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….
"I... acknowledge you... my son... and my heir."
The dying King swept his fading crimson gaze across the vast hall, his eyes lingering heavily on the captains of his Royal Guard and the cluster of silent advisors in the shadows.
"After... kkhh... after my death... you shall be the King of Jotunheim. That is my final order!"
Laufey let his heavy eyelids fall shut. A weak, bloody, triumphant smirk touched his lips as he leaned forward, whispering so quietly only I could hear.
"Try to wriggle out of that, you pup."
He thought he had doomed me. He thought he had just chained the pampered Prince of Asgard to the throne of a dead, frozen wasteland full of monsters that hated him, forcing me to either rule the enemies of my adoptive home or abandon them and look like a coward to the universe.
"Wriggle out?" I whispered back, my voice dripping with dark amusement as I used my magic to forcibly anchor his fading soul to his body for just a few seconds longer. "Everything went exactly according to my plan..."
The smug, spiteful grin on his lips violently fractured into absolute, uncomprehending horror.
And putting a definitive end to his existence, I unleashed a blinding surge of plasma from the spear's blade, vaporizing Laufey's body from the inside out into a cloud of glowing ash.
A sudden, unified clatter of movement echoed through the massive hall.
I instantly ripped Gungnir back into a guard stance, spinning on my heel, fully prepared to start blasting my way through the horde and making a frantic run for the Bifrost drop zone.
But... no one was attacking.
It was the Royal Guard of Jotunheim. Hundreds of towering, terrifying monsters of ice and shadow.
And as one, they were dropping to a knee, bowing their heads before their new King.
In the ringing silence that followed, I paced toward the throne. It was a massive, jagged thing, carved for a rider of vastly different proportions, and for a second, I paused.
Trying to physically clamber up onto that monolithic seat would make me look incredibly stupid, like a toddler climbing into a high chair.
Destroy it? No, then every single Jotun in the room would consider it a matter of honor and personal duty to rip my head off. And honestly, they'd be justified.
Ultimately, I decided to use my newly acquired ice magic to simply freeze a convenient little "step stool" into existence.
But the moment I channeled my power into the structure, I realized something fascinating: the Throne of Jotunheim shared far more in common with the Throne of Asgard than just being a fancy chair for a monarch's backside.
Its neural interface felt similar to the one in the Casket of Ancient Winters, but its functionality heavily mirrored its "brother" back in the golden city.
There was one cardinal difference, though. The technology of the Frost Giants leaned much heavier into raw magic than actual machinery.
Form meant very little compared to substance.
A single exertion of will, and the massive ice throne groaned, shifting, cracking, and physically restructuring itself to perfectly accommodate my leaner, smaller frame.
Simultaneously, it flooded my mind with access to Laufey's "logs" and "thoughts."
Nothing earth-shattering in there, but definitely worth reviewing later. First things first, though...
"Yawar," I called out, having just plucked the name of the late king's chief advisor from the throne's interface.
I addressed the Jotuns who were still frozen in place like statues, the guards kneeling, the courtiers staring in absolute disbelief at the scorch mark on the floor.
"My... King?" A Jotun who looked remarkably old, and rather short for his kind, stepped forward with extreme hesitation.
"See to it that what remains of Laufey receives a proper and honorable burial."
If I hadn't given this order, their opinion of me wouldn't have worsened, mostly because it literally couldn't get any worse at this point.
But ignoring it would have cost me a prime opportunity to build some "reputation."
Not that I desperately craved the adoration of bloodthirsty ice monsters, but why create unnecessary hurdles for myself?
"It shall be done," Yawar replied, reluctantly bowing his head.
He didn't have a choice. Refusing the order to bury their former king would be seen as a massive taboo by his own people.
But by obeying it, he was establishing a crucial precedent.
The Chief Advisor is executing the decrees of the new King. It was a tiny psychological foothold, but the habit of obeying a superior is built entirely out of such tiny footholds.
"Excellent. I also require a full briefing on the current state of affairs in Jotunheim. Gather the council, everyone Laufey routinely discussed these matters with."
The advisor nodded again, as if physically forcing his neck to bend. He had to go arrange a royal funeral now, which meant he had zero time to sit around, plot, or formulate a polite refusal.
Another little noose tightening around his neck.
Sure, he could have tried to rebel, but... the highly public, spectacular execution of one of the strongest Frost Giants in history served as a very persuasive visual aid as to why that was a bad idea.
Everything was going exactly according to plan.
The chain of events was weaving itself into the precise pattern I needed. Naturally, there would be outrage later.
There would be open challenges, secret assassination attempts, and political maneuvering.
But that would come later.
Right now, the power structure was decapitated, and I had a brief window to skim the cream off the top.
Having the Jotun Throne's neural interface and databanks was a stroke of incredible luck, but relying solely on a machine's logs was a rookie mistake. I needed live intelligence.
I needed the human, or rather, giant, factor. And they would give it to me. From there, it was only a short step to "winning the hearts of the people," because fortunately, I actually had something to offer these legions of bloodthirsty monsters locked in a dark, freezing world.
A highly satisfied smirk crawled onto my face. I would learn much later that it was exactly at this moment, seeing that vicious, arrogant smile, that the Jotun Guard genuinely believed I was Laufey's true son, grown up, hardened, and finally strong enough to butcher his father and take what was his.
And if there was one thing Frost Giants respected, it was brutal, unapologetic strength.
….
If you want to read ahead by 20+ chapters from here you can visit my Patre-on.
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