“It’s gone too far now,” Odin said, voice resolute and tinged with anger. “Every side has uttered ill-considered words that cannot be revoked, and each is increasingly sure of their own superiority. Ragnarok could begin by the end of the decade.”
“Now father,” Thor replied, trying not to be condescending and failing. “Surely it can’t be that bad. I still have many friends in all the realms!”
He had never been one for politics. Or meetings that lasted more than thirty minutes.
“It is that bad, brother,” Baldr informed him, knowing that for Thor, his voice carried more weight than their own father. “Soon, our friends in other realms will be told to pick sides. Hard as it will be, for both us and them, the scope of the coming war will rend all alliances asunder. Our flock will be tossed beyond the fence, and chaos will reign.”
Thor frowned deeply, but nodded before lapsing into thought. He wasn’t stupid, merely unconcerned with things he considered boring, but if Baldr told him something he would consider it fact. It wasn’t that he didn’t believe his father, they simply had different outlooks on what was important. Odin nodded almost imperceptibly at Baldr, wordlessly thanking him for saving him the trouble of explaining the situation to Thor.
“Our priority must be finding a solution,” Odin told the Aesir gathered around his table. “My preparations for Ragnarok will require decades, if not centuries to ensure that we don’t lose too much to survive. Not to mention the devastation it would reap among our followers.”
“I could make gifts for the other rulers,” Tyr offered, resentful boredom apparent in his voice. He hated any time spent away from his workshop. “Buy us a little goodwill.”
“Ooh! Great idea! I’ll organize a nine realm concert tour, too!” Braggi said, strumming out a quick chord on his guitar.
Odin nodded slowly. “Yes, a round of gifts and entertainment could do some good.” He sighed heavily afterwards and continued. “Alas, it can do nothing but delay the inevitable. The Jotun are bound to see it as a capitulation and grow demanding. We will need a longer term solution, even if a permanent option is out of reach.”
“How about some fruit for them, Idun?” Loki mentioned with a grin, receiving a scowl in return. “I can’t think of anything that could buy more goodwill than something from your orchard.”
“Even if I wanted to give away my entire harvest, I wouldn’t have enough,” she said with a glare at Loki. An idea popped into her head, transforming her glower into a sickly sweet smile. “If you would like to give up your allotment, brother, I could stretch it much further however.”
Loki tried to maintain a smile, but visibly winced at the threat.
“I can donate a few pocket worlds,” Gefjun said, a pleading tone to her voice. She hated when her siblings teased each other. “One to suit each realm, with an assortment of other spatial items to accompany them.”
“Let’s not offer such valuable items so quickly, sister,” Baldr said with a fond smile. Gefjun nodded reluctantly, shifting nervously in her seat. “Sol, perhaps you could gift a few eternal flames for the cause?”
“It seems the least of a treasure hoard, but I don’t mind,” Sol replied with a snort. She was juggling one such flame as they spoke. “I’ll make sure Mani provides a few moonbeams as well.”
“What of you Vidar?” Loki needled his mute brother, still trying to find himself some entertainment from this meeting. Vidar’s only response being a rude hand sign, mocking Loki right back.
Eventually true silence lapsed as they ran out of ideas.
Deciding the time was right, Baldr made his move.
“Maybe we just need to provide an outlet,” he began, his first suggestion since the meeting began. “A way for the rulers to vent their aggression, prove their superiority, and best of all, put themselves at absolutely no risk.”
“How could we accomplish such a task, brother?” Heimdall asked, fingers idly twiddling the Gjallarhorn. “I can see far, but not even my eyes can spot a safe haven through the coming storm.”
“I propose a competition between the nine realms,” Baldr replied with calm assuredness. “Each realm shall choose champions to show the might of their realms.”
“Surely the elves and the dwarves will object,” Hermod interjected, but he stroked his beard in interest. All here knew that Baldr didn’t take a step without considering even the ants he might trod upon. “Though capable fighters, their might skews largely to other areas of expertise.”
“Ah, but that’s why it shall be a competition and not a series of fights, brother Hermod,” Baldr replied, acknowledging the shaman with a quick nod. “One year of games, fights, performances, and all other manners of competition. We shall show the nine realms such a spectacle as to even draw the attention of Yggdrasil herself.”
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The Aesir listened quietly while Baldr laid out the details of his competition, which he would call the Wild Hunt, asking occasional questions to clarify certain rules. He laid out a grand plan for tournaments, scavenger hunts, band battles, and numerous other quests that the competitors would face.
“With such a varied body of missions for our champions to face, how will we distinguish the leaders of the Hunt?” asked Hodr, the blind warrior. “If we favor any type of quest over the other, surely one of the realms will cry foul.”
“Worry not, all quests shall be equal,” Baldr assured them, beginning to outline his scoring system. “We’ll simply use the tier system. Each opponent defeated shall be worth an amount corresponding to their level’s tier, with a handicap provided to deter the strongest champions from farming their weaker opponents, as well as reward the lower tier for their triumphs should they win.”
