Chapter 8: The Wrath Of The God Of Light

As I stand before King Eitri and his assembled dwarves, I can't help but feel overwhelmed by the sight of my newly forged spear. Its magnificence is undeniable, and I can only express my gratitude to the craftsmen who dedicated themselves to its creation.

"Simply magnificent," I reply, my voice filled with genuine admiration. "I don't know how to thank you for all the work you've done in forging it."

The room fills with smiles of pride from every dwarf present, their satisfaction evident in their expressions.

Leaving the warmth of the center of the room, which still glows with the residual heat from the spear, I approach King Eitri with a sense of gratitude.

"King Eitri, I owe a debt of gratitude to the dwarves, not only for crafting my weapon but also for imparting valuable knowledge and skills upon me," I express, bowing respectfully as a token of my appreciation.

Eitri seems taken aback by my gesture, clearly surprised by my humility.

"A Prince who shows such humility would make a fine king," he remarks with a hint of admiration.

The notion of kingship is something that has never truly crossed my mind, and I quickly dismiss the idea.

"I have no desire to be king," I respond sincerely.

Eitri smiles knowingly, seemingly amused by my response.

"Speaking as you do, I believe you would make more than just a good king. Perhaps a great one," he remarks cryptically.

Before I can ponder his words further, Eitri directs his attention to the matter at hand.

"It's time to name your spear, my boy. Let's get you home," he declares, indicating that our time in Nidavellir has come to an end.

Bidding farewell to Eitri and the dwarves, I make my way to my quarters to gather my belongings before departing for Asgard.

Upon entering my room, I find six small golden tubes atop my desk—my own creations. They serve as a reminder of the responsibilities and challenges that await me back home.

"Time to return," I mutter to myself, a sense of determination driving me forward.

Exiting my room, I head to the grand hall where Heimdall awaits, ready to guide me back to Asgard.

"Heimdall, open the Bifrost," I command, and without hesitation, the column of light envelops me once more, transporting me back to my homeland.

Arriving at the palace, I waste no time and head straight for the war room, where Odin, Frigga, and the soldiers are gathered, their attention focused on the ongoing briefing.

Mother is the first to greet me, enveloping me in a warm embrace that speaks of her concern and affection.

"It's good to have you back, my son. How have you been? Have they been treating you well?" she inquires with maternal concern, her worry evident in her voice.

With a reassuring smile, I assure her of my well-being before turning my attention to the matter at hand.

"Father," I acknowledge Odin's presence, acknowledging his authority.

"You've arrived just in time. The general is about to brief us on the current situation," Odin informs me, his tone grave.

As the general begins his explanation, I listen intently, absorbing every detail of the troubling events unfolding in the realms.

"In recent years, the rebel faction of the giants has launched numerous attacks on six of the nine realms. Despite our victories, they continue to send troops, and their motives remain unclear," the general reports.

(if they don't want an all-out war then it must be....)

"They want their relic," I say (T/N the casket of ancient winters)

They all turned towards me, seeming not to understand. Less Odin.

"Continue"

"They want to divide our forces. They want Asgard's soldiers to be sent to protect the attacked realms, so with weak defense and princes out of Asgard, they will try to steal the relic"

"Yes you're right. So what can we do?" Odin asked.

"Nothing"I replied

Everyone is surprised when I say this, even Odin did not understand my reason behind it.

"Explain"

"We have no way to stop them without going to an all-out war. The king of them will keep sending soldiers with the excuse that they were rebels to the camps in the kingdoms, and, so no matter how many we kill, except for having to start a war, we're stuck"

The angry general stood in front of me.

"I never expected to see in my life a cowardly Prince who is afraid of war"

"You got it wrong general. The key to Victory is to do nothing"

Still not believing in me the general crosses his arms and looks at me with suspicion, my father and mother are just watching where I will go with my strategy.

"As I said, attacking the Ice Giants would break the peace treaty. I do not fear war, but I also want to avoid one if I can. Doing nothing is the best way to win without starting a war, we will continue defending the kingdoms. If they attack a new kingdom I will defend meanwhile we will send soldiers to the other kingdoms"

"This would only give them the opportunity to try to invade and steal their relic. This strategy is ridiculous, we are only helping the enemy"

I was not angry with the general, he was just trying to find the best strategy to prevent the death of his soldiers. I had to convince that my strategy was the best

"We will not be helping the enemies, but drawing them into a trap. We'll move the treasures somewhere else. Then we will empty the Palace so that the servants do not hurt themselves during the attempted robbery. Let's secretly send some witches with the skill in illusion to the Kingdom with the most Ice Giants, they will create an illusion of our King. this will make it more certain that Asgard is unprotected, and when they come, we will kill them"

Now I could see a little acceptance in the eyes of the general. It seems I am on the right track.

"That's how we are going to win without starting a full-blown war" Odin says smiling.

"When they see that their attempt has failed and that we know of their object these attacks will lose their meaning, the king of the ice giants wants a war but does not want to start one without his relic. In the end they will retreat"

"What if they don't back down?" ask the General.

"I don't want a war. But I'm not afraid to fight in one either"

"Do you have a problem with this strategy general?" Odin asks

"No my King, the Prince's strategy is the best option

**KNOCK KNOCK**

"Enter."

