Author's Note: At this point, years after this fic was first published, you MUST know that I don't own the game or characters or anything, and that I don't profit from writing about them. I mean, surely you've been paying THAT much attention.

Tales of the Summoned: Odin

By The RPGenius

Chapter 18: Final Battle

Although Frigg's diplomatic brilliance and creative mind nearly always worked perfectly with Odin's strategic gifts and ability to personally guarantee victory in nearly any conflict he participated in, there were, of course, rare occasions in which they did not see eye to eye. The one issue of this war that they could never seem to come to an agreement on was the matter of spies.

Lokithor was a country that had a tendency for straightforward, offensive warfare and battle tactics-one could have easily come to such a conclusion even without reading a single page of its history books, simply by looking at the country's military before Odin had taken charge of it. Its significant emphasis on melee weapons such as swords and axes, lack of archers or other long-range soldiers, proud use of chariots, and its most infamous warrior being Niod Raiden, all pointed to a country that preferred open assault to subtlety. As such, there were precious few officers in Lokithor's employ that specialized in covertly gathering information when Frigg became queen, and even now there were only about twice that number. Training more people to be spies was difficult when one's country had no resources or knowledge of espionage to work with (and Odin certainly had no idea; subtlety was not his specialty), and what few spies there were that could teach their profession were out in the field.

Odin wanted to use spies to route out Esper bases, and to discover the Espers' general movements between their safe havens. He disliked sending regular soldiers to do so-those that met with success in finding Espers tended not to make it back to report on it, simply not having the talent or training to avoid detection well. Sending Mage Knights was equally problematic despite the fact that several had magical spells at their disposal that would aid them in espionage, such as Vanish spells, for Espers could sense Mage Knights just as they could sense Espers, so staying hidden was out of the question regardless of whether they could be detected by any of the five conventional senses. Thus far, Esper bases had been found either by following a retreating Esper from a failed attack on the human armies to his, her, or its hideaway, or by an advancing group of soldiers coming across a base by sheer accident. Although the humans were now winning the war, it was mostly through defensive victories that devastated the Esper attack forces; few actual offensive battles had been waged.

The problem was that Frigg also wanted to use spies for an entirely different purpose, and with the limited number of these specialists at her disposal, she could not afford to share any with Odin. Frigg employed her country's spies in her allies' lands. They reported to her the news of each nation that had joined with her against the Espers, told her of grand and minor moves in their politics, and reported on the general sentiments of the common peoples in each. Frigg was uncommonly gifted at understanding and convincing people to do as she requested, but relied on this information for an extra edge. She insisted that it was important to know her allies as intimately as possible, for their help was essential for the war and their continued allegiance necessary for when the conflict ended.

Odin, of course, argued that it was far more important to know when and where the Espers were attacking from than it was to know which foreign prince was celebrating his birthday on any given day. "It has been said to "Keep your friends close, and your enemies closer," my Queen," he had told her, quoting an old war wisdom that was infamous not only on this world, but a great many others that he had observed.

"It's also been said that "My enemies are the friends I could have known," Odin," Frigg had countered.

"By whom?" Odin demanded. He had never heard any such saying, and was skeptical that whichever obscure dreamer in Lokithor's history had come up with it could hold sufficient credit against the agreement of dozens of worlds' military geniuses on the wisdom that Odin had quoted.

"Myself," had been Frigg's pleased answer.

And so Odin was compelled to relent, and Frigg kept the kingdom's spies for her own ends.

The lack of dependable intelligence had, however, quite ironically been the foundation of Operation Ragnarok.

Since his short conversation with Sacred and Minotaur so long ago, Odin had known the Esper headquarters to be within a large forest known as Forestell. During his time of command over the human forces, Odin had kept this knowledge very close, telling it only to Frigg, and making sure that it did not show itself in his strategies and military expansions. While he was careful to have the human armies recapture territories that led to Sigrun, the country in which Forestell was located, he was equally careful to make that path a broad one, appearing to simply be a campaign that would happen to lead to and go over Sigrun. The Espers were ever there to attack his forces, and so there was ever reason to continue moving forward against them.

Thus, Odin could be relatively sure that the Espers should have no suspicion that he knew of their base of operations. He had captured the Brothers immediately after they had imparted the information, and they had perished during the creation of Mage Knights from their drained magic. While he had considered the possibility that they, or any other Summoned, could communicate to their peers posing as Espers from whatever plane the Land of the Summoned existed on, it seemed unlikely, given that no one had known of Odin's betrayal against Bahamut prior to Odin's later, widely-observed betrayal against the Summoned that made his allegiance clear.

