4 Chapter 4

Primus was easy to sway and influence on an emotional spectrum, but didn't know how to properly manage it himself for the most part. The young boy seemed more at ease now, hopping off his mother and rushing back outside to find his brothers. The comforting words of his mother were all he needed to shift the weight of responsibility so as to properly carry it for the long haul once he decided to pick it back up.

For now, young Primus would make haste, following the commotion of children; exhilarated yelling and laughter of voices he immediately recognized as his circle of friends. When he found them in the grain field behind the Ugelsted homestead, he rushed over to find his brothers, Lars and Soren, playing with Mathias's daughter, Emika, and another neighborhood friend, Mags Gulbrandsen.

Mags and Emika were both a few months older than Primus, yet they were all of age to be within the ranks of Úlfheðnar-in-training, which begins entry at the age of 9 years. It was easy for these three to get along in any given environment, for they had all been friends since they knew the meaning of the word. All of them had two younger siblings, coincidentally enough, though only Primus's were ever allowed to play with the older kids outside of their respected homesteads.

"Hey, look who's back!"

Soren, full of energy despite his cool, calm nature, was the first to call to Primus when he came into view. He was the second oldest brother, having blondish hair, brighter than Primus's dirty blonde, yet with a hint of red that no one could point out without a whack, or a tantrum. He was almost as tall as Primus, the top of his head just above shoulder height.

"Primus! I knew you wouldn't be gone long, big brother!"

Exclaimed Lars, the youngest of the three. His hair was brilliantly brighter than Soren and Primus, his eyebrows almost invisible. The young lad's hair represented his mothers golden locks with unbound illumination, with a hint of gleam comparable to the sun.

He was by far the most childish and short tempered of the three brothers, so young and so easy for Soren to make fun of at almost every turn. He was well ridiculed, yet it was easy for him to put it to the side given time. He looked up to his brothers with the utmost admiration, especially Primus. He looked more similar to their mother than the other two, which is a running joke in Soren's arsenal.

The similarities of the three Odhinkar boys were pretty striking. They all had azure gems for eyes, with the same type of fuzz cut that was short yet long enough to be pat and gather dirt from their play. They were all tall for their age respectively, developing their wide shoulders and thick chests that their mother and father passed down to them.

The chemistry was mostly healthy, well enough for them to take and dish out enough words to keep the pure brotherhood thriving. Soren was all about lashing out at Lars, and to a lesser degree Primus would even make similar remarks to the youngest. But if anything cruel was to be said back at Soren, let alone first blood, he just couldn't stand it without a flushed face of anger.

Pure Caucasians, given their Scandinavian roots, Primus was more tanned than his brothers, due to his age-respected training. Soren, being slightly touched by the sun, had freckles on his forehead and arms, with a farmer's tan from his work in the fields of crops and tending to the animals. Not a freckle on Lars however, as he is almost blinding to look at. Bright in every sense of the word, albeit sensitive as well.

"Hey Chuckles! What'd Pep want from ya?"

The context surrounding the first utterance of the nickname Chuckles was long forgotten to Primus, though it was Emika who first called him that. Emika was the daughter of Mathias Ugelsted, and was also the closest thing to a sister that the three boys ever had. She, along with her younger sisters, have been a part of the Odhinkar family due to their parents upbringing, who had grown up under the care of Balder in their childhood. They were related in all ways except blood; a dynamic pseudo family in every sense of the word.

Emika was always a cheerful and imaginative little one, someone who always had a sight for exploring beyond the boundaries of her comfort zone and having fun by doing so. She was a source of inspiration and intrigue for the shallow treading Primus, for whenever he was following her lead, he felt secure to do things like walk deep into the woods or explore old ruins. In the realm of their training, however, they had their own personal methods to equal out skill-wise and offer healthy competition for one another. Primus was keen on using his conditioned training and alertness, while Emika was a proud and adept user of her brute strength and cunning.

Her mid length chestnut hair flowed elegantly natural, matching the color of her eyes and even pronounced her natural charm. She was as tan as Primus, though she lacked his freckles and instead was as smooth and fit as a child her age could be. When she spoke, she gave him her usual bright smile and cheeky personality.

"Oh, he was just testing me for some reason. I guess I need to learn how to breathe without passing out."

Emika tittered, for she didn't want to come off as immediately insulting. It was understandable for her, since she too had to do the same breathing exercises, since she was half blooded herself. She had the same responsibilities, and since she was an Ugelsted, the demands were raised tenfold. She'd Elevated once with success, and thus, she felt an obligation to help him any way she could.

