Hello, Patchy here. Kai jumps about a week into the future from here and doesn't bother to write about a lot of rather important information.

  First up were the “Life Lessons” we got from Eirik and a rather stern Valkyrie named Yrdesa. Between the two of them, we got combat training, the rules of the Asgardian forces, the basics of Saga-marks and Rune-marks, and the short version of how a tournament between the Aesir and the Giants somehow turned into the opening act of Ragnarok.

  Before all that, though, we had the conversation I was personally most interested in: how the heck we got here in the first place. Both Yrdesa and Eirik were quite shocked to discover we weren’t from Midgard or another of the Realms, but actually another dimension entirely!

  According to Yrdesa, shortly after Ragnarok started, the ‘dimensions’ (basically the boundaries between universes - I’m still not sure I understood correctly) began shrinking, allowing the edges of the dimensions to start coming into contact. This ‘contact’ created stable portals or unstable ‘Rifts’ and allowed beings to move from one dimension to the next, hence the Hounds escaping Tartarus through the portals that keep appearing.

  Why we were dropped directly into Asgard out of all the realms is unclear, but we were told, very firmly, that we were lucky not to have been dropped in Giant territory, or worse, between the dimensions where most of the Primordials live.

  And now I have to explain the Primordials. Sorry in advance, I know this is a lot.

  Alright, imagine the Gods are the celebrities of the dimension. They have cool personalities (maybe), they have drama, they’re in charge of a lot of stuff, and they have certain rules they have to follow (Causality – the amount of Divine power they get to ‘spend’ before they stop existing or return to being mortal). But the Primordials? They’re the stage these celebrities are standing on, literally in some cases, and unlike the Gods, they can leave the dimensions whenever they want – but cannot enter them freely.

  Think of beings like Nyx from Greek mythology. In the stories, she’s the personification of Night. BUT NOTE: Nyx isn't a goddess of the night; she is the Night. With a capital 'N.'

  Before there was a sun, or a moon, or even a world to cast a shadow on, there was Nyx. Total, absolute, infinite, darkness.

  And she’s not alone! There are others, too. Erebus or Tartarus (who, surprise! Is a sentient abyss). These things don't have ‘goals’ the way we do. You can’t negotiate with a Primordial any more than you can negotiate with the law of gravity.

  Moving on from the existential horrors, Athena mentioned that she noticed her body was changing, she had more energy and felt less tired at night. Eirik laughed and said that’s normal for all humans in Asgard. Being in a realm with so many ‘Divine beings’ present allows our bodies to absorb some of that energy. This energy lets us heal faster, fight longer, and even live longer! If I could bottle this stuff, I’d be the richest man on Earth within a year.

  Kai brought up his rune mark to Yrdesa, but she said she had never seen such a thing before. The strange hourglass shape and a quick consult with a senior Valkyrie made her assume it was tied to time. A thrilling revelation, I know.

  Though I did find it strange that she had such an incredibly serious expression on her face when she said it. She also seemed rather wary every time she looked at Kai’s rune mark. I’m starting to suspect Valkyries don’t like time-based marks very much.

  I asked when I would get my own Saga and Rune marks, but both Eirik and Yrdesa said there was no way to tell, as it would all depend on me and my actions going forward. Eirik warned me I may never get a Saga mark at all, which was rather disappointing, as I thought Kai’s mark was awesome and I’d love to share an achievement like that with my friend.

  Now, coming back to what set off Ragnarok… According to Eirik, the whole thing, ironically enough, started as a genuine attempt at peace. As I’m sure you all know, just like in our stories, the Aesir and Giants have all been beating each other up across all the Nine Realms for millennia. Finally, someone on the Aesir side proposed a kind of peace treaty.

  The forces of the Giants and Aesir would assemble once a decade to compete in a long list of contests and tournaments, including wrestling, axe throwing, boasting, and, of course, fighting.

