The Azure Illussion

"H…e…y!"

"You… there…"

Someone shakes his body awake, eyes are forced to slide open. In front of him is a man about his size, light bluish skin, darker blue marks on body and…he is a Jotunn.

"You're finally awake." Familiar accent, familiar stranger.

Familiar sky, hills, and trees. Northern lights and cold wind that never escapes his sight yet their presence is a majesty itself.

"Veturheimr."

"What's this about Veturheimr, brother. We are in Valhalla remember?"

"Valhalla?"

Wait, Taleya does mention that.

"Don't tell me you drink too much mead, ahahahaha!"

Thrall looked below and felt relieved. He is still in one piece. His armor remains, most of his weapons are gone. Leaving him mainly with a hand axe and seax. Great, he has to scavenge for his rare greatsword, again? he lamented to himself.

A bumpy feeling, the sound of a wheel turning.

"Where are we heading?"

"How can you not know?" the stranger in front of him then heartily laughed. "It's either you sleep too well or you have been in a big brawl before coming here,"

He continues, "This is our next life, brother. Death grants us this privilege."

No, no, no, this is wrong. Thrall knows nothing of this Valhalla. Once everyone dies, they go back to Allfadr's embrace. No mention of Valhalla. But, He know well enough this is a dream. Thrall will draw more unnecessary questions if he keeps showing his supposed "ignorance".

Best that he plays along.

Thrall nods to himself. "Right, I was fighting a Valkryja before her spear pierced my heart."

"Ooh! Fighting Allfadr's maiden, how exciting!"

Maiden of Allfadr? Thrall digress, better keep appearances. "Yeah, persistent one she is. You?"

"Fell into a battle against a dark elf. Little bacraut surrounds me two to one."

"Dark elf, eh? I take it you died during The Dyn?"

"Dyn?"

"Er, forget I said that."

The ride goes on. He noticed that the ride they are on now has a box where we sat that has a wheel attached to it. The box itself is well decorated. Though this feels wrong since…sleigh exists. On the front, a beautiful maiden coached the ride. He can't see her face well since her back is turned on the passengers, but Thrall can make a guess.

He has met plenty of valkryjur. They sport the same aesthetics despite the design of each of their armor being diverse.

What pulled this ride is two steeds–revered ones, sleipnir–eight-legged winged horses bestowed by Allfadr himself. So, this dream world still acknowledges their relation to the esteemed war maidens.

Thrall can't lie that he was captivated by the sights passed by. Entranced by the familiar scenery and the newer ones that he seldom witnesses. Meadows are rare in Veturheimr and so was in Ljosalfar’s land, Aislare. Where they are heading now though is ripe with these views. This is the second time he witnessed an endless sea of verdant fields, Thrall has to remind himself that this is a dream, a conjuration. Credit where it is due.

It’s Impressive, he gave Taleya that.

They soon arrived at an entrance. The passengers disembark, but Thrall wonders why there are only the two of them here.

No matter, there are other things to consider here.

The valkyrja escorts them inside. As if the scenery is not enough, the interior is filled with grandeur. Not even Thrall who once invaded Veturheimr’s capital palace can prepare him for another treat. The floor is made of gold, just as the azure walls encased by gold plating bearing jotunn and ljosalfar's craftsmanship.

"Come, warriors," The war maiden calls them. "Welcome Valhalla at your leisure."

She opens the gate that barred them from the supposedly Valhalla. The blinding light comes at full force. Thrall regains his vision soon after and there he sees an even more majestic sight than before. The vast golden field of grass. From the distance majestic barrows, castles, and villages; all beautifully designed that even from afar he can see how gorgeous it is.

"We did it, brother, finally, peace!"

Thrall wondered about that. This dream is too good to be true. He nods at his fellow ride companion.

"Well, this is where we part ways. I pray that we will meet again and hopefully I can test your steel!" The stranger offers his hand.

Thrall accepts. "You too, I guess."

The stranger gave him a pat on the shoulder.

"Take it slowly, you never get a chance like this."

And just like that, off he goes.

What happens now?

The valkryja who escorted them are still here.

"Excuse me," she turns towards Thrall.

"Speak."

