Blader rose early with his fellow recruits, finally able to pull the formal recruit uniform out of his trunk. He dressed in the dull grey uniform, the trousers tucking into knee high black boots and the tunic formfitting with a high neckline, a black belt bound about his waist. The grey cap was the last part of the formal uniform, sitting on his brown hair. His Ragnarok tags he slipped under his tunic; they were to be worn but not seen on formal occasions.

All the other recruits were dressed the same, both male and female. When they met in the assembly room, Skalfi gave Blader, Wolfsted, Sodull, and Erik a tense grin from beside Vandri. Then Master Utan was calling out for them to form up and they began to march out of the barracks.

Through the streets of Vigrid they proceeded, heading for the back gates of the settlement. Blader stepped along beside Wolfsted, feeling excitement course through him. They were about to parade through the city of Asgard, able to see the fabled city for the first time.

When they reached the back gates, Utan called for them to halt. The other units were also marching into the large opening before the gates, all dressed in the same formal uniform.

For several long moments after the last unit showed up, the recruits all just stood there, waiting for an order. The Valkyries all appeared, riding winged horses and wearing their own formal dress, but still no one called out an order.

Then Magni and Modi strode to stand before the gates, Magni gripping Mjolnir in his hand. The god raised the hammer up, his eyes flashing with eagerness.

"Recruits!" he bellowed. "You have spent these past two months preparing hard for the Reenactment, and that day has finally come! Tomorrow you will prove yourselves as einherjar or die trying, but today, you will be welcomed into the city of the gods, Asgard, the home of the High King and his noble queen! You shall be feasted like the warriors you are!"

With that, Magni pivoted, hammer still held up, and the gates began to swing inward. Cries of "Move out!" started to echo among the various units as Magni and Modi strode out the gates, leading the parade. The recruits would follow, the Valkyries bringing up the rear.

Blader's unit was the third one after the gods, marching in rows of ten abreast. He was on the left end, Wolfsted to his right. Sodull and Erik marched in front of them and Vandri and Skalfi were a row behind and to the far right.

They marched out of the gates of Vigrid and Blader looked up to see the large gates of Asgard slowly swinging inward. His eyes widened in anticipation and he heard Wolfsted's swift intake of breath from beside him.

Only Valkyries and einherjar were permitted to gaze upon the home of the gods. No one else was allowed; it was forbidden and, in fact, it was a crime for one to do so. Blader remembered hearing the story of Vaetr Haseti one day at school, the man who had snuck into Asgard and had even entered the royal palace before being caught and executed on the spot. The teacher had meant it as a cautionary tale about going where one wasn't supposed to, but Jorid had remarked to Blader after the end of the story that if an ordinary person had been able to enter Asgard and get to the palace before being noticed, never mind caught, it just proved that anyone could do it.

Jorid just had that attitude toward the legends and tended to take different lessons away from them than the teacher intended. He had always done it, but it had gotten worse after Thor's Bridge. Blader had used to wonder if he would think the same way, had it been Hilda who had been blown to bits on the bridge instead of Jorid's mother. He had never come to a conclusion on that subject.

Blader's unit marched forward into Asgard, crossing the short distance between the settlement and the city and entering through the gates. He felt dwarfed by the enormous gates that towered up over his head, but that feeling was soon forgotten as he turned his attention forward into the city itself.

The street was paved with smooth slabs of stone, cut and fitted together perfectly so there was nowhere on which to catch your foot and trip. There was an open space stretching around the gates which funneled into a broad street leading straight into the heart of the city. The buildings sitting along the street were solid, massive buildings, rising high into the air. The first several were military related, followed by ones for business.

The recruits marched down the street, heading for the royal palace. Blader gazed up at the buildings they passed, marveling at the way the stones making up the constructions also seemed to spell out intricate designs. They were usually runes related to the building's use, but he saw one building that had its stones forming a flower. He smiled. Freyja would love that; I have to tell her about it when I go home. If I go home, that is. No, it has to be when. When I go home.

