Every day, Bayonetta called Wu Guiyue, guardian of the Kamar-Taj Sanctum, to ask whether the Ancient One had returned to the Himalayan sanctuary. She truly didn't want Solomon to take on something so dangerous—venturing into the Dark Dimension to negotiate with Morgan le Fay, whom the Sorcerer Supreme herself had banished, was essentially gambling with his life.
In the past, when Solomon did not yet command the Eternal City or the Martian Foundry, such a move might have had justification. But now, holding weapons of mass destruction, there was no real need to take such risks. While Bayonetta admired Solomon's brand of ruthless kindness, that didn't mean she wanted him to trade his life for the lives of everyone in Los Angeles. The so-called witch's ritual did exist, but it had nothing to do with what they were doing at the manor. She and Jeanne had already drawn up a plan—the witch, like a file scraping at metal, would subtly change Solomon's mind, convincing him to use a safer approach.
What she didn't know was that Solomon's connection with the Sorcerer Supreme had never been cut.
The Dark God was the great threat of the coming era. Nothing in the universe could stop Chthon's return and rise. When that time came, the entire galaxy—and indeed the universe—would be affected. Humanity needed to seize the chaos to establish galactic dominance, completing what the Aesir and Odin had failed to finish. Even though the Sorcerer Supreme greatly disliked her, Morgan le Fay was a magician of tremendous value—one who had delved deep into the dark arts without being corrupted. Even the Darkhold was her work, bound and compiled from the dark scrolls she had gathered. Her research was of great importance both to Kamar-Taj and the Eternal City's understanding of outer dimensions, and could aid Solomon's plans.
If there was any spellcaster in the world Solomon valued most, Morgan le Fay was certainly among them, ranking very high. He had heard the Sorcerer Supreme recount many stories of past enmity and alliance with her—tales of such scale and exaggeration that modern minds could scarcely imagine them: the building of Stonehenge, dragons and monsters in the British Isles, wars that dragged on for years and drained Camelot's political and economic strength until the Perfect City rebelled. All of these stories had been distilled into lessons and impressed upon him.
Solomon's goal wasn't just to learn how many copies of the Darkhold existed—that was merely one aim. His true objective was to win Morgan le Fay over. This, of course, was something he couldn't tell the Sanctum's guardians—it required the Sorcerer Supreme's tacit approval. As the current bearer of the Holy Sword, Solomon had the right to negotiate with Morgan le Fay—not because of his strength, but because of legal legitimacy and the rightful claim to sovereignty over the British Isles. If she wanted Britain, and if she could abide by the rules Solomon and the Sorcerer Supreme laid down—helping humanity achieve greatness—he would give her the isles outright. If she agreed to help, a human colony could be granted to her as well; by then, humanity would hardly lack alien colonies.
Put simply, it was an investment pitch.
Unless Bayonetta or Jeanne called him away, the possible moves in that negotiation were running through his mind constantly—how to persuade her to invest, how to establish dominance first through a trial of strength.
Meanwhile, he was still handling intelligence from Latveria. Victor von Doom had been crossing the red lines Solomon had drawn—much to Stephanie's displeasure. Doom was capable and beloved by his people, but his one flaw was being too efficient, with no regard for sentiment. By contrast, Solomon could almost be considered high in emotional intelligence.
At least Solomon understood that Latveria needed to unite every possible ally—even children of the royal family who sympathized with the poor—rather than following what Doom seemed to think (or so Stephanie believed—later learning it was her perception, not his actual stance, a trick of office politics): that all members of the former ruling class had to be wiped out. Stephanie had been forced to increase flights from Latveria, bringing back those who could be rehabilitated to the Eternal City for short-term re-education—before Doom could have them all hanged.
After speaking with him, Solomon set the course for future action.
Most of these people were highly educated, many with experience studying in Western countries—one was even an Oxford philosophy alumna who had been Solomon's classmate. Hearing of political instability back home, she'd planned to return, both to visit and to convince her family to move to the UK. She arrived only to be captured by guerrillas. A lecturer from the Eternal City had gone to great lengths to plead for her life, even breaking into the guerrilla HQ and invoking the banner of the Eternal City's monarch to try to save her.
"That's a castle dweller! Everything they wear and eat is soaked in the blood and sweat of Latverians—they must repay that debt! And the only repayment is death—that's the last gift we can give them!" Marek Kolecki slammed the table, roaring at the middle-aged man in Eternal City robes. The veins on his forehead bulged with fury, and he ignored the deadly gaze coming from the head of the table.
Victor von Doom, clad in iron armor with arms crossed, watched the shouting match between guerrilla commanders with cold detachment. The air was thick with the smell of mud and horse manure.
Marek Kolecki was a native Latverian. His father, grandfather, and generations before had worked the land for the same landlord. In his generation, crushing taxes made survival impossible—his father died of exhaustion, his mother followed five days later, grief-stricken. As a child, Kolecki had taken his sister into the mountains to join the guerrillas, rising through the ranks to command a unit.
His guerrilla band, being large, was the third Doom had approached.
They had received material aid from the Eternal City. Their rough homespun had been replaced with regular army uniforms and deep green body armor; their WWII-era weapons swapped for brand-new laser rifles and heavy machine guns. Their chaotic structure was reorganized into squads as the basic unit, each with anti-tank heavy weapons. Ignoring actual combat skill, the Latverian guerrillas' gear was more advanced than that of most U.S. troops in the Middle East.
From childhood, Marek had been taught that "castle dwellers" must pay their debts. In many ways, his view represented that of numerous guerrilla commanders—but that didn't mean Doom would compromise with them.
That phone call from Oxfordshire at four in the morning had already drawn a red line for Latveria's liberation. Doom would have to rein in the guerrillas himself to prevent further atrocities. He knew Solomon was right. Though hatred of the upper classes had united the Latverians, such hatred could not last forever. One day it would be settled, and then Latveria would need a new purpose. The Eternal City's ideology aimed to make Latverians noble, idealistic, and forward-looking—not trapped forever in their grudges.
They were fighting not just for Latverians, but for all humanity. The sad truth was, not everyone could understand that.
______
(≧◡≦) ♡ Support me and read 20 chapters ahead – patreon.com/Mutter
Every 100 Power Stones = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.
Every 5 reviews = 1 extra chapter on Saturday.