Time to Meet the Council, John

“Please state your name for the record, mage.”

“Johnathan Benjamin Newman.”

“Your last name does not imply your lineage. Who are you the child of?”

“I am the son of Brenda Newman and Ramírez Vigil.”

The council member directly to the left of the head of the council (in his head, John gave him the nickname of Greybeard) wrote down his name. It appeared that in lieu of an actual stenographer, the council simply had one of its members take the minutes of the meeting. The withered councillor peered down at John, his aging eyes squinting as he tried to get a good look at John’s face. “You don’t look or sound like a Spaniard to me, boy.”

“First of all, my father was from Mexico, not Spain. Second of all, my mother is as white as snow, and it seems life decided to give me her genes, not my father’s. As for not sounding like him, he happened to leave when I was little l-”

The council member silenced him with a dismissive wave of his hand. “I don’t need your life story, boy. Now tell us, John Benjamin Newman, were you the one who cast the spells of Surtr, Lord of Muspellhiem and Fated Destroyer of Asgard in Ragnarok?”

“Well, yes, but that’s not the whole-”

Greybeard interrupted him. “The boy even admits it. He has conspired with Jotun and even taps into their magic. I tell you all, we should execute him now and be done with it.”

“Now hold on a moment, Councillor Grímsson,” the younger elf at the far right of the half circle spoke, standing up as a light shone upon him. “I believe it would be better if we heard his whole story. Let us not forget the many times the gods themselves conspired with Jotun. Let us not forget Odin was blood brothers to Loki, and the peaceful Freyr married a giantess, Gerðr. Simply conspiring with giants is hardly a matter that warrants execution.

“Councillor Dínuson,” another council member spoke up. This one John had nicknamed Cicero, mostly because he had the voice to match. “Are you saying we should compare the likes of Odin and Freyr to this… this human mage?”

“All I’m saying is that we give him a fair chance.”

“Of course the bastard would say this.”

“COUNCILLOR SIGURDRSON, YOU ARE OUT OF LINE!” the leader of the council, who John had simply nicknamed as Leader Man, finally spoke up. The entire time, he had been just watching John with a curious gaze, seeming to pay no mind to his fellow council members. That is, at least, until now. “Need I remind you, you just got off 4 months probation for the last time you insulted Councillor Dínuson?”

“No, Council Leader.” At that point, Cicero (John knew his name now, but he preferred calling him Cicero in his head since they were both very annoying) turned and seemed to almost spit out an apology to Councillor Dínuson. “I’m sorry, Councillor Dínuson. The circumstances of your birth have no bearing on your accomplishments which earned you a seat on this council.”

Dínuson shrugged, seeming to take what he could get. He then addressed the rest of the council members. “Plus, think of it this way. This boy may just be a standard, yet powerful mage, or, as the myths show us, he could be Odin in disguise. Need I remind you of the countless myths in which Odin would arrive at kingdoms in disguise, only to punish them when he faced unfair justice?”

The other council members nodded, and the fire in their eyes seemed to dim. It appeared that the idea of being struck down by the power of the gods was a deterrent from a quick and thoughtless execution. John, meanwhile, was thanking his lucky stars that the king of the gods’ trickster nature just saved his bacon.

Dínuson turned to John. “Young mage - sorry - John, could you please tell all of us how it is that you came into the power of the fire Jotun Surtr?”

John resisted the urge to roll his eyes, since this would mark the fourth time today he had to tell someone his story, but he figured it would not be the last. He then began to give a brief retelling of his tale: how he woke up in the morning seeing the strange pop-ups in his face, discovering that he could teach himself magic through experimentation, using said experimentation to reawaken Norse rune magic, using it to defend himself, meeting Surtr as he overextended himself, and how he eventually came to find himself in Alfheim. As John continued, he could see the reactions the council members were having to his admittedly extravagant story. Many of them seemed to scoff at him - after all, a young mage such as himself being able to cast a dead magic? Preposterous.

