3rd June 1329.

Ruins of Ferniegair.

South East of Glasgow.

Scotland.

Earth.

“Damn it all to hell, Tatania!” The Lord of Douglas was not a happy man. “I dinnae want you to do that again! Your place is not amidst the fighting in times of war.”

He gestured at the dead and wounded around them. His men, finding themselves also encompassed by the gesture looked away.

Suddenly discovering duties that required their attention, or better, another place to be.

This was definitely a fight they wanted no part of.

“This, my dear wife, is why I set you a guard!”

She smiled sweetly, and Liam - through his fatigue - could feel her wrath building from yards away.

“Oh, really sweet James? And what do you expect me to do after I see you and your men slain amongst some hovels by beasts out of myth? Knit some socks? Or perhaps you would have me sit in an Abbey with nuns? I'd fight all the demons of hell to stop that happening!”

“I dinnae expect my wife...” Lord James emphasized. “... To be such a stubborn lummox.”

“Don’t you dare bring that up, James Douglas! You know what it would mean." The intensity of her glare almost had the force of a physical slap. "You almost died! Were it not for young Liam and poor Iain, you would have. And how do you think I could have borne it if you had?”

Her hands clutched into fists within her skirts, she clenched her jaw fiercely. She looked about ready to hit him.

Instead she raised a finger, and prodded him in the chest. Hard. Her mouth twisting up and nostrils flaring she let loose a snort of digust.

He opened his mouth about to retort, but he paused, gaping at her as the words sank in. She was angry, but It wasn’t because he berated her for fighting, nor for being in danger. It was because the possibility of losing him terrified her. Either way, he shouldn't have brought up her status. Not in the way he meant it anyway.

Seeing the truth of the matter, he realized she was angry for the same reason he had become so mad at her.

He took a step forward, as she turned to walk away.

Folding her up in his arms as gently as he would the most precious object in the world, he stopped her. She stiffened in his arms at first, but relaxed into him as his voice dropped to a whisper.

“I am sorry, my love. I dinnae want you to fight, especially not to fight with me. I love you more than anything on this earth, and would have done the same in your place. But watching you fight unarmoured and without training, when I know the risks of war! It scared me as much as this skirmish scared you.” He held her, turning her to face him. “If you promise me you shall take to training with the men, I will see you equipped in armor and arms. Then at least I know you understand the risks as I do, and can better guard yourself if the need arises. I do not begrudge you for joining the battlefield, I simply fear for you upon it, just as you fear for me.”

She nodded, leaning back to look up into his face. Seeing he wasn’t mocking her, she collapsed into his arms, returning the hug with a great depth of love.

“I don’t know what’s coming, James. But whatever it is, the world will need everyone - men and women - to fight it together. These monsters, these Tribulations….”

She shook slightly, shuddering.

“We need to look towards training everyone to use weapons, and to work towards creating new tools and skills for the coming trials.”

Lord James nodded. “Aye. We shall begin as soon as we see King Robert.”

Lord Douglas released his wife and looked around. Throughout the hamlet, his men were going about their duties and inspecting their Statistics visions, assigning hard won points. James realized he had gained some levels and assigned them.

Looking at his statistics made him smile. He had 12 attributes to place where he wished.

Titles: Lord, “The Black”, "Good". Name: James Douglas Level: 9 Race: Human Class: None Age: 38 Tribulation Experience: 633/745 Health: 250 Magic: 200 Stamina: 100 Available Attributes: 12 Strength: 15 Agility: 13 Vitality: 25 Intelligence: 12 Wisdom:19 Charisma: 14 Luck: 18 Faith: 16 Will: 20 Skills: Tactics: 32 Shields: 28 Athletics: 54 Strategy: 19 Reading: 170 Swimming: 18 Logistics: 21 Writing: 78 Manners: 40 Swordsmanship: 29 Mathematics: 103 Chivalry: 30 Archery: 18 Heavy Armour: 39 Sewing: 7 Spear-weilding: 31 Light Armour: 45 Animal Husbandry: 53 Riding: 78 Unarmed Combat: 30 Housekeeping: 3 Metal Working: 5 Leadership: 77 Healing: 9 Carpentry: 3 Maintenence: 49 Hunting: 47 Tribulation Credits: 150

Having seen how much damage the Orc chief had taken, Lord Douglas took the time to increase both his strength and agility by four. And knowing that his intelligence was low, put his last four points there. He did so slowly, allowing each attribute to manifest its change before placing his next available point.

