A Stormbringer's Departure
The village of Brynhold stood behind them, its towering wooden palisades slowly fading into the distance as Hakon and his two companions rode their Stormhorses along the dirt path. The crisp morning air was thick with the scent of pine and distant sea spray, and above them, ravens soared, watching their departure like silent sentinels of fate.
Hakon glanced back one last time at his home, feeling a strange mix of excitement and nostalgia. Brynhold had been his world for ten years, a place of training, laughter, and family. But now, his journey was truly beginning.
The road ahead would lead them to Norvold's grandest village, the heart of their nation—Stormhold, home of Konungr(KING) Svein Forkbeard and the legendary Norvold Academy of War and Magic.
But there was one small problem…
"Wait… do we even know where we're going?"
As the three of them rode further, the mood was high. Hakon was in the lead, his newly contracted Stormhorse, Thunderhoof, moving with steady grace, its silver mane occasionally crackling with static. Behind him rode Leif the Sharp, a wiry boy with keen eyes, and Runa Shieldborn, a strong-willed girl with braided golden hair and an ironwood shield strapped to her back.
Everything was going smoothly until Leif suddenly pulled on his reins, making his Stormhorse, Shadowmane, snort in protest.
Leif: "Uh… guys?"
Hakon: "Yeah?"
Leif: "Where are we going?"
There was a long pause.
Runa: "Wait… what do you mean? We're going to the Academy, obviously."
Leif: "Yeah, but where is the Academy?"
Another silence.
Hakon blinked. He had been so caught up in the excitement of leaving Brynhold that he hadn't actually considered the logistics. His father had never given him a map, and he'd just assumed the path would be obvious.
Runa narrowed her eyes. "Hakon… please tell me you know the way."
Hakon: "Uh… well, funny thing about that."
Leif groaned, rubbing his temples.
Leif: "You don't know, do you?"
Hakon hesitated before laughing nervously.
Hakon: "Well… I thought it would be obvious! You know, follow the biggest road, look for giant banners, maybe a sign that says 'Glorious Academy of Norvold, This Way!'"
Runa: "Hakon. This is a war-torn land. No one puts up signs unless they want their village raided by bandits."
A moment of silence. Then—
All three of them simultaneously start panicking.
Leif: "We're doomed! We'll wander for years! Our bones will be found years later, and people will tell stories of the dumbest warriors who ever lived!"
Runa: "I knew I should have brought a map! Why did I trust you, Hakon?! You're the kind of person who jumps off a cliff before checking if there's water below!"
Hakon: "Hey! That happened one time! And I landed in water!"
Their horses whinnied, shifting uncomfortably as their riders spiraled into chaos.
"Wait! Valtruhn told us how to find it!"
As they panicked, Leif suddenly froze, then smacked himself on the forehead.
Leif: "I'm an idiot. We had the answer all along!"
Runa: "I mean, yeah, but could you be more specific?"
Leif ignored her and reached into his pack, pulling out his invitation letter—the same one Hakon had received from Valtruhn. He held it up, eyes narrowing in concentration.
Leif: "Valtruhn said that if we ever got lost, we should use the letter's Hurgr to guide us. It reacts to the Academy's presence!"
Hakon blinked. "…Oh yeah! I totally remembered that!"
Runa: "You absolutely did not."
Ignoring her, Hakon pulled out his own letter. He focused on his Hurgr, letting it flow into the parchment. Immediately, a faint, golden glow emanated from the runes on the envelope, and he felt something—like a thread pulling at his senses, leading eastward.
Hakon grinned. "It works! The letter's pointing us in the right direction!"
Leif: "Great! Then let's get moving before we embarrass ourselves further."
A Brief Lore Break: The History of Brynhold
As they rode, following the pull of their letters, they began talking about Brynhold's history—a discussion sparked by a lone rune-carved standing stone they passed on the roadside.
Runa: "This stone… It's one of the old markers, isn't it? From before Brynhold was founded."
Leif: "Yeah. My grandfather told me about these. This one marks the old battle site where the First Stormbringers fought back an invasion of Jotunn raiders. Back then, Brynhold was just a scattered settlement, but after the battle, they built the village here to honor the warriors who fell."
Hakon ran his fingers along the stone, tracing the ancient Norse runes. "So this is a grave marker, too."
Runa nodded solemnly. "A lot of our ancestors bled for this land. Makes you wonder… what will we leave behind?"
A brief silence fell between them before Hakon smirked.
Hakon: "Hopefully, stories of how we didn't get lost five minutes outside our own village."
Leif sighed. "You ruin every deep moment, you know that?"
Hakon just grinned.
A Dangerous Road
As they continued their journey, the land around them changed. The dense forests thinned into windswept plains, and distant snow-capped mountains loomed in the horizon. The road grew rougher, the signs of civilization growing sparse.
Runa: "We're entering the wildlands. We should be careful—bandits, beasts, even rogue draugr roam these roads."
Hakon: "Great. Just what we needed—another reason for Leif to panic."
Leif: "Hey! I have very reasonable survival instincts!"
The three pressed on, their hands resting on their weapons, wary of any danger lurking in the shadows.
The First Glimpse of Stormhold
By late afternoon, as they crested a hill, they finally saw it—Stormhold, the grandest village in all of Norvold.
Nestled at the meeting point of three great rivers, the walled settlement was larger than any of them had ever seen. It had stone fortifications, longhouses stretching far and wide, and massive banners bearing the emblem of Konungr Svein Forkbeard. Towering over the village was a great mead hall, said to be the seat of the king himself.
Beyond the village, they could see their true destination—the Norvold Academy of War and Magic. Unlike the rustic Norse architecture of Stormhold, the Academy was an ancient stronghold, a fortress of stone and enchanted wood, its towers reaching high into the sky, adorned with glowing runes.
Hakon: (whistling) "Well… that's definitely not Brynhold."
Runa: "No kidding. We're not in the village anymore, boys."
Leif: "We actually made it. And we only almost died of stupidity on the way."
Hakon grinned, nudging his Stormhorse forward.
Hakon: "Come on, guys. Our real adventure starts now."
With that, the three of them rode toward the Academy, ready to carve their names into legend.