Only a few of them, including Dínuson, were enthralled. But the most interesting reaction came from the council’s leader. He did not seem to be insulted or dismissive, like most of the council members, but he was not as captivated as Dínuson. Instead, he first seemed bored of the tale, as if it was one he had heard a thousand times over. But the moment that John mentioned runic magic, he expressed a look of shock. And then, as his story continued, a smile began to grow on his face.

John finished his story, ending with: “And then I was summoned here to the council chambers, was thrown in jail, and then I was brought forward to talk to you all. So… yeah.”

The moment John stopped speaking, the council fell into disarray, most of the council members loudly protesting the utter ridiculousness of a young human mage being able to reawaken a long dead magic. The two council members that were on John’s side were drowned out by the uproar the other councillors were creating. John wished that he could do what he did for Hálfdan and Frida, but his hands were still locked in position, and he wasn’t about to de-equip his chains in plain view of the council members and the guards.

Thankfully, he did not have to. After a moment or two, the council leader stood up, splaying his arms out and shouting with a deep, powerful bellow, “ENOUGH!”

The council members died down, their voices barely a whisper. John could overhear some of what they were saying, and from what he heard, the council leader barely ever got this involved in these sorts of meetings. What was it about John that was so special?

He peered down at John, giving John his first chance to take good look at the council leader. He was not as tall as the other elves he had seen, nor as elegant. In fact, had they not met in Alfheim, John would have figured him to be a rather thin and tall human. The only things that gave him away were his pale skin, high cheekbones, and pointed ears. John could see that his face and arms were decorated with scars from battle, yet his gaze seemed to be that of a thinker... perhaps even a schemer.

He finally spoke directly to John, his voice level, “Tell us. If we remove your cuffs, will you show us your magic? Will you not harm us, but simply enlighten us?”

John nodded slowly, and after a quick motion from the leader, a guard came up and undid his cuffs. John looked down at his hands - thankfully his wrists had not been rubbed raw from the hard metal of the cuffs, due to his Gamer’s Body translating the wear and tear of his flesh into just 2 damage to his health bar. John held his hands forward, and with a fluid, practiced motion, quickly wrote the rune for Kenaz, the torch.

The moment that it was finished, the familiar light of his magic filled the room. He could hear a collective gasp coming from the council members. Those old enough to remember the days of runic magic seemed to be the most shocked - after all, it was a magic they thought they would never see again. Those too young to remember (which seemed rather few, now that John noticed) were in awe of the rune’s beauty. John looked up to the leader, whose smile was wider than ever.

“Tell me, is this evidence enough? Does this enlighten you?”

The council leader began to laugh. “John Newman, you cannot possibly imagine how glad I am to meet you…” He waved his hands in front of him, a staircase made of light stretching from his lofty position down to John. With quick strides, he made his way down and offered a hand. “Lifthrasir Svikarason. It’s more than a pleasure to meet you.”

“Not to judge or anything, but saying ‘more than a pleasure’ really sounds creepy. Especially since you’re a few hundred years older than me.”

Lifthrasir looked up from his desk with a grin. He had told John to meet him in his office after the vote of his fate and the releasing of his bindings, as he was certain after John’s little display that no one would dare vote to execute him. While he was right to assume that many of the council would change their votes, not as many changed their votes as he thought. It was still quite a close margin, with Lifthrasir’s vote as council leader counting as two votes being the tie breaker. Because it was so close, it was determined that another vote would be held in a few days to get a more informed opinion on his fate.

“Sorry about that, John. It's just, you have no idea how glad I am to meet a runic mage such as yourself, one who has revived Norse runes.”

“Yeah, that was the second thing I was planning on bringing up. I know that people have been excited to meet a Norse runic mage after all this time, but you seem weirdly invested in this. Like, to the point of it being, again, creepy.”

Lifthrasir cocked an eyebrow. “You really want to be insulting the guy whose vote has kept you from the execution block?”

“Do you really want to be executing the guy who’s bringing back Norse runic magic?”

“Touché.”

Lifthrasir opened a drawer on his desk, pulling out a very old-looking piece of paper, its edges yellow and crinkled with time. “So John, based on your story, you have the ability to look at runes and learn them, do you not?”

