I spent the rest of the day meditating while sensing my energy core. I was to familiarize myself with how it felt until I could sense it without going into deep meditation. The sat so long meditating that my feet turned numb.
When I got home my mother was furious, she was pacing up and down with a pale look on her face.
The first thing she did was hug then question me on where I had been. When I told her the seer figured out a solution for my illness, it seemed to have cheered her up a bit but she was still upset.
"I understand why you decided to go out but you shouldn't leave without telling. I was so worried when I came back and found you were gone. If anything ever happens to you… I don't know what I would do with myself. You're everything to me Sigurd. Everything"
I hugged my mother tightly and assured her that I would never leave without her knowing where I would be going again. We chatted together for the next couple of hours and I told her all that the seer told me. She knew about the basic concept of Máttur and a little about mana.
She was surprised when I told her that my god patron was Hodr. She knew of the act needed to activate your Máttur so as not to tell her what happened with Floki, I told her a lie about me killing a chicken.
I excitedly told her how I would be a Skald. She smiled, patted me on the head and said it was way better than being 'warrior' to which Dag overhearing our conversation, interjected.
"A lot of skalds are warriors. You can't be a skald if you're not a warrior"
My mother frowned at him then turned to address me.
"You don't have to be a warrior if you don't want to Sigurd. Your life choices are all up to you. Though it would make me happy if you never have to pick up a sword in your life; it is ultimately up to you" she said, ruffling my hair.
I smiled at her and started telling her about the meditation technique I was learning.
…
Progress was slow. Developing the skills to sense my energy core while not meditating in a quiet environment was harder than I thought. It took months for me to master it and when I finally did my next task was to sense it in a high intensity environment.
When I was focusing on my energy core, the seer did everything to stop my flow. He made the slaves scream into my ears, he made me meditate under a waterfall, he pricked me with thorns and made me tolerate the most disgusting smells.
All of this was to build my connection with my core and it did. To interact with it and control it the same way I interacted with my hands and feet. After a while I was able to sense my energy core at all times. It felt as if it was a living part of me. Next was removing the mana from my energy core. The mana inside my energy core was blue in color while the Máttur was red in color.
Removing the mana from my energy core was way harder than the process of developing a deep consciousness with my energy core. At first I could only remove a small amount of mana but as the years passed I was able to remove more and more mana from my energy core.
When I was not learning the meditation technique, I was learning the ways of a skald. I was quicker at learning this than the meditation technique. I learned how to read and write within the first month.
I learned multiple different languages and history. I read all the books the seer had on mana which he claimed he brought from a land far to the west. I also read the books he had written about Máttur himself.
He told me about the places he had visited and people he had fought. The seer was the father of the earl and he claimed that in his glory days he was the skald of the Jomsvikings. A group of mercenaries that raid and pillage in the name of adventure and wealth. But those weren't the only reason. The main reason the villages in the north raid other settlements was to assimilate.
It was believed that the more you assimilate, the closer you get to godhood. To assimilate, you had to fight and kill. The stronger the person you kill, the more you assimilate. The Jomsvikings was notorious for being a vicious group of killers. The seer boasted that he acted as a translator when they were visiting different lands. He was also the one they go to for advice if they didn't understand something.
That was the way of the skald, he often said, to travel the world in pursuit of knowledge and power. And strangely enough, that was my own path. My assimilation had barely improved even though I tried using my Máttur. I tried killing small animals but still, it barely moved. The seer said that my excess mana was to blame for this. Somehow I had to figure out a way to get stronger.
My half brother Ragnar's tattoo was nearly up to his elbow, while mine had moved only an inch in two years. It wasn't just him either, all the other kids were further along than me. Even my half sister Frey who had the blessing of Freya was further along than me. The girl who didn't train and spent all her days with her mom had surpassed me. Even though she only used her Máttur for gardening. Young children who had just begun to assimilate had passed me in a week's time.
Máttur was like a muscle, the more you used it, the more it grew. But the best and most effective method in progressing your assimilation was through killing. Whether it be animal or human life.
I watched the boys in my village hunt rabbits and other small animals and their assimilation improved because of it. I've developed a routine of hunting small birds but it barely did anything for my assimilation.
I usually did my hunting early in the morning before I met up with the seer. One morning, as I exited the house I was ambushed by Dag. He clearly wanted to speak to me but I ignored him and tried to slip past which was when he grabbed me by the arm.
"We need to talk, Sigurd," he said in a stern voice.
"I have nothing to talk to you about," I responded, trying but failing to pull myself away from him.
"I've left you alone for too long because your mother said you were sickly. But you've been looking a lot healthier in the past days. It's time for you to train properly."
"I can train myself."
"By hunting birds" he shot back, "Your assimilation is a lot slower than others your age; it's not natural. I'll train you from now on."
"I said I can train myself—"
But before I even got the chance to argue, I was lifted off my feet and carried off. He brought me to a clearing in the woods and plopped me on the ground like a sack of flour. My half brother Ragnar was there.
He was practicing his swordsmanship. Even though he was just six years old; one year younger than me, he was using a real blade. The blade was dulled and the edges were chipped but it was a real blade no less.
He was bulkier than me too, and had well defined muscles. His long blonde hair was left free flowing and his handsome face had already made him popular in the village. He spared me no glances as he was beating the life out of a defenseless tree with his small sword.
"Your body is too frail; if you forcefully try to assimilate, it will kill you."
I didn't care about what he was saying. I didn't even bother listening, instead I scooped up a handful of dirt and threw it in his face. His whole face was covered in dirt and just then Ragnar stopped swinging his sword and stared at me.
I expected him to react. I knew how much he loved our father so I thought he would lunge at me with his sword but instead… he smiled.
What was that?
My father barely reacted too. Instead, he too was smiling.
"You're angry with me, Sigurd," he was laughing as if me throwing the dirt at him somehow amused him. "For what I did to your mother. That's good, you should be angry. A man should stand up for his mother, it's only natural."
His words caught me off guard. I never expected him to say something like that. He brushed the dirt off his face and in one swift motion, he swung his fist deep into my stomach.
My legs crumbed and I fell to the ground gasping for air.
"Throwing dirt is the action of a child," he spat. "If that's the best you can do then you're a worthless son to have. Your mother would be safer selling you off in exchange for a mangy dog. If you wish to take revenge on me for what I did to your mother then I welcome it. There is no greater honor than being killed by one's son."