Ch.11

Once a bond was formed between a human and a totem beast, both would stick together until death. There were cases where a totem beast outlived its contractor, in which case, they would return to their dimension.

Totem beasts weren't only mere beasts you'd find anywhere in the wild, they had been created by the Wildfather himself and were part of his pack.

More importantly, they were the ones who taught the Basara children the clan's secret arts, instilled to them by the deceased Wildfather or the elder beasts.

When summoned and contracted, a totem beast's duty was to protect but also teach their contractor cultivation arts, that way, there were fewer chances of the secret arts getting leaked.

The Basara butlers who taught children [Soaring Wrath] and [Soothing Pain] only knew these two secret arts, the others were taught by the totem beasts.

Raki who had fallen asleep woke up to Olaf's voice filling the Eversnow Garden. Now that the ritual was over, he was allowed to speak.

"Hours for these two! Two totem beasts are a rare sight, sure. But what good will a dog and a bird do in a fight? Here I was expecting more from you, youngest." It was the first time he'd seen so many different totem beasts, some seemed so powerful his warrior's heart had beaten with envy. "What a waste of my precious time."

He turned to his mother. "May we leave with your permission, mother?"

Skadi simply nodded, the ritual was over, no point in keeping her family here, they had much to do.

"Let's go, Itril." The bulky man suddenly turned around and left with his totem beast. "Damnation, a bird and a dog." He kept mumbling. "A bird and god damn dog."

Raki blinked multiple times, scratched his bald side, looked at the two totem beasts Erik had summoned and nodded in direction of his little brother. He then left silently, followed by the grey wolf, his aunt, and uncle.

'Ever the talkative man,' Erik thought sarcastically.

Amongst his siblings, he liked Raki the most because he only talked when he had something meaningful to say, which, as far as Erik could remember, never happened in his presence.

The volva, Revna, his mother's sorceress, a raven-haired woman, blue eyes, and a charming face, remained still, awaiting her next orders.

Gorm, Erik's father, sighed in disappointment. Here he had been thinking the curse of the ninth child was about to be broken in this generation.

Still, he decided to remain until his youngest son left for what may very well be his final journey, then he'd forget he ever had a ninth child.

"Why was the big two legs angry?" Rex asked.

"He thinks you two are worthless, Rex. Traditional Basara arrogance," Erik explained, patting the dog's golden fur. "But he judges a blade by its looks, not its sharpness."

"What's arrogance? Sounds like cat food." Once Erik explained in a few words, his life companion would learn fast enough. The dog growled threateningly, "Old bones, quick! Catch up to that fat person and show him who's the boss!"

Caw!

The raven jumped off Erik's shoulder, flew in a circle around him then plunged on the poor golden retriever who cowered in fear.

"Wait old bone! Ouch, ouch, I'm sorry! Please stop pecking me! Please, I'll keep my mouth shut next time, I promise!"

Meanwhile, Skadi looked at her totem beast prostrating.

"Saber?" The Matriarch asked.

"My words are sealed," the snow tiger responded, trembling.

Clearly, it wasn't because of Erik's pup, it only left the raven. She inquired about his worries, however, Saber's maw remained shut.

Caw! Caw! Caw!

Woof! Woof! Woof!

Annoyed by the cacophony, Skadi infused a bit of wyrd in her voice and said calmly. "Enough."

Her voice, though low, was heard in the entire mansion, perhaps further.

Raven and dog obediently stopped bickering. Rex hid behind his contractor, whimpering in submission while the raven jumped back on Erik's shoulder, though it kept its noble demeanor.

"Erik," Skadi broke the silence.

"Yes, Matriarch."

"From now on, you are their responsibility as they are yours. Do you understand?" Skadi said with a monotone tone.

She wanted him to keep both of his totem beasts in check and prevent such unsightly behavior during family gatherings.

"Yes, Matriarch. It will not happen again," Erik replied, peering straight into his mother's eyes. Most couldn't hold her daunting gaze but he had a tactic. Every time he looked at her, Erik thought back to her smile on the beach, this way, she looked less threatening.

He wondered why she wouldn't smile like that more often, in fact, he wondered why Skadi showed so few emotions.

Yes, she lead a brutal family and was known for her ruthlessness, but that couldn't be all.

Erik had heard in his past life that she used to laugh, hate, love, smile, taunt, bully—like what she had done to his father—show all sorts of emotions and facets of her personality.

