Rank 4.
The item level had risen by one while the completion grade remained unchanged. Enchantment, it seemed, did not alter the quality of the forging itself.
Haldryn nodded and decided to test the hammer's power. Over the past months the Gifts of Fate had given him several Books of Trials, all rank 1 or 2.
He had cleared every rank-1 book—Stone-Tusk Boars, mottled boars, mangy wolves, giant scorpions—without finding anything useful. One rank-2 book he had deliberately saved for this moment.
[Book of Trials: Goldshire Footman
Trial Rank: 2]
The Trial Space opened onto a flat clearing. A human soldier in armor and holding a longsword stood opposite him.
"Fight with courage!" the footman shouted and charged.
Haldryn's expression did not change. He tightened his grip on Verigan's Fist. Soft Holy Light flickered between his fingers.
In the two months since collecting one hundred fragments he had fully mastered Holy Strike. Now was the perfect time to see what the spell could do with a proper weapon.
As the footman closed he roared and leapt.
Holy Strike!
Golden light flashed around both hands and enveloped the entire hammer. At the same instant sparks leapt from the head and burst into open flame.
Holy Light and fire intertwined, radiant and searing, like a small sun.
The footman raised his sword to block.
Crack!
The blade shattered. Verigan's Fist continued without pause and struck the soldier squarely in the head.
Boom.
Armor proved useless against the impact. The footman burst into smoke and vanished.
One blow. Instant kill.
Haldryn stared at the hammer as the light and flame faded, unable to suppress a grin of pure excitement. The classic starter weapon of a paladin lived up to its reputation.
After a few more enthusiastic swings he finally looked at the loot.
He had expected almost nothing from a common mob—perhaps a point or two of Piety.
The drop list made him pause.
[Obtained: 6.99 Piety]
[Obtained: Disguise: Goldshire Footman]
A disguise?
[Disguise: Goldshire Footman – Assume the appearance of a Goldshire Footman. Automatically ends after one day…]
Interesting. Possibly useful for escape later.
He left the Trial Space still holding the hammer, joy tempered by a practical problem.
Where was he supposed to keep it?
The single Standard Spatial Slot held only one cubic decimeter—far too small for a warhammer. Carrying it home openly would only worry Elle and give Uncle Peter fresh ammunition for mockery.
After some thought he decided to leave it with Skurge for the time being.
Skurge's father was a stonemason; the yard was piled with stone and looked rather like the ruins of some ancient building. Father and son were still working when Haldryn arrived.
"Skurge!"
Skurge exchanged a few words with his father and hurried out. His eyes lit up the moment he saw the hammer.
"What's that—your weapon?"
Haldryn handed it over with a smile. "Yes."
Skurge swung it a few times. "Looks amazing. A bit small, though. Where did you get it?"
"Bought it." Haldryn offered no further detail. "Elle and my uncle can't see this or I'll be in serious trouble. Keep it for me?"
"No problem. When are you leaving? I'm joining the youth auxiliaries soon."
"I register tomorrow."
…
The next day Elle accompanied him to the registration office for field medics. With her present every formality was handled smoothly; Haldryn had little to do but wait.
"Two posts currently need field medics," the elderly clerk said without looking up. "One is the Fifth Outpost on Jotunheim. The enemy is the frost giants.
"The other is the Third Camp on Vanaheim—a mixed Aesir and Vanir force. Primary enemy is the Skraelings."
The frost giants of Jotunheim needed no introduction; they were Asgard's oldest foes. The Skraelings were a lesser humanoid race native to Vanaheim.
Their physical strength was acceptable—better than a Midgardian's—but their intelligence was low and their nature savage.
Beyond killing and breeding they cared for almost nothing, and their reproductive rate made them nearly impossible to eradicate.
They remained a constant plague on the Vanir, and Asgard regularly sent troops to help contain them.
"Vanaheim," Elle decided before Haldryn could speak.
He considered and raised no objection. Frost giants were far more dangerous. Better to taste the atmosphere of a battlefield on Vanaheim first and leave Jotunheim for later. Besides, Vanaheim was rich in herbs—exactly what he needed for the Flask of Talent.
The formalities concluded.
"Three days from now, report to the Rainbow Bridge," the clerk said. "Do not be late."
"Understood."
…
The three days passed quickly.
"Once you reach Vanaheim, get along with the people around you. Be patient when you treat the wounded… and do not try to play the warrior. Understood?" Elle repeated the instructions more than once.
"I understand, sister." Haldryn picked up a small box from beside him and offered it with a smile. "Guess what's inside."
Elle looked puzzled. "What?"
"Open it."
She lifted the lid and her eyes widened in delighted surprise.
Inside lay a necklace of clear, glittering gems that shimmered with soft blue light.
Before leaving Asgard he had decided to give the sister who had always cared for him a proper gift. He had returned to Norvi's Magic, spent more than ten Rune coins, and chosen a magical gem necklace.
He knew little about gems himself, but the Appraisal Codex of the Tome had guided him to one that was both beautiful and highly rated.
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