Seeing just how far Page Lamberton had come with a 22 luck statistic made Lord Douglas believe that luck affected far more than mere games of chance. He knew he would need to consider increasing that attribute to over 25 with his next levels. Perhaps then the fates would spin his future more kindly.

Having learned the lessons of assigning attributes, he was proud to see very few of his men pained by their advances.

Following their Lord’s commands, the surviving Men at Arms then began gathering up their dead.

Only fourteen of the twenty-seven who went into the fight were uninjured, all having levelled up at least once as the skirmish ended. The large green skins had killed nine men. Four from the Princess’s guard and five men of Douglas.

Their bodies were placed in a row, awaiting the Lord’s decision on how to give them their last farewell.

Three more men were lying wounded, their injuries being tended by the few Men at Arms who knew healing. These were of serious concern.

One man would likely die soon, a knife having puncturing his lung in the final clash.

These were men who had fallen early in the engagement, being too badly injured to continue the fight and unlucky enough not to have gained a level to heal them.

Another four seriously wounded men had leveled, including Squire Iain. The Lord had not seen the Squire stand but looked over at him now.

Iain stared in disbelief at his maimed stump of an arm. The skin having closed over the wound rather than regenerating the lost limb. He hoped his father would accept him, broken as he was. His career as a knight ending before it ever began.

He would never fight beside Lord Douglas again.

The Lord approached him, knowing that letting him dwell on the injury would not help his mind. He had seen too many maimed men who lacked purpose discover the bottle or the noose.

“Iain. I need you to check the pages. And talk to Liam. He may have saved my life once more, but by doing so, disobeyed me.”

Iain nodded, his fugue broken by his Lord’s command. “Aye Lord.” He said, gesturing with his stump. “Should I go easy on him?”

The lord shook his head, ignoring the maimed limb. “No. It’s time all the boys learn that in war an order is to be obeyed. Even if it seems mistaken or foolish. A few days of duty digging and filling the camp muck pit will set him right. I’ll thank him for saving me once he has time to think about why discipline is just as necessary as action. You, I shall thank when we reach Cadross.”

“Once that’s done, put the lads to work setting up the camp, then find us a place to sleep for tonight. We shall camp here, and then pass into Glasgow tomorrow.”

Iain was about to ask about his future. About his arm. He wanted to say that he could no longer perform the duties of a squire, when he felt a small hand touch his armoured shoulder. The Lord turned away, smiling as he went to find his wife.

Princess Margaret stood beside Iain, her eyes ignoring the maimed arm. She was staring into his face, tears forming.

“You were very brave, Squire. I worried about you! When I saw you lying so broken, having saved Liam…”

Her voice was tremulous and low. Full of hope and fear. She choked at the last, unable to bear the pain she saw in his eyes.

Trying his best, he mustered a half-hearted smile of reassurance. “Forgive me, highness, but I am afraid I shall not be a Squire much longer.” With that, he turned and walked away, knowing he turned his back on the beautiful girl to hide his anguish and extinguish all hope.

It could never be. Not with the King’s daughter.

Never to be a knight and never to be loved. Not now.

He looked once more at the stump of his arm. The memory of a hand causing him to clench a fist that was no longer there.

That is my future.

Iain forced his thoughts to return once more to his duties. His mind burning with anger at the unfairness of the world.

He marched towards Liam.

******************************

Liam was blind to the world, and it's unfairness. His mind empty as he leant on the carcass of the dead half-orc chief. He was staring into the distance, barely registering the voice calling out to him.

He didn’t even notice when Squire Campbell and the other Pages stood in front of him; the Squire clapping his hands to get Liam’s attention. He felt dazed from the fight and, although physically recovered, was drained of all emotional energy.

As the Squire waved his remaining hand directly under Liam’s nose, calling to him. Liam looked up with a start, surprised and confused by Iain’s angry expression.

The Squire glared at him. “What the hells was that?” he asked.

“Huh,” Liam asked, startled out of his reverie.

“You were under instructions to protect Lady Tatania and the Princess!” He said, gesturing with his good hand. “You left your post like some glory-hound seeking a knighthood and disobeyed your Lord’s orders!”

“I had to…” Liam started.

“Disobey orders?” Squire Campbell roared. “We had our duty! We were to guard the Princess and Lady! A post given to us by Lord Douglas!”

“When you receive orders, you stick to them!”

