After a long day exploring Bamburgh Castle with his father, Primus was more than satisfied from his curious endeavors. They had six days to prepare for the battle in Gwynedd against the talented Jomsvikings, and so the two of them were en route to the staging area for Manning's division of Úlfheðnar.
Primus, beaming with excitement and a newfound purpose in his life, intently studied their surroundings as they made their way on horseback with the utmost sense of Drive. The sky was brighter, full of Ymir's white brain fragments that complemented the beautiful autumn midday with an assortment of flowing shapes. Everything was vibrantly beautiful just the way fate shaped it.
To become a warrior means to fight with purpose, and whether it be aimed with religious, philosophical, or personal ambitions, one can safely say that to do anything in life, you must have a goal to reach for. For Primus, it was to become worthy of his birthright, even if the demands were outside of his comfort zone.
"You know," said Manning, "you're gripping my sides with more force than earlier. It doesn't feel like your bashful anxiety is clutching me anymore."
"Oh, father!" He said, about to loosen his grip before his father finished his statement, "It just feels wonderful to be a part of something bigger. I feel so humbled from today's meeting, but also, seeing everyone in that room? It made me feel like I'm not to face the world all on my own anymore."
Manning smiled deeply, reigning in Sleipnir to trot for a moment so his words would carry. "I'm glad to hear that, son. You've been a part of the Úlfhéðinn brotherhood for two years now. I understand how it can feel to get lost in training, which is why I didn't hesitate to take you to the castle. You needed to see not only what will result from it, but to learn from those who have been through the thick of it and then some to truly comprehend what your destiny means to all of us, if not merely just yourself."
"I was wondering," pondered Primus suddenly, "will mother make peace with this arrangement? She wasn't exactly thrilled to hear the news."
"Oh," sighed Manning, "she'll come around. It isn't as though I don't share her concerns. It's quite the situation, to have you in the midst of war before most others your age. Fret not, my eldest son. Once she finds peace with it, and I bring you back unscathed, she will not be in the position to say 'I told you so.'"
Primus wondered about that. He hadn't ever seen her so flustered before when he became of age to start his training, nor in any other circumstance prior to Mathias playing the role of messenger. He wanted to set her mind at ease with any words of his own certainty and consent, but he didn't know if that would suffice.
"What if she doesn't find peace with it?"
Manning shrugged. "She has no alternative. I mean, it's either that, or she wallows to her own peril. It was going to happen sooner or later, and she knows that much. She doesn't want you to die before you're ready, let alone in general, and I think there's a bit of projection on her end in that regard."
"Projection?"
Manning slowed Sleipnir down to a much steadier pace. "Your mother and I died and earned our immortal bodies when we sailed to Vinland. We defended ourselves against the Skrælings the best we could, but we were eventually outnumbered. We were tortured and scalped, which resulted in our transmigration, hence how we live to tell the tale. Even I dare not venture back, but she took it closer to heart than I did."
Primus listened intently, nodding as his father paused.
"She hasn't fully recovered from that expedition, and doesn't want it to happen to you or your brothers. She wants you boys to be much older so you can weigh the existential transition with more maturity, but truth be told, I have no doubt that when that day comes, young or old, it doesn't change that death is inevitable. Our family is no exception, albeit with a means to come back from it. If my oath isn't enough to convince her of your safety, I truly don't know what else I can do."
Primus was quick to retort. "I mean, death is usually a one way trip, and for us and the Ugelstads, it means we may never truly enter Valhalla like everyone else who earns it. That much I've been thinking about lately."
Manning's voice echoed with assurance. "To remain loyal to Odin still holds its value. For you see, we are to not only set an example in combat, but to act as the catalysts for his wisdom and prove his existence as eternal warriors who sacrifice eternal glory in one world for eternal service to the gods and all they stand for in this one. We are his chosen to guide our Úlfheðnar into a destiny that cannot be compared to our fates, as messengers from the gods that set the example, never waiver, and above all else, ensure that Ragnarok will play out in our favor by its end."
Primus brought his cheek to his father's backside, giving him a hug as he pressed in deep. "I mean, I think that makes sense. I still have a lot to learn, I suppose. But this time around, I'll do what I can to make everyone proud, mother especially."
Manning smiled intently, and spoke before he kicked Sleipnir back into a full gallop.
"Do it not for our sake, Primus. In the end, only you can make peace with however you overcome whatever obstacles destiny throws your way."
It wasn't long until they made it to the staging area, where many of his supportive elements were already lining their steeds and preparing their equipment. After they parked Sleipnir, the two got off and made their way to a rather young looking lad, who was tanned and lean but only about 19 years old. Manning led Primus to his staging area first and foremost, eager to get them acquainted.
"Ah, prompt and ready as ever I see!" Exclaimed Manning from his usual cheerful heart. "I want you to meet my son, Primus. He's to join us in Gwynedd, and needs all the support he can get. While we wait for the others to arrive, why don't you use him to your benefit? He's more than capable of taking orders and carrying them out diligently."
The lad was alert and responsive, lively and determined, with a hint of calm serenity that immediately made Primus feel more comfortable from his voice alone.
"A bit young don't you think?"
He said, peering down at Primus, who took the initiative of speaking for himself before Manning could do so on his behalf. "I'm willing to help out however I can! I was told to leave all the fighting to you guys so I could take notes."
As he strapped a sack to his steed, the lad smiled after a moment's pause. "Well, Primus. It'll be a nice change of pace, I'm sure! The name's Alvíss. You look about the right age to know the basics. Come, I'll show you how to properly pack the gear onto my steed and how to stage our weapons properly."
With his hands on his hips, Manning watched with glee to see them get right down to the fundamentals. He then caught the attention of some arrivees and hastily went to greet them while these two got acquainted.
The first of six days had officially begun for the young Primus, who was ready to prove hia gallancy beyond a shadow of a doubt.