Laying down his armor somehow also freed Aasim from his task as a member of the Emir’s guard. Being appointed to protect the hoard in the shrine of the ancient temple had been an honorary one. However it also had kept him from life in the capital and with this the opportunity to meet travelers and merchants, who could inform him about different countries and customs he had heard of and fantasized about as a boy in his early teens.
Since the blond warrior had generously let him live, it was clear to him he now owed his life, his honor and maybe even his spirit to this stranger, who looked at him in a demanding yet caring way. This was a look almost similar to the one his elder brother Jason had given him as a boy, when he would challenge him to steal figs from their neighbor’s orchard.
Seeing the white lord standing tall before him, with his erect manhood pointing proudly upright toward the skies, Aasim went on his hands and knees, offering his naked body to his new master. It was almost like yielding in prayer to the almighty, asking to forgive and accept him as his imperfect subject, dedicating all of his being in the name and glory of his lord.
Before he realized what he was doing, Ólafur took the youth by his hips and pulled his lower body towards him. Feeling his blood starting to pump through the temples of his head and his energy flowing from his spine through his loins, he felt the god Odin taking possession of him.