Chapter 318: Political Implications

What do elves and insects have in common?

Phototaxis.

Solomon pondered this little gem and gave it a mental thumbs-up for its clarity in summarizing the Light Elves of Alfheim's behavior. Next to this joke, he noticed a neat line of childlike handwriting referencing the myths of the Dark Elves, along with a detailed note about the exact location of related texts. However, that book wasn't in this library.

The person who wrote this must have been quite meticulous, Solomon thought, judging by the uniform size and precision of the letters. Even the curves and strokes were eerily identical. Perhaps it had been penned by a noble who, as a child, had an obsessive need for order—maybe even someone like the current palace steward, who exuded the air of a man deeply afflicted with perfectionism.

He flipped through the pages, and thanks to his expansive knowledge, had no trouble reading the book written in runic script. The only obstacle was the occasional speck of dust wafting into the air. It had been 1,500 years since anyone had opened this book. Though the library's preservation magic was still in effect, some dust always managed to settle. Each turn of the page released that familiar musty smell—like moldy parchment mixed with ancient ink, long forgotten in a corner to crumble into residue.

Solomon was well aware that Heimdall had deliberately handed him an unremarkable book to keep him occupied. As mentioned before, Asgardians adored gold, and their most valuable books were written with golden ink, much like the ink Solomon often used—infused with gemstones, herbs, and blood, reserved for transcribing significant content. More extravagantly, some Asgardian books contained intricate illustrations imbued with decorative enchantments. Such books were exceedingly rare and expensive; Solomon had only ever seen them a few times at Fandazar Foe's bazaar. Back then, he hadn't yet launched his alchemy business, and his savings were far from sufficient to purchase such treasures.

This particular book, however, was utterly unworthy of such treatment. The ink was common, no different from the bottle sitting on the table before him. The binding wasn't leather, wood, or metal—just ordinary stiff paper.

But Solomon wasn't in a hurry. He knew Queen Frigga would personally conduct his magical education, likely after the formal invitation following the banquet.

Though he had declared he wouldn't attend, he still needed to make an appearance to ensure mutual recognition with the Asgardian nobles. This would help avoid any awkward or offensive situations, such as being mistaken for a low-ranking noble due to unfamiliarity with emblems or titles.

Asgard was a feudal society, where polite social interactions often involved subtle probing of a stranger's status. Even the Asgardian nobles, who loved banquets and revelry, had mastered these intricacies over time. As a guest, Solomon was expected to adapt to local customs and employ the courtly manners he had been taught by the Ancient One.

The Ancient One's lessons on uniting regional lords and thwarting conspiracies over inheritance disputes were firmly etched in Solomon's mind. Although, amusingly, the Ancient One had never had to use such knowledge herself. With Excalibur and Merlin's magic at her disposal, no schemes had ever posed a challenge to her rule.

"Of course, of course, rune magic is omnipotent, just like the All-Father on his throne. We are mere subjects, privileged to glimpse but the tip of the iceberg of its grandeur," Kaecilius declared with a flourish, casually pouring mead down his throat.

Kaecilius was a social veteran. Thanks to the universal elixir Solomon had prepared for him, he showed no signs of intoxication as he drained horn after horn of mead. In Asgardian social circles, the ability to hold one's liquor was the key to earning respect, and only those who could down two horns were deemed worthy of initiating a conversation. For the past hour, Kaecilius had been immune to alcohol's effects, and no one could outdrink him while the potion lasted.

Currently, he was bantering with a group of Asgardian nobles, engaging in light, inconsequential chatter.

These nobles held the privilege of residing in the palace, akin to the French court aristocrats allowed to stay in Versailles. Their families provided maidservants for Queen Frigga, and through palace gossip, they were well aware of Kamar-Taj's prestige. Even without direct connections, many of their families included spellcasters who respected the Ancient One's extraordinary status.

Thus, they refrained from making things difficult for Kaecilius at the banquet.

Meanwhile, Solomon, who should have been the center of attention, withdrew to a corner after a brief introduction by Kaecilius. His demeanor was a mix of drunken curiosity and sharp scrutiny. Kaecilius's goal tonight was simply to acquaint Solomon with the crowd; the young sorcerer's true debut would occur at tomorrow's formal banquet hosted by Queen Frigga.

Formal occasions like that were reserved for significant announcements, such as Frigga's decision to personally mentor Solomon in magic.

When nobles entrusted their heirs to another noble for education, it was a deeply symbolic gesture worthy of a grand occasion. Typically, this act represented either submission—like how the Greyjoys sent a son to the Starks as a hostage—or alliance, signifying trust and cooperation in various realms, including military, economic, cultural, and even spiritual domains.

In Solomon's case, the situation leaned more toward an alliance.

This explained why Odin had chosen Earth as Thor's place of exile in the first place—to entrust his son's growth to the Ancient One. While Solomon's intervention during that period hadn't been part of Odin's plan, the All-Father nonetheless acknowledged the Ancient One's efforts in educating Thor. Now, Solomon's arrival in Asgard to receive similar tutelage felt like a fair exchange.

This was also why the Ancient One had so hastily sent Solomon to Asgard. Even she hadn't anticipated that the Asgardians, with their fervent warrior spirit, were so earnest about this arrangement. Thor's education had covered a wide array of subjects—reading, arithmetic, politics, riding, swordsmanship, archery, and court etiquette—all of which Solomon would now have to master anew.

"Damn it, I'm always the last to know," Solomon grumbled, sipping his sweet wine in frustration. He had specifically requested this drink from a servant; it was the least alcoholic beverage at the entire banquet. Still, Asgardian wine goblets were absurdly large. Though this one wasn't as massive as a horn cup, Solomon still had to cradle the gem-studded, intricately engraved silver chalice with both hands, taking cautious sips of the chilled, sweet liquid.

At least Asgardian winemaking truly was the best in the universe.

[Check out my Patreon for +200 additional chapters in all my fanfics! Only $5 per novel or $15 for all!!] [www.p@treon.com/Mutter]

[+50 Power Stones = +1 Extra Chapter]

[+5 Reviews = +1 Extra Chapter]