The stones were typically black, silver, or gold, shimmering slightly in the sunlight. But it was when they reached the section of the city housing the gods' halls that Blader's breath was taken away.

Solidly built and majestic, the halls towered over the recruits, although not as tall as the encircling walls. They were constructed of gold and silver stones, arranged artfully so as to form abstract patterns across the walls. The doors were thick, solid oak engraved with scenes from that particular god's history.

At the end of the street, built atop a wide knoll, was the palace of the High King, constructed of golden stones that shone in the sunlight. It was more magnificent than the halls of the other gods, statelier. The palace was said to house Hlidskjalf, the throne of Baldor that had once belonged to Odin. Blader didn't know if that was just a story or not.

Magni and Modi led the march through the gates of the palace, Lifdagar Hall. Through the main pathway they marched, Blader casting his eyes around the gardens. Freyja would truly be envious of the wide variety of flowers here.

The path led into a wide room, filled with long tables and benches. The ceremonial hall had high ceilings and intricate engravings along its walls, telling the exploits of men, gods, and strangers, the name given to those that couldn't really be placed in either category. But Blader didn't have time to study them before Utan was ordering Unit 232 to halt at one of the tables. "Remain standing," he barked and so the recruits did, hands clasped behind their backs as they stood behind the benches.

At the far end of the room was an empty dais that ran the width of the room, holding eight stately chairs. As all the other units and the group of Valkyries, having dismounted in the gardens, found their tables, Magni and Modi headed toward the dais and stood silently before it, waiting.

When everyone was standing and silence had fallen on the room, the doors opened and four gods strode in. Vali, Vidar, Hod, and Honir slowly made their way up to the dais, stopping when they came up alongside Magni and Modi. Together, the six gods stood and waited.

Then a door on one end of the dais opened and the High King stepped out. With fair blonde hair that was neatly trimmed and just touched the back of his neck and dark blue eyes, Baldor wore a pale gold tunic and black trousers. Her arm in his, long blonde hair clasped back with a silver pin, was his queen, Nanna.

Both of them walked slowly forward, halting when they stood before the two middle seats, which were slightly larger than the rest. Nanna released Baldor's arm and took a step back, clasping her hands before her light blue skirt. Baldor glanced around the room, smiling as he looked at all the new recruits.

"Every year, I look out at the new recruits, the young faces, and I feel grateful that others have the same commitment to peace that I do. There is something refreshing to know that everything my father fought for in the Old Cosmos has not gone to waste in our Reborn Cosmos. He fought in Ragnarok, knowing his fate, but he fought anyway. And now, here we stand, all committed to keeping the Nine Worlds safe and orderly. We may not know our fate, but we know what we stand for and we are willing to fight for it. So I thank you, young ones, for enlisting in the einherjar.

"I anxiously await the opportunity to officially welcome you into the ranks of the einherjar. The trials you shall face, beginning tomorrow, will be difficult, but I have faith. Honor will prevail and I will see those of you in which honor burns here again. That honor can never be taken from you unless you will it so.

"But tonight we celebrate you, recruits! Tonight we honor your sacrifice and your bravery and wish you the very best of luck. May I see you again soon!"

With that, Baldor retreated back to his seat, took Nanna's hand, and sat down. The recruits and Valkyries remained standing until the other gods had all taken their seats.

"At ease," Utan ordered. "You may sit."

Blader sank down onto the bench beside Wolfsted. Sodull and Erik were several seats over from them and Skalfi sat across from Blader, Vandri beside her. Then doors on one side of the hall whisked open and servers brought platters of food out.

All recruits were served a thick, juicy piece of steak, warm buttered bread, and a baked potato with a pat of butter melting on its fluffy white surface. A helping of steaming green beans finished off the meal and the drink was carbonated mead, the alcohol-free version meant for minors and others wishing to avoid alcohol. The drink was only served on special occasions, and Blader took a small sip. The liquid was cool and sweet but not overly so, the taste of honey only a mere hint. Blader had had some carbonated mead one time that had been so sweet he had felt like his taste buds had just died from the sheer overload.