Recently, the human forces had expanded into Sigrun. They had not gotten to Forestell yet, but the location was now within striking distance. As was typical upon securing a new area, Odin had several soldiers sent out to scout the country. As was typical, he expected many to never come back, and not to receive any significantly important reports from the ones that did-often, the scouts who vanished provided him far better intelligence than the ones who returned, as he could often follow the paths of lost scouts right to the Espers that killed them.

This was not a typical scouting mission. All his soldiers reported back alive and well. And two of them had interesting reports.

Actually, it would be more accurate to say that two of them had one interesting report. The first scout had, during his travels, approached a large hill sparsely covered with foliage from the west, and seen many Espers atop it, as well as traveling up and down its slopes. From his description, Odin determined that some of the Espers he had seen on Hrist Hill, as it was called, must have been Shiva, Titan, and Ramuh. The second scout, who returned only hours later, had covered an area of reconnaissance that included the south side of that same hill. He had also gotten close enough to it to observe its unusually large concentration of Espers, and had observed Espers whose descriptions matched Gilgamesh and Siren.

One poorly-trained spy getting close enough to a large group of Espers to be able to describe them and living to do so was highly unusual. Two was an impossibility. And each spy was allowed to see individuals that Odin knew quite well to be powerful and important. Odin was no master of subterfuge, but his spies' success reeked of a waiting trap.

It was not hard to see how the trap was meant to spring. Having found a group of Espers, Odin would be expected to move to attack them. The presence of Summoned there whom he knew was likely an attempt to further entice him into attacking-the Summoned almost surely did not know what motive Odin had for betraying them, so they likely assumed that he had done so out of some kind of personal spite against them. And if that had been the case, being presented the opportunity to strike against at least five of his fellow Summoned at once would no doubt be an irresistible temptation.

From the furthest point of recaptured human territory, the easiest path to Hrist Hill would pass by Forestell, which was comparatively nearby. Most human forces that would be sent to subdue the supposed Esper stronghold on the hill would have their backs to the supposedly harmless Forestell once they passed it by on their way. From there, the Espers could attack his army's back and wreak havoc.

So it was that Odin had a clear idea not only of where his foes' main place of gathering was, but also of their intentions. The major offensive he had planned to make against Forestell could greatly benefit from taking the latter into consideration. As he had moved his widespread dozens of small, interlocking squads forward to Forestell and, supposedly, Hrist Hill, Odin had called a hasty conference with his military aids, and planned out Operation Ragnarok.

It would be the final, decisive blow against the Espers. It would be the defeat that they could not recover from. Perhaps the Espers would seek peace in an attempt to save their dwindling race, which would by then have a population a quarter the number that they had started the war with. Or maybe their paranoid anger and violence would continue, forcing humanity to extinguish every last magical being. It could be that they would choose some third option that Odin had not thought of.

Whatever the details of its aftermath, Operation Ragnarok, if it was successful, would be the end. It would be swift. It would be devastating. And it would be starting in minutes.

Odin looked down at the valley far below him. Even to one so aesthetically inept as he, Forestell was quite a sight to behold. A lush, green forest paradise, Forestell was a valley surrounded on most sides by steep, grassy slopes, almost too vertically slanted to walk, yet not quite sheer enough to properly climb. Against one side of the valley rose a high, rocky cliff, the top of which held a small but deep lake that a local river emptied into. The ever-flowing water coming to the lake caused a steady excess of water to pour out through an opening at the top of the cliff's side, creating a gentle waterfall that fed the many streams running through the valley, then (Odin had been told) into underground caverns that wound about this country, and beyond.

Not a single Esper was visible, even though many of the more titanic Espers should not be able to properly camouflage themselves among even this valley's deep foliage. The elder Esper that Odin had heard of from Sacred and Minotaur who kept Forestell's occupants hidden from prying eyes must have unimaginably powerful illusory magics.

For a time, Odin was totally unable to develop a plan of attack. While he had been able to devise useful general strategies for battling Espers, mapping out a siege required a degree of tactical cunning far beyond him. Caught up with the most obvious detail of his target, a sea of trees hiding who knew how many Espers within it, Odin spent hours trying fruitlessly to find a feasible way for his forces to set the forest afire and, more importantly, keep the flames going, since a great many Espers had control of wind, earth, and water, which could all, in sufficient quantities, put out any fire within Odin's army's means of starting.

