The Return of the Woodsman.
Rune walked the familiar trail with a light, rhythmic skip in his step.
The humid scent of the deep forest had been replaced by the crisp, clean air of the Evergreen forest. As he rounded the final bend, the iron gates of the Assaroth manor rose on the horizon.
"Hector! Nairl!"
Rune called out, waving to the sentries he had sparred with since he was a toddler.
"It's been ages! How are the gates holding up?"
The two guards squinted at the approaching figure.
"Young Master? Is... is that actually you?"
they asked in unison.
Rune laughed, gesturing to his wild, waist-length blonde hair and his travel-scarred leathers.
"It's hard to find a barber in the middle of a panther's den."
"Welcome home, Young Master,"
a whisper drifted from directly behind his ear.
Rune jumped, spinning around to find Hilda wearing a familiar, playful smirk.
"Hilda! Why do you always do that? My heart can't take it!"
"Your bath is steaming, and we need to fix... this,"
she said, gesturing to his rugged appearance,
"before you join the Lord and Lady for supper. Move along."
The Family Table.
An hour later, the "woodsman" had vanished. In his place sat the pristine Young Master of House Assaroth, his hair trimmed back to its golden brilliance.
"You look grounded, Rune,"
Froyd said, his eyes tracking the new, sharp awareness in his son's movements.
"The Evergreen has carved the hesitation right out of you."
"I know it's been months since you've had a proper meal,"
Ravina added, gesturing to the table groaning under the weight of his favorite roasts and honeyed roots. "Eat! Tonight, we celebrate your return."
The dining hall was filled with the warmth of reunion. Rune and Froyd traded war stories—one from the front lines of the realms, the other from the mossy floor of the forest—their laughter echoing off the rafters.
As the meal wound down, Ravina's expression turned focused.
"Rest for three days, Rune. Then, you and I return to the Chamber of Whispers. The forest taught you how to hunt beasts, but it cannot teach you how to duel a warrior. You must regain your flexibility and learn the rhythm of a thinking opponent."
"I'm ready, Mother,"
Rune said, his voice holding a new, quiet authority.
The Chamber of Whispers.
The following weeks were a grueling masterclass in lethality. Rune sat cross-legged as Ravina pointed out the anatomical weak points of a dummy, explaining how an opponent's stance revealed their next move.
Their sparring sessions were unforgiving. For every opening Rune left unguarded, he received a sharp, stinging reminder from his mother's practice blade. The lessons weren't just taught; they were engraved into his very bones. By the end of the second month, Ravina finally lowered her sword, a rare look of total satisfaction on her face.
"You are ready," she whispered. "Take the day. Go be a brother."
Rune found Rorry in the garden. As he lifted her up, the toddler gripped his tunic and let out a tiny, soft mumble: "Baer."
Rune froze, his heart skipping a beat.
"Did she just... did you hear that?" He turned to Rorry, his face lit with joy.
"Say it again, Rorry! Big Brother! Say it again!"
Rorry giggled, happy to comply with her brother's excitement.
Watching from the pavilion, Ravina felt a weight lift from her chest. She had feared her training would strip away his childhood, but Rune remained exactly who he was: a diligent warrior with a happy-go-lucky soul.
The Call of the Capital.
A week later, Rune was meditating on the concept of the Knight's Heart when Hilda approached, an official-looking scroll in her hand.
"Young Master, a letter from the Central District."
Rune didn't wait. He broke the heavy wax seal of the Mjolnir Academy.
"To Rune of House Assaroth: We have been informed of your exceptional feats and rapid advancement. It is with great pride that we formally accept you into the upcoming class of Mjolnir Academy."
Froyd and Ravina appeared behind him, pulling him into a fierce, three-way hug.
The pride in the room was palpable, tempered only by the knowledge that their son would soon be traveling far from their protection.
"You have three months before classes begin,"
Ravina noted, her voice thick with emotion.
"And we still have your eighth birthday to celebrate next month!" Froyd added, clapping him on the shoulder.
Rune looked at the letter, then at his family.
"I'll make you proud at the Academy. I promise."
"Oh, Rune,"
Ravina whispered, pulling him close for a doting look.
"Just stay safe and don't do anything too rash. That is all the 'pride' I need."
The family spent the rest of the afternoon in the golden light of the garden, drinking tea and playing with Rorry, weaving memories that Rune would carry with him into the heart of Midgard.