Alaric’s early life was that of a peasant boy’s, raised on a modest if busy farmstead in Alivilda. His father, Berengar, was the second son of Beryl Rel Ardeichy, patriarch of the Ardeichy Hold; his mother, Tal’kris, was a foreigner from the south. A healer by profession, Tal’kris had come to Melrath in search of her family’s roots—only to become infatuated with Alaric’s father as she passed through his village on her way back home. Unexpectedly, the strong-willed woman decided to stay. Two arcs after they first met, his parents married. Three arcs following that, Alaric was born.
A product of two different worlds, Alaric’s mixed heritage ought to have given him more trouble than it did. Even though his mother remained an outsider among his father’s people for well after his childhood years, her spirituality was well-known among the villagers and she used her skills freely on men and beast, both which served to endear her to Alivilda’s population. Alaric was given little in the way of trouble save for the one he brought onto himself—which did happen more frequently than his parents would have liked.
A healthy, if headstrong boy, he was as prone to exploring alone as he was getting into fights. He played rough with his younger cousins and rougher with those who surpassed him in size and strength. If there was mischief to be had he was the one leading the chase. Although he fought often, he never had much in the way of a serious quarrel with other children, maybe because he was quick to take the blame if something went wrong in earnest.
Between unpredictable winters and poor harvests life was still hard at times—but not harder than in other villages and, for the most part, Alaric’s childhood was simple and uneventful.
As the trials of his childhood faded to memory, Alaric was involved more and more in helping around the hold. He learned a thing or two about plants and nature from his mother and worked his family’s hereditary fields with his father, acquiring more knowledge on the former, than the later. His father would often complain that he showed no interests in the skills of a farmer—and Alaric couldn’t deny it.
When he thought about the world and his place in it, his mind wandered to places beyond the limits of his hometown. Raelia. Vorkund. Fenlasir. Exotic names that spelled mystery and adventure to the mind of a growing boy. The boastful tales of traders and soldiers passing through Alivilda only added to his fascination. Later his father would often say (only half in jest and with a little chagrin) that it was his mother’s restless blood that drove him onward, away from home and from his family.
Alaric couldn’t quite deny that, either.
The arc he turned fifteen, it was his father who painted his face with the first broad stroke to mark him as someone on the path to warrior. It was also his father who arranged for him to meet an old friend of his in Raelia, an aging swordsman who had agreed to train Alaric among his own boys. If Alaric’s parents had hoped the hard, physical regimen and training would put some sense into their wayward son, it didn’t have the intended effect.
From the first trials of exercise, Alaric took well to his training and changed circumstances. Amund, the man whose family had taken him in as he arrived in Raelia, was a harsh if fair taskmaster who endeavored to pass on his knowledge to the best of his abilities. Part of the personal retinue of House Imair he had served long years as a guardsman and later martinet for new recruits. His wife Erika, almost three decades younger than him, still served as one of their houndsmen. Already used to handle a gaggle of unruly adolescents, she related to the newest addition to the pack with stoic, if not unfriendly sort of acceptance.
For the next seasons, Alaric’s days were filled with work, training and more work. When not sparring in the yard with Amund’s own children and other students, he helped in the household to earn his keep; tending to his teacher’s weapons and the hounds Erika trained with the same firm hand she taught discipline to her own children. He made fast friends with his fellow trainees and Asmund’s children, in particular with his oldest, Æthelred, and his daughter Halla. Soon, the three of them were inseparable, whenever it came to forming groups in training matches or exploring the streets of Raelia.
Although Alaric had always harbored ambitions to join the Ragnari one day, he didn’t hesitate for long when Amund offered one morning to bring him and Æthelred along to a screening for new recruits of his former employer. It was an opportunity. Of the other young men and women tested, most had family already serving as guards or soldiers or footmen, while Alaric had only his teacher to vouch for him and his own talent. Still, not least urged on by his friends, he tried his luck. He didn’t win. He wasn’t even among the best five—but it was enough for both him and Æthelred to find a place among the recruits and for quite some time among the house guard.
Even though employed in Raelia, Alaric never quite lost his connection to Alivilda. He would return to the one or other odd holiday or funeral, to weddings or just to see his parents. However, everyone one was (at best) surprised when he returned in late in Ashan 717, alone and donning a different embla. He escaped the outrage of his fellow villagers mostly by keeping his distance for a while, remaining something of an elusive figure even now, almost two arcs later.
