"Gef," I repeat her name, watching her caution and doubt in me momentarily lapse. "Okay Gef. Then now that we're friends, I'll keep my word! First of all, that thing you're holding: do you know what it is?"

She shakes her head. It's not too much of a surprise, given how she just reached out for it. If it wasn't for my own grip on it, she may have accidentally used it. All that said and done, the only way I understood the magic arrow is based on my own vague descriptions in the book. Actually using one was never done in-scenes and had purely been conceptual, so it'll take some fine navigating and experimentation to find out just how exactly it works now.

"It's called a magic arrow. They're tools able to let you speak with anyone at anytime and anyplace... but to use it, you have to have met someone or been somewhere to send it, understand?"

She shakes her head. Being fair to Gef, she's only about the same age as Heimdallr; despite her size, the tell-tale innocence of a child makes this at least somewhat easier to keep her calm and build her trust. It's weird to see a character I'd made to be a simple tragic pawn in building up Borr take such a prominent focus... but her aid will be crucial for me if I want to survive the ordeals ahead with full certainty.

"Okay... then I'll walk you through it. Is there anyone you want to talk to that you haven't seen in a long time?"

She flinches and lowers her gaze. "... My father."

It's hard to blame a girl who lost her father at such a young age from thinking that. I steal my unease away and bury it.

"Well... what about your mother?"

In the book, Gef's mother had been forced to leave with the death of Gef's father and Nakaros no longer being alive. The culture of Dagr's Fall was highly stigmatizing towards a giant like her, but that of a widow made it impossible to stay. But a giant wouldn't take a half-giant to their homeland, either; back in the land of Utgard, anyone with mixed blood was put to labor until the day they die. Gefjon had been spared torture and instead was given a life of loneliness and struggle. It ultimately makes her take on fights and stealing, putting her in debt to the same men who manipulated her father. A few years later as she gets older, she inevitably gives up the last possession of her family and gives them the recipe for her grandfather's beers. Borr uses the re-opened tavern as an opportunity to party and comes into contact with her, freeing her from the debtors on accident after they try to screw him over and kills them to the last man.

It's all of that decision's good intent that sets Gef on the wrong path and all the more reason I have to protect her.

"All you need to do is think very deeply of her and what you would say. After that, the arrow will shoot off and find her to deliver the message. Easy enough, right?"

Gef bites her bottom lip, looking between me and the arrow before she looks back. "W-What would I say? She left me here and I-"

"Say whatever you want," I interrupt, stopping her before she gets lost in her own anxiety. "As long as you keep thinking of what to say, the arrow will carry it only when you stop. So-"

The door into the tavern is pushed open and Gefjon quickly retreats into the darkness. Geir and Soini are quick entering the place with the latter of the two raising a lantern of his own. Its larger size and potency illuminates all of the room... but not before the child giant is able to escape and leave me standing alone.

Geir has his spear in a low, one- handed carry befitting a veteran at ease. "Here you are, lad. Soini was worried sick!"

Soini's face may be hidden behind chainmail but the way he turns toward Geir says just how wrong he is.

"You old stump, you were the one who freaked out when he had disappeared! Heimdallr may be just a boy but none would dare threaten him in the entire hold!"

Geir backhandedly waves at him, approaching me with a curious glance at my now suspiciously-lighter belt.

"Heimdallr, what happened to the magic arrow Lady Gullveig gave you?"

"I used it," I lie flatly and directly. "I wanted privacy and you two kept chasing me. How was I supposed to send a message to my oldest brother?"

The two of them are silent but Geir is noticeably dismissive of my story. Soini was young and didn't know much about my family, but Geir knew well enough that the eldest son of Dagr had little time for anyone, save our father. At this point he was clearly looking around the tavern for signs of Gefjon, no doubt suspecting something more nefarious was underfoot. It's unfortunate that we only get to meet for such a short time, but Gefjon is still too weak and fragile in her current state to risk exposure to the hold's eyes.

It's time to use my ace-in-the-hole.

"Geir, what was that place you mentioned before? The brothel, was it? I would like us to go there now that I have used the arrow!"

Geir snaps his gaze down at me whilst Soini immediately hisses. The duo clearly aren't expecting a small boy who knows nothing of the world to ask to go to a brothel... and given my status they could very well have to take me if I push hard enough. All the searching for someone can't stand if I decide to go to a place like that.

"Lad, that's not... Soini and I cannot take you there. Let me look for another moment and I'll take you to the smith as you asked-"

"I don't wish to go to the smith anymore," I grumble and cross my arms. "You both spoke a lot about that brothel when I spent so much time to slip away, now you won't take me? Were we not close to passing it on the main street moments ago?"

