⚔️Serberia

- Renold... You are our finest warrior, you have immense experience. So I won't beat around the bush and will speak plainly. When I was seven, my grandfather Kolovrat took me on my first hunt, - Veserod's gaze softened, drifting into the distance. - It was a particularly dangerous year... Then again, on the lands of the Rus every year is more dangerous than the last. You see, nature itself is not standing still. What the perverts conjure in terms of sorcery and machines is not solely their own doing. Nature has been capable of it since ancient times. Until the unification of the Rus and Arii into a single clan - that is, five generations ago - the largest bears did not even reach a length of one and a half sazhens. The first snow fell to a thickness of only one man's height. You could relieve yourself outside in the cold without freezing your manhood; the stream would not even freeze in mid-air. Some southern parts of Sharnhorst were as warm as Baldr is today. But humanity multiplied, began to treat the land with increasing arrogance. That is why our winters grow progressively colder each year, and the beasts grow all the more vicious. In some places, in the far north, "abomo-nations" began to appear. As Gregor calls them. Nature is not a Hecchelian moneylender, a bank-rat oligarch-businessshmon. But the human race will have to pay it back a thousandfold; this interest grows every year, and the due date is almost upon us. In half a century to a century, you will step outside and not recognize Baldr. A great winter is coming for all the peoples of the world... But enough, I've digressed. So, my grandfather took me hunting. I was still far too young, so I couldn't yet haul a moose or a bear all the way home. And everything you procure on the hunt must be used. You kill not for pleasure or malice, but for self-defense, or as part of the great cycle. In other words, you gratefully accept the gift from your prey, whether it's its life force or the materials that will help you survive and thrive in the cycle of life. You'd do well to remember this too, by the way. I've seen the mad look on your bloodstained face more than once in battle. I know you are highly diligent and disciplined, but snarling and laughing while impaling a fictional enemy for a handful of dirty coin, to amuse the cussed rabble - such a path will lead you to ruin... So. Not long ago, a pack of wolves emerged near the village. They cause no small amount of trouble, yet yield little profit - just tallow and fur. Their meat is edible for humans, but it's taboo. Whoever tastes wolf meat will be cursed by the spirits. Very soon he will fall ill and descend into madness, from which he will quickly burn out from within. The wretches who happened to be stranded somewhere with no other sustenance did not live among us for long afterward. They gathered a minimum of provisions and arrows and set out on a great hunt, from which they never returned. Such was the price for postponing one's death and breaking the law of the ancestors... In other words, for a seven-year-old boy it was a fine trial of maturity - to subdue the wolves, skin them, and haul their hides home. And so, I enter the canyon and hear a howl nearby. I clench my teeth, grip the bow in my small hands, and step forward... And I hear another howl echoing it back, and another, and another, and another - all from different directions. What do you think, Renold, I did?
Veserod took a brief pause and gazed into Renold's eyes.
- I ran. I returned to Kolovrat and confessed that I was spooked. Truth be told, Grandfather was stern. In some ways, he was better than those wolves; in others, worse. I expected him to fly into a rage and strike me. I was ready to accept that pain and anything else, just so I'd never hear that tenfold chorus of howls from all sides again. But he merely smiled. His gaze at that moment... - Veserod shivered. - It was so bright and cheerful. It was not the look of a sane person. "Veserod" - he said... "Veserodik... You are afraid of death?.. We are all afraid. You ran because you believe there is still hope. But Veserod... The only hope you have is the hope of accepting the thought that you are already dead. The sooner you accept it, the sooner you will begin to act as a craftsman of the cycle ought to act - strongly, swiftly, accurately". So, Renold...
Veserod clapped his brother heavily on the shoulder, nodded, met his gaze firmly, and went about his business.