Thankfully, compensating for Odin's military weak areas was what his staff were there for. After bringing the information on Forestell's layout to his advisers, Odin found himself with a solid idea for a main attack within ten minutes, and a detailed, highly promising plan for the full operation within mere hours.

Odin looked around with satisfaction. In their supposed haste to get to Hrist Hill, the humans' army had split itself to travel along both sides of Forestell's cliffs, effectively surrounding the area completely. The troops who were furthest front on each side would soon be joining back together, and with the encirclement complete, the attack would begin.

Odin gripped the weapon he had chosen for this operation, a long bow, in his left hand and readied himself as the seconds passed. His free right hand lowered carefully to his side, to rest at the top of the quiver strapped to Sleipnir's side. Though Odin wore a quiver on his back as well, this one would allow him to notch his bow again after each shot slightly faster, and give him more bolts before he would have to fall back on Gungnir and Zantetsuken, which could be less effective in this battle than long-range weapons.

And there it was. A loud crack of rocks splitting and smashing against one another filled the air. Before Odin's eyes, the far side of the valley, where his furthest troops on each side had just met up again, exploded into chaos. This side of the valley's surrounding cliffs was home to a deep lake, contained by the rocky cliff face and almost as large as the valley below it. For time immemorial, the very top of the lake had spilled gently over its boundary, creating a small waterfall that fed the small steams that laced Forestell and provided sustenance for its lush greenery.

The beginning part of Operation Ragnarok, the hammer blow that Odin had sought to find, was simple. The Mage Knights under his command with Earth magics available to them would congregate at the far end of the valley, once it was surrounded on all other sides by soldiers, and then use every spell available to them to fatally crack the cliff face, releasing the deep lake almost entirely at once on Forestell and all the hidden Espers within it.

Even as the wall of the valley's side burst apart and a deluge made its descent, booms echoed from the other side of the valley. There, all the Mage Knights Odin commanded capable of Fire magic were pooling their abilities to hit the cliff walls of Forestell's narrow exit corridor with immense explosions. The blasts knocked great chunks of rock and slate free, all collapsing into a massive pile of heavy debris. While it was doubtful that the inevitable wave of water that would hit it would be completely stopped by this barrier, it would at least be slowed, and Forestell would stay flooded for valuable extra minutes.

A tidal wave of freshwater engulfed the enclosed valley. Whatever abilities the Esper elder concealing his, her, or its brethren from sight might have possessed, they required more focus than could be maintained while being swept away by a wall of water. The Espers of the valley were suddenly quite visible. Hundreds, perhaps over a thousand, creatures of every shape, size, and color conceivable were engulfed in water and chaos. Odin watched as the tidal wave slammed against the barrier of debris at the far end of the valley, still being added to by falling chunks of earth and stone, and was satisfied to see the makeshift dam hold as various Espers caught up in the tide were dashed against the rocks. Small flashes of light could be seen from his vantage point in rapid succession-the first Esper casualties.

This was, of course, not the end of the plan. Odin notched his bow. From the valley now were rising dozens and dozens of Espers into the air. These magical beings were those gifted with flight and quick reflexes; they had been able to get airborne fast and high enough to avoid the sweeping tide.

Odin took aim and fired, sending a bolt through the eyes of a fairy no bigger than his own head that had been rising upwards near the other side of the valley. His arm raced up to his back quiver, and in almost half a second he was targeting a winged ape whose hands and feet burned with magical flame. This shot sent its missile straight through the target's neck. Odin had shot a small dragon-like Esper through the eyes before the ape had finished crashing down into the water.

As the soldiers all around the valley began to send a hail of arrows into the waters below them, creating a torrent of piercing steel tips that made pincushions of nearly every flying Esper that had been racing upwards to engage the attacking army, there was a jarring rumble from the sky. Half a dozen tremendous bolts of lightning instantly raced in jagged paths from the sky to the flooded valley below. Odin and his advisers had known that there would be plenty of Espers with a strong affinity for water who would not be broken or drowned by the flash flood unleashed on them. Thus the final step of Operation Ragnarok to use Mage Knights en mass was to cast as many Bolt spells as possible into the waters. With so many strikes of immense electrical energy at once, the Espers in the water were being electrocuted.