Wolfsted took a gulp of the mead and grinned at Blader. "At least this mead isn't made out of blood!"

Vandri wrinkled her nose, setting her goblet down right after it touched her lips. "Only you, Wolfsted, know how to ruin a feast."

Wolfsted gave her a smirk and dug into his steak. Blader had already started eating and Vandri was cutting her steak up into small pieces, but Skalfi was poking her green beans around her plate, looking like she'd suddenly lost her appetite. A scowl was etched on her face, but her eyes held a hint of pain.

"Skalfi?" Blader said quietly and she looked up at him, startled. "Are you all right?"

Skalfi nodded and took a bite of her green beans. But she didn't speak and overall, she ate very little.

When the meal was over and the plates had been removed, the recruits all helped shove the tables and benches over against the walls in order to clear the floor. Music was struck up by a band that had set up beside the dais and the recruits began to dance.

Sodull grabbed Vandri's hands and the two of them headed out into the crowd. Blader glanced across at Skalfi, furrowing his brow. She was standing by the tables, arms crossed.

"Want to dance?" Erik asked her, grinning as he tapped his foot in time to the fast tempo. Skalfi shook her head and he shrugged, heading off to find another partner.

"Skalfi!" Wolfsted said, nearly pouncing on her. "Time to dance!"

"No," Skalfi scowled, and Wolfsted gave her a long look before striding away. Before Blader could approach to ask what was wrong, she turned and headed towards the nearest door. Pushing it open, she disappeared.

Blader didn't even take a minute to think before heading after her. If they had been anywhere else, he would have let her go, but not when they were in Lifdagar Hall. He didn't want her getting into trouble, especially when she may not be thinking straight.

Skalfi was walking quickly, arms crossed defensively over her chest. Blader kept her in sight as he followed her through the empty corridors, half-wondering why there was no one else around. She strode around a corner and he lost sight of her for a minute, prompting him to quicken his step.

The corridor ended before a wide, closed oaken door, Skalfi sitting dejectedly with her back up against it. Her cap sat crumpled on the ground beside her and her knees were drawn up loosely to her chest.

"Skalfi," Blader said quietly. "What's wrong?"

Her head jerked up on hearing his voice, her eyes narrowing. "Nothing you can do anything about."

Slowly, Blader walked toward Skalfi and sank down beside her. He saw the wet path of a tear on her cheek, the anger in her eyes, and didn't say anything. There was silence.

"I hate how they speak about honor," Skalfi said eventually. "And how Baldor can talk about it being something you'll never lose, but that's bull." Blader closed his eyes momentarily at her calling the High King Baldor. He was always referred by his title, both in speaking and in writing. "It's bull, and he knows it, for he's stripped it from einherjar who didn't do a damn thing wrong."

Skalfi looked at Blader, a tear leaking from her eye, but her gaze was still furious. "My father was einherjar. Dedicated his life to it, to peace. But they gave him a dishonorable discharge when circumstantial evidence arose connecting him to Dyr Gunar." She swiped at her cheek, smearing the tear across her skin. "It wasn't proof, he wasn't involved at all. But everyone was on a Vanir hunt, trying to raise someone up to stake all their hate on. One of the unlucky chosen was my father." She fell silent, picking at the fabric over her knee.

"I'm sorry," Blader said, for lack of anything else to say.

"There was no proof!" Skalfi shouted. "Nothing! Nothing to convict him with! But they thought him guilty anyway, and they kicked him out. Stripped him of everything he'd worked for." She reached under her tunic and yanked out her tags. After a quick glance and a frustrated growl, she fiddled with the chains around her neck and pulled out a second pair of tags. Blader had never noticed that she wore two chains around her neck. He'd always assumed it was just the one.

"These are my father's tags," she said. "They allowed him to keep them, after stamping them with the dishonor rune. Like they hadn't rubbed it in enough already." She tugged the chain over her head and pressed the tags into his hand. "Look."

