Bodvar seemed conflicted for a moment as he recalled the distant past, but his mood soon returned to its original gruffness.

“Of course, he blamed me for raising your father to be a dumb womaniser, but that’s just him talking out of his arse. Still, speaking of the Unfrid clan, you should get something to eat and then I’ll bring you over to them.”

“So soon?” Einar asked back surprised.

“No point in keeping you from them, since this is your last day in Wolfhold.”

As they spoke, one of the thralls brought out a wooden plate with fresh bread and smoked meat on it. The youth ate what he was given in a bit over a minute while listening to Bodvar then the two left their ancestral home. Wolfhold was still quiet as they walked through the empty streets, a squad of patrolling guards giving a respectful nod to Bodvar from the distance. The old warrior led his grandson to a large longhouse-styled building, his hammer-like fist knocking on the door. When it opened and a servant stepped out to meet them, he spoke with a heavy tone.

“Tell that old bastard Narve that I brought over his grandson as agreed.”

The thrall hurriedly left, closing the door in front of them. A few minutes of awkward silence later it opened up once again, a grey-haired couple showing up from behind it.

“I didn’t expect you to show up so early you bastard.” The man said just before getting elbowed in the side by the woman.

“Oh shut it you old oaf,” she said, her eyes tearing up as she looked at Einar. “My dear boy! Welcome home!”

She stepped forward, hugging the young giant at the waist, her head barely reaching his chest.

“Although we’ve never met before, I’m...”

“Granny Unnr,” he said with a smile as he hugged her back. “You look just like how mother described you, except for the hair colour.”

“You cheeky brat! Come, let’s get you inside. And Bodvar,” she looked back at the man. “Thank you for bringing my grandson home.”

“Don’t mention it, Unnr. Just make sure he gets to tonight’s farewell feast without that goat fucker boring him to death.”

“You damn...” Narve tried to curse at the already-leaving Bodvar, but Unnr closed the door before the two could get into yet another fight.

Einar was led further inside by Unnr, the elderly woman showing great strength as she dragged him along.

“When we heard that you had arrived in Wolfhold,” his grandmother spoke with an excited tone. “We couldn’t believe it at first. As you surely know, no one was able to reach out to your parents or visit you due to King Carr’s edict. What little we knew from the traders that did visit Bear-rock Isle, none of you children were born God-marked.”

“I became one on the day of the Proving.” Einar explained.

“It must be quite a tale then,” Unnr chimed as she led him to a long table. “Sit. Most of the family are still asleep but I’m sure they’ll join us soon enough. And you, Narve. Why hadn’t you said a thing to your grandson yet?”

“It’s hard to say anything with you chattering about.”

“You...” The old woman scoffed, staring daggers into her husband.

“Is your mother doing alright?” The man finally asked after a few awkward moments of silence.

“She is,” the young giant nodded. “She and father are both living a good life, all things considered. I tried to help out as much as I could too. Hallr and Edda grew up healthy too, a bit mischievous, but nothing too outrageous.”

Einar then began to recall their life back home, just like he did at the Arnessen clan. The members of the Unfrid clan began to show up one by one throughout his tales, greeting him with a warm smile and plenty of pats on the back. It was strange to be treated like that, but the seeker already got somewhat used to it the previous day. He received many questions about their life on Bear-rock Isle, some about his family, others about him becoming a God-marked. The one thing that the members of the Unfrid clan took with the same hate as the Arnessen was the cowardly act of Haftor and Ingrid during the day of Proving.

“Miserable cowards.” One of the older men remarked.

“And you say they were still allowed to come here?” An older woman asked surprised.

“What did you expect,” another one scoffed. “King Baldr needs all of the young God-marked. Even the cowardly ones.”

“If nothing else, they can be used to feed the local beasts.” A man said with a grim smile, earning a slight laughter from the others.

“Have you already visited the local crafters?” One of his uncles asked from the side.

“I did,” Einar nodded. “I had my arms and armour further refined a bit by Rúna Fireforge and got a pair of talismans made by Lady Hrefna.”

“Good,” his grandmother hummed. “You will need all the help you can get. Do you have anything else you’re lacking?”