Soini now steps up and bows his head. "Young Heimdallr, it's not that we won't take you if you desire, but please consider that going would be bad for your reputation!"

"Yes," Geir adds, finally lowering his focus outwardly to elbow Soini. "After all, someone here has experience with this place. It would be better if we took you to the smithy instead." He looks at me once more, clearing his throat.

"That is, if you're not too busy handling your own private matters here. It would be a shame if Gullveig found out you shot off that arrow so quickly, wouldn't it?"

Geir thinks this is blackmailing me but it really isn't. Gullveig gave it to me because of our future bond, but most people would assume it was a gift assuming I would think long and hard on its use. Even she simply said to not endanger the hold and it'd be fine any way or time I used it. But this is exactly why I asked her for it instead of someone else: the illusion of significance to bait someone like Geir into holding it over a child who wouldn't know any better.

I feign a moment of concern, finally sighing and averting my gaze from the duo. I can't see her but I know Gefjon is still watching.

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"Okay, fine. Take me to the smithy. But be quick about it. It's only fair that we compromise."

Soini sighs in relief while Geir raises a fist to his chest in a casual salute. "Of course, lad. This time, though, we ask you not to run off. There is no telling what or who could be lurking here, even in our territory's reach."

Neither of them could detect the other child here despite her size thanks to all her experience hiding... but it was a good thing that they express caution. Gefjon will be someone who grows into a strong friend, but until she joins me in the future I have to rely on the huskarl. Although they pale as witty guards, their gifts in defense made them no less competent when in good numbers. Dagr's Fall only took and raised huskarl who had great warrior potential to match their leader, Dagr, and as such even a greenhorn like Soini could face a dozen common soldiers with ease.

Us leaving, however, means I won't get another chance for some time to meet inconspicuously with Gef. She has the arrow and a valid person to send its message to, but she will still need direction.

"But before we go, Geir, tell me: when do we hold the recruitment tests for new huskarl? I may want to get a different weapon if I have to be tested against the younger ones."

The question doesn't garner any terrible amount of distrust, this time all-too-real for the expectations of the lord's many sons. Geir settles a free hand along his jaw and thinks.

"Mm... perhaps it will be sometime in the harvest months? It should be plenty of time to learn any weapon you like, lad. Although I think you may still be a bit too small to be worried about that sort of thing, you should pick something that you enjoy more than one you think will simply do better against the inexperienced recruits."

And just like that, she has some semblance of a goal breadcrumbed from here on.

"Fair point, I suppose. I'll think more on it while we walk. Soini shall lead the way this time, lest we stumble into that brothel thing!"

As much as I want to help Gefjon here and now, I can't risk the two intimidating her away. When the competition comes around I will find and help her there, so as to make a two-stroked attack on how people view giants and my own future viability to lead. Even if I decide to try and pass by the inheritance, I need well-defined values to help identify which of my new life's brothers can be trusted or not. After all, the future won't just be about bringing Gefjon in: there are many other races and people that will be powerful assets to giving me a safe and longer life. Even these two may become assets in that... which is all the more reason I need to try and get Soini to feel shame about the brothels. He gets an illness later on from one of his visits that serves as a painful lesson to Heimdallr, but given my previous life's longevity I have better self control than just some run-of-the-mill preteen boy about to hit puberty.

At least, I think I do. It's inevitable that I slowly adjust overtime to think of Heimdallr and myself as one given the melding of my mind to his. It may be my emotions now, but all of his memories are only filtered by my personality because I've not been here long.

That's why after I get back to the keep I'll need to invest in something that will keep me from forgetting the things that are truly important. A surprise awaits my family, but first I need to go through an important moment for young Heimdallr: the picking of a weapon.

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One of the smiths in Dagr's Fall stood above the rest, particularly thanks in part to supplying Dagr himself. Few huskarls had the luxury of getting their own works by this smith, but the sons of Dagr were granted an opportunity like their father to obtain a weapon from the mighty smith Brokkr.

Born human and ascended through his connection to the God of Craftsmanship, Brokkr was not a normal being compared to any of the other characters in the book. The downside of this is his true neutrality: ascended of any race are often bound to a creed of neutrality to preserve balance in the world, often leading them to change hands with the powers of mortal warriors. In his case, Brokkr was originally an enemy of Dagr before the Enslaved Empire was driven away; after besting all of their leaders and driving them from his newly-established hold, Dagr took him in under the condition that he craft the weapons he would need for war. In that time, Brokkr had forged countless swords in his name since then and had made six weapons at this point for my brothers. Not all of Heimdallr's family took them in my writing, after all, as some bore other gifts more potent...

