“F-Father! I cannot very well sit idly by and let some ingrate besmirch your good name...”
“Get too stubborn, Bruno, and you become unable to hear anyone but yourself,” Fárbauti said sternly. “It’s good for youth like him to have some fire in them, and if my good name was something so easily besmirched, I wouldn’t be in this position in the first place, correct?” With a cackle, he threw a knowing glance in Jörgen’s direction.
“This guy knows what he’s talking about. He’s the real deal. Patriarchs really do have to be on a different level, I guess.” Jörgen continued to be impressed by the man’s wisdom.
What Jörgen hadn’t realized at the time, however, was that at that point, he’d already been ensnared in Fárbauti and Bruno’s trap. It had all been an elaborate act—they had intentionally played the stubborn fool and generous leader in order to get Jörgen on Fárbauti’s side, but in his inexperience, Jörgen had failed to notice.
“At any rate, we didn’t call you here to lecture you on your etiquette,” Fárbauti began. “We’re here to commend this battle’s most valuable player. Fine work, Jörgen. On behalf of the entire Wolf Clan, I thank you.”
“Thank you very much, sir!”
“For your exemplary deeds, I would like to reward you. Anything you want, anything at all, just let me know. If it’s something within my power, consider it done.”
“Then I’ll take you up on that offer. I do not yet possess a Chalice. Please, Lord Fárbauti, offer me yours!” Jörgen stared straight into Fárbauti’s eyes, his gaze unwavering as he divulged his request. From the moment he’d met him, Jörgen knew: this was a man worthy of devoting his entire life to.
“You overstep your bounds, ingrate!” Bruno cut in, roaring with anger. His face had gone red, so it had likely been a genuine reaction. “You may have proved yourself in this battle, but don’t think the patriarch of the Wolf Clan’s Chalice comes so cheaply! Know your station!”
Fárbauti held up a hand and spoke. “Now, now, there’s no need to get so riled up, Bruno. I told him it could be anything.”
“Ah, b-but Father, even if you say so, there are limits! If you just let any child that asks for it have your Chalice, it will devalue in worth! I’m saying this not for my own sake, but for the good of the clan!”
“Hm, I suppose you have a point. His lack of discipline also needs to be sorted out... How about this, then? Bruno, offer him your Chalice. You’ll drill into him manners and etiquette. From the ground up.”
“Huh?” Jörgen’s mouth fell open when he heard Fárbauti’s decision. Of course, he also received a nasty glare from Bruno.
“What’s wrong? Unsatisfied?” Fárbauti trained his eyes on Jörgen. His gaze seemed to miss nothing.
Of course Jörgen was unsatisfied. Naturally, he hadn’t thought it’d be that easy to gain Fárbauti’s Chalice in the first place, but he hadn’t expected to be stuck taking Bruno’s, a man who decidedly hadn’t made Jörgen’s list of favorite people in the few minutes he’d come to know him.
“Heh, it’s written all over your face. Seems you’ve still got some growing to do,” Fárbauti teased. Jörgen froze. As if sensing that the young man had been rattled, Fárbauti chuckled once more. “Well, no need to pout. This guy’s my right-hand man and the second-in-command of the Wolf Clan. For a pup like you, the Chalice of a real wolf should be honor enough.”
“W-Well, I guess...” If the patriarch of the clan said so, he had no choice but to agree. But he could also see there was truth in Fárbauti’s words. Normally, someone like him would spend their entire lives at the bottom rung, living and dying in obscurity. The second-in-command was always personally appointed by the patriarch, so earning his Chalice would certainly bolster Jörgen’s future prospects of taking over the clan. Looking at it objectively, the arrangement was entirely to Jörgen’s benefit, rather than his detriment.
“You see, Bruno has a wealth of experience when it comes to whipping young ones into shape. You’ll learn discipline from him, and when I see that you’ve finally grown some horns, you may have my Chalice. So right now, what I want from you is diligence.”
“...Yes, sir.” Truthfully, he couldn’t be more dissatisfied, but once again, a cheeky brat like Jörgen had no room for argument against a patriarch.
“Truthfully I don’t think I’ll ever be able to get along with that jerk, but oh well,” Jörgen thought. He couldn’t help feeling like he’d had no choice in the matter to start with, but nonetheless, Jörgen began his new life under Bruno.
In the three years since that day, Bruno had drilled both academics and etiquette into the young Jörgen, now his sworn son. He’d also made Jörgen cook, clean, and chop firewood, among other odd jobs. It was a far cry from the days he’d spent chasing prey throughout the mountains and sparring with his friends.
“Dammit! He’s not gonna use me any longer!” Seeing the list of tasks Bruno had allotted to him for the day, Jörgen exploded, tousling his own hair in frustration. Put simply, he was as bored as could be. The days seemed to get longer and longer with no reprieve in sight. He was a warrior by trade, and his sword and archery skills were diminishing with every moment he wasted on nonsense like this.
“At this rate, I’ll never bear a rune of my own!” Overcome with equal parts irritation and impatience, Jörgen bit his lip. He’d heard that runes only manifested in one’s teenage years, with fourteen through sixteen being the most likely. “I’m already seventeen, dammit! I don’t have time for this crap!”
Runes were said to be blessings from the gods, offered only to those whose efforts they acknowledged. He had no idea if that was actually true or just some horseshit someone had made up, but right now, it was all he had to go on. That was why, instead of wasting his time with these menial domestic tasks, he truly believed that he ought to be out polishing his combat skills and currying favor with a god of war! The frustration was driving him mad.