Role

Chapter 1

Sverd-dagr
Added Wed Oct 26 23:44:13 2022 at level 30:

"Athald, what the hell are you doing!?" his father asks.

It is not the first time Alfgeir had asked this question, and it surely
won't be the last. He stands in the doorway of Athald's room fuming.

"What does it look like, father? I'm playing the lute."

It is true. Athald sits on his bed, cross-legged, still dressed in his
night clothes, lazily plucking at the strings of the wooden instrument
that lays across his lap.

Upon hearing this Alfgeir turns an even darker shade of red. "Where is
your SWORD? Why are you not DRESSED? Have you even BATHED? Do you not CARE
that today is your brother's Sverd-dagr?!?"

In all honesty Athald does not care, but he is smart enough to not say
that out loud. Instead, he merely grunts, sets down the lute, stands up
and begins to dress himself. This seems to satisfy his father, who storms
off in search of someone else to vent his spleen upon.

As he dresses, Athald thinks about the ceremony that lies ahead. It is
the day of his brother's sverd-dagr; literally, his "sword day". It is
the day Hathuld will leave their petty kingdom and begin the journey
southward toward the land in which he will carry out his service to some
southling lord.

It is a tradition dating back to before any of them can remember, and over
the years has grown in significance from a simple money-making venture to
a rite of passage. Specifically, it is a rite reserved for the first-born
sons of the ruling class, of which is father, as Jarl, is chief.

Jarl Alfgeir loves his two sons, but they could not be more different from
one another. Where Hathuld is practical, Athald is a dreamer. Where
Hathuld is dutiful in his martial training, Athald prefers to spend his
time on wine, women and song. He quietly thank the gods that they blessed
him with at least one son suitable to rule some day...