Chapter Seven: Getting To Storkott
WHEN NILHIN ARRIVED at Storkott, he was greeted by tall walls that surrounded the entire clan’s territory. The walls made of brick and stone were impossible to see over, and reached as tall as some of the old trees nearby. Nilhin had spotted them from kilometers away, and they only grew more enormous as he approached.
There were guards standing at the top of the walls, and a large portcullis kept him and the other people outside of the large entrance into the Hvit Fortress. Nilhin joined the group standing near the wall, although they were all much more well put together than Nilhin. Well groomed with amenities that Nilhin didn’t have access to. There were only about twelve people waiting to be let in, not including Nilhin.
“Who are you?” one of the men asked, looking down at Nilhin, who was much shorter than even the shortest person there, not including him.
“This one is Nilhin,” he introduced, bowing down. “What should I call you?”
“I’m a young master from a southern territory, but it was decided that I’d join the Hvit Clan to make my birth family proud,” the boy said. “It’s the best clan in Krokstad, possibly in all of Aishold. What are you here for? I doubt they’re in need of any servants or--” the man looked Nilhin up and down and scowled-- “entertainment.”
“Apologies for not being more clear, young master, but this one is also hoping to join the Hvit Clan,” Nilhin said. The ‘young master’ scoffed and nudged the man beside him.
“This waif wants to join the clan, too,” the young master said. His friend looked at Nilhin and started to laugh, holding his stomach as it continued. Nilhin didn’t shuffle or shift himself despite his discomfort, although his did struggle to maintain a pleasant smile.
“Do you think they’ll really let him in? I bet he can’t even hold a sword,” the friend said through his laughter and the tears caused by it.
“Well, we’ll find out, won’t we?” the young master said, joining his friend in laughter. Nilhin refused to be cowed by their insults or their disbelief in his abilities. He would prove them wrong. He was certain of it. Not much longer later, and the metal grates raised up and soldiers of the Hvit Clan exited on mooseback. Their massive antlers were held straight, and the men on their backs were just as regal and massive, overwhelmingly made of muscle, and wielding swords that could rival Nilhin for height.
Everyone around Nilhin bowed, and so he quickly followed suit. He peeked up at the man in the front of the formation, with a large moose, and a scowl on his face. He looked young despite his frown and furrowed brows. His hair was curled and cascaded around his fur-lined shoulders. On his left shoulder was a boar’s head preserved with massive tusks protruding from its hairy lip.
“Any new recruits should follow us,” the man said, “And try to keep up.”
Nilhin walked with the other men and boys that were trying to join the clan. There was a noticeable lack of females, which was odd, since Nilhin was very sure that there were women disciples in clans. In fact, there were a few clans that prided themselves on their women disciples. Perhaps there would be none of them with the Hvit, which was quite a shame. Nilhin found that he got along with women much better than the men he had interacted with in his life. He couldn’t imagine his friends being solely men, if he was allowed to make friends at all.
They were led out into a small grassland where the trees had been cut down in a near perfect circle. On the tree stumps that were once trees as massive as the rest in the ancient forests around Serfen were swords much like the one that was sheathed across the leader’s back.
“Find a sword,” the man commanded, and Nilhin walked to a stump with a massive sword. Nilhin grew nervous just looking at it, but he couldn’t fail whatever test this was. He needed to get into the Hvit Clan, there were no others that would allow someone of his age and inability to enter. The man dismounted his moose and handed it to one of his allies, who took the lasso and tied it around a tree. The man drew his sword and held it steady.
“Pick it up,” the man said. “And hold it like this.” The man walked between them and around them. Nilhin looked at his hands. His right hand was perched over his left. He required both hands to lift his sword, so Nilhin didn’t feel bad if he had to use both as well. He may need a third and fourth just to lift such a behemoth piece of metal. Nilhin picked up his sword, adjusting his grip as his palms began to sweat due to his nerves. He lifted his sword, or tried to, but it was too heavy. His arms quivered and shook, trembling as he picked up in an attempt to mimic what the other man had done so easily.
“Look,” the young master from before said, nodding towards Nilhin. “He really can’t keep it up.” That boy and his friend laughed again, but then a sword swung down, knocking theirs from their hands. It was the leader, looming, massive like some sort of carnivorous mountain beast, over them.
“You dare mock him when your grip is so weak?” the man asked. The boy stumbled and got down to pick his sword up from the grass before he held it again, firmer this time. The leader turned to Nilhin. “It’s clearly too heavy for you. You’ll strain yourself if you don’t put it down.”
“I can’t fail,” Nilhin said. The man’s lips quivered in a half smile, perhaps the most emotion besides distaste that Nilhin had seen from him.
