"All of the sons of Dagr are to meet here in two hours time, as per the request of your father! Any who do not show up will be reprimanded and punished accordingly!"

The huskarl group in the courtyard may be small, but the one barking the orders bears a helmet woven with gold chainmail: one of my father's few personal guards. The intent in the books had been to introduce them, but I never made their names known... and Heimdallr only fought with his father and these elites a handful of times, so he never would learn of them.

But in this new life, I had to change that. I had returned with Geir and Soini to much looks, particularly thanks to the now-bundled and strapped form of Gungnir on my back. Its description in the book was scarily accurate: it was almost weightless yet balanced so well I could carry it without a problem. Given my body is a lot younger now, I can't imagine how incredible this weapon could be in the hands of someone who knew how to use it. It was all the more reason that I was going to make my impression known and start my training now, no matter how uncomfortable it got.

I pass a pair of young girls that can only be Heimdallr's youngest sisters, Svipul and Eir. Both of them had been born to Ran no differently than him, so their likeness to me was quite profound: all of the children of Rán, male or female, bore the blue-tinted black hair of the Star Mage bloodline. My hair is swept back and reaches my shoulders, similar to the style of Dagr, but theirs is bound into small ponytails of differing lengths. We had similar facial structures to some degree thanks to our youth, but as I - Heimdallr - age I will gradually take on more of the masculine jawline and features of a man.

But the most glaring difference between all of us sons is that we have half-brown and half-deep blue eyes. The two colors take up a slowly moving axis around our pupils with their meetings blending together. Few could see this movement unless they took careful notes, but this is all a sign of our inheritance: Dagr's magic. As we age, we may lose one of the colors as his magic diverges paths: the earthen path would paint them brown, while the sea route would dye them blue.

A shadow passes me and my sisters faster than I can make it to the courtyard with an all-too-familiar punctuality, the rattle of a sheathed sword going with it. The figure is easily a couple feet taller than me and with long blonde hair that reaches his upper back. Unlike everyone else gathered here, his frame is far from stocky: it's lithe, like the figure of a fencer. His head turns just enough to glance at me with an incredibly cutting shade of bright purple.

"A spear," his young voice questions, letting a smile grace the corner of his mouth. "How fitting, little brother Heimdallr."

The end goal of balancing our magic gave those eyes: the indigo gaze that unsettled foes when it fixed on them, unlike any other color of eyes humans in this world could have. That gaze made Dagr so terrifying to most warriors that he won the battle before even relying on his own strength.

I don't look away, though, and instead meet that gaze with my tumultuous sea.

"Don't mock me, Baldr."

Baldr stops and fully turns, whilst Svipul and Eir move to my flanks. My younger sisters quickly move to cling to either arm and step between us, their instinct to protect their big brother quite strong. Heimdallr was one of the only ones who stood up for the younger siblings in the books... and they all sought to try and protect him when possible.

Now they only make me look like I'm hiding behind them, making Baldr simply sigh and condescendingly set a hand on his empty-sided hip.

"Really, Heimdallr? Still fraternizing with your youngers? A man should see to it that he relies on no one but his own sword arm."

Eir squeezes me, whilst Svipul pouts. "Leave brother alone, Baldr! Just because you're older doesn't mean you can bully us! We'll tell on you!"

Comparing the immaturity of my sisters to the sixteen year-old Baldr would tell anyone how it would go: he simply ignores her, instead keeping his eyes on me.

"Well? Will you tell on me, Heimdallr, or are you going to do something about it? We have a meeting in two hours, so I expect Father will certainly enjoy hearing you tell on me."

His words are viciously mocking toward my sisters, Svipul blushing in embarassment and looking away.

It was things like this that drove Dagr's Fall to the brink in the future, particularly when the succession fights began. Many of the brothers broke off into camps, with the sisters trying to stand by the brother who protected them best.

In the books, Baldr's temporary rise to power resulted in the death of both sisters. It's their deaths that drive Heimdallr to fight at his father's side and ultimately push him to join the war as a contender. It's years down the road but it's events like this that would have logically split them into opposing sides. The huskarls nearby don't have any reason to stop us until it comes to violence that may endanger the other, as seen with my other half-brother.