"Where shall I go?"

"Wherever your heart desires."

"I can just…walk anywhere?"

"Yes, it is your reward for your death. Glorious defeat shall be rewarded with glorious serenity."

He bows at her, feeling that he has what is needed to be heard.

In other words, this dream is modeled after the heavens. With the exception of the glorious battle part. He might have been the bringer of chaos in Veturheimr, but Thrall is well-read enough to understand his kin's belief…and how it devolves. This Dream World takes after the predominant faith in Veturheimr. One that he once followed which is that life serves for your saga to be told. To be larger than life, and to be remembered.

To fight against opposition and to believe that salvation of jotunnar came from clash of steel. In a land that is harsh and unforgiving, these values fit in the life most ended short.. But times have changed. Many winters have made Thrall realize more than he believed. With the help of an old friend. Value comes from the good you do. That’s all.

He is taking too much time standing idle, ruminating life. Thrall heeded the valkryja's words. Taking his first step into the golden fields of Valhalla.

So that's it then.

It was just him and. In a way, he is free. What he wanted to do at the root can wait for now for his chains are unbounded. Even if this fleeting feeling gave him comfort, regrets will come later and so, he begins to walk aimlessly.

There is no goal nor desire.

Only walk.

Enjoy the freedom.

Thrall felt a renewed sense of vigor. The feeling of being alive, not having his curse as the one that greets him every time he opens his eyes. Each step is not excruciating. Even though such pain is long gone numb after years of resisting it. There are other things he wanted to try.

He tried to draw a rune.

It works

Every restriction that he had is unbound. He…

He doesn't know what to say.

He felt his knees getting weaker, not because his strength zapped. It's been so long for him to feel this way. Tears kept falling, savorong these once forgotten senses. Hundreds of winter, agonizing over every sensation. Dulled to the point he no longer minds them. But this, this feeling of being alive.

It's too good to be true.

Yes, this freedom is a lie.

Part of him wished that Phrumen was wrong. His awareness that this is a conjuration by some madwoman, is both a blessing and a curse. He got what he wanted, but to reach it is not worth his soul. Still, he has faith that there has to be another way. But first, he needs to escape this fantasy. If what Phrumen said is true, then he can go here and out as he wishes. Although there is no harm in enjoying this short bliss.

He shall wash the gloom away by reciting a poem. In memory of Veturheimr then and now.

“O–”

"YOU WRETCHED SCUUUUM!"

With the force of an angry mother, an ornate silver and gold spear obliterates where he stood before. Thrall managed to dodge it, barely. Still, that brings him to the fenrir in the room. He knows whom that armor and sleipnir belongs to. His assailant and frequent companion/nuisance/friend, well, if she considers him that way.

Well, friend is not exactly the word he would use, but…

"Well, well, here I am, once again we met, Thrall." Said that damn Valkryja who kept chasing him before.

It was unfair for her to ambush him while he was having a moment. Not a good sport, very unprofessional. There are rules in this kind of engagement, and that is to respect skalds when they are about to recite (even aspiring ones) or face their wrath. Fortunately for his guest here, Thrall is not the type to resort to violence immediately regarding violent meetings with acquaintances. Consider herself lucky, but there is a matter of resolving this.

"You," she addressed him with an irritated tone.

"Come with me willingly and you'll be safely returned to the battlefield." She says exasperatedly as if she is reading a paper.

Obviously, the answer is no. There is much blood than ink for an (aspiring) poet like him. Now, now, he won't say he is absolved of his sins, Allfadr no, but man's heart is a fickle thing and it likes to find peace.

"Fair maiden of Aislare, I have no ill intention for my allegiance belongs to peace. I won't turn my back against my people and yours. So I humbly beg you to spare my life."

He eloquently put it.

"Why would I need to hear your excuse?"

She crudely replies.

If this is just another Jotunn or Ljosalfar, he wouldn't pursue this matter further and let bygones be bygones. Unfortunately, he already had history with this Valkyrja. Persistent woman.

He audibly groans.

His disappointment is immeasurable. His day isn't ruined at least because violence is another word for art. Involving blood than ink that is. At this point, Thrall’s patience is running thin. He had no grudge against this woman, but it’s time for him to settle this once and for all.

