3 Chapter 3

"Well, that was embarrassing."

Said the young Primus in a hushed tone full of un-ironic sarcasm. Sheen from the sun's rays made him squint for a second, and he felt the heavy burden of responsibility that he never truly liked to put upon his shoulders. The anxiety it developed was as prominent as usual, albeit slightly distracted by the vibrant sensations he felt from the trial as it began to diminish.

Ever since Primus could articulate and walk upright, he was told stories about the significance of his heritage, all the notable points in history that dictated their fame and power. Not often, however, did Primus bring himself to put the stories into the proper perspective, at least compared to most of the clan.

For him, it was as though he was proud of those who came before him, yet saw no true significance in his own potential, regardless of how many times he was referred to as special. Perhaps merely being told and having nothing to reflect upon it made doubt more and more enticing.

The real world was more or less an enigma to him, a system that was self sustaining, not needing his influence. If anything, he figured that he could simply go with the flow, so to speak, with the blissful ignorance most children his age had. Still, however, most around him held him in high regard, consistently reminding him that he is more than he cares to consider. The mantle he was born on is tall, and he is afraid of heights.

On his way back home, he wondered about what the King had told him to do. He figured that if he did his breathing exercise before bed later in the evening, he could spend the whole day with his brothers and friends. It made sense in his mind, so that is what he would set out to do. Tossing aside the weight of responsibility to be picked up later is how he typically tended to deal and cope with it.

The small circle of children he grew up with were his only friends, the only group who knew him well enough to tolerate his awkward personality. Many times he tried to relate and breach his social comfort zone by talking with other kids both in his peer group and those older than him. He'd talk about his interests or simply try to make morbid situations more uplifting, but the nature of his childishness would make others sort of dismiss him or think of him as immature and annoying. Without the context of his innermost thoughts and emotions, many tended to consider him weird.

It wasn't something he would factor in as a problem, rather he found his friends and brothers comforting and lovely, even moreso without context as to how popular kids operated socially. No, for him, he would become quiet to most he didn't know immediately, and didn't try to find pleasure in making friends with everyone anymore, trying to put an almost extreme filter to try amd seem more tolerable. It made some feel like he was just plain weird still, or even unapproachable, but at this point, the double edged sword of his temperament offers little wiggle room for compromise.

Most children didn't think much of him in general. He is simply the firstborn son of the famous Manning and Sigrid, who has yet to prove himself as any better or worse than them.

Upon enduring the walk of shame, Primus would make haste to his home, which was only a short walk down the main path, leading to where all important family housing was. All the pathways were neatly tended to, with the tracks of horses and residents that offered a more lively charm to the village as a whole. The grass was smaragdine and thick all the way up to the stone borders of the village, which were recently constructed with a new definition of structured security.

His humble family lived with a collection of other longhouses in the large, prosperous residency they had built and settled in what was once known as Northumbria a decade ago, after capturing and expanding York. Now renamed, New Oslo was by far the most grand settlement in England, the epicenter of the Balderklan's topside expansion.

All of the longhouses were fundamentally the same in size, a specific 240 feet long, but each family had theirs decorated differently based on the families that lived there. His family home was of thick spruce wood walls and dark roof shingles, with a long blade all the way across the top that boasted their warrior lineage. If flipped upside-down, it could seem to resemble a longship that'd slice clean through icebergs.

Larger than usual shields decorated the sides with a variety of properly artistic colors and symbols that were made in honor of previous tribes the Odhinkar family were related to in one way or another, and the flowerbeds lining sections of the house that were full of native flowers included greater water parsnips, mallows, great willowherbs, and yarrow. Sentimental beds were full of eight petal mountain-avens, Saxifraga Oppositifolia, Wolfsbane, and Blue Anemone, all originating from Norway. All had rune stones and garden statues, displaying symbols of protection, their gods, amongst other notable and essential significance.

Their backyard, like all the others, were exotically filled with many different kinds of produce and crops, with enough open space to house pigs, cows, chickens, horses and sheep, to which grazed and lived happy lives. Thralls and farmers were ideally the ones who tended to them all, including children not occupied with warrior training. Even then, Primus and others in his position didn't escape the labor needed when asked, but it wouldn't overburden them.

It was still noon when Primus got back to his home, which was on the south side of the main path that led to a circular dirt and stone dead end pathway, two houses from the most eastern one at its end. Other longhouses sat around the large circumference in a neat, well spaced manner, as well as lining up the slight incline a good distance. There was a less used path to the far east next to the most eastern house, but it led to three more secluded homesteads.

