A total of 35 members of the Norrvik village were gathered while the rest of the villagers wished them luck. The group ranged in age from 12 to 18 years old. Everyone cheered and offered words of encouragement, especially to the eight children of Chief Varkari, who would be taking on this quest. They received special cheers and were presented with gifts.
All except one: Sigurd. The only person who acknowledged his presence was, of course, his mother—who was bawling her eyes out. She wasn't alone; many parents were also crying.
Another thing that set him apart was the shackles around his wrists and ankles. His father had taken precautions in case he tried to run off again.
Varkari stood in front of the group of 35, who could be considered children, and began to speak.
"Today, you will embark on a journey that will make you men and women. You are our one flickering hope in these troubling times. A great threat looms over us, and you are the chosen ones—the ones who will lead us to the light."
The threat Varkari referred to was none other than the Aztez Empire, an ambitious nation seeking to monopolize the greatest source of power in the world: Nests.
Nests are breeding grounds for various powerful beasts. It is where one goes to obtain power by bonding with one of the creatures that reside inside. Usually, when a person is deemed worthy, they are given permission by the chief to go to a Nest of their choosing and form a bond with a beast of their choice.
In the surrounding areas of the village, there were many different Nests offering powerful beasts. However, the invaders from the Aztez Empire had even more powerful beasts under their control.
Being a small village, they couldn't hope to win in a numbers battle. Their only option was to obtain even more powerful beasts by sending those who hadn't yet acquired a familiar to a Nest that had long been forbidden: 'The Red Tomb.'
This Nest is so dangerous that it is almost certain anyone who approaches it in hopes of attaining a familiar will not make it out alive.
"Most of you will die; it is almost certain. But if you don't, you'll return with a powerful familiar at your side. You'll be the ray of hope for our village."
"This is bullshit," Sigurd mumbled under his breath. "Sending us to die on your behalf—bunch of cowards."
Of course, like everyone else, he wanted to obtain a familiar, but not if it meant risking his life only to be thrust into a war to protect people he didn't even like. That was why he had run away in the first place.
To him, the people of the Aztez Empire had it right. The children of the leaders were treated like princes and princesses. They weren't thrust into battle to save their empire; instead, they spent their days doing jack shit. They eat, sleep and farted as they pleased without anyone to tell them otherwise.
"This whole system is backwards. The least a person born into this world can do is take care of themselves. This whole thing is barbaric."
His older brother, Theon, the eighth child of the chief, poked him in the side.
"Shut up and listen."
Theon was one of the favored ones in the village. He had a handsome face and a charismatic personality. More often than not, he was the one to drag Sigurd out of his slumber whenever they were to train or attend a special ceremony. He was two years older than Sigurd making him 17 years old.
"Older brother Theon, could you help me with these? The shackles are rather tight."
"Yeah, right," Theon laughed, amused. "So how far did you manage to get before you were caught? I mean, from your injuries, I'd guess you made it pretty far, or he wouldn't have bothered to beat the living hell out of you."
"I was so close to being home free I could taste it."
"Hmm, so what happened? Did you stop for a rest break?"
"Something like that."
"You have half the village hoping you'll die during this whole thing."
"Let them! I'm not dying for anybody. I already have a plan to get out of this whole mess."
Theon was intrigued by what Sigurd had planned but pried no further as their father began to notice them speaking.
"I wish luck and a safe return for all of you," Varkari concluded his speech.
All 35 of them would be heading out to the Red Tomb.
But before they started their journey, Sigurd's father approached him, holding a key.
He proceeded to unlock the shackles around Sigurd's wrists and ankles.
"If you run away again, your mother will be the one paying the price." he dropped a sword at Sigurd's feet. It was a short sword with a red cloth wrapped around the hilt.
With that subtle threat and his parting gift, he left without uttering another word.
After that, all 35 of them headed into the forest, in the direction of the Red Tomb. Most of them separated into groups with those they were acquainted with. They were excited to be out of the village. The younger kids were all running around, having the time of their lives not knowing what they were in for.
All they cared about was taming a beast. They'd all heard stories of the legendary beasts found at the Red Tomb. And just the chance of taming one of them was all they needed.
Meanwhile, Sigurd lagged behind lazily. He was exhausted from all the running he had done before. For some reason, his body always felt like it was shutting down whenever he was healing. This was when his laziness reached its peak.
His broken nose was beginning to reconstruct and his arm was beginning to heal as well.
"It wouldn't hurt to get some shut-eye before jumping into the pit of hell." he mumbled, scanning the area for a place to rest.
"Hey! What are you doing?"
A loud, demanding voice called out to him as he contemplated taking a break. The boy who called out was the same age as him. They had strikingly similar features, except that while Sigurd had black hair, the other boy had white. This boy was also his brother.
"What do you want, Varys?" Sigurd asked, annoyance evident on his face.
Varys was the 10th child of the village chief. He was the first son born to the chief and his wife, making him the closest to being heir to the chief. He also held a high standing within the village.
"I want you to speed it up. You're slowing us down."
"Uh…" Sigurd looked at him, confused. Everyone had stopped and was now staring daggers at him. "I never asked you to wait for me. Feel free to go on without me."
"So you can run off again?" Varys asked in a suggestive tone.
"If I were planning to run off, there would be nothing you could do to stop me."
Varys looked at him as if he had just issued him a challenge.
"Wanna test that theory?" Varys asked, as he reached for the hilt of his sword.