Axe on right hand and seax on left. His favorite choice actually. Thrall is fortunate that before he got sent here these were the weapons he had awoken into. Er, he does lament the loss of some of his gear. Ah well, his plate armor and helmet has served him well all this time.

Valkyrja is catching on with him. She readies her spear and her stead rears upon Thrall’s presence.

Her thrust came like thunder. It was fast and unforgiving. If he didn't focus enough the only thing he would do was see his stomach with a hole.

Their weapons then clashed.

Thrall’s axe and seax managed to catch Valkyrja spear in time although he is still at a disadvantage. His giant frame might be imposing, but he is a big target.

Putting all his strength on both arms, he pushed her away and created a gap. Good, Thrall is going to make his move. The benefit of having a big body means the Jotunn can cover more ground faster. And because of that, the unprecedented offense that was delivered succeeds.

He swings both his axe and seax in tandem. Valkyrja struggles to properly deflect his blows. His left consistently puts pressure on her middle while his right threatens her with quick swings. Her spear means nothing if she can't guard her distance. But, He have to realize she is not alone.

Her sleipnir attempts to kick Thrall’s torso, he swiftly dodge, but it puts them back to square one.

The first set of objectives is now set. He has to put that sleipnir down, but at the same time he has a reverence to this majestic steed. If push comes to shove, his axe will be smeared in her blood. He can't have that so he has to pacify this creature.

How can one tame a sleipnir?

Thrall inspected his fur coat for anything useful. He heard a clunk.

A chain.

Ah, he used this to hang that fellow using this. Who is it again? He forgot. Thrall is surprised this handy chain was inside the coat. Maybe because he once considered using it, but it never came to pass.

Hm, he does have another card to play. As long as he is in Valhalla, his former strength returns. That means,

He can dash like the madman he used to be!

Valkyrja guards herself again. Too surprised by the speed Thrall has shown. If she is smart, he could be pinned down easily. With or without curse, she made one mistake:

Intimidated.

She should have taken her chance. With her sleipnir and magic javelin she has, Thrall could be dead on the spot. But, he is simply utilizing an element of surprise here. For many winters fighting her, he was not at his peak. She is so accustomed to what she always faced that she didn't account for other possibilities.

The ground shakes for each step Thrall took. Valkyrja transforms her spear to staff to blast him from distance, but to no avail. He dodged like it was nothing, phased in and out in a blink. It's almost like the Jotunn is moving between spaces, but Thrall knows he doesn't have that kind of power. Simply put,

There is a reason he single handedly had both his kinsmen and ljosalfars out for his head back then.

In response to Thrall’s approach, Valkyrja had no choice, but to take a flight. Her sleipnir's wings flap and send shockwaves around her. But he is a persistent force of nature. The Jotunn live and breathe through risks. Withstanding its force and quickly shrugging it off. he took a leap. Unfortunately, she is not safe.

What she didn't anticipate is a chain that came out of nowhere that strangles her beloved steed's neck. Once again, Thrall means no harm to her. It had to be done for the plan he is trying to pull here. The poor creature struggles and so does her rider. Valkyrja tried to shake it off, but it was useless. She didn't have time to remove it, if she did, both of them would have crashed already.

Thus, she lets go of the reins and leaps towards Thrall. Spear in tow, her thrust was true. It penetrates his armor and flesh. Both of them launched to the ground with him felled as her spear still etched on the gut. He'd say that she should have gone for the head.

Thrall let out a pained groan. Even if his strength returned. It still hurts, dammit!

"Ahaha…I should…have… expected that…hehehe…" He laughed bitterly. "But, thank you…for giving me… a gift."

She is not the first valkyrja he ever faced. The most persistent one? Yes, she is. Does he gain anything from observing her sisters? Of course, that includes some tidbits of knowledge gathered. With her spear now presented plainly on his stomach, Thrall prayed on Allfadr's name and the glorious beards of his ancestors that his real condition won't interfere with what he is trying to pull.

Thrall kicked Valkryja’s shin, making her stumble, and with a quick motion, he took her spear and with a swift recovery after, he tapped the weapon to the ground.

