2.4 The Merry Band: Wilderheart

“Odin,” I tried to catch his attention as we were headed to the cafeteria for lunch.

“Yo, what’s up, Leith?” His angered expression faded away in a second.

“Your name, it’s Odin Wilderheart the twelfth, right?”

He proudly bumped his fist against his chest, “It sure is! But I guess you’re wondering about the twelfth part, right?”

I nodded. I was quite surprised he understood without me having to spell it out for him. Though I guess I put more than enough emphasis on ‘the twelfth’ when I asked.

“It’s kinda embarrassing, you know.” He pointed his thumb towards himself. “I am the pride and joy of my family. For twelve generations my father and his father, and his father’s father and his father father’s father—”

“Just get to the point.”

“Right. It all started when my great-great-great—”

I cut him off again, “I know I’m the one who asked, but never mind.”

He stopped me by holding onto my shoulder. “Wait, give me another chance.” He closed his eyes and seemed deep in thought for a moment. Hopefully looking for a better way to phrase things.

“Boyden Wilderheart wanted a son born with the mythical lance, Odin’s Gungnir. So for generations long, every father in my pedigree called his son ‘Odin’ until one would be able to summon it.”

That’s quite the interesting story, I thought, but didn’t say out loud.

“So, yeah… I’m Odin number twelve, the Odin with a Gungnir!” For someone who claimed it was quite embarrassing, he sure looks proud to say that aloud.

“And what about you?” He asked. “What happened to your last name?”

“Dunno,” I said, pretty detached. “I’ve never known my parents.”

What I said, how I said it, or perhaps both are what shocked Odin a tremendous amount. Enough to have him scream out in surprise. “Huh? Were you tucked into a basket, placed on the gentle stream of a river that lead to the ocean where you were caught by the pirates of Stormridge who raised you before sending you here to the academy?”

More than anything, his surprise emerged from his stupidity. “Of course not, idiot! I was found by Otto Iontas. He took me in and raised me in Wardon.”

“Huh… Isn’t that where a lot of Royal Guards live?”

I guess even he would know. “That’s right. He was one as well. He’s retired already, but being around him and surrounded by other guards, listening to their adventures, struggles and stories… How could one not want to become one themselves, right?”

He nodded enthusiastically, “That’s quite the interesting story you’ve got.”

I’m equally disastrous at receiving and giving compliments, but for him it seems like no big deal at all.

“Well, your story was also, uh, quite interesting,” I tried to not make it sound forced, even though these words were my honest feelings.

“Haha, you think so, too, huh!” Then it finally clicked in his head. “Wait, Iontas… Isn’t that the same last name as team six’s tactician?”

I played with the ends of my hair hanging over my forehead. “…Uh-huh.”

“So you know her?”

“Uh-huh.”

We had just made it to the cafeteria. The room was… I couldn’t come up with a word to describe it. It’s bigger than large, larger than enormous and more enormous than gigantic. There were eight rows of tables, each table having six seats on either side and a total of twelve tables per row.

“Don’t just “uh-huh” me!” Odin said as he shook me by the shoulders. “You knowing our tactician could give us a huge upper hand you know!”

I hadn’t really thought of it like that, only the nuisance of having a girl who constantly dotes on me came to mind. I suppose I should show more gratitude towards the person who’s largely responsible for the blossoming of my tactical prowess.

“Yeah, you’re right. We’re not as doomed as the others—” and me a minute ago, “—are probably thinking. But don’t be unrealistic, we’re not beating Cian.”

He groaned out of frustration. “I know… I know… But you best believe I don’t want to go out without putting up a fight!”

And thus, sparked with a tiny amount of hope for the upcoming test, we ate lunch together. After leaving the packed cafeteria, we headed back to the classroom. Our teacher was still there. He stood in front of the blackboard, holding his arm with one hand and resting his chin on the other, seeming deep in thought.

Shooting a glance at the boxes, I saw that the first two were filled in.

Without turning around, he said, “Your class’s two most promising students, Dexter and Emyline, have joined team two. Isn’t that really, extraordinarily interesting? Team one is led by one of our kingdom’s strongest tacticians in history. Team two with two overly talented prodigies and,” he turned around, facing the two of us, “Your team, team six, with the closest knit brotherhood I’ve witnessed on a first day of school.”

Before we had a chance to react to what he said, he snapped his fingers again, “El Scrios.” Everything written on the blackboard disappeared. “I better get a move on, your next class is starting soon. I am not the only one blessed with this magical job. I’d be a liar if I said that I wanted to cover geography with you though,” he quickly added.

So it’s geography next, huh…