However, that changed shortly after her ascension to the throne which coincided with her Transcendence.

Perhaps Transcending had done something to her emotions.

Skadi nodded in satisfaction. "Did you pick a weapon for your trial?" Erik showed the survival knife. "Explain your choice, Erik. As a Basara, it is a disgrace to forsake the axe."

Axe was the only correct choice.

"As you might already be aware, I have chosen to tread another path, Matriarch." Erik held her gaze, he knew if he were to waver, she would be severely disappointed. A Basara must always hold his ground, no matter his beliefs or circumstances.

"And what path could be greater than the axe?" The air trembled with her every word.

Erik stumbled, shivered, gasped but held. It was a test, the Matriarch was purposely leaving a way out, if she really wanted to, he'd be biting snow.

"None, Matriarch," he replied.

Pressure over his shoulders increased, yet he kept eye contact. Skadi seemed unsatisfied with this weak response. Erik quickly added. "Sword, spear, bow, chakram, staff, or any other weapon, none is greater than the axe."

Frowning, Skadi increased the pressure, forcing her son to his knees.

'Keep eye contact no matter what!' Erik thought, panting. 'Don't falter now!'

"Does 'any other weapon' include the axe itself?" She asked plainly.

"Yes… it does." Surprisingly, Skadi lessened the pressure, allowing him to speak further words. "The axe itself isn't superior to an axe, or any other weapon. If that were the case, we would have already conquered the world."

The pressure lessened a bit more, enough for Erik to stand. "In the end, what's important isn't the weapon but the wielder. That's why it is my firm belief that no weapon is superior to an axe."

"You speak well for a child," Skadi…, chuckled? "I see Caliber taught you enough rhetoric to bend words to your will. Good, a true Basara bends not only his enemies but everything to their will."

Erik almost sighed from relief as she entirely removed her pressure.

"You are right, Erik," The Matriarch continued. "In essence, the weapon matters not, only the wielder does. If you understand that, then it is no coincidence you chose the knife."

Was she testing him again? He was certain she already knew about his path. The only reason he could think of was that Skadi wanted him to openly say it.

Words spoken out loud had deep meaning in the North. Once words were spoken, Norsemen believed it was recorded, marked, engraved in the Fate System, that it started something that couldn't be erased until it reached an ending.

That's why promises were sacred to all inhabitants of Nurmen.

"Not the knife, Matriarch," Erik declared, wetting his lips, the words he was about to say would impact his future in an unpredictable way. "I have chosen to wield no weapons."

Skadi sent him a plain quizzical gaze.

"I have chosen the Path of the Fist," Erik closed his fist as if to show his resolve.

Instead of becoming the wielder, he would become the weapon.

Gorm who had been silent until now, exclaimed, "This is preposterous! Pure utter blasphemy!" He who did not even originate from the Basara clan held their traditions in high regard, to the point he had abandoned the Bear clan's arts and learned the axe.

All for the sake of power.

The Matriarch sent him a warning gaze.

Her husband lowered his head but did not back down. "Skadi, you cannot let him do this. It goes against everything the clan stands for."

Erik jumped in before his mother could retort, "No it does not…," he paused before adding "sir."

"You are just a child, how would you know?"

"I know because I am Erik Basara, son of Skadi Basara," Erik purposely avoided adding Gorm as his father.

Truthfully, he feared and respected his mother.

But Gorm? He felt nothing for the man, nor expected anything from him. They had interacted so little in his previous life that to Erik, he was just another stone decorating the mansion.

"As a pure-blooded Basara, I respect traditions as much, if not more than you do," a small lie for the greater good.

"Don't make me laugh, child. The path of the ax IS the tradition." Gorm said with clear disdain in his voice. "Your words make no sense." He sighed, "Why am I even trying? We are adults, you are a child, your duty is to trust our words, not speak against them."

"With all due respect, sir, you are wrong."

"How dare yo—" Gorm paused mid-sentence, sensing Skadi's aura pressure him.

"Let him talk," the Matriarch ordered. Her husband dared not go against a voiced order and swallowed back his anger. "Continue, Erik."

"Yes, Matriarch," he said, thankful she had stopped his father. "We praise the axe because it is our tradition, but what stands above all, what we truly worship above all else is power. Axemanship is part of our traditions because it is our ancestral path to power, however, it is not the only path."