'Come, fair steed, I need your aid.'

His heart pleads. The sleipnir obeys those who have good intentions he heard. Hopefully, the creature didn't judge him based on his soul, but that of heart.

Valkyrja, still reeling from his attack, quickly steps in, but she is too late. Her own steed sends a shockwave that sends her away and turns their position square one…except Thrall has a new friend accompanying him.

He hesitates to ruffle this sleipnir's feathers, but she willingly lowers her head. Thrall accepts.

"Y-You!" From afar, Valkyrja quivers. "Give her back!"

A mighty mount that is said to come from Allfadr's himself…now under his command. Perhaps this is another myth debunked. He was told valkyrjur were given sleipnirs because of the purity of the maiden. Well then, He is one now!

He ruffles the sleipnir's feathers again. Earning even more cry from her former rider.

"STOP! Don't do that!"

Thrall keeps doing it and the lady here seems to like it. Ah right, he should ask her name.

'Hm, Fjorm, you say?'

"Fair Fjorm," He said. "Can I have the honor of riding you into the battle?"

She rears in agreement. Thrall hopped onto her back. Giving his adversary a hilarious view of an oversized man on a sleipnir.

"How dare you! Shaming me, humiliating me in front of her, a-and taking her away from ME!"

He can't see her face behind her helmet, but Thrall can guess she is holding back her tears now.

She sobs.

"Give her back!" She tearfully says.

By Allfadr's…she really is crying.

Nothing saddens him more than making a woman cry. Very unprofessional. Truth to be told, he never considered her an outright enemy that needed to be cut down. She is just a valkyrja doing her job. At the same time, he hates beggars. Ironic as he begged earlier.

Because of that he settled for something more to his nature.

Thrall disembarks, Fjorm in tow as they approach Valkyrja.

They move to her slowly. Trying their best to look friendly. A valkyrja whose pride and joy is taken by a thrall nonetheless must have hurt her self-esteem. He has no intention to humiliate her. Ever since their first encounter winters ago, he has always respected her for being dedicated to her duty. She could have killed Thrall long ago when he was still weak, but she upholds a value that most of her sisters seem to abandon.

Valkyrja led warriors to battle, not punishing them by death.

He has broken too many rules for a thrall, but she never stabs him like now.

Still, he can't bear to see her cry.

She raises her sword. Preparing for the worst it seems.

His giant stature and…Fjorm towers over her.

She looked pathetic from where Thrall stood now.

"Fair maiden, this is such a shameful display," He remarked. "If you are this weak because of what has been taken from you, then I have to reconsider returning your dignity. Isn't it, right, fair maiden? Without these–"

He gestured to her spear and Fjorm. "You are nobody."

Thrall doesn't mean to gloat at her, but this pathetic display is not fitting for a warrior that he fought for many winters. That said, the Jotunn have an alternative.

"I heard valkyrjur is well-versed in the art of the skalds,"

He is an aspiring poet, doing rhymes and flyt in his spare time. He is not good enough yet, but!

"They taught you poems, right? I have a proposition,"

Her head raised in anticipation.

If she can't even handle him with steel then it would be more embarrassing if she can't with words.

"So, hear me out," He said with caution. "I want both of us…"

"...to flyt."

She stays there, motionless. It seems his request grinds her head. This is common for jotunnar to end fights. The other method is Holmgang, but he would rather use words than steel at the moment. And they are at Valhalla, the supposed heavenly realm.

"Are you serious?!" Valkyrja snaps.

Thrall nods.

"You have an advantage, why do you offer me this?"

"Why not?"

"Why not he says, how can I know this is not a trap?!"

"Well, what am I going to lose?"

"Er, your life?"

"Violence aside, I do wonder why you are here?"

"Obviously, to catch you.” she crossed her arms.

"So, you go whenever I go, even in dreams?"

"Your friend told me you are bewitched, so it is my duty to free you."

"Friend?"

"Hooded man draped in the color of sunset. What is his name again, hm, ah, it's–"

"Phrumen." x2

Silence befalls them.