A soldier strides into the hall, breaking the customary silence reserved for urgent matters.

"My king, I bear a message from Heimdall."

"Speak."

"Another assault has been launched on a neighboring kingdom. They struck swiftly, then withdrew and fortified their position."

"In which realm?"

"Midgard, sire."

"You are dismissed."

(I hadn't anticipated an incursion onto mortal lands. It seems I'm bound for home after nearly three centuries.)

"Baldur, heed my command."

"Yes, father."

"You are to journey to Midgard. Protect it until further notice."

"As you command."

"You may select a contingent of soldiers to accompany you."

"One trusted companion will suffice, father."

My mother rises from her seat, her smile warm.

"She waits in her chambers, rarely venturing forth since your departure."

"Then I shall make ready for Midgard."

I make my way towards the woman I haven't laid eyes on in years, apprehension mingling with anticipation. Will she be angry at my prolonged silence, or perhaps relieved to see me return?

Amora's chamber remains largely unchanged since my departure, with a solitary chair occupying the center and new designs adorning the walls.

Amora sits before a screen, engrossed in her work as she always has been. Her appearance hasn't altered since our last encounter, and I'm reminded of the countless hours she spent consumed by her research.

"You haven't changed since I left," I remark, breaking the silence.

Startled, Amora turns to face me, her expression shifting from surprise to disbelief before she rushes into my arms, clinging to me tightly.

"It seems someone missed me," I tease, returning her embrace.

"And you as well," she retorts.

"I don't," she protests, though her actions contradict her words as she continues to hold me close.

"Then why are you hugging me?" I inquire with a playful grin.

We remain locked in embrace for several moments until Amora pulls away, her gaze meeting mine before she delivers a firm slap to my chest.

"How dare you ignore me for a week? Off gallivanting with some woman, no doubt," she scolds.

"Have you ever seen a dwarf?" I retort, attempting to deflect her accusations.

"You don't need to lie to me. I've devised a spell that will reveal every woman you've come into physical contact with in the past century," she declares ominously.

(She is increasingly frightening.)

Amora gestures with her hands, and a peculiar pattern materializes in the air, enveloping me in a circle of green energy that emits a white light.

"So, did I pass your test?" I inquire once the spell dissipates.

"Of course! I never doubted you for a moment," she replies quickly, her tone shifting.

"Then why concoct such a spell?" I press.

"What spell?" she feigns innocence, though I spy a series of numbers displayed on the screen before her.

"You're not attempting to teleport to my location, are you?" I question warily.

Amora closes the digital screen abruptly. "I'm refining my teleportation technique, not attempting to track you down and transform any woman near you into an animal," she reassures, though her words do little to assuage my concerns.

"Well, it seems we have business in Midgard," I interject, choosing to ignore her cryptic remark.

"That forsaken planet," she mutters with a hint of disdain.

"We must protect it," I assert, determined to fulfill my father's orders.

With swift farewells to my mother, I accompany Amora to the Bifrost, where we are transported to Earth.

Upon arrival, we find ourselves in what appears to be the North Pole, the landscape blanketed in ice and snow. Something feels amiss, as if the frigid climate is unnatural.

"Are you certain we're in the right location? I see nothing here," I voice my doubts, mirroring Amora's concern.

As we survey the desolate surroundings, it becomes apparent that the snowdrifts conceal buried structures.

"We are in the correct place. The town lies nearly buried beneath the snow. It seems everyone in the city has perished," I conclude solemnly, realizing the grim reality of our situation.

Amora closes her eyes and raises her hands, releasing a wave of green energy that ripples around us. When she opens her eyes, a look of surprise crosses her face.

"Not all of them! Some are still alive, trapped within the huts," she declares.

The Ice Giants, with their mastery over the element of ice, likely manipulated the climate, intending to freeze every human in their path.

Time is of the essence. The inhabitants of this small town face imminent peril from the cold and starvation if left imprisoned. If a handful of giants could alter the weather, then surely I, too, can wield power over it.

My spear begins to emanate heat and light. I gradually increase the temperature, causing the ice beneath our feet to melt. Yet, it's not enough. Drawing upon the energy of the sun above, I concentrate its warmth around the entire city. A concentrated beam of sunlight radiates a hundred meters around me, melting the ice and directing the water toward a nearly thawed lake.

After a few minutes, the ice vanishes, revealing a devastating sight. The ground, once buried beneath snow, is littered with bodies. Men, women, and even children lie scattered, their attempts to defend their people evident from the swords and leather armor they wear.

As doors begin to creak open, figures emerge from the houses. A man in his thirties steps forward, a child trailing behind him. Soon, others follow suit, spilling out onto the streets until nearly a hundred people surround me. The first to approach kneels before me.

"Are you a God sent from heaven to save us?" he asks, his words comprehensible to me thanks to the Allspeak skill inherent in all Asgardians, enabling communication with any species in the universe.

The title "God" feels unfamiliar, but I recognize the hope in the man's eyes, mirrored by the tears of joy in the faces of the others around me. I cannot shatter their newfound faith, not after all they've endured. Emitting a golden light, I adopt a celestial visage.

"I am Baldur, son of Odin, God of the Sun and Light," I declare.

The survivors bow, their cries of relief echoing in the air. They are safe now.