  Eirik swears that in the first year, there wasn’t a boasting competition, but a competitive drinking event. But both sides ended up drinking so much that there was a realm-wide shortage, which resulted in the worst result possible: a draw. Odin and the Kings of the Giants, Thrym, Surtr and Utgard-Loki, met to discuss a solution. That solution was to get rid of the drinking entirely, so the drinking event became a boasting contest where the winner was judged solely on the magnitude, wit, and truthfulness of their claims.

  This leaving us with the final part of any contest, a prize! The prize was simple: whoever won more events received the ‘wager’ of the other side for the next decade, shipped in very real barrels and crates.

  For the Aesir, they had to wager half a decade's supply of Idunn’s Golden Apples, the very source of their immortality, whilst the Giants wagered a full decade’s supply of Suttungr's Mead - also known as the Mead of Poetry. It grants those who drink it eloquence, wisdom, and peerless skill in the art of the boast, which, as you can imagine, is very handy in a boasting competition (And is the best-tasting drink in all the Nine Realms I’m told).

  Yrdesa explained it rather less romantically.

  “The Games were leashes,” she said. “Honourable conflict turned into a mere spectacle.”

  Valkyries functioned as the referees. They watched every duel, bout, and even the boasts, putting their honour on the line to swear that the result inside each arena was fair and true.

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  Naturally, everyone did a bit of cheating – until Utgard (Utgard-Loki is just confusing, so I’m calling him Utgard) took it too far.

  You have probably heard some version of the story that ‘nothing can harm Baldur’. We have plenty of it in our own world’s media after all. The story goes that Frigg (Thor and Baldur’s mother) was plagued by terrible visions of her beloved son's death, merely moments after he was born. To counteract these dark visions of death, Frigg travelled across the entire nine realms to petition every single living thing, every elemental force, and every manufactured item in existence to swear an unbreakable, sacred oath: they would never, under any circumstances, harm her son, Baldur.

  Upon her return to Asgard, she was triumphant. Baldur was now ‘invincible’. The Aesir, in their arrogance and relief at her joy and achievement, turned this defence into a game. As he grew up, the Aesir would gather on his birthday, and Baldur would stand laughing while his fellow Aesir (including his brother Thor) hurled their most powerful weapons at him. Every axe, shield, or tool would harmlessly bounce off his invulnerable skin, proving Frigg's success and providing great amusement to everyone, especially the Einherjar who took particular delight in hitting him with everything they could get their hands on.

  Yrdesa corrected Eirik's version with her usual aplomb: "Frigg was thorough, but she was not perfect. She overlooked one small, insignificant being, the one thing she deemed too feeble to matter."

  Eirik explained: “Frigg had left mistletoe out of her grand oath, believing it was simply too unimportant and weak to ever pose a threat to her beloved son. It was a detail Utgard, the Giant King of Magic, would never miss. He seized upon this mistake with wicked glee, no doubt. He waited centuries to set up the perfect trap for Baldur and the Aesir, plunging the realms right into Ragnarok.”

  Athena did ask Eirik and Yrdesa if they knew why Utgard had broken the peace deal, and Yrdesa replied simply: “He never accepted the idea of ‘The Games’ in the first place,” she said. “He was outvoted by Surtr and Thrym, who needed time to recover their forces. He only accepted a pause in the war.”

  Eirik continued: “Utgard was patient. He knew direct, overt schemes with the mistletoe were impossible. But Utgard was also the King of illusion and cunning; he didn't need to break the rules of the tournament; he just needed to empower a weapon with mistletoe.”

  Turns out, in the fighting tournament, warriors are allowed to ‘nominate’ an opponent from the other side, and should the challenge be accepted, they would fight until first blood or ‘submission’. Naturally, there has never been a submission in the history of the tournament, though there have been deaths when ‘first blood’ was a killing blow... The worst of this was Thor, who became so notorious for only aiming for killing blows that Odin himself banned him from participating in any further fighting tournaments to preserve the tenuous peace.

  Now, normally, nobody would ever challenge Baldur – for obvious reasons. However, about 180 years ago, someone did just that. A small Frost Giant by the name of Hugi stepped forward. He called out Baldur to challenge him to a fight of ‘toughness’; they would compete to see who could manage to take more hits from the other until someone surrendered.

