Zoltraak: Ragnarok- Chapter 25 (Patreon)

Chapter 25:

Atreus could turn into an animal.

The question he’d first asked his father, his very first impulse when he first learned he was a God- turned out to be perfectly on point.

Every day just after the dance lessons he went outside and practiced. 

The Red haired wolf running through the grounds, the soaring hawk in the skies, a Bull charging at Mimir or Fern in practice. Even once or twice a horse.

He got a foreboding feeling when he was a Horse though. So he avoided it…

Even so, it was exhilarating, the feel of four legs aching, of a foreign heart pounding in his chest after a good run, the ache in his arms as he descended from the skies above.

Today; today he simply walked along the grounds of the lake. Its glimmering waters shining in the sun, he could see the reflection of his red fur on its gleaming surface. 

It was calm, peaceful. Other days he wandered the manse, and the secrets he found therein gripped his days. A mouse between the walls, an orange cat the servants doted on, even a stray dog that they remarked had a beautiful coat. 

He found out that there was a quiet war going on between Brok and Mrs. Drückt, the tailor making their clothing for the ball.

Brok insisted he wouldn’t wear it, she thus, threatened to burn all his clothes. So he said he’d go naked, and she threatened to cut off his… well…

It would be… interesting to see who won.

He learned that in spite of Stark’s clear discomfort, many of the maids thought he was doing well in the lessons.

He learned that the maids already factored in Frieren’s penchant for sleeping in, and thus, made her breakfast later than the ones made for the rest of them so it’d still be warm. 

He learned that Mimir spent nearly every day in the Library, reading everything they had on hand and that while the Maids and Servants appreciated his friendly demeanor and the fact that he was content standing rather than sitting, because of the (justified) fears of broken furniture, that they privately complained and had begun knitting him very large, very fluffy socks… so as to avoid the scratches his stony feet were leaving on the hardwood.

He learned that Gabel disagreed with Lord Orden’s idea to have Stark stand in for Wirt, albeit it was a private, personal disagreement that didn’t affect his duties. 

He learned that Lord Orden, even though he did not cry said a prayer every night towards the Goddess, praying for Wirt, almost exclusively.

He learned how Frieren said that Fern was taking to Atreus’ magic far far more readily and quickly than Frieren herself was. And that, being human, she was much more adaptable than Frieren herself was. 

He learned that while in the form of a beast he couldn’t readily use the magic he had learned on Midgard, he could implement the magic found and learned in this realm much more readily. Casting Zoltraak, and Levitation magic even while in the form of a wolf… or a bear.

Servants did not react well to flying bears.

Frieren encouraged him to experiment, to test new limits with this magic. Could he grow in size? Add traits or abilities to these forms? Could he partially transform certain ‘parts’ of himself, like the eyes, or the sense of smell and so on.

Fern helped him practice his casting speed with no hands, gestures, voice or staff. She was by far the best mage he’d ever seen in terms of casting speed.

He learned so so much and it felt like he was just scratching the surface. 

He also learned his father had… admirers… Which was so, so strange to think about. The Maid Olenna was by far the most outspoken and Atreus did not want to picture her suggestion of “Climbing Mt. Kratos.”

The head maid, Amalie had warned her away, so far- saying that the man was likely a recent widower. But still, that was not a mental picture he needed.

Even so, he did wonder… would his father marry again? He was a God, with their long lifespans it certainly wasn’t impossible. It was even likely.

How would he feel about that when it happened? If it happened? Should he be angry? Or sad? Maybe he should be happy?

Maybe it would depend on who it was?

“Atreus.”

The call made him straighten, ears perking up, standing tall over his head as he turned around.

His father stood there walking across the field. It was so strange seeing him without a weapon in hand. 

“Our clothes have been finished. Come, we must see if they fit well.”

If he would have had human expressions, his eyes might have gone a bit wide, as it was, his tail began to wag… he couldn’t help it. 

He… he’d never gotten clothes like this. And he was… kind of looking forward to seeing them. 

So he transformed back, muscle sinew and bone shifting under his skin, fur receding, body contorting.

And after a moment, he was ‘Atreus’ again. 

His father offered a nod. “Good. Come.”

“Yes father.”

As they began to march back to the mansion it was in a comfortable sort of silence. The bright sunny day and clear skies lifting Atreus’ mood, and perhaps gave him the courage to ask his next question. 

“Father. Will you marry again one day?”

His father turned, looking at him. He didn’t look surprised, but Atreus knew him well enough to tell that he was.

“Why do you ask me this?”

“I’m… just wondering.” He answered, somewhat sheepishly. “I know some of the women here do… like you so-” He trailed off, shrugging somewhat lamely.

“Hm.” The sound his father made was the one he usually made when he wasn’t quite sure what to say. “Not for a long time.” He finally said. “There are very few women who could ever measure up to your mother.”

Atreus smiled at that.

He missed her.

“Do you…” He cleared his throat, wondering if he should risk the next subject. And decided against it. “Nevermind.”

His father looked at him, and Atreus winced. 

