Einherjar

12

Blader followed Loqé through the streets of the settlement as she looked for the barracks he had been assigned to. After several minutes of walking, the noise of so many people being in the same place still pounding his ears, Loqé finally found the correct barracks, all of them long and low with only one story, and walked up to it.

Barrack 232 was posted over the door and Loqé touched the sensor. The door slid quietly back into its socket and the Valkyrie stepped inside, gesturing for Blader to follow her.

They walked into a small entryway, with one einherjar standing there with a screen floating before him. To the left was a door with the female rune, and to the right, a door with the male rune.

"Name and number," he ordered.

"Blader Thrym, 97118," Blader told him, showing his tags.

The einherjar ran the number through his database and nodded. "All right." He gestured to the right door. "Through you go, Bunk 3. You are free to leave, Valkyrie."

Loqé nodded and glanced at Blader. "See you around," she said quietly, and turned and left the barracks.

Blader palmed the sensor and stepped through the door as it opened. A long room stretched away from him, filled with a row of bunkbeds, small, square trunks sitting at the bottom of the beds. Everything was identical, except for the numbers posted beside the bunks.

The third bunk was the top bunk of the second set of bunkbeds. Over a small table holding a washbasin, a pair of hooks hung beside the numbers for swords and shields, the standard equipment of the einherjar recruits. His father had told him that training in spears, bows, and axes were minimal until after the Reenactment.

Hanging up his weapons, Blader headed to the foot of the beds to see two square trunks, half the size of a normal trunk, one labelled with a three and the other with a four. He opened the one labelled three and deposited his pack inside before closing it and gazing around the space. Inside the trunk were several pairs of dull grey training tunics and the official recruit uniform, the same dull grey but with a more rigid design.

There were twelve bunkbeds total, twenty-four spaces available. At the far end were two small bathrooms, and against the wall opposite the bunks were several long benches. Near the last bunkbed was a shut door marked with the rune for assembly.

The door opened behind Blader and another recruit walked in. Tall and muscled with thick, floppy black hair that hung in his dark wild eyes, he was a couple inches taller than Blader but had a more wiry build. He nodded to Blader as he stopped Bunk 4.

Noticing Blader's weapons, he glanced over at him. "Three, I take it?"

Blader nodded. "Blader Thrym."

"Wolfsted Kyll," the recruit said, offering Blader a grin. "Looks like we're bunkmates."

Blader furrowed his brow, waiting for Wolfsted to say something about him being Aetlun Thrym's grandson. But he didn't, just hung up his weapons and tucked his pack away before turning back to Blader.

"How long do you think we have until assignments?" Wolfsted asked.

Blader shrugged. "I have no idea. They didn't inform me of that."

Wolfsted snorted, tossing his forelock out of his eyes as he sank onto the bottom bunk. He frowned as he tested out the mattress. "Where you from, Thrym?"

"Njordesden. You?"

Wolfsted glanced up. "Wait, Njordesden? The place that never sends recruits?"

Blader gave a grin. "Well, first time in eight years."

"Nice." Wolfsted rose. "I'm from Aldri."

"That's by the border, right? Up north?"