Page 63 of Into the Isle

Okay. Straight to the point. Got it.

“I’m honored to be your first professor in your journey at Vikingrune. As you can tell”—she gestured at herself and her robe—“I’m not what you would call a Viking. The big brawny gene must have skipped me.”

No one laughed, but I cracked a smile. I liked this odd little woman, even if everyone seemed baffled by her.

Her eyes were huge in her glasses, yet the rest of her was small. Not even five feet tall. Probably sticks and bones underneath that robe.

“Because I’m not huge and burly, I opted for academia as my specialty,” she said. “Like many Hersirs, I was a student here before I became a professor. Scholarly pursuits—researching, studying, discovering—have always titillated me.”

At that, a few students did chuckle. I rolled my eyes, since I knew Hersir Thorvi wasn’t trying to be funny in that instance, and I thought all of my peers were immature jackasses. Especially Ulf Torfen, who sat off near Astrid Dahlmyrr and was the loudest to laugh.

Or maybe I was just too uptight. All I know is there’s a reason this woman is a professor here. If she attended, then she’s being humble. She’s a badass just like the others. Maybe just in a different way.

Hersir Thorvi spun, her robe sweeping across the ground. She grabbed a piece of chalk after erasing her name, and drew a large circle. Next to it, she drew other circles—some small, some large—until there were nine.

She tapped the board with her chalk. “Can anyone tell me what I’m drawing? Shouldn’t be difficult.”

I raised my hand. A few others did too.

Astrid Dahlmyrr called out, “The nine realms.”

Thorvi frowned at her, wrinkles forming near her thin lips. “Don’t just blurt out answers, Astrid. We’re not barbarians. We’re trying to deviate away from that stereotype. Even if your mother is a friend of mine, that doesn’t give you special authority in my classroom. Yes?”

I got a sick sense of satisfaction seeing the veins distend on Astrid’s neck at getting reprimanded so quickly—forced to hold her tongue and nod curtly.

“Good. You are correct, however.” She tapped the green chalkboard again. “This is a poor representation of the nine realms. I hope everyone here knows them, because you should have learned about them in your childhood studies. In History & Tomes, we will be discussing the realms at length. We will also be talking about the politics that make up our standing with the other eight realms, currently. There will be deep dives into all sorts of interesting subjects. The faculty and I decided to teach this class first this year, so you don’t all fall asleep while I lecture you. I hope you have your coffee on hand.”

A few more students chuckled, this time warranted. I didn’t have a notepad to take notes, but Randi noticed and tore off a page from hers so I could write. Most people just watched blankly, while some nodded along, and others yawned.

“Really, Georg, yawning already? What did I just say?” she lambasted a student sitting behind me.

His voice came out meek. “Sorry, Thorvi.” A second later: “Um. Can I call you Hersir? Or professor? I feel weird calling you by your first name, as my superior.”

Thorvi frowned. She looked around at the students, eyes landing on everyone, and noticed some nods joining Georg’s plight. “Does everyone agree with dear Georg here? Is it weird calling me by my name?”

More nods.

She shrugged her bony, robe-clad shoulders. “Fine. Call me Hersir Thorvi. Or professor. I really don’t care, as long as you’re listening.”

With that, the professor put the chalk down and started to pace in front of the board. She put her hands behind her and watched the stage floor. “Now then,” she said after a beat, “who can tell me why you’re here, at Vikingrune Academy?”

Hands shot up. I refrained this time, opting to watch instead. It seemed like a trick question.

She waved her hand in the air and pushed her big spectacles up on the bridge of her nose. “Let me rephrase. How you’re here, rather. And I don’t mean the Wraith longships.”

Hands went down. People glanced around, confused, looking to their friends for the answer.

“Here’s a hint: The how and why are related.”

From the far left, Mr. Trench Coat raised his hand slowly. Everyone looked over at him. I noticed more ink circling his arm as the sleeve of his coat drifted down his forearm a few inches.

Hersir Thorvi pointed at him. “Yes?”

“The Taldan War.” The man’s voice was low and brooding—quite raspy, though in an alluring way.

The professor nodded, her frizzy hair bouncing. “Very good. Yes. Vikingrune Academy being founded is a result of the Taldan War. Specifically the Third Taldan War, though it was the first one that instigated the whole thing and got the ball rolling.”

She turned and scribbled on the chalkboard, evidently excited someone had answered her esoteric question correctly. Once she was done writing, she tapped on the board, which read a single phrase:

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