The next morning Haldryn went to the preparation room and retrieved the healing stones from the oven.
The heat was modest—comparable to an ordinary hearth on Midgard—so he could reach in with his bare hand without tongs.
He was wrapping the stones in the special herb-paper when Elle entered carrying several stalks of herbs.
"You're up early," she said, mildly surprised.
Haldryn gave an embarrassed smile.
If the stones stayed in the oven too long their potency diminished. In the past he had often overslept, and Elle had been the one to take them out for him.
She set the herbs down and began her own work.
Haldryn was talented with herbs, but Elle was the true prodigy. Nearly every high-grade preparation the shop produced came from her hands; most of what he knew, she had taught him.
High-grade preparations were those meant for the rare, severe illnesses that could still afflict the Aesir.
Asgardians were immune to almost every ordinary disease, yet the universe was vast. A few truly terrible afflictions could still strike them.
One man in the town suffered from the incurable "god-cancer"—the same disease Thanos had once endured in the comics. Every month he spent more than a thousand large gold coins on medicine simply to stay alive a little longer, draining his family's fortune.
The preparation Elle was working on now was one that eased the symptoms of that disease.
Haldryn continued making healing stones, but his mind gradually wandered. At last he could not help stepping closer and asking, "Elle… is the length of a year, a month, and a day in Asgard very close to Midgard's?"
Midgard was Earth, so named because it occupied the exact center of the Nine Realms.
Ever since arriving he had felt that Asgard's units of time were strangely similar to Earth's. He still found the idea hard to accept. Coincidence on that scale seemed too neat even for a story.
"Why the sudden question?"
"Someone mentioned it. I wasn't sure if it was true."
Elle shook her head. "Not very close. Exactly the same."
"Exactly the same?"
She smiled. "I told you this before. You forgot?"
"Uh… yes." He tried to remember and came up empty.
Elle sighed softly. "Because the years and months of the Nine Realms are calibrated to Midgard."
"Why Midgard?"
"Midgard's position is unique. It sits at the center of the Nine Realms and is itself a stable, standard planet. Asgard has no seasons of its own, so of course we use Midgard's calendar. Even a world like Jotunheim—dark and frozen year-round—must reference Midgard to keep a usable calendar."
She paused, then added, "Midgard itself is ordinary, but its location gives it special importance. Many powers keep a close watch on it."
Haldryn blinked. Was that the reason Earth attracted so many disasters and strange events?
It made a certain sense. Why else would every one of the six Infinity Stones somehow be tied to Earth?
"Have you ever been to Midgard?"
"No."
"What about a single day? I've heard Asgard's day is also almost the same length as Midgard's."
"It is. In fact, wherever the Nine Realms experience day and night, the length of one cycle is nearly identical."
"Why?"
"It is the sleep rhythm of the World Tree. All the Realms rest upon its branches, so the cycle of day and night is set by the Tree itself."
The Nine Realms were nine widely separated celestial bodies: Asgard, Jotunheim, Vanaheim, Muspelheim, Alfheim, Nidavellir, Svartalfheim, Hel, and Midgard.
In the narrow sense those nine names referred only to the primary worlds. In the broader sense they included every vassal territory as well. Asgard itself was small—only a handful of towns—yet its influence stretched across many planets. It functioned less like a country and more like a capital or royal court.
Though the Realms were scattered across the cosmos, the World Tree bound them together with subtle connections, so they were regarded as a single whole.
Haldryn knew the World Tree was largely metaphorical; no literal tree literally linked nine celestial bodies.
"The sleep rhythm of the World Tree?" he repeated, puzzled.
Elle spread her hands. "Don't look at me like that. I don't know the deeper reason either."
…
More than ten days passed.
Haldryn sat on his bed staring at a soft golden radiance curling around the fingers of his right hand. Wonder and excitement warred in equal measure.
This was the Holy Light.
After more than a week of study he had finally achieved a basic grasp of Call of the Holy Light. He could now draw a small amount of Holy Power—a special form of magical energy that could also be called sacred mana.