John crossed his arms and gave him a small nod, still noting that he did not answer his question about being so invested, but he figured that this would have to be a mystery he would need to solve on his own. “I can. In fact, that’s how I learned the rune of Surtr.”

“And what a rune to learn! A divine rune! You know, back when I knew the rune users, when they were still around, they taught me that only the greatest of mages could learn divine runes! With those runes, you are not just tapping into the element the god represents, but you are tapping directly into their divine power and essence! The amount of control and skill that it takes to wield such pure, raw power… I must say, John, it’s quite the rune to start out on.”

“Are you… going somewhere with this, sir?”

Lifthrasir nodded. “Tell me, John, have you ever heard the story of Beowulf?”

John racked his brain, but could not really recall the story beyond a few key points. “Isn’t it... similar to the Lord of the Rings?”

“Well… it’s more similar to the Hobbit, if anything.” Lifthrasir unfolded the old paper, revealing an ancient-looking map. “For a quick summary, Beowulf was a hero who, after slaying a few giants and some other monsters, went on to become a king. The part of the story we’re interested in, though, is Beowulf’s ****. You see, a dragon had attacked a village, and Beowulf - along with several other heroes - had gone to slay the dragon. When the dragon approached, most of the heroes fled, except for Wiglaf - his servant - and Beowulf himself. In the battle, Beowulf was able to slay the dragon - however, he was mortally wounded in the process. Eventually he died, and the dragon’s hoard - which was rightfully his from slaying it - was buried in a barrow overlooking the sea.”

John held his hand up to stop Lifthrasir. “So let me guess. In exchange for making sure that I stay alive, you want me to find this barrow.”

“Well, not quite. I was going to let you live either way. However, we do have the second vote to see if you’ll live, and while I will still vote for your life, I’m not sure about the other council members. This is where the barrow comes into play. If you were to find it, not only would you be able to bring great treasure to the council members to show you are a great hero - as great as Beowulf, in fact - but it’s quite likely that those who buried the treasure also wrote runes to protect it. Quite possibly divine runes.”

John began to piece together Lifthrasir’s plan in his head. “So, if I find the treasure, I find the divine runes. If I find the divine runes, I show them off to the council members. And when I show them the divine runes, I prove that I’m not an agent of Surtr, but instead I’m an agent of the gods.”

Lifthrasir clapped his hands together. “Precisely, John! Now, you’re going to have to learn quite a few divine runes to prove this. I would say… four should be enough. If you really want to get the council’s approval, I would recommend… Odin, Thor, Skadi, and Tyr.”

“Why those four in particular?”

“Well, Odin is the king of the gods and god of runic magic, so his rune will inevitably be helpful. Thor is the most powerful of the Aesir and the main combatant of the Jotun. Skadi is a helpful goddess to many, being the goddess of the hunt. And finally, Tyr is the god of justice. Getting his rune will be a sure sign that you are just.”

John nodded. It would take a lot of work, and a lot of searching, but he had to agree that those were four pretty good gods to get him to a decent standing with the council, as well as making him a more powerful mage.

Lifthrasir gestured to the map. “This is a map that’s been in my family for generations. It was rumored to lead one directly to the barrow that holds Beowulf’s grand treasures. If you accept my quest, John, the map is yours, as are any treasures you find there.” Lifthrasir extended his hand, giving John a disarming smile. “So what do you say? Do you accept?”

John looked down to the map, and then up to Lifthrasir. He noticed a pop-up had appeared slightly out of his view, reading:

Quest Unlocked
The Four Runes of Righteousness
-Find Odin’s rune
-Find Thor’s rune
-Find Skadi’s rune
-Find Tyr’s rune
-Bonus: Find 2 other godly runes
-Bonus: Find the mysterious Blade of Soul

Rewards
2,000XP, 1 small bag of rune stones, 15 stat points, $500
Bonus Rewards
1,000XP, 5 stat points, runic ink x10, $250,000

Quest Accept?
Y/N

John gave Lifthrasir a big smile, quickly taking the offered hand into his own.

“Deal.”