At the beginning of the banquet, Queen Frigga introduced Solomon to the gathered nobles, formally announcing his stay in Asgard for study. After raising a symbolic toast to celebrate Thor's victory, she gently advised Solomon and Thor to enjoy the evening before taking her leave.
Once Frigga departed, the atmosphere of the banquet instantly became more lively. This group of nobles was different from those present at the earlier welcome banquet. Most of them were war veterans and military nobles with a significant proportion of Aesir blood. Their martial spirit was robust, and their personalities much more open compared to the politically minded Vanir nobles.
They enthusiastically greeted Solomon, shoving drinks into his hands and, without waiting to see if he drank, downed their own cups.
Among them was the "slim" Volstagg, who was especially warm toward Solomon. Laughing heartily, he shoved an entire uncarved roasted leg of lamb into Solomon's hands, whether the young mage wanted it or not. He pulled Solomon to a seat at the table and began loudly bragging about the time they had faced the Destroyer on Earth.
According to Volstagg's version of events, Solomon had courageously stood his ground against the deadly armor, though, naturally, Volstagg positioned himself as the true hero of the story—leaving out any mention of how much food he had consumed during the ordeal.
To Solomon's surprise, this exaggerated tale earned him newfound warmth from some of the nobles present.
Glancing around, he noticed that many of these individuals wore armor and bore insignias of rank. These were military nobles of considerable power and influence, and from the way they surrounded Thor, Solomon quickly deduced they were part of the faction loyal to the crown prince. When Thor had been exiled to Earth, these nobles had endured significant hardships. Everyone had assumed Thor would never return, and Loki's loyalists had seized the opportunity to make life miserable for Thor's allies.
Solomon couldn't tell if Thor was even aware of the political implications of their support or if he simply regarded these men as his trusted comrades-in-arms. Their gathering around Thor was undoubtedly sanctioned by Odin, who likely encouraged their closeness to ensure Thor could rally the army's strength when needed.
Still, Solomon couldn't help but wonder if Odin now regretted this decision. Life in the military had dulled Thor's political instincts. Thor wasn't stupid—his royal education scores had been decent—but he had grown accustomed to solving problems with his hammer. And when you're used to solving problems with a hammer, everything starts to look like a nail.
Compared to Solomon, who was carefully calculating how much he could safely drink without getting drunk, Thor seemed less enthusiastic about the banquet. The younger version of Thor would have been the one extending the festivities for weeks, easily out-drinking and out-eating everyone. But the slightly more mature Thor of today showed signs of restraint.
He was no longer the reckless, short-tempered boy who acted on impulse and indulged his every whim. Odin was already quite satisfied with this level of progress. As for further lessons, Odin planned to teach Thor himself once he ascended the throne—starting with the weighty issue of Hela.
Once Thor sat on the throne and displayed his strength as a ruler, Odin would teach him how to harness that power properly. It was a hidden strength rooted in Asgard itself, a divine gift passed down through the royal bloodline. The closer Thor's connection to Asgard, the stronger that power would grow. It was the first step toward becoming a true god.
Odin's dream was that, one day, the Aesir would wield the divine flame and break free from the curse of Ragnarok, ensuring their eternal survival until the end of the universe.
The banquet grew livelier by the minute. A group of beautiful noblewomen and maidens had gathered around the golden-haired and dashing Fandral, while Volstagg had begun guzzling mead to the cheers of the crowd. Even Solomon found himself surrounded by a small group of unmarried maidens. These tall, elegant Asgardian women, with their flowing locks and noble bearing, sat attentively as Solomon recounted tales of the magical world.
Though Solomon found the stories fascinating, it was clear that the women weren't particularly interested in the details. What they admired was his reputation as someone who had bravely faced the Destroyer. The atmosphere around him was suffused with the awkward energy of a bookworm trying to hold court in a room full of warriors.
Thor, unable to bear watching this any longer, intervened just in time. He shifted the conversation to their earlier sparring match, recounting some of the highlights. After their evening training session, both Solomon and Thor had ended up in the healing ward, earning a thorough scolding from the goddess of medicine, Eir.
Solomon's injuries had been the worse of the two—a deep gash that sliced halfway through his hand, exposing the bone. Thor, on the other hand, had escaped with minor wounds—a slightly bleeding shoulder and a red mark on his face. While injuries were expected during training, this session had been more brutal than usual, especially for Solomon.
Thanks to Eir's tireless work, they had been healed just in time for the banquet.
The Asgardian maidens were far more intrigued by this tale. Thor was widely recognized as one of Asgard's greatest young warriors. If Solomon could hold his own against him, he must also be a formidable fighter. The women eagerly pressed for more details about their sparring session.
Thor, grinning, clapped Solomon on the shoulder and then excused himself to step out onto the balcony. Though he didn't dislike the lively atmosphere, he wanted some quiet. Not getting any news about Jane Foster from Solomon had left him unsettled. Relying solely on Heimdall's observations wasn't enough; there were too many realms to oversee. Thor couldn't justify asking Heimdall to dedicate excessive attention to a mortal, even if she was the crown prince's beloved.
"You used to revel in banquets like this for weeks on end."
Sif was waiting for Thor on the balcony. She had dressed for the occasion, trading her armor for a gown, her shoulders draped with a tailored fur shawl. Thor, however, barely registered her attire, assuming it was simply standard formal wear for the banquet.
"I still remember how, after the Battle of Harokin, you were so excited you almost rushed straight into the next fight," Thor said, reminiscing. Sif couldn't help but laugh at the memory. The Battle of Harokin had been a decisive Asgardian victory on one of the Nine Realms' outer territories, culminating in Odin adding the Sorcerer's Eye to his treasury. Thanks to Thor and his companions' efforts during the recent rebellion, Harokin had remained quiet even when the Bifrost was shattered, sparing Thor additional trouble.
"Your first victory must've been thrilling," Sif said with a smile. She watched as Thor's expression turned somber and reached out to take his hand, trying to extend the conversation. "Have a drink with me. Surely All-Father won't assign you any tasks tonight."
"No, this is my own task."
"You've been disappearing every night—it's hard not to notice," Sif said understandingly. "There are nine realms in total. The future king of Asgard cannot fixate on just one."
"Thank you for your courage and wisdom, dear Lady Sif," Thor replied with a polite smile before turning and walking away.
Sif's forced smile faltered, then vanished entirely.
"Volstagg!" she shouted, yanking the fur shawl from her shoulders and tossing it aside. "Bring the mead! Now!"
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