Interlude 2
Lernen:
Before traveling with the Lady Frieren and her entourage; Lernen had expected for things to be… unique.
How could they not be?
A boy and his father from another World. Two Dwarves who said they could wield magic; a talking Head.
And of course, The Lady Frieren herself.
Indeed, even the ‘mundane’ members of the troupe, Fern, Stark, Sein were interesting. Even in such a short time, Lernen could tell that Fern was a rare prodigious talent when it came to magic. A prodigy in the truest sense. Stark himself was a kind, well meaning young man, who always tried to do right even when it was difficult, the gift he’d given Lady Fern just two days ago for her birthday was proof of such, despite their rather great row just that morning.
Sein himself had quickly fallen into a role, from what Lernen could tell of being a much more grounding influence over the young members of the troupe. An island of normalcy amidst a sea of excentricities and ‘big personalities’ as Sense might call them.
It was fascinating and familiar all at once.
Mistress Serie for all of her power, skill and grace had her own eccentricities brought on by time, quirks of personality that Lernen knew well after a lifetime at her side.
For example, Lernen knew that Serie utilized the knowledge transfer spell, not for expedience in granting a mage the ability to wield a certain magic quickly, but because she enjoyed discovery. She enjoyed the feeling of learning something.
And it was so very rare, nearly impossible really, to give her something new to learn.
And so she recycled. The living Grimoire, forever seeking the joys of ignorance turned to knowledge.
Even to this day, near the end of his life, Lernen found himself discovering new and wonderful things, both with magic and beyond.
If such a thing ever came to an end… he wasn’t sure if he could bear it with nearly such aplomb.
Take this journey for instance, not even a full week had passed since they’d left Raht, and already there was so much that he had to remind himself to stay on task, for he needed to return to Mistress Serie quickly.
But the magic Lady Frieren and Fern had only just begun to tap into could change the entire face of magic across the world. The Dwarves, Brok and Sindri, so different and yet their unique grasp; their ability to shape magic, to give it form, to bend concepts to their will.
The applications of such could be limitless.
It was fascinating, and terrifying, exhilarating and sobering all at once. Just with these few days alone, he understood why his Mistress had been so concerned and yet he knew her well enough to know that this isn’t what had unmoored her so.
No. His mistress would have been overjoyed to be here. To be having these conversations by the fire regarding magical theory and application. To have entire new fields of untapped study, of discovery open to her. She would have been the happiest she’d been in millenia most likely.
And so that begged the question what is it that frightened her? Frightened her so much that Lernen had all but begged on hands and knees to let him come here in her place.
After all, if there was danger here… he was a man at the end of his life. And should he fall to it, Genau, Sense, Falsch and the other first class mages would have ample warning, as would his mistress.
It was a good trade.
And yet, as much as he tried, he could not see whatever had given his mistress that look on her face. The look of someone who watched a storm approaching over the horizon.
He prayed that he was correct, that his mistress’ fears were truly unfounded. He hoped, because she deserved to have true joy in her life again. Something he and all her students failed to bring her.
“Hey-”
Stark’s voice drew Lernen’s gaze forward, mind emerging from the cage of his own thoughts. “-I think it’s time to stop for a bit.” The boy called, once again entrusted with the, apparently solemn duty of petting the blue bovine, that pulled the Dwarve’s cart as they walked. “Gratitude needs water.”
“It aint Gratitude!” Brok yelled from within the cart; He’d been riding in it for the last day and a half or so. The clink clinks of hammer with chisel or metal following him. He was creating a ‘Lil side project.’ according to him. “It’s FUCKIN Gratitude!” Say her full name.”
The creature was evidently refusing to walk now without his head scratches.
The boy looked both uncomfortable and highly irritated. “I… don’t think I can do that.”
In truth, Brok was the one Lernen found most… off putting perhaps was the word. But beyond his crass behavior and certainly, vernacular, the Dwarf seemed an honest and forthright sort.
“There is a stream not far from here.” Lernen said. “If we follow it true; it will lead us to the next village, which also isn’t far.”
“How far is not far?” Sindri asked, holding onto the reins, seated beside the Lady Frieren who sat between them.
“Around two hours at our current pace if memory serves. Not very far at all.” Lernen reassured.
“Then maybe we should just press on then?” Mimir who was being carried by Fern, cradled in her arms, said. “It should give us time to arrive before the sun begins to set. Might be nice to show up with some time to reflex before we head off to bed just to keep hoofin it in the mornin’”
“The fuck you complainin about ya old stump!? Aint like you’re the one Hoofin it anywhere!?”
“I’ll have you know ya giant blue cun-”
“Actually.” Lernen cut in, using magic to make the wind carry to everyone so as to forgo the need to shout to be heard. “I would request that we divert to the stream.” He said. “The Task I set out to accomplish is nearly complete, it merely requires a bit of water.”