Blader stared at the tags, so like his own in shape and general appearance. He could barely read the name, service number, or rank runes because of the large, black dishonor rune imprinted across it. All four tags had the rune, boldly screaming out its assertion. Faint dark red stains edged the metal.

Skalfi took back the tags and stared at them. "You know what happened to my father? Oh, he wasn't executed, he wasn't imprisoned. He was released back to Drottning, told to live out the rest of his life. But how do you do that when your honor has been taken from you, yanked from around your neck and thrown back in your face once it's been marred? You don't. And he didn't." Her voice grew quieter. "No one would hire him. No one would hire my mother, or me. The saying that it isn't the child's fault for the father's wrongs, the one Baldor has been shoving down throats since the Nine Worlds were reborn? Well. Let me tell you, everyone spat it back up and into my face, my brother's face. Being a Vekja was no longer a good thing. Holding our heads up only meant we made ourselves a target. My relatives abandoned us, told us we didn't deserve dirt. They told us to go to Helheim, for that's where Loki's spawn belongs." She drew a deep, shuddery breath.

Blader thought of Loqé. Just for being Dyr Gunar's daughter, she was treated like she was cursed, although she had done nothing to deserve such treatment. Skalfi's story showed a similar drift.

After another long breath, Skalfi started to speak again. "So my father turned to drinking, I dropped out of school to find work, and my mother did everything conceivable to make money. She washed clothes, she scaled fish, hell, she even cleaned the boats and the docks. The lowest of the low jobs, meant for those of no status, and she did everything she could to keep our family alive. I couldn't even get the menial tasks my mother got. I had to scavenge, which of course completely helps with honor." Her voice was sarcastic as she spoke the last sentence, but then she was quiet for a moment before continuing.

"It wasn't long before my father committed suicide." Her voice broke and she lowered her head against her knees. "My family was ruined, all for something my father would never have dreamed of doing: treason. They didn't execute him, but they forced him to do the deed himself. Fortunately, my brother wasn't home when he...." Her voice broke again and then she was crying.

Blader wasn't sure what to do. He didn't know if Skalfi wanted to be comforted or left alone, if he should speak or stay silent. All he knew was that his friend was crying, tears streaming down her cheeks and staining her trousers. So he sat there, gently placing his hand on her shoulder. He couldn't even imagine his father thinking of taking his own life, never mind actually doing it. Skalfi didn't seem like one who wanted to be pitied or looked at with sympathetic eyes. So Blader just squeezed her shoulder before giving her an awkward side hug, wrapping his arm around her shoulders as she continued to cry. To his surprise, she didn't shrug him away.

When Skalfi lifted her head, she unapologetically wiped at her face with her sleeve before glancing over at Blader. "Do you know why I enlisted? There's not much money in scavenging. That's what I do. It's been what I do since I was thirteen." She grasped her father's tags firmly. "The einherjar took everything from my father, and I'm bound and determined to win it back. And if I die in the Reenactment because the whole thing's rigged against me, then at least the compensation will be paid to my mother and brother and he can get another year of school in before he has to drop out and scavenge."

Scavengers were considered the lowest form of lowlifes there was. It was more prevalent in the larger cities of Midgard, where people could sell their finds, whether stolen or scrounged, on the black market. Hraustliga and Drottning had the biggest population of scavengers, derogatively called vultures for their habit of hanging around gang hideouts so they could rob recently deceased victims of whatever the killer had left behind.

Blader wanted to assure Skalfi that the Reenactment wasn't rigged against her, but with Sodull's still satisfactorily unanswered question concerning Dyr Gunar in the back of his mind, he couldn't. So he just said, "You've still got a chance. I've seen you in training, Skalfi, you definitely have a chance." He wasn't just speaking to make her feel better. Skalfi was a natural with a sword, especially one that was lighter and slightly shorter than average. She also had a dagger that she used in tandem with her blade, making for a devastating attack style.