When he entered his home, he was met with the usual sentimental environment he knew by heart. It was comfortably spacious, yet not to the extent where there were separate rooms for each person. The scent of meat cooking and fire pits sizzling was keenly nostalgic, and the home itself offered a scent that could only be described as the scent of the Odhinkars; soothing yet hardened, with a hint of sweat.

Beds were along the far eastern wall, with a stone oven for cooking and fireplaces for warmth in its center that offered the charming aromas. There were seating areas along the western wall where they would eat and talk about the days they had and the sagas of their people. Above ground level was a second floor atop both sides for everything else, from storage to personal items, nearly organized for each family member.

The sturdy wooden walls, in Primus's section, were cut and carved with different Nordic patterns, for a pastime of his was to carve wood with his seax. He always loved playing with his blade set, and had a nifty collection of different melee weapons, both handed down and traded, from axes to a single, intricately designed sword that his father handed down to him. Said sword, properly named 'Skofnung', was a modified version of a famous Danish King's sword that now has supernatural hardness and sharpness. Skofnung now had all too real similarities, with addition to the souls of 12 of Manning's most trusted berserkers and Úlfheðnar who had been slain during the Battle of Hastings can be heard in the heat of any battle it is involved in by its wielder.

Gold hilted, crucible steel, this was a gift from Balder himself when Manning was but a young lad. It was displayed over Primus's bed pointing downward, proudly awaiting its next debut atop a family lind, passed down from Manning's father. Too much detail and battle scars for practical use, but sentimental nonetheless.

Primus was looking for his brothers, as his mother was cooking lunch, while his father was asleep. Not immediately seeing Soren or Lars, he approached his mother with bouncy enthusiasm.

She would be the first to greet him as he entered, curious as to what Balder had summoned him for.

"Ah, back so soon? I had only just begun cooking. Do be quiet, for your father is resting. What did the King call on you for?"

Primus saw the pork she was prepping, and was almost drooling at the scent of freshness. He looked up at her shimmering, ocean-blue gems with his own, smiling his usual humble smile.

"He called for me to use one of the artifacts, so as to Elevate. I uh, it did not work. My breathing needs improvement, along with my discipline."

Such a caring and understanding woman was Sigrid, albeit fierce and realistic at times. Her short golden hair was elegant, even while cooking or fighting.

"Oh, did he now? Such a feat for someone your age. Sometimes I fear that they put too much on your pallet too quickly."

Primus sighed as he helped her prep food, though she politely shooed him to not worry about it. She was short, well fit, and more than capable of handling the preparation on her own. Primus was always enthusiastic to help her out whenever he was allowed, and felt guilty for not being worthy to help her cook, let alone prep. She held a pride in doing it herself, and Primus knew this to a degree. Still, he only wished to prove himself around those he respected, but wouldn't try to overthink things when he was told to stand down most of the time.

"Sometimes I wonder if my destiny is above my level of confidence. I know not why the Grand Elder speaks so highly of me, especially if I cannot simply breathe without screwing up."

Before he could continue, she hushed him and spoke in her calm, radiant, hushed voice as she offered words of comfort to her firstborn.

"Not one of us is born prepared for our destiny, my dear son. We must work and strive, day by day, step by step. I notice you, as you are, as a positive, smart, and capable young man. You can achieve anything you set your mind to, especially when passion, or enthusiasm, or determination, is guiding your soul."

He stood there, caught up in self doubt for a moment, before he simply lowered his shoulders and sighed again. He felt a knot in his gut from frustration, and tried to emphasize it wholeheartedly to his mother.

"I know. I just, it seems as though I should at least be able to breathe properly. I always struggle with the basics, it feels like I never move on from step one."

She would shake her head and take a moment to think of the next right thing to say.

"You're only eleven, dear boy. A man in the making. You were born bound to responsibility and quite frankly, it is why we are so lenient on you. You need not stress about making it, or moving past the struggles of the present. We all see you capable of it, even if you do not. Everything, from struggles to disappointment, to doubt, and everything else in this life, is not everlasting. Patience and persistence outweigh the temporary."

Primus would stay silent for a moment, letting her words sink into him. Sigrid was always careful to choose her words properly, and Primus appreciated that much. He eventually let out a single chuckle and hugged her by the waist, resting his head on her.

"Do you know where Lars and Soren are? I want to play with them for now."

She patted his soft, dirty blonde hair that was currently cut short, for she had trimmed it not too long ago, smiling a sincere smile.

"Last I saw, they were next door, playing with the others. Go and relieve your stress, I will call when lunch is ready."