So, Taleya did manage to put him here. He has collapsed outside The Root. Valkyrja must have caught wind of him. So that means she wakes at the same time as Thrall does. Seeing that her attire and armor remains the same the last time they met. Then who told her that he is at the root?

Alright, one step at a time, first, let's finish this petty squabbles first.

"When are you going to start?" Thrall asked her.

"Eh?"

"Flyting."

"I am not good at this so let's just–" she points at her sword. "–use this instead."

"Woman, I am being very generous here. I recall you never win against me. I am not good at flyt either so this is your chance. Even grounds, see?"

"How rude! I remember that I always got a jump on you! That's a win in my book."

Is she for real?

She proudly huffed.

Yes, she is for real.

Thrall sighed. "Valkyrja, this is your chance to let out everything you have on me and obliterate me verbally," he then adds, "I already have been humiliated in the field of steel before I became a thrall. So, you may have the honor of beating me in the field of words."

"You…have a good point." she lowers her sword.

"Who is going first?" She said, it seems she regained a bit of her vigor.

"You."

Valkryja began to take a deep breath. She raises both of her hands and slaps her cheeks–er, helmet's sides.

She starts.

"You big earner, did you rear your urn, your ashes to dust. No fog, no snow, you are nothing, but a fat blob. Death scurry away, oh, so lucky you pathetic waste. Your flesh is rotten like shite even the reaper won't reap your sow. Plow your fields you will only get your sorry ass. Meat limp only your hole can fit. Wretched, cursed, ugly, none wants your flesh, but ravens."

Thrall recoiled, this is a first from her he admits. The Jotunn responded with,

"Here you stand, without glory. Guider of the wretched yet you stoop low. My dust would be swallowed, but none will do yours. Death fears me beware or I will deliver it to you. I am the harbinger of the wretched, but you are none. I have glory to be told. You are dust, fog and snow will be your grave. These hands have plowed many shields and so do your remains."

She counters,

"Hear this fair maiden, plow my shield and I shall grant you a sword. Fresh from your loins. I am none, but name, spoken true. Wings I have soared. Thousands upon my tails yet you resist. Your sword blunted upon mine, larger than yours and thrust deeper."

Quite good, but he's not losing yet!

"I am the harbinger of all curse, your shield means nothing. Here is your sword in mine. Intertwined, unbroken, I have tamed the sacred and unleashed upon you exquisite flowers. I bloom, you rot. You soar high, I crawl. I will never reach your high, but you'll fall to me."

It seems to boil her head. Good, using Fjorm as an insult works wonders. Forgive his insolence!

"I am the untarnished wings of the sun. You'll burn once I fall. Your skin blaze upon my radiance. So does your glory. What you razed destroyed you. Your victory is nothing, but a footnote. O hear this warlord who was beaten by a crook. You once soared too high, now you fall like a worm. Be stepped by my heels and rejoice I give you mercy."

"Hear this lot who choke her throat. She boasts her heels, but she only steps on the shite. I don't want your tail you harlot so suck up my gloryhole and eat my dung. One hundred winters you did and you never hang me. Oh great Valkryja, what use is your steed when you can't flap your own wings. Why don't you crawl like me and taste the ground? I'll put you down as many times. A fitting reward for a thrall of the whore."

Dammit, that's too low on his end.

"Fucker."

Whoa.

"Oh so the dog wants to bite. How cute. How's your father? Forgotten. Mother? Probably rot. How's your clan? Ablazed. You speak of glory, none of it remains. Fog and snow will swallow you whole while I soar above your bones. You vile murderer, raider, and scum of this land. A grass is more worthier than you. Clown of a King even your entire court is jesters. You have no loyalty, a traitor to your own kind, a deserter. You are not a jotunn. You stoop low, they stand tall as walls to keep you from barging. Only rats will welcome you and feast your flesh. Remind me of your funeral one hundred winters from now so I can spit on your bones."

After her long tirade, she catches her breath. Feeling light after her long speech. It felt…liberating for once to be called out. She waits for Thrall to reply only to be met with silence.

…

She gasped. "I-I am sorry. I didn't mean to!"

The harshest wounds are the ones dealt on loved ones. She's right…there is no need for her to feel guilty. He deserves that.

