The Virtues' Magecraft

Page 53: Golden Horde

In the middle of the Grand Order, in between Xerxes' words, and during each person's focus...

A rumbling had already begun shaking the room, the very dome in the ceiling. That shaking of the earth pierced the thoughts and the minds of each delegate, each representative, and each member. 

The doors were opening. That was all the trembling was.

Two fire giants forced themselves to stand on instinct.

From Xerxes' experience of the meetings of the past, they hadn't spoken a word aloud. Much less interacted with action. But whatever was causing the rumbling, whatever was behind that door...

The giant warriors drew weapons that ignited with flames in an instant. The same flame that stood wrapped their colossal and scarlet-skinned figures. Their armor was heavy, crimson and already gleaming with the ornate designs and metals it was constructed with. Their appearance was in stark contrast of the giants of Jotunheim. But even though they were related, the king of their sister realm remained seated, only staring at the golden doors as they began to open.

Their coal-dark hair was tied back and forced into their embellished battle helms. Even throughout the meeting, they hadn't removed their protection, their armor. Just as the others remained seated, the Fire Giants stood ready, poised to fight for their lives if they had to.

But...

The grand doors spread, unveiling the golden light of another corridor. A single white-haired man passed through. He was tall. Unnecessarily tall, but that was always reasonable for an Asgardian, Xerxes guessed.

And the warriors seated themselves. Fire Giants don't need to intake or output oxygen to survive, but... The sight of the skinny man, his hands in his pockets and a slight smile on his face, was enough for them to realize there was no threat.

Rather, it was enough for them to let their guards down.

His hair was shaggy and unkempt, just as his glistening and golden eyes curled with his crooked smile yet perfect teeth. His skin was pale, just like the shirt under his black suit.

That was the strange part. His clothing was strangely human. Even if the same type of clothing existed between the realms... the Asgardian man was dressed with human colors, human style, down to the clacking of his shoes on the marble floor.

He finally froze when he noticed the others were staring at him. Well... some stared. The others only glared. His eyes scanned over them all before fixing themselves onto the only one that stood.

The human, Xerxes Agnes.

"...Oh. Am I interrupting something, Mister Human?" the Asgardian asked.

Xerxes spat out a sigh. "Well, yes... but it's fine, I suppose."

"My apologies, Xerxes Agnes," he said, reading off the nameplate that sat on the table before Xerxes. "I'll seat myself immediately," the man spoke, briskly walking towards his grand leather chair.

As he moved, Xerxes' eyes followed him. He furrowed his eyebrows. 'Wait, I've never seen him before. Have I?'

He unconsciously shook his head. He hadn't. But... Something about this Asgardian was awfully familiar.

Just as the man sat down, he glanced around the room. Everyone's eyes were fixed on him.

He gently bowed his head as his eyes met Madam Hel's. "Madam," he said in a low voice, winking at her.

For the past three thousand years, she had been the monarch, the sole ruler of Niflheim and its sparsely populated realm. It was a population of 'Souls', physical manifestations of spirits. Some were spirits of those that have been long dead, others were pure beings of the realm. But in all cases, Souls were complex beings to understand, and from Xerxes' perception, beings that cannot truly be trusted.