The other Pages were looking surprised, not expecting Liam to be in trouble for saving the Lord.

“Following the Lady into battle is not against your orders, as we are to guard her wherever she goes. But YOU left your fellow guards to traipse off and do whatever the hell you wanted to, ignoring the Lord and your duty.”

“THAT is not. I repeat. NOT going to be tolerated.”

Liam looked at the squire in confusion. Lord Douglas had ordered him to guard the Lady, but the other pages were there, and…

“What do you think would have happened to the Lady and the other pages if another force came upon them from the woods, or the lake?” The Squire growled.

“Lady Tatania ordered me forward to save the Lord. I cannot disobey her, nor the Lord. I am sworn to both. But if more of those beasts had attacked you, how do you think the other pages would have fared without your levels?”

Liam shook his head, trying to clear it so he could think. “I just…” He thought for a moment. “Lord Douglas was about to be killed by that Orc Chief. You were still climbing the barricade and couldn’t see! It had to be done!” Liam explained. “I wasn’t thinking about what might happen, only about what needed to happen! We were about to lose the Lord! If he fell, the men would have lost hope, and we’d have lost the battle!”

Aidan spoke up then. “Aye, I can see why you’re mad, Iain, but we defended Lady Tatania. Some goblins swarmed us and we dealt with them all! It all worked out in the end!”

Llewelyn added, “And Lady Tatania was very brave, as was the Princess. She used her mount to block some of the goblins so we could deal with them one at a time! And when the Princess saw you wounded, she took up a sword and slew two of them.”

“Three!” Andrew spoke up. “And she even helped the Lady save Liam. I saw them both glowing with levels after! And the way the Princess looked at you! Well, it was as though the rest of us didn’t even matter. When you fell, I thought she’d faint! Instead, she went into a berserker rage. We couldn’t keep her from your side.”

It came out in a rush so fast that by the time they ended their account, Iain was watching with the stunned mouthed appearance of a mullet. It was clear the boys didn’t understand, so he’d just have to explain it through work.

As the squire’s face softened, it twitched slightly in suppressed amusement and happiness. “Hmm.. Very well.”

He paused, looking at Liam, and allowed a small smile to spoil his stern mien. “You kept our Lord alive, and you took down that bugger. So everything worked out alright in the end.” He raised the stump of his arm. “Well, mostly.”

“Your punishment for lack of discipline will be to clean out the chamber pots each night… of the entire camp. You will dig the muck pit and fill it each night. This will continue until Lord Douglas grants you a reprieve.”

Liam groaned, which raised the ire of Iain. “Don’t bloody whine, you bugger!” he growled. “If you’d done that on a campaign, you’d be lucky not to be beaten within an inch of your life. And it would be the Lord doing it, not me. The most important thing in a fight is discipline, courage serves for a time, but once it’s spent and fatigue sets in, the only thing keeping men in the battle is the knowledge obeying orders may see them alive at the end.”

He looked at the pages. “That is the lesson. I trust that while Liam fills the shit-pit each night, he and you will think on it. Now come, we have duties to attend.”

Liam gulped, realizing just how serious the Squire was. He noticed Lady Tatania watching, and she nodded her thanks. He bowed his acknowledgement, causing the Lady to smile at the chivalrous young page as Liam and the other boys moved off to their duties under the watchful eye of Squire Campbell.

Liam quickly found that there was a great deal to do in the aftermath of a battle. They brought the wounded into the middle of the hamlet to where healers tended to them as best they could. The pages corralled the horses and brought them inside the barricade. Meals needed to be cooked, fires lit, and equipment mended. There was also the matter of the muck pit, but that would have to wait.

Liam looked over the battlefield. Patches of green, brown and a great deal of red covered the once pristine snow of the paddocks. A few ravens, braving the weather, landed amongst the goblin corpses and were worrying away at the flesh. Their caws the only sound he’d heard from birds since they left Douglas.

The men had cheered when Lord James instructed they would camp here overnight and continue on the next day. They needed no rest physically, but the losses had dealt their spirits a blow. It got worse soon after they found the first of the missing townsfolk.

The Lord and Lady would normally have claimed the largest building for their quarters, but when Squire Iain made a brief investigation of the home, he discovered the remains of its former inhabitants. Many of whom the green skins had dismembered and partly eaten.

It appeared the Orcs and Goblins enjoyed killing.

They massacred the townsfolk. Women, men and even children lay in heaps. The monsters using their heads as decorations for foul banners and ritual totems. Thin bodies hung upon the walls and ceilings of the hamlet’s small homes.