  Naturally, the Aesir fell about laughing, assuming this to be merely a young Frost Giant eager to attempt to prove his mettle against a target never before chosen by his peers or elders. Baldur chose an axe, a spear, and a hammer. Hugi chose a hammer, a short sword, and a strange, long-handled Dane axe. Odin, suspicious of all Giant activity, demanded that the Valkyrie inspect the weapons to be used.

  The Valkyrie in charge of the fighting arena that time was Freya herself. She and her ‘Advisor’ rank Valkyrie all descended to inspect Hugi’s gear. They checked the hammer; just solid metal. They checked the sword too; no runes, no poison. Then came the long axe. It was crude, a heavy, rusted iron head mounted on a wooden shaft with an undecorated length.

  The axe was noticeably different, and therefore suspicious. The Valkyries focused entirely on the iron head. They tested its edge, checked for poison, and scanned it for enchantments. There was nothing. Unfortunately, they didn't know to check the type of wood used for the handle, as none of the Aesir or Asgardians had even thought about Mistletoe.

  Satisfied, Odin cleared the match to proceed.

  So confident in his victory was he, Baldur challenged Hugi to take all three of his rounds first. Keeping a stoic face in front of the Aesir’s jeers, Hugi began.

  Round one: Hugi swung the hammer with all his strength. It rebounded off Baldur’s chest with such force that it caused Hugi to fall on his back and let go of his weapon, a disgraceful act in both Giant and Aesir culture. The Aesir roared with laughter, and Thor laughed so hard he nearly fell over himself.

  Round two. Hugi tried the sword. This went even more poorly, with the blade shattering completely against Baldur’s shoulder. Baldur didn’t even stop smiling. He opened his arms wide, boasting to the crowd. "Is that the best Jotunheim has to offer?"

  "Come now! Use the big one! Try to chop me down!" The Aesir were loving every moment, whilst the Giants looked on darkly at their impending humiliation.

  Hugi finally picked up the long axe. But he didn’t swing it like an axe. He held it low, like a spear. Even some of the Valkyrie smiled. Who tries to stab someone with the top of an axe? It was pathetic. A desperate attempt from someone with no hope left.

  Hugi lunged. He drove the top of the axe straight toward Baldur’s undefended chest.

  Now, had it been a solid weapon, the iron axe-head would have harmlessly slid off Baldur’s skin, repelled by the Oath. But Utgard had designed the weapon with a single, fatal flaw. The axe head was designed to fail. It was loose, barely even held in place.

  Upon impact, the iron head of the axe did exactly what the oath demanded: it refused to harm Baldur. It stopped dead against his skin and instantly broke off, dislodged by the force of the blow.

  But the wooden shaft didn't stop.

  With the iron head pushed out of the way, the true weapon was revealed: the shaft itself, a spear of hardened and sharpened Mistletoe. It pierced straight through the gap left by the falling iron. There was no armour to stop it, and no magic to deflect it.

  One moment, the Aesir were laughing at such a clumsy thrust. Next, the laughter died in their throats as the ‘wooden handle’ sank deep into Baldur’s chest. The heavy iron axe head finally clattered to the ground in the deafening silence, as the stunned audience watched Hugi step back, leaving the wooden spear buried in Baldur's heart.

  Baldur slowly collapsed to his knees, shaking hands reaching up to grasp the mistletoe shaft. As his life bled away, the bright sun that shone over Asgard slowly vanished, plunging the realm into a cold, sickly twilight. Mere moments after the blow was struck, Baldur died.

  Thor’s roar of grief and fury was deafening as he burst into the arena, Mjolnir crackling with raw lightning as he immediately moved past Baldur's cooling body to strike down Hugi.

  The Giant Kings did not wait for the inevitable slaughter that would follow. Utgard, Thrym, and Surtr were already gone. The invincible Baldur had died, and their victory was total, the peace treaty nothing but dust, and their immediate flight confirmed the truth to every stunned Aesir: This was not a tragedy, this was an act of war.

  The games were over, and Ragnarok had begun.