Odin let loose one shot after another, each one mere seconds apart. His area of the valley had fewer archers to cover it, so he would have to pick up the slack himself. The reason for this was Frigg's insistence that the spear warriors of Fraudir be given a position in this battle worthy of note. Odin had eventually decided that the best way to keep them out of the way of the soldiers who could actually be of use, and relatively safe from attack by Espers who would almost surely be more than a match for Fraudir's outdated and inflexible combat tactics, was to make them his "Personal Honor Guard." This lofty-sounding position more or less amounted to them staying near Odin so he himself could defend them against whatever threats might arise.

One particularly fast floating Esper managed to avoid the raining arrows and rise high enough into the sky to launch a counter-attack. The magical being, which seemed to be an eagle coated in steel feathers, shimmered and split into three copies of itself, each coming to hover in a line an arm's length away from the next. Each shrieked as it cast a spell.

Meteoric fireballs began to descend from the skies around each copy of the Esper, each one calling down half a dozen of the burning spheres. Odin regarded them calmly as they streaked down toward him and gave Sleipnir a small, signaling kick. Sleipnir leaped forward into a gallop, twisting, turning, leaping with the precision and exact grace earned through centuries of experience and rigorous training. Not once was Odin in any danger of falling from the steed's back during his evasive ballet, nor was he so much as singed as the rain of fire crashed down around him. Sleipnir even managed to direct his dodging prances closer to the edge of the cliff face, away from Fraudir's soldiers, who had neither gifted steeds nor extensive combat experience to help them avoid being incinerated. They owed their lives to the distance Sleipnir made between them and Odin.

Odin waited for the right opportunity, notching his bow. The moment came at the zenith of one of Sleipnir's leaps; the wind was right, the angle perfect, and Odin's position adequate. He pulled his arm back and released. Three arrows shot forth at once, having been held in perfect order along Odin's bowstring since this Esper had begun its attack. Each bolt found its mark at the same instant as its brothers, the powerful steel-tipped wood effortlessly penetrating the flying Esper's steel-armored body thanks to the incredible power of the long bow Odin held. Though the creatures could almost certainly have withstood any conventional sword's stroke, they were instantly felled now, and three flashes of light coincided, leaving as many pieces of the same Magicite shard to fall to the waters below.

Odin was about to return to his Fraudir-born charges when an unearthly howl split the air, so loud and deep that it drowned out the rest of the battle's clamor. Odin looked down to the valley and saw the water in the center churn and part as a massive tree's trunk began to sprout forth from beneath its waves. The immense wood rose higher and higher, convulsing as it grew-and when he focused closely on the sight, Odin realized that these tremors in the wood were actually the movement of dozens, perhaps hundreds, of tree trunks twisting around one another to form the growing mass of wood, as so many threads together would form rope.

The storm of arrows lessened as the human army focused its collective attention on this new sight, but by now there were few Espers left alive and conscious enough to attempt escape from their electric prison of water, anyway. Then the center of the wooden mass seemed to convulse as its boughs twisted apart, the strands opening to finally reveal a short, humanoid being standing in the midst of the amalgamation of bark and fiber, made so small by distance and height that he might not have even been seen were it not for his vibrant violet coloring. The arrows' swarm now rushed to this being, converging on him from all sides as nearly every soldier armed with a bow, including Odin, fired at this new enemy.

Yet for all the deadly missiles filling the air, not one made it to its target. There was a sudden flash of light from the Esper in the center of the trees' mass, and every arrow in the sky shattered, exploding into splinters and creating a haze of wood dust encircling the target Esper.

Another flash of light could be seen through the sawdust cloud lazily descending to the water below, and suddenly Odin's bow seemed to come alive. It twisted itself over and down, seeking to wrap itself around his wrists to restrain him. The wood arced and curled with startling speed, its movements seeming as natural to the inanimate weapon as they would to a viper, but Odin was faster still, and hurled the object from himself. A quick glimpse and the startled cries of hundreds lining the canyon's rim confirmed that the rest of the human soldiers were having similar troubles.

The wooden mass began shifting once more, growing forward now, bringing itself closer to the valley's edge far to Odin's left. The Esper was clearly taking the offensive.