I carefully pull myself free of my sisters and grab the strap holding Gungnir to my back.

"I'll do something about it," I grumble out, taking the shaft in both hands and lowering the tip towards Baldr. "But I doubt you'll be happy when we cross blades. Care to chance it?"

Baldr laughs and reaches towards his hilt without any hesitation. "My fierce little half-brother thinks I'll shy away? Not a chance in Dagr's Fall!"

He draws it in a single motion, the red runes heating the steel blade at the same time.

Mistilteinn.

Comparing the two weapons, Gungnir was definitely the better. Mistilteinn was a fantastic blade but one of the first ones made for Dagr's children, limited with only the ability to cut sharper and through normal weapons. Its lack of features hadn't crippled Baldr's immense skill and talent for the sword, but it was just that: simple.

The bundling of my spear comes loose with a small twist of the binding, both of my sisters gasping at the sight of its silver-plated tip. Baldr ignores its fantastic design and simply waves his blade to dismiss the duo from either side of me.

It's my first time fighting in this world and not that long after I got beat up. Unlike magic and influencing events, which are all within my power, the ability to fight is something I never really learned in my previous life. Unlike my old self, Heimdallr has a talent for fighting... but that talent is both physical and over-time learning from great teachers.

Right now, even with the power of Gungnir, the chance of me winning is almost zero. At least, if I choose not to use its power. But using Gungnir as anything but a simple spear would mean possibly mortally wounding Baldr, ultimately changing history at too great of an interval.

I can't win this fight if I want to keep events on track... but I have to use it to find out where I stand to become stronger. With or without magic, I-

"Go," Baldr interrupts my thoughts and steps forward, carrying himself almost directly past my range in a single breath. The suddenness makes me flinch before twisting the spear to try and strike him with its shaft, a spray of brilliant sparks cascading over me as his sword meets and halts the paltry counterattack.

Next comes his empty hand in a curled fist, hitting me square along the jawline. My vision flickers and I lose feeling in my hands, clenching Gungnir on instinct alone before the taller teen kicks me directly in the chest.

I sail across the courtyard and crash into the wall of the hold, losing consciousness instantly.

"Suffice to say, you are weak."

The meeting had already occurred while I was out cold. Now, I sat in Gullveig's study with my sisters Eir and Svipul at my sides. Eir rubs a wet cloth across my forehead while Svipul taps more ointment onto one of my bruises.

"I know," I whisper through the pain, growing embarassed at just how weak it sounds. "But seeing how wide that gap is and standing up for my sisters... shouldn't I at least do that as a son of Dagr?"

Eir frowns and gently pats the cloth to pat me. "Big brother Heimdallr doesn't need to stand up for us! Baldr is just a meanie!"

Gullveig sits in a chair beside the bench I'm resting on, the Magician merely sighing.

"You should listen to your sisters, Heimdallr. In the future, caution will be necessary to staying alive. A boy your age should be focusing on learning, so that when you begin training you will have the intellect to try your hardest."

She gently waves Eir aside, coming into view with her signature frown in-place and aiming directly at me.

"Dagr forgave Baldr and didn't punish you given it is the first time you've shown yourself willing to spar with your older brothers in a meaningful way. Take this as a chance to learn your limits. In the future, knowing them will be vital to prevent another incident like your last visit."

It's disguised to hide the true events from my sisters, but it's obvious she's referring to me almost killing myself using magic. It's easy to remember her age when she talks like an old lady instead of just looking like a young woman.

"Yes, Magician, I understand."

She nods and then turns her attention back to a scroll in her lap. "Good. Taking advice from those stronger than you will bring you better growth than a fight would."

Svipul looks over at the Magician with a quizzical look.

"Didn't Father grow strong facing the Enslaved Empire?"

"That's different," Gullveig and I answer at the same time.

The Magician looks at me without the smallest hint of change in her gaze, but it's obvious she's surprised. But this isn't something a small boy like Heimdallr can't figure out.