Iain had stumbled from the structure, his retching gaining the attention of the Lord.

James Douglas approached with his wife on his arm. The Squire tried to block their way, but the Lord spoke quietly to him and Iain moved aside. Both nobles entered the building. Shortly after, they came back out, the Lady weeping and Lord James misty eyed, hugging his wife.

Spared from seeing the horrors inflicted upon the hamlet, the Pages had gone to the river with the Princess to collect fresh water to boil. Squire Glengarry, having survived the engagement was sent with them. In command of a small escort of armed men, he was ordered by the Lord to keep them by the lake until the Lord’s men finished burying the hamlet’s dead.

By the lake, the atmosphere quickly turned jovial, as the guards kept them there for a while, talking to them about kinder topics, places they’d been, and tales they’d heard. The Princess even sang a song of King Arthur and Merlin, Llywelyn proudly advertising that they were Welsh. His family was a distant cousin of the Prince Artwys of Caerleon the tales were based upon.

Liam listened to the beautiful girl, enchanted by the stories of the Lady of the Lake and Excalibur. Myths he’d only ever heard in passing. He was enthralled by the ideas of a fraternity of knights, a brotherhood who protected the realms against the evils of Mordred and his magics.

Even the guards listened closely.

While the Princess sang, the men of Douglas scoured the hamlet in search of the dead. One of the men posted on sentry duty had discovered a deep drainage ditch just beyond the field large enough for all the townsfolk’s bodies. It took some time to placing them within, but all fit. They used the single cart the hamlet owned to move them. Each unnamed corpse was placed with care and whispered prayers for the protection of their souls.

Once done, the Lord said a prayer over the grave, and the men filled the hole in solemn silence.

Iain attempted crafting a cross to place above the grave, but found it impossible to do with only one arm. Lady Douglas came over to help him. Together, they tied two thick branches into a cross and wedged it into the ground; the lord helping push it deep. They both gained an attribute point in Faith for the service.

Many were crying by the time they finished. All had seen the horrors of war, but this went beyond anything the English, or even the most savage of the Scots, had done.

This was true evil.

When they returned to the hamlet, the pages looked around at the somber mood, not understanding what caused it. Their cheerful banter after the tales of Arthur and his knights received frowns and scowls from the Men at Arms. This caused them to become even more absurd, hoping to break the dour mood. Only Aidan went quiet, gesturing subtly at the others to refrain.

Soon, even the Lord grew tired of their noise and sent them out to loot the bodies of dead orcs and goblins outside the hamlet. Iain was sent with a man-at-arms to keep watch over the boys. While the Pages couldn’t loot all the bodies, as the system blocked them from accessing those they had no role in slaying, they still managed to collect some Tribulation credits. None of the beasts had a monster core, however, and the hope of finding fresh experience with which to help the wounded to level seemed dim.

"Why would these not have a monster core?" Llywelyn asked, confused. "These are monsters, surely?"

Liam shrugged. "I don't know. Perhaps they were not high enough level or something?" He suggested. The talked the idea over for a while, but had no real way of finding out, and so set the matter aside, concentrating on the task.

As they worked, Liam asked Aidan what he meant by trying to subdue their cheer earlier.

“I’ve seen those looks before.” The scion of the de Wedderburn clan replied.

His family was a border clan and held estates around Berwick. The English border Barons regularly raided north, and they had committed atrocities in revenge for his father’s raids South. During the war of Independence, the villagers of the lowlands were victims of not only the English army’s vengeance, but that of the Northern Scots Tribes who believed they sided with the English King. Many massacres and retaliations had taken place in the region.

“Once, when I was but five or six, Father would take me out to see our lands, as I was old enough to ride. We went once a week, or if weather was bad, a fortnight! We rode in the van, with an escort of twenty of my father’s Men at Arms behind us. It was the only times he truly took notice of me.”

“On one ride, we saw smoke in the distance.”

“We were too late to save anyone. On the road, the bastards had hung and drawn the entire town. We rode over masses of entrails spattering the ground for a hundred yards.” Aidan paused, his voice rough.

“God in heaven.” Andrew muttered under his breath, unable to imagine the scene.

“We could hear someone crying in the village, and so we rode closer. The bastards had secured two of women to a scaffold.” He paused, a sob coming from his lips.