"I…that's true…"

Thrall handed over her spear. The sacred artifact once again belongs to her.

"You were right," he said to her. "And, I haven't achieved my goal yet."

"Can I say my piece?" Thrall said, in the softest possible way he could muster.

She cautiously nods.

"To tell you the truth, I have an aim here," He began. "You know of my curse, and you know how…it marked me. If you are wondering why I went off the beaten path, leaving my fellow thralls behind, it's because I want to find something. A legacy for others of some sort,"

Thrall looked straight at her. "A cure."

Her eyes seemed to frown. "Impossible."

"Maybe, but that tree, or…" Where Yggd Tree was, but it wasn't there anymore. "Er, root," He corrected himself then continued, "May hold the answer."

"And I ask of you…"

This is too bold even for him.

"Please, lend me your assistance." Thrall bowed to Valkyrja.

He expectantly awaits her response. No matter what she chooses, he is content. His saga is one of many, his death would ease those who have suffered because of him. Thrall can't lie, remnants of those dark times still exist within him.

His mission is clarity. It was more than a cure. This is to find the redemption of everything. It lingers in his mind for so long ever since he found the light within that decrepit dungeon. Too many winters have passed and he is on his last leg. Ninety two winters left or maybe more little. This body will crumble.

The least he could do before he expires is to find a legacy, a good one he could leave behind. So his kin–no, thrall like him, who found the light can be free and do more beyond a throwaway. He prays that the woman in front of him can give this poor thrall a chance or…a release from this world once he exits Valhalla.

But, he believes in her. She has the heart of a true valkyrja.

Her helmet vanishes, revealing a beautiful pale blond woman whose hair reaches her thighs (how is that even possible?). Her pale skin still highlights her white markings around her features. To say Thrall enchanted is an understatement. This is a Valkryja who reveals her beauty. And she is the first one for him

He is…speechless. Fortunately, she is not.

"I really, really don't want to follow your whims," She says. "But, Fjorm chooses you."

He chuckled at the situation. So, a holy creature is their arbiter.

"Don't laugh, you shite," she gasps, as if realizing she isn't supposed to say that. "Ahem, don't make fun of me, alright. Just this once after our feud for–"

"One hundred and sixty nine winters–"

"Shaddup. Let me finish," she scolds me. "As I was saying, I'll help you."

She crossed her arms. "But not because I sympathize, okay? But because Phrumen has told me of what happened."

"He did?"

"He told me that you refused, storming off because you can't find answers. Now that I hear it from you, I understand why."

"I should have not been brash back then."

"That is understandable, after all," She sighed. "I am sorry."

"What for?"

"First thing I did when Phrumen sent me here was to find you. I got caught up with my emotions and kind of unjustifiably attacked you without warning."

"Ah, no problem, you win in the end, right?"

"I should be better than this, you know. Our petty feud…the world, The Dyn, we have more concerning matters to pursue."

"Indeed, Taleya is dangerous herself, and so is her dream world."

Valkyrja's helmet materialized.

"We should return to reality. Phrumen's been waiting for us."

"How?"

"First," She approached Thrall. Scribing a rune on his chest.

"Algiz."

Protection…

An azure fog released from his body. It seems the fucking gremlin really did put something on him.

"Second,"

His attention returned, Valkyrja hops onto Fjorm's back.

"Climb her back."

Being a passenger on a steed that is clearly meant for one is…uncomfortable. Even if the ride is a legendary creature.

"I suggest you hold onto something," she says then quickly adds, "but not me, okay."

"Well, how am I suppos–aaaaaahhhhh!"

Too fast!

Sleipnir moves so fast that my senses don't seem to register what is happening. Calm your wings, Fjorm! Be gentle with him!

.

"Are you mad?!" cried Ansgar, my shield-brother.

"Hm? I think I'm mad, but not that mad." I replied.

..

"My plan since the beginning has always been to create a clan that I could call home. Where I don't need to be seen as a disgrace, but a proud warrior and hard worker. If one of you didn't follow me back then…"

…

"I would still pursue this goal."

….

"If that is your plan I will follow your lead, heimskingi."

Oh, Gamall…

…..

"It is decided, our journey to prosperity begins."