“Not really,” the youth shook his head. “I needed a couple of long arrows for my bow, but I got a good hundred or so from grandfather yesterday. Other than some rations for the journey, I have everything else.”

“King Baldr will surely provide the necessary supplies,” Narve said with a gruff tone. “As well as some boons for the bootlickers.”

“Bootlickers?” Einar couldn’t help but ask as he noticed his other grandfather’s disdainful expression which was followed by the rest of the people around them.

“Princess Brynhildr and her brother Fastúlfr are going to the Torn Serpent with you lot,” one of his uncles explained. “They are Baldr’s third and fourth born, both under twenty-three so they are meant to follow the gods’ edict like the rest of you young ones.”

“You say that like it’s a problem.” The young giant remarked, earning a sigh from nearly everyone.

“Understandably, you don’t know about this since you were living on the edge of the kingdom but those two are troublesome brats. Neither of them had much chance to become the next king, so they grew up bitter and all too eager to prove themselves in hopes of getting to rule over some land. Now that they are to go where not even their father can’t, it became another thing to vie over.”

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“Both of them are gathering followers,” Unnr explained with a tired expression marring her aged face. “They’ve been trying to gain the loyalty of the young God-marked of Wolfhold ever since word of the expedition came.”

“And the ones that swear their fealty will get something from King Baldr.” The youth deduced, earning a nod from her grandparents.

“The King’s treasury is full of valuables gathered throughout the past generations and he is willing to part with some of it if it means ensuring the safety of those two.”

“Did anyone from the Unfrid clan swear fealty to either of them?”

“Your cousin Jóarr swore his life to Brynhildr, though not in the hopes of riches,” Narve said. “The foolish lad thinks he’s in love and this is his best chance to get closer to one of Brynhildr’s shieldmaiden.”

“Did old Bodvar not mention any of this to you?” One of his aunts asked, the youth shaking his head in response.

“It didn’t come up for some reason,” he admitted. “They gave me some advice about this and that, but they mostly just wanted to know about me and the others back home.”

“You can’t blame them,” his grandmother sighed. “Knowing that you might never return, it’s understandable that they wanted to at least get to know your bit.”

“Still,” Narve harrumphed. “The bastard should have at least helped him prepare a bit or give him something from their clan’s treasury. I bet he gave the other two.”

“You know he can’t and neither do we,” his wife chided. “The seeresses had proclaimed that every family could only aid their kin in the smallest matters or they would earn the wrath of the gods.”

“Sure,” the old man argued. “But the King is allowed to pay off any bootlicker that becomes his brats’ followers.”

“That will be his problem. Let’s just enjoy the time we have with the lad and be glad that we can finally see Astrid again.” Unnr reminded everyone, the rest of the family agreeing with her on the matter.

The rest of the day rushed by as the young giant got to meet with the rest of his family, sharing tales with them about his childhood much like he did at the Arnessen clan’s home. As the sun slowly began to set, Narve reminded everyone that Einar was meant to be present at the feast held in the castle that evening. The young giant didn’t get to meet his cousin Jóarr as the lad spent the past few days with the group of God-marked that swore their fealty to Brynhildr. The people of the Unfrid clan headed toward the castle gate, greeted by the king’s thralls who led them inside. The large open area behind the castle walls got turned into a fair of sorts with tables lined up in the middle with stalls on the side.

“His Majesty wishes to host the noble clans outside while the God-marked are to be hosted inside the main hall.” The thrall explained to them, earning a nod from Narve and Unnr.

It was an understandable approach as there were far too many people there for everyone to fit inside the main hall. The God-marked were the guests of honour that night, hence they were the ones meant to be feasting inside the castle. To the merit of King Baldr, he likely spent a fortune to prepare the feast for the families of the local God-marked and it showed. Large boars were spinning above firepits with plenty of ale barrels getting lined up behind the stalls that either served as outdoor kitchens or ale taps.

“You should get going, lad,” Unnr said with a gentle smile. “It’s best not to keep them waiting.”

“Indeed,” Narve nodded in agreement. “This feast is for you lot, so make sure you’ll enjoy it to its fullest. Gods know when you’ll get another chance like this.”

