Capítulo 47: Chapter 47

Clothed in thick furs and linen held together by leather stripes Alvar trudged tiredly through the thick snow that had began to fall upon the north of Tyria at the end of August and had developed into a heavy blanket once December arrived plunging the whole Shiverpeak mountains into an anxious mood, despite the serenity the white snow provided for the Norn.

The main reason for the anxiousness, that hung like a veil over Hoelbrak, was the memory of the day Jormag and his forces had breached their gates and the words Jormag left behind in its wake.

The Norn had naturally started to prepare to the best of their abilities and even begun to plan the relocation of their people into safer territory but had underestimated how much of a logistical undertaking that would actually be and thus ended up stuck under thick sheets of snow while each day the fear of another attack Jormags grew.

Alvar meanwhile had lost himself in a vicious cycle of a training regime that brought him to the brink of collapse, mentally and physically. Sjorn had been unforgiving in his drilling which more than once resulted in Alvar not being able to walk for two days straight.

His grandparents had naturally been worried sick about the hardcore training regime Alvar was undergoing but after they had gone to Sjorn to ask him why he was pushing Alvar so hard had been informed about the things going on behind the scene and thus stifled any protests that may have come up otherwise.

In the end Alvar's near self-destruction had paid of though. One month ago, in the beginning of November to be exact, Alvar managed to awaken and connect himself with the mana inside himself, causing Alvar and his teacher Sjorn no small amount of pride as they had achieved what many had deemed impossible.

What followed Alvar's awakening though was something he definitely had not seen coming. While his training continued like normal, this time enhanced through mana flowing through his every fibber, Sjorn's role changed slightly.

Instead of only sparring with Alvar and nearly cutting the lad to pieces with his axes, as Sjorn had decided promptly "no more blunt weapons for you, lad", he now added salt to injury by throwing the wildest curses at Alvar at all times of the day, poking and prodding at Alvar's ego, self-worth and any open wounds the man could find with the only purpose in mind to tick Alvar off and let the lad lose his control over his emotions, which indeed happened a few times, and in reaction to that grind Alvar through the ringer once again, even more viciously than before!

Over the last couple of months, even though Alvar had learned a lot, he had come to see Sjorn as a vicious genius that seems to possess the ability to screw him over no matter how hard Alvar tried to do his best in every sense of the word.

Yet again, Alvar could not deny that Sjorn's strategies seemed to work, no matter how crude they were. After the first few weeks of constant insults the man had switched to a more insidious approach as Alvar seemed to grow numb to the pricks and stabs directed at his ego.

As Alvar had already awoken his mana and learned through the constant fighting to utilise it naturally in motion his training was changed from the fast paced combat, which had served not only the purpose to help Alvar understand and utilise his mana but also to strengthen his muscles and enhance his knowledge over the various weapons he fought with, to an exhausting slow-motion training that demanded Alvar's every drop of attention that he could spare in order to reign in his mana's thirst, as it had taken on what some would describe as "battle-fever", to rush forth and decimate all hindrances.

While Alvar was running through the motions in sweat producing slowness Sjorn would occasionally throw an insult in Alvar's direction when the lad least suspected it and rattle his concentration whenever the heat of the rising emotions would surge through his body and drive the redness onto his face. Not only once did Alvar lose his cool to Sjorn's backhanded schemes, but every time he did he grew to regret it immediately…

While his training under Sjorn had continued in that fashion his sessions under Isolde grew sparser by the day as the old Havroune had told Alvar that he had learned a lot form her already and was decent enough at defending his mind without her support. Of course he was no master or even expert at the art but that would come over the years as he only had to keep up the exercises the old woman had given him for practising his mind arts.

Thus, as his evening lessons with Isolde grew sparser Alvar found himself, for once, clueless and restless as he had nothing to do with his spare time. His friend Veli most of the time had duties to fulfil for the guardians and only on the weekends found time to spend together with Alvar, same went for Gerdi, though Alvar had not for the first time wondered what had happened to the girl that particular night but in the end discarded those thoughts as he himself had changed that night as well.

With none of his friends having the time to spend the evening with Alvar he mostly hung around at home, helping his grandmother with cooking, cleaning or repairing stuff at the house. Even though his help was appreciated his grandmother, more regularly these days, began to nag Alvar to find himself a nice girl but the boy had absolutely no interest to pursue those annoying, giggling beings which haunted his friends Veli's every waking second of the day, with that one brunette being the main one on the boy's mind, whatever her name was again.

Under the creaking of the door angles Alvar walked inside the warm home and stomped of the thick snow that had gathered at the bottom of his boots and began to cover his coat as well.

"I'm home!" Alvar called into the house while in the motions to free himself of the cold white snow all over his clothes but surprisingly didn't receive a reply, meaning his grandparents must be out of the house.

'Weird…' Alvar thought to himself as they usually were at home at this time of the day but after mulling it over for a few seconds just shrugged his shoulders and simply decided for himself that they must have something to take care of.

Not minding their absence for the moment Alvar discarded his heavy clothes and after grabbing himself a hot mug of tea from the stove fell into the soft, fur covered chair that stood before the bonfire, enjoying the warmth of the home he so loved. Life was good sometimes indeed. If only his muscles weren't always so damn tired…