While Odin had confidence in his troops' skill and number, he would rather, if at all possible, engage this enemy himself than let others be sacrificed for its defeat. He took his Gungnir in his hands, holding it aloft. He knew it was possible that the spear would be destroyed as the arrows were, but it might take the Esper by surprise, and of Odin's two choice weapons, Gungnir, at least, was the one he had the knowledge of how to recreate.

Odin spurred Sleipnir into a run, both to build up momentum and to put some distance between him and the spear soldiers accompanying him, whose inexperience against Espers would be all the more mortally apparent if they were to engage one such as this.

Having reached a speed he judged sufficient, Odin cocked his arm back, holding Gungnir high, and hurled it forth as hard as he could. While he could have thrown it skyward with his Gunge Lance technique, the spear's ascension, arc, and drop took a few seconds to complete. Odin was confident that Gunge Lance could, performed with Gungnir, drive down through the entire massive, twisted trunk that the Esper stood upon and split it asunder-had he been at his prime physical condition, Odin had no doubt that he could have driven Gungnir straight through the heart of a tree that could encompass the entire Forestell valley. This Esper, however, had protected itself from countless arrows coming at it from all sides through what could only have been magical means. Odin would rather give it as little time as possible to react to this attack, so he opted for a simple, forward throw.

The great spear hurtled through the air, Odin's skill and power coming together to give it such velocity that an observer might describe its entire flight as no more than a momentary blur. Yet for all its speed and power, it met the same fate as the arrows before it. A dozen arms' length and mere fractions of a second before it could skewer the Esper, there was another flash of light, and the spear's shaft exploded into sawdust. The wood powder completed its journey and harmlessly threw itself against the Esper, but unfortunately, Gungnir's lethal tip's flight was thrown askew by its body's explosion, and went spinning up in a high arc, until finally it fell harmlessly into the flooded valley's waters.

The attack was foiled and Odin's greatest weapon gone until he could next remake it, but it was not a total loss. Odin had, at least, drawn the Esper's attention from his soldiers to himself. The Esper turned to see where this last attack had come from, and saw the mounted warrior. The being seemed to hesitate, perhaps debating whether to bother pursuing one human when there were so many others nearer.

Odin helped the Esper make its decision by unhooking one of the standard-issue throwing knives from his belt and hurling it over the valley's expanse toward his enemy, aiming for the Esper's right eye. From handle to blade's edge, Lokithor's throwing knives were constructed of metal, and so the Esper seemed unable to stop the weapon as it had stopped the others. Instead, the creature was forced to extend a thick bough down before it to block the knife's path.

That seemed to be a compelling enough argument for the Esper, and it shifted its focus entirely to Odin. The great trunk beneath the being's feet lurched and twisted as it grew again, angling and arcing its development to approach the cliff side where Odin awaited.

Odin delayed his attack until the wooden platform the Esper stood upon had moved fully onto land. He held some disappointment that the creature made its touchdown a great many paces away. He had been hoping the Esper might be goaded into closer combat, where Odin would have a greater advantage. Nonetheless, he spurred Sleipnir forward and readied his sword.

Sleipnir had barely begun to gallop when the attack came. The great trunks of wood around the Esper twisted as though they were mad snakes, and shot forward at the approaching warrior. Sleipnir's skill dodged the first, and it went past Odin's right, growing with such force and speed that the ground shook as it smashed down into the soil. The other trunk came straight at them, angling downwards to try to knock Sleipnir right out from under his rider. The horse was too nimble again, however, and a quick diagonal leap had the manipulated tree plowing through nothing but air.

With those two attacks thwarted, the Esper looked defenseless. The act of moving out of the valley's center had required him to use most of the trees he had possessed to carry his platform, and his remaining writhing wood was now struggling to extricate itself from the earth it had smashed into. Odin tightened his grip on the Scimitar and urged Sleipnir forward again, before something smashed into his side and knocked him from his steed.

Odin hit the ground and rolled, using his momentum to push himself to his feet. Thanks to his quick reflexes, he was ready just in time to side-step several pointed, wooden tendrils seeking his heart. Odin quickly brought his sword down to chop them in two, and looked to their source. The grand trunk that Sleipnir had avoided had spawned these malevolent branches, and dozens more were bursting from its bark to continue their assault.

Odin had no interest in testing his armor's ability to withstand scores of murderous branches. He began to run forth to reach the Esper controlling it all. Wooden javelins flew through the air in curving, broken arcs, but stabbed only dirt behind the man-no doubt this Esper initially underestimated the speed that Odin had trained himself to be capable of.

