The Shards of My Soul

A Warrior's Time

Stalsgard Fortress, 23rd of Ýlir, 796 A.C.

It was the coldest month of the season.

Raiden was no stranger to cold, snow, or even frozen grounds. Having grown up in Iselvheim, he knew very well the coldness of the north, but he'd never experienced anything quite like the wintry climate of Stalsgard, in the most northern lands of Midgard. He was used to seeing frozen rivers and lakes, where Drakkars were stuck in the ice and he was accustomed to long, fur coats and capes to keep the weather out.

But nothing quite like what he was seeing now.

Snow had gathered on the ground, reaching the height of maybe his waist in the spots where it wasn't plowed and salted to be safe to walk on. The sun was nowhere in sight, the fog of winter so dense Raiden could barely see more than fifty feet around him. The wind bit into his exposed skin, seeming to cut the skin of his face and hands. He'd heard rain earlier in the day, but it'd stopped a few hours ago. It hadn't started snowing, though, and as his feet crunched over the salted, plowed snow beneath him, he could see that most of the snow in the outer fields of Stalsgard had started to freeze thanks to the cold.

He shook beneath his thin white, long-sleeved tunic.

He'd been dragged out of his bedchambers about thirty minutes before. Nikka had been waiting for him outside, dressed in her warmest button-closure long cloak, so black it was a stark contrast against the snow. Like most days, she'd chosen a mostly practical outfit, with tight-fitting black pants, a gray tunic, and a leather corset that hugged her frame quite endearingly.

She looked every bit the warrior that she was.

The soldiers kept the paths inside Stalsgard mostly plowed and salted to ease mobility. Usually, that meant three sets of pathways which all interlinked at the spot where they were, now, the training grounds. One came down from the fortress where the soldiers were housed, as well as the Kasdan, and the dining hall, where the meals were served. The other came up the west rear of the training grounds from the crop fields and the third came from the other side of the farmstead where the provisions and livestock were kept.

The training grounds were nothing more than a circle graded by a wooden fence where anything and everything related to the training of weaponry took place. Raiden had once heard the soldiers take out targets to practice their aim in archery for a full day, before putting all the equipment away at the fall of twilight. Most often, though, they brought out all sorts of weapons they possessed and each trained whatever skill they preferred.

He'd never participated in those training sessions.

He always had private ones.

With Kerim, usually.

He'd never enjoyed them.

Today wasn't any different.

Raiden couldn't see the man, but he knew he was around somewhere, watching. As of late, he'd been growing into the habit of having Nikka train Raiden while he merely watched and commented. He had wondered multiple times if he'd chosen so because of the last time they'd sparred, when Raiden had purposefully stabbed a bladed dart through his thigh. Maybe he guessed Raiden was less prone to violence if he was fighting Nikka. Or maybe he thought he'd be less invested in hurting her. Either way, Raiden felt both disappointed and glad Kerim stayed off combat.

He disliked the man enough to want him to keep his distance.

"It's your turn," Nikka taunted, her smile turning smug.