“You’ll make a good disciple, boy. You may not be strong, but you have the heart to prove yourself. That’s the sort of thing that we value in the Hvit Clan,” the man said. He swung his sword over his shoulder and then used his free hand to hold Nilhin’s hands and lower his sword. “But you can’t continue to learn if you overtax yourself. You’ve proven enough.”
Nilhin bit his lip, afraid that this was another test. If he put it down now, what if that proved that he was not as interested or had as much heart as previously thought. Nilhin, however, knew an order when he received one, and so he set his sword down, simply resting the tip of the blade on the stump so that he didn’t have to completely support it by himself. The leader’s hands were very warm on his own. Living in a mountainous forest like the Hvit Clan did, it made sense that he was warmer to oppose the harsher weather in the region.
“All of you can prove to be worthy disciples and eventually soldiers for the Hvit Clan,” the man said, turning away from Nilhin and leaving the tops of his hands freezing without his presence. “I’ll split you into two groups today, and you’ll be given your rooms. You’ll be expected to attend all your lessons. Your groups, what we call subunits, will be your brothers, your family, for the rest of your lives, so treat them well.”
They left the test swords on the stumps, and followed the group of moose-riders back to the fortress. Nilhin was placed in the same subunit as the young master and his friend, but despite that setback, Nilhin had made it into the Hvit Clan. He was one step closer to his goal of becoming powerful, now that he had a clan to support him and learn from. Their subunit is called the Orikani, meaning the young hares. Apparently this was very funny, but Nilhin hadn’t understood why.
When they reached their new rooms, a dormitory that had six beds, three on either side of the wall, each with a trunk at the foot of the bed to keep their personal items, the young master and his friend chose the beds closest to the fire. It didn’t take much of a guess, to realise that Nilhin was relegated to one of the beds furthest from the fire, and at that, he was given the bed with the thinnest blanket. Perhaps it was an accident, or just a coincidence that it worked out like this. Nilhin didn’t want to believe that his new brothers would purposefully target him in some way.
They continued for the next few days without lessons, simply told to explore and learn more about the fortress. They were also permitted to speak with older disciples and learn from them. Nilhin was ignored by the older disciples, despite being dressed in their uniform. It was like he was invisible to these people. Perhaps it was because he was so much smaller, both in his lack of musculature, and his diminutive height when compared to the average, beastly men that roamed the halls. Even the few women he had seen, their hair either cropped very short, or braided tightly against their heads to make it seem that way, ignored him. One even nudged him out of her way when he tried to speak with her.
The young master from before was Brunn Ogar, and his best friend was Kam Kveda. They both made friends easily, and everyone seemed to adore them and their charm. Nilhin observed them from a distance to see what made their interactions any different from the way Nilhin went about it, but there honestly wasn’t much difference.
Nilhin was following Ogar and Kveda to the dining hall, when they turned halfway through the halls leading there and approached him. Ogar grabbed him by the shoulder, and Kveda grabbed his braid and dragged him into a small doorway that was relatively hidden.
“You’ve been watching us, freak,” Ogar said.
“This one only wished to learn from his brothers--”
“Don’t call us that,” Kveda said. “We’re brothers, me and Ogar, but not you. You’re no one’s brother.”
Nilhin didn’t understand what he had done to make them dislike him so much. He had hardly interacted with them, and when he did, he had always been polite, even when they were less than.
“If I’ve offended you in any way…” Nilhin began. Ogar snickered, and then leaned closer towards Nilhin.
“You embarrassed us in the field, and you couldn’t even hold your sword right. You’re weak, pathetic. I don’t know where you came from, but coming here was the wrong choice. You should leave before you embarrass the rest of us with your ineptitude.”
“I apologise for embarrassing you. It really wasn’t my intention,” Nilhin said. “Surely we can move past that--”
“We don’t want to move past it,” Kveda said, reaching up to twist his dark red beard between his fingers. In Atah, or really all of Keydaya, facial hair wasn’t very common. In fact, Nilhin didn’t even grow most of his hair like other men in Keydaya, which were generally not very hairy at all. The aunties had said it was a good thing, but it was definitely making him feel less adequate now that all of these men were big and hairy like wolves or bears.
“It will be difficult for us to live together if we hold grudges,” Nilhin said.
“That’s where you’re wrong, freak,” Ogar said. Nilhin flinched this time, when he called him a freak. “It’s going to be difficult for you to live with us now that we hold a grudge. Everything you do is so stupid that I can’t help but to hate you, you know. You’ve been trailing after us like a puppy, so desperate and pathetic. I don’t know how you think you can survive here, but we won’t be helping you at all.”
“If that’s how you feel, I suppose I will have to live with it,” Nilhin said.