“I foresee two problems with this plan,” Odin pronounced, adjusting his eye patch. “Firstly, arbitration. I can’t imagine any of the rulers allowing another realm to hold the power of judgment over them. Secondly, assignment. What’s to stop a realm from assigning nonstop small effort quests to their champions, farming the maximum amount of points for the minimum amount of effort?”
“Well spoken, father,” Thor echoed, rapping his knuckles on top of Mjolnir in response. “I also would like to know how many champions each realm may put forth, as well as how they may be chosen.”
“I’ll address your concerns first, Thor,” Baldr responded. “I propose a qualifying round to begin the Hunt, with the final nine competitors moving on to compete with the other realms. The initial champions can be left up to each of the realms to decide on their own, but I propose each of us select a single competitor.
“Father, to address your concerns, I must ask for patience. I’m confident that I have a solution to both problems, such that no one will argue with the results. I apologize to keep you in the dark for now, but I would not present such a plan without several contingencies in place, you must know that.”
Odin acknowledged his son’s answer with a quick nod. Situations like this were exactly why Baldr was the most beloved of his family, seeing to all of their needs and concerns with ease.
“What if a champion is rendered unable to continue?” Heimdall asked. “A bargain will need to be struck with Hel, to prevent her from claiming the fallen champions of the other realms, as well.”
“My hope is that both of those issues will be addressed by the arbiter,” Baldr replied, sharpening the curiosity of most of the room. “In case my first choice falls through, you may wish to choose several champions-in-reserve.”
“Now, if there are no further questions, I propose we adjourn to begin our selections,” Baldr said, rising to his feet. “I have confidence that each of us will find a competitor to suit our own strengths, but make sure you are confident in your picks. Good night.”
The family meeting wound down, breaking up as the Aesir moved back to their respective islands. Baldr walked out into the gold-paved streets of Asgard, drawing up his hood and shrouding his face from the orange glow of the street runelamps. He picked his way past the numerous statues dedicated to himself and his fellow Aesir, decorating the center of every intersection. Each was carved with a skill only a Grandmaster sculptor could bring to bear. Centuries ago, he had been uncomfortable with the sight, but now he no longer noticed.
Eventually he reached the cloud bridge connecting to his personal sky island. Midgard spread out beneath him, clouds occasionally passing between the islands and the land far below. Mani’s pale moonlight allowed a clear view of Yggdrasil above and beyond them, glowing a faint green with the mighty life force that spread through it. The Bifrost added a translucent shimmer as it snaked between the Tree of Life’s branches and the Nine Realms suspended from it. From his bridge, Baldr could see the rainbow length that connected the central island of Asgard to Midgard.
Long ago, Asgard had been considered the Ninth Realm alone, until the Aesir had forged Midgard beneath them to house their followers. Now, Midgard was considered the Ninth Realm, and Asgard was merely the ruling seat of the Aesir.
Baldr’s eyes lingered on the powerful branches of Yggdrasil as they always did when he walked this bridge. He felt especially lucky that his island lay with its back facing the tree, giving him an unobstructed view of what he considered the most beautiful thing in the cosmos. Tonight, it was also his ultimate destination.
He eventually reached his palace, instructing his retainers that he would be Traveling and unreachable until he returned. Once he had reached his private quarters, he wasted no time in tearing open a portal and walking through.
An observer could be forgiven for thinking that the destination of the portal was a cave at first. Then, once their eyes had adjusted to the dim green light that surrounded them, they would notice that the cave was entirely made of wood. Glowing green wood.
“Ratatoskr, I come bearing gifts,” Baldr called deeper into the cave.
Chittering and scurrying noises could be heard from the depths of the wooden cave, until a massive squirrel poked its head into the room. It locked eyes with Baldr for a moment before letting out a joyful squeal when he pulled an avocado larger than himself out of his storage armlet.
Ratatoskr darted across the room, rubbing himself up against Baldr, who laughed and rubbed his fur. The squirrel purred under the Aesir’s ministrations for a moment until he spotted the avocado rolling away. Pouncing upon it he began noisily eating.
Baldr waited until Ratatoskr let out a satisfied belch and laid back against the wall of the cave before speaking.
“How have you been my friend?” he asked, grinning at the visibly bloated squirrel.
“You’re too late you know, she already told me your plan,” Ratatoskr replied in a high-pitched voice, drawing a rueful chuckle from the man across from him. “She loves the idea. The messages are going out to the rulers of the Nine Realms as we speak.”
“Thank you once again, my friend,” Baldr replied, bowing at the waist to the giant squirrel. “I was hoping she would approve. I’m sorry I can’t stay longer, but I must see to some last minute details before the Wild Hunt begins in earnest. I’ll leave you to enjoy your meal.”
“Bring me a pineapple next time,” Ratatoskr responded with a lazy wave, eyes already beginning to droop closed.
“When this is over, I’ll bring you one of each of Idun’s fruits,” Baldr responded with another grin, walking back through his portal.
He was in a hurry to locate the champion that he’d had in mind before even proposing this plan to his family. It might take a while for even someone of Baldr’s level to locate him. The damn boy never stayed in one place for long.