6 Chapter 6

It has been over a decade since Hastings was surprised by a third party invasion back in 14 October, 1066; since the Balderklan had decimated a weary King Harald Godwinson infantry and an unsuspecting Duke William of Normandy's army. It was at the end of their battle when an organized surprise attack took advantage of the forewarned invasion, and

a new era in England and human history began.

It was something that Balder reflected on quite a bit, for it truly brought out the raw potential of his people and his ideals. He smiled to himself upon this reflection as he always did, though it was a faint grin these days. He still had a long way to go before his wolf-pelted brethren would reach their peak and shatter the ceiling to ascend even further.

He had high hopes, high expectations, and the stress was only visible through the grey of his beard and hair. Others liked to think of it as wisdom and aging, but that was merely a fraction of the causes.

With an army of 6,000 Úlfheðnar of varying classes, from pathmakers to infantry to casters and so on, Manning took out their troops with power and tenacity never seen in the age of Vikings, or during any point in history for that matter. The ability to traverse swampy marshes with their advanced technology was not only a magnificent feat, but ensured the surprise attack would succeed where traditional conventions failed.

Trial and error. That was also key.

Balder sent his personal guards to await him outside the door of his throne room, for his son would soon arrive and he wanted it to be a one-on-one session. Mathias, the legacy beyond his years in intellect, was more of an engineer than a warrior, but such mental discipline has offered more than what 100 Úlfheðnar could muster up in the realm of creative and practical endeavors.

The Balderklan's technology and perks of understanding brought in a new age of battle strategy and ideals, with the promise of conversion by force and pretty words to the now conquered territory. Most were easily swayed by power alone, leaving many common folk baffled and submissive. Some more faithful souls found the new King and his clan to be rather unorthodox and devilish, the true personification of how the traditional viking brethren had been depicted over the course of their history.

Such extremists weren't long for this world.

Over time, however, Balder had enforced a leadership that was not quick to tear down all that was built, but rather expand on all that remained from the clash of cultures.

At this point, eleven years later, there was only a minuscule remnant of domestic retaliation, those who were cast away for a multitude of reasons, be that faith, land ownership, old titles, stubbornness, inability to adapt, or so on. They were a portion of humanity running from the inevitable evolution of mankind, and thus were deemed a threat to the grand scheme of things, for some were not afraid to lash out and defend what they held dear.

His respect for them was due to a mix of pity and understanding, albeit with different contextual details. At this point in his life, he knew what worked for a society and what got in the way. He wouldn't waiver from his oath, though he knew how to differentiate irrationality and stubbornness from emotions, which were best left for the battlefield. It weeds out the weak, and empowers the strong tenfold.

With respect for most of the native English heritage, Balder only decided to rename Northumbria as New Oslo, since it would be where the Balderklan would claim it as their new primary epicenter. The rest would be left as previously named, for it both provided familiarity and convenience to those under their new rule. Still, change is sometimes scary for people, and even this one was considered an insult to some, further creating strife and problems.

The new King of this land, and leader of his people, Balder Ugelsted was sitting in the reformed Bamburgh Castle, awaiting a private session with his only son. He had forgotten scholarly intel on holdouts remaining in England at his homestead, but thanks to his Improbability Drive, Mathias could essentially teleport there and back in a manner of 5 minutes. Once he returned to meet his father, the two would discuss the current situation before Balder met with his war chiefs and important family leaders.

"Here you are father, the details from our scouts. I apologize for my disorganization."

The King took the records and details from him, skimming through them as they spoke.

"Ah, we have accomplished much in a mere decade. It just goes to show how far we will ascend in the coming months, let alone years."

Mathias spoke up with mere monotone as he summarized the information.

"Yes, the sekr, for lack of a better term, is a dwindling flame that we are close to dousing. The rest of the population seem to be offering more loyalty, especially those whose families originate from Scandinavia. The pure natives are easy enough to sway. What remains of the stubborn few, well, they could be all wiped out with little to no effort."