Skalfi looked at him. "Well, anyway, I don't believe it's too reliable. If you're right and I can make it through, I'll be able to support my family. My brother can go to school, my mother can be pickier about what jobs she takes. And I'll make my father proud." She wrapped her fingers tightly around the tags. "I'll win back his honor, the Vekja honor, and make being Othor Vekja's legacy an actual legacy. My brother will then be able to pick his future and not just be funneled into it." She glanced at Blader. "He never had a choice in the matter, and yet my brother has to live dishonored for something he didn't do. He's being punished, my mother's being punished, and I'm being punished for something my father didn't do." She snorted and her voice was dripping with sarcasm as she continued. "I suppose, however, my brother and I must consider ourselves fortunate that the gods didn't decide to gut us and use our intestines as the hangman's noose for my father."

Blader knew Skalfi was referring to the punishment inflicted on Loki in the Old Cosmos, where one of his sons was forced to kill the other and then was disemboweled so as to make the chains that bound Loki to his rock slab. Heritage had been very important then, and it still was, despite the effort to make it otherwise. Just in the time since Blader had enlisted, he had seen it at work through Loqé, in others' own reactions to him, and now in Skalfi. Legacies, either of honor or dishonor, were real, and children were either marked for the better or for the worse through them.

"I'm so sorry, Skalfi," Blader said quietly. Everything about Skalfi seemed to click into place. Her reluctance to talk about her past, her aggravation at Vandri, her defense of the Njordesden Valkyries. No wonder Vandri annoyed her, with all her talk about being a legacy. Skalfi herself was a legacy, same as Blader and Vandri and even Loqé. But like Loqé, mention of her legacy wouldn't bring any blessings or goodwill raining down upon her, making Vandri's brags just that much more irritating.

Skalfi shoved the chain back over her head, tucking the tags under her tunic. "Don't know why I just told you all that. Damn. I just...you know, I just got so angry on hearing that 'our honor can't be taken from us.'" She shook her head. "Damn."

"Skalfi, I can't imagine having to go through any of that."

"That's right, you can't. You're Thrym's grandson. That means you have honor forever." She sighed, not angrily but more in resignation.

I almost lost my honor, Blader thought, recalling his close call with being expelled. But he had been given a second chance, another option to allow him to keep his honor unmarred. After hearing everything Skalfi had said, he wondered if Principal Sigrif had only done it because he was Aetlun Thrym's grandson. But he didn't mention anything about that to Skalfi.

Before he could find anything else to say, footsteps echoed up ahead of them and Loqé came into view. "Recruits, you should not have left the hall," she said warningly and Skalfi stiffened. Blader removed his arm from around her shoulders, placing his hand on her arm, and glanced up at Loqé.

"My apologies, Recruiter. We shall return."

Skalfi bit down on her lip as the two of them stood, Blader keeping his hand on Skalfi's arm, whether protectively or in restraint, he wasn't sure. Loqé gave him a quizzical look as they passed her before she fell into step behind them, Skalfi placing her wrinkled cap back on her head.

Once back in the hall, Skalfi made a beeline for the benches to sit down and Blader went to follow her but Loqé stopped him. "What was that all about?" she asked quietly.

"Just talk," Blader said. "Nothing more."

Loqé glanced after Skalfi, who sat sullenly on the benches, eyes downcast and her cap tilted down so it shadowed her face. "She's Vekja, right?"

Blader nodded.

"I heard about her," was all Loqé said before walking away. There was nothing condescending about her tone. There was just weariness with a hint of understanding and as Blader watched the Valkyrie rejoin her comrades only to restlessly tap her fingers against the wooden tabletop, left out of their conversation, he knew that she understood Skalfi's marred honor better than he did.

/**/

I apologize for this chapter being a day late. I didn't want to rush the writing of this chapter, due to Asgard, the feast, and Skalfi's story.

With that said, what did you think? Of getting to see Asgard, of the feast and your first look at Baldor, and of Skalfi's story? What are your opinions on that?

Thanks for reading; I hope you enjoyed! Please leave a vote and comment!

Skylar Wittenborn