“Oh?” Sein asked, then shrugged. “Your call Boss Lady.”
“Who the fuck said she’s the boss!?” Brok, once again called.
“Just finish back there.” Sindri complained right back. “We dont need the running commentary.”
Lernen could hear the blue dwarf grumble and grouse, but futifully, whatever he was working on, once more began to release the steady clinking sounds of hammer on chisel.
If the lady Frieren showed any offense at being addressed so crassly, she did not comment. “I don’t see why not.” She answered in her usual placid calm. Eyes, glancing out to Lernen out of the very edge of her periphery. “You’re one of Serie’s prized students. Color me curious.”
“I’m Curious too now that ya mention it. Ya didn’t elaborate much as to what you came with us for.” Mimir said. “We let the matter rest because… well… because yer Mistress might help get us home faster but if its almost done why not a hint?”
“I still would rather not say.” Lernen replied to the Head’s query. “I’m uncertain as to wether it truly will function and would rather not give false promise.”
“Well now I have ta know.” The head grumbled.
—
Before long, they reached the stream. A small, babbling brook really, its waters gently lapping over and past the rocks, gathering in a small basin, before trickling off, further down, it would enter the Waal river. Further up, it would lead to the mountains that served as a natural barrier for the Northern Plateu
Gratitude marched forward eagerly, hoofed feet clop clapping, reaching the water’s edge and descending its long neck down to drink even as Stark began to unbind it from its yoke to offer some relief.
Lernen too, dismounted hopping off the cart as the troupe began to refil water canteens and take a moment to sit and catch their breaths.
Lernen too marched forward to the edge of the basin, its crystal clear waters let him look through to see the mossy underside of the river.
Its waters were beautiful, clean, and carried with them traces of the earth itself. Perfect for his needs.
He felt more thean heard the moment lady Frieren joined him sitting quietly at his side.
“I take it you’re familiar with the construction of Golems lady Frieren.”
“I do know some spells of that nature.” The Elf said quietly beside him. “Though I admit they’re not my specialty.”
“They’ve always been my favorite branch of magic.” He confessed. “The ability to create. To leave a lasting legacy within a thing that will outlive you. Work that can be improved upon and refined by those who come after you.”
“Hm.” The lady said. “I think I’m beginning to understand why we’re here.”
There was a grunt of effort, Brock stepping out from his place at the back of the cart .”Oi! Big and Bald!” He shouted.
Out of the corner of his eye, Lernen saw Kratos turned, the Spartan’s free hand moving lightning quick to snatch a stone out of the air.
“Wont work nearly as well as ours, not universal, but it’ll get you through here.” The Dwarf said.
Kratos stared at him.
Brok glared, crossing his arms. “Go on then try it! Didn’t fuckin chizzle their sound into a stone for half a day fer nothin!”
Sein’s features scrunched up “You… What?”
But the Dwarf didn’t answer,
In fact, the next voice they heard was.
“I… can speak their language?”
The Pale Giant’s voice emerged with perfect clarity, as though he were born speaking the language for the whole of his life, rather than just a few short months.
The reactions of those around them were immediate, tentative joy, amazement, incredulity. Atreus was joyful, as was Stark. Fern was questioning how such magic could even have been done when they’d not sensed even a lick of Mana being used. Frieren floated over, examining the rune carved stone in Kratos’ hands.
Lernen sat at the riverbank his mind awhirl with a thousand conflicting thoughts, each trying to leap infront of the other before he remembered he could not lose himself to his own fascination. He had a duty to Mistress Serie, and he needed to return to see that duty through and put his mistress at ease.
“I wouldn’t get yur hopes up too much there. Talkin in grunts was by choice more than circumstance I’m afraid.” Mimir said cheekily, and received, a grunt in response.
It made the head smile more. “See!?” He goaded.
Lernen took just a droplet or two of the river water, just enough to soften the clay, shape it, mould it ever so slightly. The water made it more pliable.. His Mana let him reshape the workings, as he’d shaped it before.
Then, he stood, his task complete.
The group was still enraptured with the Dwarven rune, and were either speaking to Kratos, or the Hulda brothers themselves.
They were so engrossed in fact, that Lernen needed to clear his throat rather loudly before they turned to look at him.
Perhaps this is the day for bearing gifts.” He said softly. “For I come bearing my own.”
He held up in his hand what looked like a simple clay doll.
For that’s what it was.
One of his own.
But unlike the others he’d made, this one was imperfect. Deliberately so.
For this one- had no head.
“Mimir, sir.” Lernen called.
“Aye?” The head’s response was curious, with just a hint of trepidation.
Trepidation, which was immediately at war with a hundred other emotions as the next words left Lernen’s lips.
“Would you like to walk again sir?”
(X)(X)(X)And you all thought Lernen was doin something shady like trying to start a fight to the death :p