The visit to Asgard was incredibly rushed. Originally, Solomon had planned to enjoy some downtime with Bayonetta after taking care of his academic responsibilities, but the Ancient One had unceremoniously shipped him off to Asgard. This sudden change made him suspect something unusual was happening in the palace.
It was certainly not about attending banquets. Solomon stuck out his tongue slightly in distaste as he pondered why Asgardians didn't grow tired of their heavily salted and oiled foods.
He briskly walked toward Asgard's grand library, refusing to don the Asgardian court attire prepared for him. Unlike his plain Saint's Cloth robe, Asgardian noble attire featured an excessive amount of golden embroidery. While Solomon wasn't fond of wearing it, he still appreciated Asgardian artistic style: the sleek lines of their gilded engravings, paired with cold-toned inlays and intricate dark gold reliefs, gave the entire palace a refined and majestic appearance, far from the garishness of a nouveau riche's residence.
The Asgardians' obsession with gold was evident in every corner of the palace. The hallway's engravings were golden; the tile patterns glimmered gold; even the decorative plants were golden. And then there were Heimdall's eyes… Wait, wasn't Heimdall supposed to be guarding the Bifrost?
"I'll be your guide," Heimdall said, standing stoically in the hallway.
As usual, he was unsmiling, though his demeanor was less cold than it usually was toward Kamar-Taj envoys. He recognized Solomon's unique status, but his presence still wasn't exactly warm. Solomon blinked as he quickly deduced Heimdall's purpose: Odin was too familiar with Kamar-Taj's modus operandi to take any chances.
The Ancient One's agreement with Odin was one thing; Solomon's independent actions were another.
While the palace officially welcomed Solomon, he was not permitted to wander freely, much less step into classified areas. Odin had arranged for Kaecilius to be occupied at the banquet and provided Solomon with a library pass to keep him occupied. These distractions were a subtle means of ensuring the sorcerers didn't snoop around.
However, the Ancient One's magic concealed in Solomon's Saint's Cloth was not so easily seen through. Fully aware of this, Odin had sent Heimdall as a personal escort—or, more accurately, a warden. Upon learning that Solomon had chosen not to attend the banquet, Heimdall promptly reported this deviation to the All-Father.
"Give him something that will keep him content," Odin instructed. "Watch him as closely as you watch your own hand."
And so, Heimdall had appeared. His task was to ensure this little "mouse" didn't sneak around with his grubby pink paws, especially near Asgard's secrets. But Heimdall also had his own opinions on the matter.
"Young humans are always foolish—especially those driven by excess hormones and adrenaline," he thought, his golden eyes glinting as he watched Solomon. "They recklessly seek out secrets and charge headlong into impossible battles without a plan or foresight. I'm not concerned about whether he uncovers anything of value. My job is to make sure this human doesn't decide to wrestle goats in the forest when I blink—and judging by his physique, he'd probably lose. Perhaps it'd be easier to lock him in the dungeons. Sorcerers always seem to enjoy philosophizing over mundane objects for hours on end. Maybe Loki could entertain him. Or, better yet, I could drag him to the training grounds; the Ancient One and the All-Father would surely approve of that."
If Solomon could read Heimdall's thoughts, he would have burst out laughing. Goats? Was there anyone in the world who couldn't handle a goat?
When Solomon had first stepped onto Asgardian soil, he had seen many merchants and commoners using goats to pull carts—a stark contrast to the desolate scene he'd witnessed during his last visit.
The only thing that puzzled him was why the Asgardians didn't place dung-catching bags beneath their goats.
Why didn't these goats poop? Were they mechanical goats?
Of course, Solomon had no way of knowing that Heimdall's assumptions about him were based on the childhood antics of Thor and Loki. He was even less aware that the so-called "goats" of Asgard were entirely different creatures. Towering and robust, these horned beasts resembled massive ungulates. Heimdall had watched young Thor wrestle one as a child and was confident that, with a human's fragile body, Solomon would be pulverized into a fine paste in seconds.
"Fine by me," Solomon thought as Heimdall silently trailed behind him. He had no intention of exploring the palace's secrets anyway. Stepping through the corridor's shadows and passing the gilded reliefs, Solomon continued toward the library. His copy of the beginner's guide to Runes had originated from this very library, though the most powerful rune magic was kept in Odin's private collection—texts written by the All-Father himself.
"I assume you're familiar with the library, so let's go treasure hunting in its dusty depths," Solomon quipped as they arrived. "I can already smell that musty odor wafting through the doors. Why do Asgardian nobles despise learning so much?"
Before Solomon could show the soldiers guarding the library his parchment, they opened the magically sealed doors themselves. When he glanced back, Heimdall was silently tailing him, closing the distance with every step. His intense gaze felt like it was boring into Solomon's skull.
"Because they've already read all the books," Heimdall replied flatly.
"Ugh! Don't stand so close!" Solomon groaned, waving a hand in front of his nose. "You smell like goats and seawater, my long-horned friend. What's this? Alfheim Elven Joke Anthology? Seriously, Asgard's library has stuff like this?"
Heimdall descended from the ladder with a rare flicker of amusement, brushing dust off his hands. He had plucked the book from the library's uppermost shelves. Following Odin's directive to give Solomon "something that will keep him content," Heimdall had handed him the most entertaining book in the entire library.
He had read it himself, though no one knew how it had ended up in the collection. Supposedly, the book had been there since the library's founding, and every Asgardian noble had read it as a child. Heimdall was confident that this odd little volume would keep Solomon occupied for hours.
Additionally, as someone who had seen every document in Asgard, Heimdall couldn't shake the feeling that the handwriting in this book bore a striking resemblance to Odin's. However, he had long dismissed such blasphemous thoughts and had no intention of sharing his suspicion with anyone.
If this book failed to hold Solomon's attention, Heimdall was prepared to request Odin's permission to arrange a meeting between Solomon and Loki. He imagined the two of them discussing satire and wit in the dungeon, their surroundings buzzing with bookish energy. Heimdall was certain it would be a delightful encounter.
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