Balder linked his thumb to flip one of the pages as he took in his son's words, giving notable 'mhm's' as he read.

"One more mission should suffice, considering the intel here. I've had this thorn in my side for far too long. It would be a breath of fresh air to not worry about the weak minded on our home turf."

Mathias laughed.

"At least, the ones that are brave enough to fight back. We merely keep our people in line, and continue to create new laws that forbid treason."

Balder sighed and flipped to the last page before he placed it down on his table.

"No society is perfect. We have made plenty of good will to those who comply over the years, though. I feel confident in our overall hold here. Like I said, one last domestic mission should finally solidify our overall control, and prove to anyone that we mean no harm to anyone besides those who bring forth their own ignorance. Eleven years is too damn long, if you ask me."

Mathias sat down at the table and leaned back in his chair casually, crossing his arms and legs.

"Sheesh, Dad. You truly never have patience. How hypocritical. What is the big rush, anyway? If we were going to be invaded, it would have happened by now, no?"

Balder looked at him with an unphased glare. He knew fully well of his son's ignorance, and made it obvious in his passive aggressive tone.

"See, this is why I have experienced warfighters in my circle. If I had to rely solely on your 'brilliant' mind, we wouldn't have taken Hastings."

Mathias laughed again, this time rolling his eyes in an exaggerated manner.

"Hey, without me, there would be no innovations worth history's remark. You think you could have mass produced the Vættirtol on your own, let alone making more of those Artifacts?"

Balder was dismissive, though the point did bring up a question in his mind. He looked up from the stack of paper and met his son's casual gaze.

"Oh, speaking of which, I oversaw young Primus earlier today in an attempt to use my helmet to Elevate. It went poorly."

Mathias gave an exaggerated gasp before chuckling to himself. He loved the kid, and knew it wasn't really the young lad's fault, even if his father thought otherwise.

"Oh dear, the boy is just like his parents. How predictable. What, did the Grand Elder request this little test of yours?"

Balder nodded, lowering his gaze as he did so. He cleared his throat before speaking.

"Yes, he did, out of the blue. But, it offers me a basic understanding of him. The boy has potential, but lacks discipline. Manning and Sigrid must still be pampering him like a spoiled sow."

"Well," defended Mathias in a sarcastic tone, "you knew plenty about raising us a certain way. Perhaps they simply wish to do things their own way, based on the hell you put us through. A thousand ways to skin a cat, am I right?"

Balder seemed to be a tad concerned with this statement, as he is all too familiar with his son's ambiguous nature, to the point where he decided to pull it out of the weeds before he felt comfortable with his demeanor.

"They can't even Elevate. You and I are the only ones of our species, because unlike them, you have my blood in you. Even Emi has done it once. Watch your tone with me, son."

Mathias nodded as he raised his eyebrows and closed his eyes, knowing the point his father was making.

"Instilling discipline takes time, especially with children. You ought to know that fact, raising the three of us the way you did."

Balder furrowed a brow. "Yes, well, I wasn't as lenient as Manning and Sigrid are with their children, and look at the outcome. Your legacies are beyond most others we know of, while their children are barely at a fraction where you lot were at that age."

"Yeah," Mathias said, "but uh, extremes never solve anything. I can always tell them how you feel, you know."

The King sighed with impatience. "No need. If it becomes detrimental, I'll do it myself."

Mathias was one who did indeed share his father's traits in his own regard. Still, their upbringing was centered around discipline unlike most, for they had 'a duty', so to say. He casually leaned upright, placing his folded hands on the table.

"Regardless. Have patience, dad. He is still as human as you or I. A child at that."

Before Balder could retort, Mathias cut him off with a different, more sensitive topic.

"Oh by the way dad, a thrall down in the Inner Earth, that works on my homestead down there, he wanted me to ask about their situation. Is the use of thralls going to fade into obscurity if we expand like you wish to?"

Balder sighed in annoyance, for it is a prevailing question he gets asked, and easily triggers him. His tone reflected his mood regarding the matter, as it shook the floorboards and made the guards outside exchange a glance with a grin.

"Thralls will have their place in our clan higher than that of what they once had. They already do. We could shift the title as a job, and build a more effective economy in the meanwhile, but that, again, takes time. The title will have a new meaning, derived from their old one."

Mathias smiled in amusement at the irony. So perfect.

"You've been saying that since Hastings. Come now, father. You know you enjoy the convenience of slave labor. It is easy, satisfying, and beyond helpful. Besides, if men had to pay for their services, where would all of their wealth go? Not to mention..."

"Mathias," Balder said in a harsher, more brooding tone, "do not pester me further on the matter. We are in a delicate position despite our physical success, and we simply cannot make it happen right now. Patience, tell that damned thrall to be patient and keep his words in his skull, where they belong."

Mathias was loving this little exchange and toying with his father's easily excitable nature, but didn't want to push him over the brink once again. He recalled the saga well embedded in his head where his father owned and inevitably befriended a thrall from Eastern Europe after she was taken to Norway. She was an uncanny beauty and a sinister woman simultaneously, who became pregnant with Mathias.

However, at the same time, Balder was already married and pregnant with what would be Mathias's sibling. He had to keep the two at great distance and the thrall out of public view until his son was born. When Mathias did come into the world, she killed his wife and unborn child, threatening to kill young Mathias as well and discrediting the noble chieftain for the hell he put her through.

In response to this, Balder killed her and fabricated how the thrall went crazy in jealousy of his 'true' lover and resentment for being stolen from her homeland, and how his true wife pushed out Mathias just before she was murdered. While some of this is undoubtedly true, the fact that he had to jump through so many hoops of his own making and fabricate the truth made him feel bitter about thralls in general, for he almost lost his credibility as a sincere, respectable person and proper leader of his people.

Not to mention the real loss of a child and wife.

It was a tale orally passed down from Balder to Mathias when he turned of age to comprehend the significance of it. Balder had to bear this weight, and couldn't hold it on his own even if he wanted to. Passing the information down to Mathias helped, but it only spared a few strands of hair from turning grey over the years it burdened his soul. He loved both women, so much so as to sleep with them both and bear children, a situation that wasn't necessarily unheard of in this day and age.

But he couldn't risk all he had built, no matter what.

Sometimes he wondered what would've happened if the best case scenario played out. Would his wives get along in the long term? Well, probably not. Would he have two children instead of one of his own blood? Absolutely. The damning truths of the situations and of the 'what ifs' have haunted him for decades, but he'd never dare make it obvious, even to Mathias. That's just how traditional he was, even with his visits to the far east and his more recent introduction to the Critterman race.

Feeling not only betrayed and heartbroken, lost in a mess of his own making, he never did quite resolve this trauma in his mind, and merely blamed the woman for causing such hardship, and thus, all thralls were considered worthy of nothing but beneath human worth in his mind. He had to do his best to make up for his wrongdoings as life progressed, and mostly did so up to this day, hence his current title as Jarl of the Balderklan, and King of England.

Mathias, son of a thrall and a cheater, just sighed again, shaking his smile off his face before he stood to leave.

Balder grunted and stroked his thick, silver beard to calm himself. Before Mathias left the room, Balder called out and halted him.

"Mathias. I have a message for you to deliver to Manning and his eldest son."

Meanwhile, at the fjórir tree…

Primus was illuminated, engulfed in green and yellow aura as he charged an attack that was more experimental than anything else. It was something he only was able to do during sessions such as this, never finding time or opportunity to practice it in regular training. This made the boy eccentric in an exaggerated manner, and once he saw Emika close to pinning Mads, he outstretched his arms and slammed his wrists together, his hands at a horizontal position with fingers gripping a sporadically flickering orb of his essence.

He expelled his full power at the two on the ground with a massive beam, which was 3 meters in diameter and traveled approximately 30 miles per hour. It was meant to wash over them and solidify a hit on the two, who were shuffling like rats before the large beam struck and bathed them with a notable tingle and blinding light.

It was a dramatic little feat for the young Primus, and as he fired he noted how neither were able to escape it in time. Emika had let go of Mads by now, as Mads took the full force of this beam while trying to run out of its proximity.

Six seconds went by as he bellowed, before the beam ceased; dirt and leaves spewing about and coating the two of them, as well as Lars and Soren, who got caught in the debris of the astounding attack. They had to cover their faces and wince to avoid getting it in their eyes and mouths, as well as to shield from the light, though to little avail.

The dust began to settle, Primus's arms were now loosely held in front of him as he panted, sweat beginning to drip from his forehead. He exerted plenty of his stamina and effort into such a mundane attack, yet he felt proud to have done so and effectively taken advantage of the timing.

His brothers, after spewing and spitting dirt from their mouths, had begun cheering and exclaiming frantically before Emika and Mads began getting up.

Emika was the first to stand to her feet, feeling bewildered as she stood amongst the dancing leaves. She was filthy, yet her magenta aura would reflect an attitude of defiance against Primus's raw power. Though, she was equally winded after wrestling Mads, breathing heavily while she slowly walked toward Primus.

"You know, that was cool," she said, "but I'm gonna get you for that."

Mads had felt the full body effect of that blast, and it still left a tingling numbness that he felt all over. So, as he tried to stand, he took a dramatic knee and remained there, looking at Primus with an astonished sneer.

"Get him, Emika. You got this."

Emika stared Primus down, before wiping her mouth to rid it of dirt. She continued taking heavy breaths until she stood about three feet in front of the equally exhausted Primus.

Speaking of which, Primus felt like a superhuman, yet limited by his own inability to preserve his bearings on the matter. He lowered his arms to his side and stared back at her with exaggerated confidence, doing his best to collect himself before the next confrontation.

"You don't scare me, Emi. If you wanna go, I will show you my true power!"

Soren and Lars were talking amongst themselves during this exchange, as they watched the warm up finally end between these three.

"You know," said Lars, "I bet if I was fighting, I could beat Mads too."

Soren scoffed. "You wish, kid. Knowing you, you'd just get poked and weep until he felt bad about it."

Lars pouted and looked at Soren with frustration. "Nuh-uh! I would fire a big blast and wipe the floor with him just like Primus!"

"Oh, listen to yourself. You just copy and try to be like him all the time. Make up your own moves, loser."

"Why do you have to call me a loser all the time?"

"Because," responded Soren in an annoyed tone, "you can't even think of doing anything that Primus doesn't do first. You're just a whiny little copycat."

Lars was beyond words to express himself, for if he tried to argue further, he would begin shedding tears. So he just crossed his arms and sighed in an exaggerated tone, before he heard something echoing in the distance.

Emika and Primus had finally stalled and caught their breath before they heard Sigrid calling for them to return home as iconically as ever. Primus looked over before the rest of them stood to their feet in response to the beckoning.

"Dang." Primus muttered, "Guess its lunch time. Mads, you want to join us?"

Emika yelled out "Oh, of course!" in frustration before the group recollected themselves and made their way back down the path home. She shoved Primus to the ground suddenly, to which he rolled back and onto his feet ready to keep going before he heard his mothers' tone once again. He wasn't about to risk making her wait long.

"Nah," responded Mads, "I'm supposed to help my parents with the crops. I guess I killed enough time as it is."

With that, the three unequipped their Vættirtols and put them in their respective pouches. Emika felt unfulfilled by the end of the fight, but soon just got over it as they made their way back to the village.

"I guess I worked up an appetite." She said, as she lightly punched Primus in the arm. "We're gonna have a round two mister, got it?"

Primus smiled at her and nodded, as the five of them began brushing off the excess dirt and leaves from their playtime so as not to track too much of it into their homes. By the time they made it back, Mads waved goodbye as he split off from the four of them.

"See you guys later!"

"Man," said Lars under his breath in frustration, "I didn't even get a turn."

"Neither did I, but you don't hear me complaining." Retorted Soren.

"You will soon, guys." Affirmed Primus. "We can go back later."