"Father fought them because it didn't matter if he was weak: what they did was wrong. He couldn't afford to wait or risk not facing them, even when he was weak."

My own liberties as a creator hadn't painted the most full picture on Dagr, but I remember my character draft notes considering another book that featured a younger Dagr facing off against the Empire when he was still a slave. It was enough to guess where my new life's story had taken it: more than likely, Dagr had dealt with countless settlements of enslaved people being forced to work, die, have sex, or partake in cruel experiments against their wills. Heimdallr would go to one such place in the books but only after Dagr had liberated everyone.

It's not something to joke about or consider when you have strength like Dagr did.

Gullveig takes my answer for a moment before she turns her attention to my sister. "That is... not wrong, but it is still a good case as to it being different. None of you should try to emulate your father, either: you should surpass him and be better than him. That is what any father would seek from his children, is it not?"

I don't know. I never really had time for a family in my previous life between my focus and love for writing. But hearing Gullveig say it that way makes me hope that maybe she's right. I close my eyes and sigh.

"When I get stronger, I hope Father at least doesn't try to fight me."

My sisters gasp at the very idea, but Gullveig laughs. The all-too-rare occurrence only happened a total of five times in my book, but now the softness of the old magician's enjoyment garners all three of our looks at once. And she takes no more than an instant to bury it behind the toughened and small smile she normally wore when pleased. It accents just how youthful she was despite her true age.

"Should that day come, I hardly doubt it will be a true battle. When or if that day comes isn't something to think of when you can't even best Baldr."

Gullveig finally dismisses my sisters with pats on the head and gentle pushes, waiting until they are gone to let her smile fade.

"But I am surprised: you could have used your magic to surprise him, like most children would, but you chose to rely solely on that spear. Not to mention the runes it bears mean it could have beat him if you wanted to truly win. Controlling yourself to such a degree... I was too quick to dismiss your talent, Heimdallr. It's as if you've grown years beyond your age in the last few days. Perhaps getting hit by your brothers is suddenly an effective training method."

I haven't been here that long, but her logic must stem from how little Heimdallr actually ran into her in his youth. He had a chance to become a magic user, sure, but he blew it early on and stopped seeing her until he became part of his father's retinue. Yet now, I've already met Gullveig as many times as Heimdallr did in the first ten chapters.

I avert my gaze and let her compliment and light joking jab settle down.

"My mother and family deserve me being strong. That's all it is."

"You do this all for them? Really?"

The doubt in her voice doesn't make me look back, yet it doesn't end there. Gullveig sets a hand on my forehead and pulls my view back toward her. In a few years, I would be easily taller than her... but right now. I was small and weak and untrained.

"Then hear my words now: when we begin your training, you are not to fight unless you have no other choice. You will carry a magic arrow specifically to alert me if you are ever in any danger you can't handle. And when the time comes, you will be plenty strong. Any lord needs-"

The rules of lordship are what I wrote.

"A strong will and those loyal enough to help you achieve it if you cannot alone."

She nods. "Yes. Dagr seldom has wisdom, but the rules he spoke of to you all are not without purpose. I suspect you've started following the road with your recent actions... but you have to also remember the tales of Dagr when he was enslaved. He wasn't always strong, so he had to hide; when he grew stronger, he finally rose up against his foes at the most opportune moment. Much like him, you will have to do the same with your brothers if you want peace within the family."

In short, it's obvious that I'll need to recruit as many of my siblings as possible. None of my sisters in the original material would ever have led a try for the inheritance, but that could change as the power vacuum moves with my meddling changing the flow of events.

"... When I begin my training, I will listen. Like Dagr, I can't afford to lose."

Hearing those words from Heimdallr... from my own lips is surreal. This isn't my old life but my current one. My knowledge is just the guide but not the thing that will see me able to better life in this harsher world. If I wanted to make a better story this time around, I'd have to try a lot harder.

"Good," the weight of her hand on my head grows heavier. "Then for now, rest. And, like your father before you, begin to think instead of simply acting. Instinct will only take you so far..."

Exactly my thoughts. It's why tomorrow I plan to start what I should've done today: learning to use the weapon best suited to Heimdallr before it's too late.