"Don't worry Chuckles," she said with gentleness, "I can help you catch up on that stuff. Pep and father can be quite demanding, but it isn't impossible for us to meet their expectations."

Primus twinkled before giving her a big bear hug, lifting her off her feet a couple inches. "Thanks Emi, I knew I could count on you!"

She squeaked as she was uplifted and squeezed, before she was let go and leaned on her feet. "No stress kiddo, I got you!"

Mads had a twig body with the personality and the energy of a squirrel, hyper and less bound by social limitations, who is ironically as reckless physically as he is careful when applying skills to any given situation. He and Primus had met his family around age 6 and became playmates not long after. He was more reckless than Emika as far as boundaries or rules were concerned, yet he wasn't necessarily the worst influence on Primus or his brothers. Most of the time, at least.

"Which artifact did he let you use? He never calls on me to use them."

Primus shrugged his shoulders nonchalantly, as he rubbed the back of his head whilst explaining how it felt to use it.

"A helmet, the first one he made, if I remember right. It was so light, though! It definitely isn't made from steel. Not to mention the way it felt to almost Elevate. I still feel my blood running hot."

"Duh. They are never made of any regular metal. It's why they can be made into anything!"

Mads had always boasted about the knowledge of the artifacts due to his fascination with them, although like most, his ignorance left him in blissful uncertainty. Such is the nature of the Improbability Drive, as the Crittermen tend to call them.

Primus chuckled, which subconsciously made him recall, in the back of his mind, how he earned that nickname, though he didn't feel it necessary to bring it up. He instead got distracted by the conversation of the artifacts, something he knew about to a decent extent.

"I mean, yeah. But it makes me wonder what they're really made of. Mathias never answers me when I ask, and Pep says I wouldn't understand anytime soon no matter how many times he'd describe it."

Mads crossed his arms as he pondered out loud. "Probably some element the Crittermen brought from their dimension or something. It clearly has to be foreign, since there's only like, four of them, not counting any others I don't know about."

"So guys," Emika interjected, "what say we go to the woods and walk the path to the fjórir tree? I'm bored of playing this game."

The boys all gave each other looks and nodded, to which mutual agreement soon instilled between the group. Lars and Soren always looked forward to this, for they got to witness the three Úlfheðnar-in-training spar and put their lessons into practice. A device known to the clan as a Vættirtol, which is given to each young Úlfheðnar trainee as they enter the age to properly hone in on their potential. In basic words, it works like a lesser developed artifact, or Drive, primarily for amplifying the user's soul essence for things such as beams, orbs, and even boosts to strength or endurance.

"Aha," chuckled Mads, "I have been meaning to see you in action after yesterday's session. You want to make up for how badly Hagen embarrassed you in front of everyone, huh?"

Emika pouted. "At least I stood up to him! It's not like you could take more than one strike before you snapped in two."

Mads shook his head dismissively and scoffed in defiance before they began heading toward the path that led deeper into the woods. It was a path they knew well, for it was where the trio would tend to practice what they learned and hone themselves like they were always instructed to do. The familiar fjórir tree that resembled the symbol of the rarely used number was at the center of a massive clearing at the end of the path, to which has witnessed many spars between this group.

"Oh, we have to have a turn with those Vættirtols when you are done beating each other up."

Demanded Soren, as the five of them began to embark down the patted, crunchy leaves. The path was thick yet tended to by the children so they could use it, and was also where they'd dump manure and other waste the farm generates. They'd be sure that the spot for that was a good distance away from the path itself, but that wouldn't make the smell any less rancid.

"Mm, if there is time, Soren." Responded Primus, "Lunch could be ready within the hour."

Soren took that as a yes, and so his excitement met his demand for assured practice. He loved to use these magnificent inventions simply due to the flashy energy they emitted from his being, and while he was not yet potent enough to do anything more than brush a leaf with a gust of his output, he still treasured any time to prepare himself for his next birthday gift; to officially spar with his eldest brother.

Lars was lagging behind, silent and fidgety. He felt grown up merely being able to hang out with the elder children, let alone being able to have a turn with the Vættirtols.

"Would I be able to have a turn if there is time, Primus?"

Before Primus could respond, Soren cut him off and interjected.

"You're too young to play with them, Lars."

"So are you, Soren! Come on, please?"

"If you can go a day without crying, maybe." Stated Soren, "Babies can't be trusted with power."

Lars kept his frustration in check, simply letting out an exaggerated sigh as the group continued forward.

"If there is time, Lars." Primus said, "You can give it a try."