“The raiders hurt them, a lot, and had probably done worse. Blood...” He struggled to speak for a moment. “It... ran freely down their backs and legs and... their eyes and ears… they’d been… and their hands and feet too.”

“The women heard the horses coming and screamed louder.” He stopped. “I could do nothing. I could not dismount as I needed my father to help me down, so I sat there screaming back. When I covered my ears and shut my eyes, the screams didn’t stop, and the images stayed in my mind.”

“My father gave the girls mercy with his sword, but the screaming didn’t stop. It was only when he took me down from the saddle and covered my mouth that it ceased. It took me years to understand that all the screams were mine. The bastards had taken the women’s tongues too.”

All four of the pages crossed themselves and said a prayer for the girls and the village. Llywelyn led it.

Andrew, ever the innocent, approached Aidan as he saw his friends’ eyes watering. Without a moment’s hesitation, he wrapped his arms around his friend and clasped him into a tight embrace. The other pages and Iain arriving moments later, joining the moment, patting Aidan’s back and shoulder. Liam did not know Aidan had seen such horrors. He was always so cheerful and full of mischief.

Overwhelmed by gesture of support from his friends, and with relief at having survived the battle, Aidan burst into tears. “I should have said something, but didn’t want to tell you. That’s why I was trying to hush you. I could see from the men’s faces that something happened to the townsfolk, and that they were trying to keep it from you. Something horrible happened here. Horrible beyond what that monster did to the girl.”

He cuffed at his eyes. The other boys huddled in, offering supporting words and shedding a few tears themselves. None of them ashamed of crying. "I thought I heard you wake up sometimes!" Iain said. "I didn't know about what you'd seen. From what I've heard, the Lord suffers sleepless nights much the same. I heard her Ladyship asking Sir Keith once, if it was normal for a man who'd seen things in war. He'd said it was. He too confessed that he'd faced demons in the night."

That the Lord and Sir Keith also dreamt of horrors made Aidan feel much better. He cuffed at his eyes with mail gauntlets.

“I’m glad you didn’t see it though!” Aidan said through sobs. “I still have nightmares sometimes, although I don’t make a noise, I just wake up in a cold sweat!” He gave a chuckle, relieved that he’d told his friends. “I was always afraid you’d think me a coward if…” He sniffed and smiled at his friends as they shook their heads. "Anyway, they've been getting better since I started levelling."

Andrew and Llywelyn led Aidan away from the bodies, having finished looting. They returned to their regular camp duties, building fires, cleaning weapons and rubbing down the horses. As they did, the heir to the Wedderburn lands ceased crying, finding solace in their fraternity.

The Princess Margaret soon joined them, bored from the lack of company, and pitched in, rubbing a horse down as Llywelyn instructed her. She noticed the Aidan's tear-streaked face, but said nothing, simply glad to be welcome and in good company.

Seeing the Princess working, Iain approached, thinking the pages had recruited her to help their efforts. Soon though, he worked alongside her, speaking of the world, laughing at stories, discussing books they’d both read, and of interests shared. They barely noticed the sun going down, or the departure of the pages.

******************

Dusk descended as the men and pages brought the camp to order. Rows of tents pitched upon the roadway, with fires circling the perimeter.

The Lord and Lady sat on a bench near a fire, built just outside the hamlet. Lady Tatania held in her Lord’s embrace. They watched on as Iain spoke to Princess Margaret at another fire, huddled together under a different blanket. They were close, yet both maintaining a respectful distance from the other.

Liam, having returned from digging the muck pit, approached the Pages, who gathered around the body of the Orc Chief. It had yet to be looted, and was far too big to move.

“We’ve been trying to loot it, but the system won’t let us.” Llywelyn said. “All we could pick up was this.”

He gestured over to Aidan, who held the spear Liam looted from the goblin leader.

“I don’t know if we can fix this…” he started.

Liam looked at it.

{Destroyed}

Black Spear of Minor Power

Durability 0/0

“I don’t think so. If you focus on it, you’ll see it has durability.”

Aiden’s eyes locked onto the broken spear and, as if to confirm its status, tossed the useless item onto the Half-Orc’s corpse.

“Liam. Why don’t you try looting this beastie?” Aidan asked. “After all, you dealt the final blow!”

The others nodded, they’d all seen Liam fight the monster. The only others who had even gone near it were the Lord and Squire Iain.

Liam approached the massive green skin.

Would you like to loot:

{Raider Chief Gurzaltuc, Level 15}?