“Don’t worry about us,” his grandmother added. “We’ll see you tomorrow morning at the port.”

Einar hugged them before following the thrall inside. The main hall of the castle was lavishly decorated with rows of long tables lined up and filled to the brim with food and drinks. The young giant saw hundreds of men and women of similar age talking and laughing as they ate and drank whatever was put in front of them. As he searched through the crowd his eyes, he noticed Fólki and Herleif sitting with a small group of people, drinking and boasting about past fights and hunts.

Much to his annoyance, he also quickly found Haftor and Ingrid in the crowd as well. The two of them were standing on the left side of the hall, surrounded by other young warriors who seemed to be earnestly listening to a well-dressed youth as he was telling some tale. Einar felt strangely alone in the bustling crowd that had no friendly faces in it but that quickly changed as he was tapped on the shoulder by someone. As he turned to the source of the intrusion, a large tankard was handed to him by a stranger.

“Lighten up, friend,” the mud brown-haired youth in front of him said with a wide smile as he knocked his own tankard to Einar’s. “You might not know anyone here, but no one is an enemy tonight. Come! Take a seat and eat whatever you can grab. It’s free and even tastes great.”

It was hard to argue with such a cheerful declaration so he accepted the invitation and sat down at the end of a table with the stranger.

“Where do you hail from, friend?” the youth asked. “I came from Eel-tail Isle. Oh, I’m Arvid by the way.”

“Einar,” he replied after drinking some from his tankard. “From Bear-rock Isle at the edge of the kingdom.”

“Well, Einar of Bear-rock Isle, here’s to getting here and to reaching the Torn Serpent in one piece!”

“Hear hear!” Some of the others at the table yelled, raising their tankards and drinking horns.

The young giant began to relax a bit as he realized that even if everyone were strangers to each other, they all tried to enjoy their last night in the capital. The food was indeed good, roasted boar, chicken and fish filled the tables along with vegetables and bread. A feast worthy of great warriors. He could see the King not far ahead, sitting at his own table, surrounded by some older warriors of which he recognised Thorwald.

Arvid and the rest of their impromptu group kept on telling jokes or boasting about something about their pasts that neither could refute as they weren't there. Einar too told a few stories of his own, the one about the day of the Proving being the most well-received of all. Sometime later you felt someone tap on his back and when he looked up he saw a familiar face looking down at him. It was the same well-dressed youth he saw earlier, the stranger looking at him with a strange gaze.

“So you are the famous lost Arnessen runt.”

Hearing this, the young giant put down his tankard and stood up, easily overshadowing the stranger by a foot and a half in height.

“What do you want?” He asked in a calm tone, his blue eyes locked onto the other youth’s hazel eyes.

“I came to accept your fealty.” The youth declared with a proud smile, his expression already irking Einar.

“Not interested.” He answered after a moment of silence as he realised who the other youth was after recalling his grandparents mentioning the children of King Baldr.

“Not interested?” the youth stared at him surprised. “Do you know who I am?”

“The king’s son if my guess is right.”

“Then you should know that it’s an honour to serve me.”

“Honour has to be earned, and so is the loyalty of others.”

“You ungrateful peasant,” the mask of cheerful pride began to crack on the prince’s face as he retorted. “I offer you the chance to become a dreng, maybe even a thane or a jarl if you serve me well and you dare to refuse me?”

“As I said,” Einar sighed before emptying his tankard. “I’m not interested. And besides, you already have a pair of traitorous cowards in your service. It wouldn’t end well for them if I joined as well.”

Saying that the young giant was about to leave when the youth slapped him across the face.

“I challenge you to a fight! Once I win, you will have to swear your fealty.”

“I refuse.” Einar said and turned to leave, knowing that it was best to leave such people alone.

“You can’t refuse,” the prince stammered in anger. “Or I will send my father’s soldiers to your home island to ravage and kill everyone you ever...”

The prince couldn’t even finish the threat before a giant fist cut through the air, hitting him straight across his jaw. The God-marked all around watched in horror as the young giant who was about to walk away spun around with his dark crimson hair bursting into flames, his punch sending the prince flying.