Chapter 400: Suppliers and Investors

T'Challa couldn't provide an answer. Despite being the Prince of Wakanda, he had never personally interacted with Bastet, the Black Panther Goddess. Only the King of Wakanda, after consuming the Heart-Shaped Herb, was granted the privilege of meeting Bastet for the first time. T'Challa, not yet crowned, lacked that honor. So, when Solomon asked about Bastet's motives, T'Challa was left feeling somewhat embarrassed.

For all Wakanda's technological advancements, T'Challa couldn't help but feel a pang of pride about his homeland. However, outside of Wakanda, he had to maintain the pretense of being a prince from a poor African nation. Meeting someone like Solomon—who saw through the facade and recognized Wakanda's true nature—was a relief. But the fact that he couldn't answer any of Solomon's questions made T'Challa feel like he had lost face in front of his new acquaintance.

Eager to save face, T'Challa impulsively invited Solomon to fly to Wakanda with him after the day's ceremonies. He promised to return Solomon the next day. However, Solomon declined the invitation, citing other obligations.

Still, he assured T'Challa that he would visit Wakanda when the time came—provided the address T'Challa provided was accurate.

T'Challa gave Solomon a puzzled look. "Are you serious?" he asked. "You know Wakanda's true nature, don't you?"

"I have a rough idea."

Since Solomon understood Wakanda's secret—that the nation was hidden from the world by advanced technology—T'Challa was surprised that Solomon thought simply having an address would grant him access. But he didn't press further. The two agreed that Solomon would visit Wakanda after completing the "Week Zero" events at Oxford.

By then, all mysteries would be unveiled, and Wakanda would present Solomon with another gift.

"The dwarves and gnomes will be our first weapons suppliers. Wakanda might become the second. Are you listening, Maya?" Solomon asked, struggling to undo the annoyingly intricate white bow tie around his neck while standing before a full-length mirror. The outfit—part of Oxford's traditional Sub-Fusc attire—was rooted in 16th-century English aristocratic fashion. While it served to distinguish Oxford students from local residents in the past, its ornate and cumbersome design clashed with Solomon's aesthetic preferences.

After the day's events, Solomon had returned to the Eternal City. When he arrived at his office, he found Maya Hansen fast asleep at his desk. Her head rested atop a thick alchemy textbook, and a small puddle of drool threatened to stain the page. Solomon reluctantly woke the geneticist to save the book from further damage.

"I'm listening," Maya mumbled through a yawn as she groggily lifted the hefty book. She swayed slightly as she stood, a humorous red imprint from her sleeve's cufflinks clearly visible on her cheek. She rubbed at her face in an attempt to wake herself up.

"I'm swamped, Solomon. I don't have the bandwidth to think about weapons suppliers right now. Besides, that AI you're so proud of has already handled the production line acquisition from Hammer Industries. But the production line will need modifications, and you'll have to find someone else to handle that."

"I will." Solomon nodded. He intended to task Tony Stark with modifying the production line. Once that was done, finding a reliable supplier for raw materials would be his next step.

The weapons themselves wouldn't require anything extraordinary—standard materials would suffice for the firearms used by the genetically modified soldiers. The real challenge lay in sourcing materials for the armor.

Under Odin's orders, the dwarves and gnomes would forge 100 suits of Uru-metal armor. If his planned visit to Wakanda went smoothly, Solomon hoped to secure a supply of vibranium-infused alloys for additional suits. He trusted that Wakanda's advanced technology could produce armor designs meeting his exact specifications. In exchange for their support, Solomon intended to offer Wakanda access to the facilities of the Eternal City, forming a mutually beneficial alliance.

Wakanda would become a key investor in his grand plan. Solomon even envisioned signing agreements with Wakanda to co-develop other planets in the solar system, establishing bases capable of mass-producing advanced weaponry. He already had a strategy to persuade the Wakandan royal family, as long as Bastet didn't impose additional demands.

As for Stark, Solomon knew better than to involve him. Stark was a businessman, and the sheer scale of this operation would inevitably attract attention and scrutiny.

Maya, evidently unaware of Solomon's earlier conversation with T'Challa, pointed disdainfully at the brass frogs sitting on his desk. "What's with those?" she asked. "Are you into children's toys now? Why are they covered in gemstones?"

"These are no children's toys, Maya. They're immensely powerful artifacts," Solomon replied, not turning away from the mirror as he wrestled with his tie. The Sorcerer Supreme had already explained the brass frogs' capabilities to him: they were artifacts capable of interacting with time and space.

If used correctly, the frogs could enable precise time travel, even creating alternate timelines under certain circumstances. Compared to time-related magic, these artifacts were incredibly potent. Even more remarkable was their lack of cost—no loss of sanity, no internal organ failures, no grotesque mutations or festering sores.

These artifacts were among the treasures hidden in King Solomon's vault. Due to the scarcity of records and the passage of time, not even the Sorcerer Supreme knew their exact usage.

For now, Solomon planned to store the brass frogs in his private vault until he could unlock their secrets. Joining them would be the small black kitten gifted by Bastet. After finishing an entire bowl of goat's milk, the kitten was now curled up in a cozy nest beside Solomon's desk, snoring softly. In the dim light, it was nearly impossible to spot the tiny creature unless one listened carefully for its purring.

After the evening's social engagements, Solomon planned to take the kitten home to keep the Cheshire Cat company.

As for the AI's antics, Solomon wasn't concerned. He had already provided the AI with a server matrix, and in return, it was expected to serve him. He was particularly impressed by how the AI had anonymously acquired Hammer Industries' weapons production line.

First, it fabricated the identity of an Italian mercenary, complete with verifiable birth records and background information. Then, it stationed this fabricated individual in a remote Italian village. When CIA agents and transport contractors arrived for due diligence, they found the identity watertight, with even a hired elderly villager vouching for the fake mercenary.

Unless the CIA conducted an on-the-ground investigation in the Middle East, the fabricated identity was unassailable.

The next challenge for the AI would be transporting the production line to the Eternal City without exposing its location—a task Solomon was confident it could handle. And even if the CIA eventually discovered his involvement, Solomon was prepared to bury every operative who learned the truth, ensuring their secrets remained six feet under.

For now, the mutually beneficial arrangement with the AI continued without issue.

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