This fortune was brief, however. Finding Odin's weaving gait too difficult a target for a precise strike, the Esper changed tactics. A large, thick branch shot from the trunk further down Odin's path. Its length twisted and rushed at him, moving too erratically for Odin to leap over or slide under. He braced himself for a harsh impact.

A blur passed Odin's left-Sleipnir was still with him. The war horse charged head-first into the oncoming attack, smashing it aside long enough that Odin passed it by easily.

Odin continued his dash, Sleipnir now mildly galloping an arm's length away (had he run harder, he would have passed Odin by a dozen men's length in a moment). Before Odin could try to remount his companion, another thick branch burst forth from the trunk, this one twisting toward Sleipnir like an angry squid's seeking arm. Well before it could ensnare the horse, though, Odin leaped over and severed it with an Atom Edge. He did not realize that another growth had sprung forth to impale his side until a moment later, as he saw Sleipnir give a powerful kick backwards to smash its tip asunder.

And thus did they close in on the Esper, still working in unison as they wove, dodged, and protected one another. Odin would slash whatever wooden offenders came within reach of he or his mount, and Sleipnir would smash aside, kick away, or even grasp in his teeth and tear apart any that Odin missed, all the while gradually drawing in on their prey. The Esper seemed to become desperate as they came closer, and the attacks increased, but with less coordination and precision, becoming a flurry of branching missiles of which half would have had no chance of hitting either target anyway.

Finally, as Odin and Sleipnir approached the base of the Esper's wooden stage, the magical being clapped his hands together, and a score of branching tendrils burst forward from his stage and raced in jagged paths, quick and crooked as lightning, to encircle Odin, creating a tall, web-like fence of bark to imprison him, while Sleipnir was trapped on the outside. Before Odin could attempt to climb the walls and hoist himself over this obstacle, the Esper unclasped his hands and raised them in the air. Chunks of the platform he stood upon began to rip themselves free and fly high into the sky, molding themselves during their flight into sharpened spearheads. They reached their zenith, and plummeted down upon the enclosure containing Odin.

Odin ran and dodged the dangerous rain, any thoughts of climbing out lost on the realization that the Esper was still able to guide his attack, following Odin's movements and trying to drive one of the stakes through him-Odin had no moment for climbing. Nonetheless, a new avenue of escape came to his mind, and as he evaded the Esper's offense, he ran his Scimitar along the wooden walls, concentrating as best he could upon keeping his Atom Edge in effect the whole time. Hunted as he was by the falling spikes, it took him several moments to manage enough connecting cuts to make an adequate escape route, and there was one moment in which he took too long to move away from his work, allowing one stake to plunge itself into his upper back. Thankfully, even this magically enhanced wood could not easily penetrate his heavy armor easily, and the puncture was not severe, nor the pain. Odin continued his evasions and cuts, paying little mind to the blood spilling slightly down his armor's back. Once he was finished, he called to Sleipnir his instructions, and his partner kicked that section of the enclosure away.

Odin dashed for the new hole even as the wood around it twitched, growing to repair it. He dropped his hand to grasp one of his throwing knives as he dove through the opening, turning as he did so he could make the killing throw when he rose to his feet outside...

This action turned out to be have been unnecessary. Even as Odin hit the ground, he saw an object fall from the sky above the Esper-a man, clad in armor and holding his spear with its tip pointed down. The Esper never saw the attack coming, and the man landed atop the creature, the pole arm plunging effortlessly through the creature's back and chest, even as the Esper was slammed to the ground by the man's body, the impact worsening the already undoubtedly fatal wound as the Esper's body was jammed down the spear's length violently.

Another soldier fell from the sky to strike the same place with his own spear, and then another, but they hit nothing but the wood they landed upon-the Esper had reverted to Magicite after the first hit. And as the warriors stood at full height over the last Esper to die in this battle, Odin realized that they were some of the spear warriors from Fraudir that Frigg had forced him to include in the operation. All the while that he and Sleipnir had drawn the Esper's attention, they must have been circling around to make their own attack...and now, to any and all observers, the Fraudir warriors had felled a foe that Odin seemed unable to. The ones that Odin had insisted to Frigg would be unnecessary, even useless, in the battle.

Even as cheers of victory arose all along the valley's rim, Odin frowned. Frigg would never let him live this down.