How long since I met them.

….

The promises I have broken.

…

The fear that engulfs me.

..

If I have the chance, I would…

.

"You're awake."

A familiar phrase.

Thrall returned to reality. The encroaching sensation of his curse returned. After a long time, he wasn't used to it. Brief moment of vigor has spoiled him.

A light then pierces his vision.

"Solblom, are you okay?"

He shoved the hands of whoever was tending him. "Get that thing away."

Thrall rose from where he lay down. And soon realize why it's not very comfortable. The same coffin as the dokkalfar. Fit for his size, but not for his comfort.

"Phrumen." Thrall noticed the one in front of him.

"I am here." There he was, still in his hooded robe.

Thrall sees no Valkyrja in sight. His attention returns to Phrumen.

"I didn't expect Taleya to come after you after you went away. I should have warned you."

"No problem, you did send Valkyrja to fetch me, for that I am grateful."

"Laufaye?" He giggled. "She was so hesitant to even do it. I have to convince her using so many excuses."

"And what works?"

"Oh, simple logistics. More people, more help, and more manpower to fight Taleya."

"She is simple, I admit that."

Phrumen then sat on a chair he placed in front of him.

"Well, how is your experience with The Dream Realm?"

"I haven't explored enough, but my curse was lifted when I was there."

"Strange." He remarks.

"Indeed, I didn't go far enough because Valkyrja ambushes me and leads to well, now."

"So that's why Laufaye took longer than I expected."

"You keep saying Laufaye, that's her name?"

"Yup, already told you how I know it, right?"

Ah, the tower reads he says. Back to the matter at hand,

"I suppose I should repay you."

"No need, you can go on your own again, just be careful this time."

"Why are you… you just asked for my help before."

"I am not expecting much after you refused. I thought you already had something on your mind."

Thrall can't tell if he is mocking him or being genuine. So he answered him back. "I do, but Taleya has it, and she controls the dreams. That left me with a muddier trail."

Under his oversized hood, Phrumen strokes his chin. "Still, mortal's ingenuity came from the choice they made. They follow what they wish, be it the hard way or the easy way."

He has a point. Thrall has come this far, better to tell him bluntly. "Truth be told, I am not convinced first because of what you are and what you said to represent. You failed on both fronts and the fact that you somehow had something to do with why Taleya became the way she is now didn't put much confidence in me."

"True, I do sometimes wonder if my original purpose never truly aligned with me. I was supposed to save the world, but instead I kept destroying it," he sighs then continues, "I do wonder that choosing to change, admitting my mistakes and to make amends for it this time is too late for me."

He turns towards Thrall.

"I just want to do the right thing, okay?"

His words, Thrall can sense sincerity in it. In a way it makes him ponder. Because he, too, wonders if he can be redeemed. He has caused so much suffering for his people, almost risking everything in his conquest to destroy ljosalfars. All in the name of that goal, Thrall has slaughtered men, women, and children. There is a reason he is one now. Only the vilest of Jotunn bestowed the cursed mark. He fit that description.

The most humiliating punishment. Death didn't close its claws on him, but death will always be beside him. His lifespan was cut in half and his powers halved. This is the fate that befalls every thrall. They are weak yet durable, a perfect meatshield. Lifetime of servitude where their mind decays over time, leaving them as an empty husk.

Thrall kept clinging to any goal that he had in mind to prevent insanity. So this body, even if death already claims it, still can enjoy the luxury of being alive.

And so, in a way, he empathizes with Phrumen.

"If our ingenuity came from the choices we made," Thrall began. "Then my choice will be to stay."

Phrumen looked up to him.

"You reconsidered my offer?"

"Taleya must have the answer I seek, but so too she holds the minds of the dreamers. I shall get my answer and free her victims."

"It will be a long road, Solblom."

"I have walked longer than I can count, one last ride won't dissuade me."

"I…" He offers his hand. "There is no ceremony for this."

"That is fine." Thrall shook his hand.

Phrumen stands up, still holding his hand.

"I welcome you, Solblom Blomstraveturson, Son of The North, Jarl of Thrall Clan, and now an agent of–"

"Waydyntale Order."