He knew that look. He wasn’t gonna let him recant. 

“What is it?”

 “Could you… tell me about your first family?”

The God of War stiffened, and went utterly and completely still, so still that Atreus genuinely couldn’t tell what he was thinking for that moment as he turned away.

“N-nevermind, it was wrong of me to-”

“Your sister’s name was Calliope… She was kind- much like you.” 

…

“What… what did she like to do for fun?”

Another moment of heavy, thick silence.

“She died so young.” His father answered. “But I remember… pottery. She enjoyed working with the clay with her mother.”

“Who was she? Her mother I mean.”

“…Lysandra.”

—

Sein… was drunk.

It wasn’t an unusual state to find himself in. Especially these days.

Lord Orden’s kitchen and larder were well stocked, and he wasn’t hurting for choices. 

During their stay here he kept to himself, and he noticed the distance between him and the others growing more and more.

He didn’t blame them, he understood, really.

Didn’t alter the fact that every day he felt more and more out of place here. 

The door to his current hidey hole was practically slammed open and then shut again, Sein turned, bleary eyes finding Brok pressed against the door.

“Shh.” The blue Dwarf hissed. “Don’t say nothin- damn Battleaxe aint gettin me in no fancy getup!” He eyed the door with malice likely directed at the Tailor before he waddled over, eying the various forms of liquor available.

“Humans can’t make a beer that’s more than piss water but it’s better than nothin.” The blue dwarf grumbled under his breath, grabbing hold of a pint and serving himself a generous helping, the beer foaming as it crested the rim. 

He sat down on the stool next to Sein, and it didn’t take long for the Blacksmith to start gulping down his beverage. 

Sein could actually hear the gulping sounds, Brok was not a subtle or quiet person. 

“Ahhh.” The dwarf finished off his first mouthful with a satisfied sigh, then he looked at Sein. “How long are you gonna go mopin about feelin sorry fer yerself?”

“That’s not what I’m doing.” He said. 

“Sure as shit looks like it.” Brok said.

“The hell do you know?” The Priest scoffed, looking at the dwarf with bloodshot eyes.

“I know it don’t make no sense hatin someone for just bein what they are. It’s like hatin a rock for bein a rock.”

“I don’t hate them.” Sein mumbled quietly. “I’ve tried. I couldn’t. That’s the problem.”

“Huh?” Brok, raised a single eyebrow, pint halfway to his lips again. “Huh?”

“I’m a Priest of the Goddess. I should be defending her, I should renounce them as… whatever they are. False Gods, charlatans, frauds. But I just can’t. They’ve done nothing wrong like you said. Other than just being what they are. That isn’t a sin.” He shook his head. Words spilling from his lips more of a jumbled mess of stream of consciousness than anything coherent. “All my life, everything I’ve dedicated myself to. Either I defend it and condemn people for no reason other than they’re inconvenient, or I don’t defend it and admit everything I’ve ever believed is a lie.”

Brok stared at him, features scrunched up, shaking his head. 

“I don’t get you.” The dwarf finally said, setting his pint down. 

“I don’t expect you to understand.”

“I understand you’ve tied yerself into knotts about this shit but listen ya dumb fucker- You said it yourself. If the Gods are cruel, then why worship them? If yer “One true Goddess” has her panties stuffed so tight up her ass she wont let her followers accept other people for just existing- then hell, that makes her one of those cruel fuckin Gods you shouldn’t worship! So either she’s ok with it which means she’s ok, or she’s not in which case ‘Fuck’er’.

Sein opened his mouth, drunk as he was, horrid priest though he might be he was pretty sure there was so much blasphemy in that little speech Brok should have burst into flames halfway through.

But as he opened his mouth the Dwarf’s words bounced around his skull, and in spite of himself the priest found himself admitting… the blue bastard had a point.

The bubble of mirth in his chest was more befuddlement than true humor, more a man at the end of his rope finding something to laugh about.

“That’s… That’s certainly one way of looking at it-” He confessed.

“Only way to look at it ya mean.” Brok grumbled, into his pint.

Sein’s eyes drifted, staring at a spot along the far wall. 

He wanted to believe the Goddess was worth following, it was the only thing he had left to believe in. If even that was a lie…

Could it really just be that simple?

That if she was worth following then accepting that other Gods not only existed but were… welcome… that such a thing was just alright?

He wasn’t sure. He wasn’t sure about a lot of things…

But it felt as close to an answer as any so far.

“Now come on.” Brok said, “Lets get ourselves drunk, and see if we can fuck off before that seamstress finds out where I am.”

Sein chuckled. “I don’t think we’ll get very far if we’re black out drunk.”

“That’s quitter talk.”

And so we have Atreus learning a little more about his magic, a little bit of father and son bonding/connecting and Sein getting past this major mental "roadblock" he's boxed himself into.Next chapter should be the end of Lord Orden's arc as we finally arrive at the big Ball...

... Here's hoping there's no glowing O buttons over the Salad Bar.

I am looking forward to one thing though, a little 'conversation' between fathers. :)