weather grows into a full blown blizzard. She isn't feeling the cold – a side effect of being a Scion, probably – but it doesn't take long before she is lost in the wilderness. She can barely see, has no guidance or landmarks to get her bearings and no one will be traveling through this area.

Hilda still keeps moving, her breathing getting shallower and her heartbeat getting faster and louder with each step. It has been four years since the last time she'd even been outside of Litnir and, like today, a blizzard struck during the voyage. The howling of the gusts of wind hitting and cutting her face, the sound and sensation of her feet sinking and pushing out of the deep snow and the red and orange colored light of the setting sun, vanishing as the snowstorm worsens, harken back to old memories of that day.

Her vision starts to get blurry, her chest feels like there's absolutely no air inside her lungs and, despite not feeling the cold, her entire body is shivering. As it gets darker with the approaching night, she sees the shadows around her twist into monstrous, shambling forms – more and more emerge by the second. She gasps in terror and tries running away but to no avail, as the creatures stalk her from every corner.

"No...no...no, no, no... We can make it... you...!" Hilda starts whispering to herself, in a daze, before tripping on a rock and collapsing to the ground. She is paralyzed, cowering under the wind and snow as every detail of those horrifying memories invade her thoughts: pained wails echoing across the tundra, burbling pools of blood staining the white snow, the foul smell of rot, a young girl crying inside a dark cave, clutching a precious knife.

"Someone... anyone... help me...! Please...! Help me!" she screams, overwhelmed as tears rush down her cheeks, and then... silence. An unseen field has formed around her, blocking the blizzard, and she turns to see Ryouma floating in midair as he descends towards her.

"No...! Stay away...!" she growls, swinging her hands at him with a desperate look in her eyes.

"You can't run from your duty, Hilda. And, honestly, I don't think you truly want to."

"Ryouma... why me...? Of all the people out there... why me?!" she asks, her voice breaking as she tries choking back tears.

"I do not have that answer, Hilda. But I want to think that the Altr are trying to help you," Ryouma squats onto the snow to look at her. "I know that life can put one through incredible suffering; but, ultimately, that suffering only lasts for as long as you allow it. You weather the storm and, when it ends, you stand up, put it behind you and move on."

"How...?! I can't put it behind me...! It never goes away! I— " Hilda yells, only for Ryouma to interrupt her once more.

"Ichiisenshin... that is, commit your whole heart and soul towards a goal, not allowing anything else to cloud your sight," he says as he plunges her blade into the snow. "Your past will always be with you and, as such, you mustn't allow it to have dominion over your present or your future."

Ryouma helps Hilda stand up and guides her hands onto the grip – both are shaking terribly, like that of an infant child facing a dreadful beast.

"Pick up the sword, Hilda. Take your first step towards freeing yourself from what binds your spirit," he tells her firmly, placing his own hands on top of hers. "I'll help but you must be strong."

Hilda recalls being told to "be strong" four years ago, and a promise made. But that phrase has long since lost all meaning. Strength, determination and the like had become alien concepts – things she'd thrown away, with no intention of ever trying to recover.

"Come on, you can do this. Ichiisenshin," he tells her again.

Hilda's legs are feel numb, like a pair of logs, though Ryouma supports her upright from her under her shoulder. With the howls of the raging wind silenced, she hears her racing heart playing a pounding drumbeat at the back of her head. She feels the sting of the dried sweat and tears over her face clashing with the low temperature and the cuts the gales left in her lips.

"Ichiisenshin... Ichiisenshin..." Hilda breathes in deep, closes her eyes and repeats his words with a strained whimper. Ryouma's warm hands support her grip, keeping her from loosening it.

Fear and guilt had gripped her heart since that day and wouldn't let go. Hilda desperately clung to whatever pieces of her life she had left in an attempt to find some semblance of tranquility, as everything started blending together into an endless gray haze. She knows she could have easily gone on like that forever – and it would've been far simpler.

"Ichiisenshin... Ichiisenshin..."

And, yet, something had now changed: with Ryouma's help, she can see a smidgen of color returning. She can no longer go back to the cage she'd locked herself in – the Altr and the Scions had shattered it and forced her out. The only option is to step forward onto this frightening path.

Hilda's arms, despite the pain, tense up and her hands firmly clutch the soft grip of the sword, the suede brushing across her palms. Her feet sink into the snow, finding the firm ground beneath and planting themselves like roots. Her shoulders cock downwards and her back stiffens into position, as she takes in one last breath of the cold wind and lets it fill her lungs to the brim.

"Ichiisenshin... Ichiisenshin... Move!" she yells, pulling the sword upwards.

A proud smile breaks across Ryouma's face as he sees Hilda bring the blade to her waist as if it were as light as a feather. Her eyes wide open in surprise, a bit red from her crying and, yet, beaming. She herself can't help but to laugh and smile back – the first honestly happy face he's seen coming from her.

"Dawn always comes, even if you must slowly summon the sun yourself," he says, observing as she moves the sword around. "Your new life as a Scion officially starts here, Hilda. Glad to have you with us."

"Thanks..." she answers, her voice still faint but firm, as her hands finally stop shaking.