The light drifted between his fingers like living mist, brightening and dimming, radiating a gentle, sacred warmth.
In practical terms it was still completely useless.
Holy Light was a high-order force. Haldryn suspected that, as one of the fundamental powers of Azeroth, true Holy Light might rival even a fully powered Infinity Gauntlet—though he still could not be certain whether the Light he now held was identical to the one from the game.
At his current level he could not begin to comprehend such a transcendent energy, let alone command it. He could only borrow the spells devised by those who came before him and use them in the most shallow, imitative way.
It was like a god granting a toddler a wish. The child did not even understand what a wish was, and even if he did he would not know what to ask for. Only by parroting the phrases adults used could he make any use of that limitless power.
Haldryn still knew not a single spell. He was like a newborn opening his eyes for the first time. The tiny amount of Light he could summon was good for nothing—not even decent illumination.
Then again, it was excellent for showing off.
Paladins had always been natural performers.
With Call of the Holy Light learned, he opened the Tome and turned to the Sacred Codex—the page that displayed the Holy skill tree.
The icon for Call of the Holy Light on the first tier had shifted from gray to color and now read [Learned].
One ability on the second tier had also lit up: [Holy Strike – Available for purchase].
He flipped to the Piety Shop and found a new listing: [Holy Strike (Fragment) – 0.99].
[You may purchase additional Holy Strike fragments here.]
The price was reasonable. From now on he would not need to rely on Gifts of Fate for more fragments of this spell.
Back on the Sacred Codex the remaining second-tier abilities—Judgment, Divine Protection, Sword of Justice, and the rest—were still grayed out. Each carried the same unlock condition:
[Sanction ten acts of evil to unlock purchase rights.]
Haldryn frowned.
Sanction evil?
Did that mean find bad people and beat them up?
Asgard's law and order were excellent. How many genuine villains was he supposed to find?
He pondered for a long time, then set the question aside for later.
Every ability on the third tier remained locked. According to the notes, unlocking the third tier required first mastering every spell of the second. Each tier was the foundation for the next.
Call of the Holy Light had been simple, yet it had still taken him more than ten days to grasp even the basics.
How long would the deeper Holy spells take? The Tome was remarkably unhelpful. If only it could simply pour the knowledge straight into his mind.
"Haldryn!"
The familiar voice came from outside the window. Skurge again.
"Come up," Haldryn called.
A moment later Skurge climbed in, wearing his usual sly expression. His opening line was predictable.
"You really won't reconsider?"
He meant Amora, of course. He had brought it up more than once these past days.
Haldryn waved the subject away, then opened the Tome of the Kings and pointed to a line of text. "Skurge, what do you think of this writing?"
Skurge glanced at the page, expression odd. "That's blank paper."
"Look closer."
Still doubtful, Skurge leaned in, examined it carefully, and finally shook his head. "That's not funny, Haldryn… You've never been especially humorous, but at least you never used to make jokes this cold."
"Fair enough." Haldryn closed the book with a smile, as though the whole exchange had been nothing more than a failed attempt at humor.
In truth he had only wanted to confirm his earlier suspicion. To everyone else the Tome of the Kings truly was a blank notebook.
They talked for a while. Then Haldryn said, "Skurge, let's go to an open space and spar."
"Spar about what?"
"Combat, of course."
Skurge looked startled. "You're serious?"
Although they were the same age, Skurge was noticeably larger than most of their peers—nearly the size of an adult. He carried a certain amount of soft bulk, yet compared with the slight Haldryn he was still a solidly built young man. In a real fight the outcome would be obvious.
"I am." Haldryn nodded.
Besides practicing Call of the Holy Light, he had spent most of the past days drilling the unarmed section of the Paladin Combat Arts. He wanted a modest test of how far he had come.
^^^
Hey guys! If you've been thinking about subscribing to my patron, now's the perfect time. There's currently up to 50% off!
[Every 100 Powerstones = 1 Bonus Chapter]
If you'd like to read up to 50 chapters ahead, please visit our p@treon: