8 Chapter 8

Sigrid looked to Manning, her eyes begging for him to speak up. His eyes were focused on his plate for a good minute, before he let out a sigh, meeting her eyes with his usual calm facade. He then looked over at Mathias, casually taking a bite of his pork before speaking up.

"Now, Mathias. Why don't you give us the essential details first, so I can properly state my concerns. After all, my boy is just a trainee. While I do not entirely see irrationality in their judgement, and I have more than enough faith that I can protect Primus from harm, I would prefer to have my wife's mind at ease all the same."

Sigrid had a look of genuine worry on her face, as any good mother should. Her instincts washed over her sense of duty like a sand castle in high tide, but still had the mound of subtle confirmation that things such as this happen for a reason.

Mathias was looking at Manning with forced seriousness, albeit mixed with a subtle sense of casual formality.

"The details are simple. A holdout in Gwynedd, more specifically Anglesey, or 'Ynys Mon', consists of an influencer of the old Harold Godwinson, leading a small yet durable army of roughly 1,900 men, including infantry, archers, and knights. You will be overseeing 1,140 of our most prepared Úlfheðnar, to eradicate the slowly growing threat. We will supply our best horses and you should be there in approximately 3 days, given their endurance training and Vættirtols. Ships to be boarded can meet you at the Menai Strait, or you may simply use our Arðrmen to make a bridge of sorts. The latter sounds more appropriate."

Manning took the details in and sat in silence for a moment before he spoke up again, letting it sink in so as to plan accordingly. The Arðrmen were a pronounced division of the Úlfheðnar who essentially make paths suitable for traversing otherwise arduous natural boundaries. From swamplands to forests, rivers to oceans, anything that is in the way of their objective was taken care of by these unique soldiers.

It was the first division of these improvisers that made the astounding surprise attack at Hastings possible, clearing spots for them to encircle and take out both armies with ease. Marshes and heavily wooded areas would naturally defend the ridge Harold Godwinson defended upon, but with surprising stealth and cunning, the Arðrmen made it possible to create formidable paths for the fighters to surround and move in as the main battle hit its most dire points.

"You know, if your egghead team of researchers ever finish the next stage in transportation, we could be flying there in less than half the time. But, I will not complain. The Arðrmen will suffice. To clarify, is it essential to have my son come along? You do not expect him to get in the way? Uh, no offense, Primus."

Primus was wallowing in a pit of anxiety, which was clear on his worried little face. Still, he would play with his food as he listened to them talk, the rest of the children doing the same without a peep. He had lost his appetite upon receiving this news, as an uncanny responsibility weighed him down to his core.

"You're one of our best in battle strategy, Manning. Still, we would only expect him to make some slip ups or give into his illusionary limitations during this little situation. He has much to prove for those who follow him in the future, and the earlier he gathers his experience, the better off he will be in the future."

Sigrid shook her head, looking at Mathias with a look of desperation, with her tone of voice matching it tenfold.

"And you are positive that Balder and The Grand Elder insist on sending him? I mean, yes, in all seriousness, it does not sound as bad as I anticipate, but still. He is just a baby boy. My baby boy."

Mathias nodded.

"Yes. Just, overlook your motherly impulses and have faith in optimism, alright? Look not at the worst case scenario and glorify it as the only possible outcome. Best case, he becomes more hardened, mentally and physically, and can brag to the other trainees that he has been in a real civil conflict."

Primus began to wonder about what he said; finding faith in optimism. Sure, the bragging rights would be astounding, and he could truly be the best teacher for his younger brothers when they were officially old enough to train under him properly. From an external perspective, it looked more than manageable and practically worth every moment.

Still, he had never seen the reality of war firsthand, and always pushed away the notion as something he would be prepared for when he was older. Well, if not now, when? So used to procrastination and putting things off, Primus felt a spark of responsibility that didn't make his insides squirm. New, yet undoubtedly prominent. As he pushed his mind to think of this from his elder's perspective, which he had to do by voluntarily thinking to himself, he felt a small, vibrant glow of enthusiasm that melted away his icy anxiety to a manageable level.

"It's okay mother. I can accept this responsibility and make you proud. Besides, even if I get struck or battered, I just transmigrate, right?"

Said the swayed child, as he remembered what was said earlier regarding the transmigration process. Sure, it was possible, but a human with technology of the Crittermen race in his genes has never existed before him. There was no guarantee it was physically possible. But, if his parents could do it by simply wielding their Improbability Drives as accessories, surely a more sophisticated version could prove probable. Right?

"That's a good young man," complimented Mathias. "you're already one step above most people your age in maturity."

"You have my word that nothing bad will happen to our boy under my supervision, dearest." Manning ensured. "I will not send him into the battle meant for our Úlfheðnar."

Sigrid sighed and lowered her shoulders before shaking her head in prosperous unease. Still, she felt more assured that with Manning guiding and teaching their child the reality of the world, there were high hopes for his safe return.

"Very well, old friend. Tell our father and the Grand Elder that we trust their judgement and will not resent them if nothing goes wrong. Death, albeit different for the small minority of the Balderklan, is still a traumatizing experience, immortal or not. If my baby comes back scarred in any form, there is no Drive or invention that can save you from me."

Mathias chuckled at her remark, lifting the slowly rising morale a tad higher. He took his last bite of pork and stood up from his seat with a better attitude than before. Primus resumed eating his meal until it was all gone, the other children doing the same.

"I will pass your message along, dear friend. Primus, you're going to go far with the guidance of your admirable parents. Lars, Soren. You do your best to be just like him as you grow into your respective manhood. Emika, come home when you're done here. You're filthy and need to wash up."

Emika brushed off her unnoticeable concern and smiled back at her father. "I will bathe here, then take a fat nap. We're still tired and sore from playing in the woods, so do not wait for me. Actually, can I sleep over? Primus has six days to prepare, right?"

"Sure, sweetheart. Rest up and have fun. I will be home after I pass the word to Pep and The Grand Elder."

With that, the tension had almost completely diminished, a calming respite filled the longhouse. Mathias took to the door and vanished out of sight before even touching the handle, and Sigrid got up to clear the table. The children helped, while Manning went outside to clear his head and plan for the upcoming expedition.

After clearing the plates and cleaning the table, the children would take turns bathing and washing themselves of all the grime from their spars. Emika, waiting for her turn, would rush home to grab a clean set of clothing.

After all was said and done, they went to their respective beds and took a long, well deserved nap for the duration of the afternoon, leading into midday. Primus felt a conflict brewing in his mind, but kept faith in his optimism well enough to doze off for now.

Sigrid went outside to meet her husband, who was sitting in a handmade spruce wood chair. She stood beside him, both staring off into the circular dead end path that horses and people would use for ease of access to their respective places.

"Do you think it is too soon for Primus to be introduced to the real world?"

Asked Manning, as he slowly leaned back in his chair after a good hour of forward thinking and posture to match it.

"Truly, I am still conflicted. Sure, it is his destiny to become something far greater than we could ever possibly manage to prepare him for. Lars and Soren too, even Emika. I fear that their humanity may eventually be stripped from them if they do manage to transmigrate, especially before their prime. You remember how that transition went for us, right?"

Manning nodded slowly.

"Yes, I remember it far too well. We were just collecting grape seeds, and the next thing we knew, we got ambushed and scalped before suffering death by the Skræling. It was, even for me, a hard and unfathomable experience, to die just to come back later with scars that will never heal."

"Mental and physical ones at that." She responded, "I still cannot begin to bring myself to put into words how it felt to die to this day. I just want my sons to be spared of the burden it bears on the soul. To remember dying, and reliving the feelings of it over and over, it's just not good for the mind. I know I can't spare them from it forever, but I am not thinking irrationally, right?"

Manning sighed at her words, though not out of contempt, but rather unadulterated understanding.

"Of course not, my dear. Still, it is a birthright yet to be determined. Fret not for the coming days, dearest. I will make an oath to you, ensuring nothing will happen to him under my guidance and protection. He will be fine. I swear it."

She leaned in for a kiss and pecked him on the cheek before making her way back inside.

"I know."