[YES] NO

He looked over at Lord Douglas, who saw what he was doing from the bench. The Lord nodded assent when Liam displayed the vision.

Liam selected [YES] and inspected the first item.

Great Axe of Arashu (Rare)

Level 9

+10 Strength

+10 Vitality

+5 Wisdom

Abilities:

Charge

Decapitate

Cleave

Orcish smiths built the Great Axe of Arashu for the Raider Chief Gurzaltuc, son of the Orc Warchief and the Giantess Ingrid Bragidottir.

(A Chief's weapon can only be looted by a Chief)

Liam tried to loot it, excited by the abilities and stats, but was blocked as a new vision appeared before his eyes.

You are not eligible to loot this item.

While he may not be a chief, the Lord was the closest thing to one they would come across in this village and so Liam decided to leave it for him.

The next item was far less interesting to Liam's eye. A harp. Liam had no interest in music and less talent, but he looted it anyway. The Harp disapppeared from the ground, appearing now in his spatial inventory. Liam withdrew the item once more. There had been no flash of light as it disappeared from the Orc's side, it had just disappeared. In a similar way, it appeared before him, dropping into his expectant hands. Liam inspected the item.

Harp of Bragi (Epic)

Class Item

Level 10

+15 Wisdom

+10 Intelligence

+10 Agility

+5 Charisma

+5 Strength

(Attributes unlock on Attunement)

The Harp of Bragi, Son of Odin. The Dwarves of Svartalfheim built this harp for Bragi in hopes it would appease Odin for a long-forgotten wrong. Gifted to his daughter, her wicked son stole it and broke its spirit binding. It now awaits a new owner.

Abilities available on pickup.

Shapeshifter: Grows or shrinks to fit the user's intent.

Weightless: This harp is made of wood not of this realm.

Abilities on Attunement:

Locked

Soulbinding this item requires quest completion.

Quest: Bragi, son of Odin, was the original owner of this harp. In order to bind the harp, you must receive his blessing, and test your Kenning.

Do you accept this quest:

[YES] NO

Liam gaped. “Milord!” He gestured that Lord Douglas should come and see. The Lord was sitting with his wife Tatania by the fire, and reluctantly shifted from the warmth of his woolen blankets to stand. “What have you found for me now, young Liam?” he asked.

As he approached, Liam displayed the visions describing the loot. Lady Tatania, who draped the blanket she wore over her husband's shoulder, leant against him in the cooling twilight.

Liam gestured at the corpse of the Half-Orc chief.

"Can you try looting the Axe, Lord?" He asked. "It isn't allowing me to remove it!"

James nodded and inspected the corpse. A moment later, he stood with the axe in his hands. "This is remarkable." He said. "I can feel the increased strength from the item as though it were my own!" He tossed the axe from hand to hand, and Lady Tatania grimaced as she remembered the immense weight of the axe. Her husband was treating it as if it weighed no more than a knife.

"Did the monster have any other artefacts?" The Lord asked after a moment spent admiring the brutal weapon.

Liam inspected the Harp and displayed the vision.

“Bragi, son of Odin.” Lady Tatania said, thinking for a moment. “I have heard of that one. It is said that many in my homeland still secretly worship the old Gods. The Gods were said to be from two noble houses, the Aesir and Vanir. This seems to confirm that they exist. But whom they support, God or devil, I do not know.” She said, crossing herself.

“I remember a nurse telling me that many considered Bragi a good Aesir, unlike some others who were more vain and prideful. Either way, we should be wary of accepting his blessing.”

Lord James stared at the harp's attributes. "You should accept the Quest, Liam!" He said, "If you can convince this Bragi to give you a blessing, you will have brought us a powerful artefact! Should it become too difficult or dangerous, you should be able to ignore the quest!"

With the assent of his Lord, Liam selected [YES].

Quest: Attuning the Harp of Bragi.

You have recovered the Harp of the Aesir Bragi. In order to complete the quest {Attuning the Harp of Bragi} you must complete three quest conditions:

Receive the Blessing of Bragi. 0/1

Use the Harp to conjure three spells 0/3

Learn how to form Kennings 0/1

Bragi, Skald of the Aesir court,

A wise and kindly man,

Long and well in Glitnir taught,

Those worthy all he can.

The system will teleport you to Bragi’s location in:

3…

Liam read the text. He saw the number counting down.

His eyes widened.

“Lord!” he managed as a rush of wind filled the night.

A brilliant flash of light burst out around him.

The world vanished from view.