But I'm not foolish enough to look a gift down. While my magic capabilities could one day be more powerful than most weapons, I know the ones that Brokkr has made and will make. It's why I asked to come a year sooner than Heimdallr: I plan to acquire a weapon that scars Heimdallr during the very war I had been writing. It's driven into his back while he fights beside his father, used from behind by one of my brothers bewitched by a sorcerer.

Brokkr enters the main room of the smithy with his immense size mirroring Gefjon, yet riddled with the muscles and the glow of his god's warmth. He wore little more than a pair of pants and an apron, yet his body's thickness would prevent most weapons from striking a vital spot. The most prominent feature of him, however, is his fiery, billowing hair restrained into its familiar ponytail: the source of his magical smithing flowed from its warmth.

"I have retrieved the newest artifact of my forge," he rumbles, the darkened and tanned skin of the smith hiding just how tense he is from all but the sharpest eyes. It's a clear move to keep his apprentices from noticing. "Young Heimdallr, this weapon carries a dangerous curse for its power. Are you certain you wish to wield it?"

Soini glances at me but Geir is still. "The boy asked for it, didn't he? Who dares doubt the will of Dagr's progeny?"

"It's fine Geir."

He too glances at me, but I quickly smile at Brokkr just as I've done with everyone in my new life.

"Brokkr, I wish to know more of it. May I see it?"

A bundle of fabric falls on the smithy's table between us, the smith unfurling it from each end and letting me see a glimmer of a spearhead almost the size of my hand. The fine steel and plated lines of silver alone are high enough quality to be out of place in a society like this, but the shaft of the weapon is a mix of wood and metal bindings. It's easily taller than I am currently, yet even after growing it will still be slightly taller.

Gungnir.

"This is Gungnir," Brokkr says, as if reading my thoughts whilst setting a hand along the tip. "Seeing it will not let you understand its power. That is why I asked if you were certain. This weapon's curse holds its dangers in the unknown: it can influence your destiny at any time, striking and acting as you want it. But that power when used poorly may take a life you do not wish to take. Even your own, if you wield it erroneously."

In my books, Gungnir slipped free of Heimdallr's brother at the moment of jealousy he wielded toward the protagonist. It struck him directly in one of his lungs and left Heimdallr healing for almost a year. The dangers of Gungnir are strengths, however, if one can wield it with a clear mind.

In my case, the best talent I have is my knowledge. Heimdallr learns of Gungnir when it is being destroyed for its dangers, only then being revealed in full by Brokkr. The way to counteract a weapon like Gungnir is to take control of its curse: you must face a foe and resolve yourself to wield it as nothing more than a simple weapon, Its legacy made it impossible for those of Dagr's Fall, but for someone who shaped this world like me it's a simple task.

I reach out and clasp it firmly in my hand, ignoring all of the whispers whilst raising it up. It takes both of my hands to properly balance it... but the lightness of the weapon is obscene for something so much larger than me. When I grow up, it will be no different than wielding a sword in terms of weight.

"I will take it and make it mine. This shall be the vowed weapon I am owed."

Brokkr is silently watching me, letting the words fade into the room. Despite the apprentices watching me in awe, the two huskarl and the giant are trying to gauge just how good or bad this all is.

"Even knowing its curse, you-"

I nod. "I am certain, yes! This will be a weapon spoken of in legends of the God of Craftsmanship!"

"You flatter me," Brokkr says, bowing his head instead. "My god and I will hope your words are true. But should you wish to be rid of it... well, I suspect you will return it to me, won't you?"

Resolving myself to getting rid of it if it's too dangerous? I can't do that knowing just how good Gungnir can be once its curse is reigned in. The exact specifics of considering it as a normal weapon aren't going to be easy to determine, but it's on my pride to prove myself now. By fall, I should ready myself to use it... and, with luck, not even have to betray my magic potential when I attend.

So for the sake of this smith, I have to.

"Okay," I feign with a whine. "But if I prove you wrong, I will come to get another of your works!"

"Young lad," Geir quickly interjects, stepping forward and raising a hand toward me in a hope to halt me. "You mustn't make such requests of Dagr's personal smith. You're not him nor hold power here."

"Very well."

Brokkr ignores the huskarl, his eyes watching me with newfound curiosity. It isn't too different than the inquisitive gaze of Gullveig, but it lacks the threat and instead carries hope.

He wants me to conquer Gungnir, regardless of however much more work it might bring him. After all, it's his masterpiece.

And now it will be one of the tools to ensuring my new life goes smoothly.