Swordsmen, spearmen, pugilists, bowmen. Many great warriors had come and gone, some rivaling Basara past clan leaders, a few surpassing them.

There were many paths to power.

"While you are right," Skadi said, "do you understand what your words entail?"

If he truly chose to walk this path, it meant the entire clan, no the entire Nurmen would mock and despite him more than they do now. He would be a black dot on a whiteboard, a heretic.

But there was one way he could make them accept him, the Basara way.

Force them into submission with overwhelming power.

"I do, Matriarch," Erik said, his eyes filled with determination. "I will follow my path, no matter what may come."

Skadi summoned her ax, she grabbed it with both hands and tapped the ground with Mordrogen's brown diamond pommel; the jewel being a treasure of the clan and a symbol of her status.

Snow dispersed, pushed away by a shockwave and her will. "I Skadi Basara, ruler of Nurmen, Matriarch of the Basara clan, hereby declare that from now on Erik Basara will be officially allowed to tread his path, but the consequences are his to shoulder."

She pummeled the garden's ground a second time, the sound reverberating on her ancestors' statue's shields.

Boom!

"Your words are acknowledged."

A message weaved into existence.

——

[Fate Quest: Path of the Fist]

Objective: Earn the acknowledgment of the Basara clan.

Time Limit: 21 years.

Rewards: ???

Bonus reward: ???

——

"Thank you, Matriarch," Erik bowed respectfully, happy about his new Fate Quest though a detail struck him, the time limit strangely coincided with the age of his previous life's death.

"Skadi! Please!" Gorm pleaded, "This is sacrilege!"

"Words spoken, cannot be taken back," she replied. Noticing his dissatisfied face, she added, "Gorm, I can understand your reluctance to see him follow a path you despise, however, I will not tolerate insubordination. Erik has chosen. He will gain power or die trying, such is the Path of a Basara and my decision."

Erik mentally shook his head, after all these years, his father still didn't understand his wife. Well, not that they had married out of love, that much anyone could see.

He suspected Skadi had used Gorm to merge both clans at the start of Nurmen's conquest. Since he was amongst the strongest men she had known at the time, she gave him the privilege to father her progeny and continue to serve under her.

"But you cannot—" Gorm tried to say but the Matriarch's hand sealed his mouth shut.

"I have spoken, Bear," she said, wanting to hear no more dishonorable words. "Revna, open the portal."

"Yes, Matriarch." The volva stepped next to Erik, he had a hard time taking his eyes off her. Norse sorceresses had this… inexplicable beauty as if a spell around them charmed men and women alike.

Lynx skin attires, smooth-looking hair, and a body to die for. At nine years old he could barely contain his natural urges towards this older woman.

She gave him a sweet smile.

He clenched his fists, blushing. 'She knows!'

Revna's staff glowed bloody red, and reality cracked open, revealing a frozen lake amidst tall trees on the other side.

Understanding what it meant, Erik removed his clothes, he kept nothing but the survival knife. Gone was the child's body, the swell of his broad shoulders distinct from his upper arm, his forearm sinewy and firm.

A 150 centimeters tall body tempered through bone-crushing pain, wolf toughening exercises, and endless martial repetitions.

Still holding her husband, Skadi grunted, as if acknowledging her blushing son's efforts who tried his hardest to ignore the volva's unnatural charm.

She almost chuckled at the sight of his little tiger going bonk.

Almost.

"May I begin the trial, Matriarch?" Important Basara etiquette, always ask mom's permission to do something when she's around.

"Power after Weakness," Skadi quoted the first verse of the clan's code.

"Power before Peace," Erik replied with the second verse.

"Power above Freedom," the Matriarch nodded. "Go, Erik. Come back in two years." It wasn't a suggestion but an order.

"I will," he stepped through, accompanied by two totem beasts who dared not quarrel anymore before Skadi.

____

Lore Extract:

"On volvas, sorceresses of the north. They wield powerful magic called seidr, similar to our own yet different, more primal. Their existences are dreaded, feared, usually shunned and avoided by common folks. According to our Intels, Skadi Basara employed a few in her service, something her predecessors would never have done. Proof she bends her cultural heritage if it can benefit her, probably why she managed to conquer Nurmen. Food for thought."

—Patrick Uzel, Magnum Encyclopedia.