“It is how we feel, and I bet you don’t last that long. Not when the rest of our subunit agrees that you’re too weak to really be a part of our group. If anything, you’ll just bring further embarrassment to our subunit, and we can’t have someone like you bring down the rest of us. We’re all hard working and strong men, you’re just--” Ogar laughed-- “You’re just whatever it is you are. A loser. A whelp.”
“A freak,” Kveda said in agreement, nodding along.
“Exactly,” Ogar said. Ogar shoved Nilhin hard into the stone wall before he backed away. “Now stop following us, creep.” Kveda shoved Nilhin into the wall after he bounced off of it the first time, and Nilhin smacked his head against the stone the second time, not having expected a repeat attack. Ogar and Kveda walked away, slapping each other’s hands before continuing through the hall. Nilhin held his head and watched them leave. Why did they have to make his life more difficult? What did they get out of it? Why couldn’t they have just let the issue in the field go? Nilhin hadn’t done anything wrong, and any good he had done was by accident. He stumbled dumbly and blindly and hoped he landed, he just happened to do so this time.
“Hey,” someone said as Nilhin stepped out of the doorway. He held his head, trying to soothe the pain there. He pulled his hand away quickly and looked around for who was calling for him. He saw another looming man, his bulging chest covered in leather armor, and his shoulders covered with a thick fur coat that matched the fur lining the hem of his tunic. The man had a giant sword strapped across his back, much like the clan leader did, and he had a similar face structure, too.
“Apologies. I just stumbled--”
“Are you bleeding?” the man asked. Nilhin looked at the hand that had been touching the back of his head, and a bit of black hair was wound around his fingers, and blood had stained his fingertips.
“Yes, I’m fine. This one is so very clumsy, I just tripped,” he explained. The man tilted his head, almost like he wouldn’t believe him.
“If you’re okay, then I’m glad. Be more careful next time,” the man said. Nilhin nodded. The man took a step forward, like he may just walk away, but then he stopped again and turned to Nilhin. “I’ve never seen you before. Are you a new recruit?”
“This one is new,” he said with a nervous smile. “My subunits’ first official lesson begins tomorrow.”
The man let out a half-chuckle and said, “You know, most people would’ve given me a name. What should I call you, newbie?”
“This one is Nilhin,” he said, bowing again. The man let out another strained laugh.
“You don’t need to bow to me, kid, but you can call me Gronjas,” the man said. “Maybe I’ll see you for your lessons. I’ve been here my whole life, so I get to sometimes take the time to watch the newbies. Make sure they’re holding the forms properly and whatnot… Well, you best get to dinner. You could definitely stand to gain some weight. When winter hits, you’ll desperately hope you have a layer of fat to keep you warm.”
“Thank you, Gronjas,” Nilhin said before he bowed again. The man laughed again, and headed down the hall. The man turned down a corridor that Nilhin didn’t know the purpose for, and Nilhin himself continued to the dining hall. He didn’t eat with his subunit that day, he accepted his bowl of grains and the cooked organ meat -- see, Maer? People did eat it and think it was normal -- bathed in a thick, brown sauce that tasted a lot like onions. He ate outside the dining hall by himself, sat on the floor in a corner where he could pretend he wasn’t as small as everyone said he was.
“Hey Nilhin!” someone called, a familiar voice -- Gronjas. The man jogged towards him and then held his hand out. “I got this, and I thought maybe you’d need it a bit more than me.” It was a little bread roll. Nilhin swallowed his last bite so he didn’t resort to talking with his mouth full.
“Oh, thank you, Gronjas, but I couldn’t possibly accept your food.”
“Please, kid? I insist,” Gronjas said. “Plus, I already ate two. Really, you’d be doing me a favour by taking it, I promise.”
Nilhin considered this, and then he accepted the bun.
“Thank you, Gronjas. I wish there was something I could do for you in return…”
“Just make sure you eat that, and then do well in your lessons. That’s all I want from the newbies. For you to get big and strong and learn how to fight like the rest of us. We’re known as the warrior clan for a reason. We produce some of the fiercest fighters in all the magical world. Live up to that reputation, I know you can.
“I’ll head out first, so just enjoy that, and I’ll see you at your lessons tomorrow!” Gronjas didn’t wait for Nilhin to respond to him before he headed away, jogging like he needed to get away quickly. Nilhin looked at the bun in his hand and he took a bite of it. He was surprised when he realised it wasn’t a normal bun of bread, there was stuffing inside. Soft potatoes, ground meats, and tiny diced vegetables. It was actually very delicious, and he finished it quickly before he took his bowl back to the kitchen and handed it over to the servants to clean. He was very full, even if the lingering hunger -- since he left his mother -- persisted.
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