Chapter 870

Evenson had originally intended to let the Black Badge Division take all the glory this time.

He certainly hadn’t expected the whole affair to end with a new amendment that somehow managed to drag him into the legal framework he’d helped create.

In the past, if Evenson used magic to kill someone and the incident came to light, a sharp lawyer could usually find a loophole and make the whole thing disappear. The law had been almost completely silent on superhuman crimes, especially crimes involving magic.

Then Evenson had gone and changed that.

With one spectacularly overcomplicated operation, he’d helped fill one of the biggest legal voids in the country. There were now laws to invoke, precedents to cite, and procedures to follow.

He couldn’t decide whether to laugh or cry.

Still, the strange case that had started out looking utterly ordinary and somehow spiraled into one complication after another had finally come to an end.

After Lorelei’s theatrical little performance reached its conclusion, Sif returned to Asgard, while the S.H.I.E.L.D. team moved on to other assignments.

Their part was over.

Evenson’s wasn’t.

He returned to the Final Doctrine of Evangel and pulled the most expensive bottle of liquor from behind the bar—the private reserve of the Eredar Twins. He uncorked it, poured himself a glass, and took a lazy sip.

Then immediately spat it across the room.

Evenson stared at the bottle in disbelief.

Something was wrong with this liquor.

The Eredar Twins knew exactly what he was like. Every time he came here, he went straight for the most expensive bottle on the shelf. That alone wouldn’t have been a problem.

The problem was that Evenson had absolutely no appreciation for fine alcohol.

Give him a centuries-old vintage or the cheapest liquor on the shelf and, as far as his palate was concerned, they were practically identical. Letting him drink an exquisite vintage was like feeding a priceless painting to a goat.

So the twins had developed a little joke.

They kept the same bottle on the shelf, but after Evenson finished drinking, they simply refilled it with cold water.

It wasn’t even about being cheap.

They just found it funny.

It had become one of those strange little games the three of them played whenever Evenson visited.

Evenson swallowed a couple of times, set the glass aside, and sat there in silence.

A moment later, the Eredar Twins arrived.

They were in an excellent mood.

The Black Badge Division had just received an official commendation from the U.S. government.

"You boys did a great job this time," the officials had told them. "We can’t make the change this fiscal year, but next year we’ll be able to redirect part of the funding currently allocated to S.H.I.E.L.D. and put it toward expanding your organization."

The military had too many restrictions on domestic operations, so beginning the following year, the Black Badge Division would terminate its contract with the military and officially operate under the Federal Disaster Administration.

Its new purpose would be to serve as a specialized rapid-response force dealing with bioterrorists, superhuman subversion, and extraterrestrial threats.

The unit had even been given a name.

BSAA.

The field demonstration had accomplished exactly what the Eredar Twins had hoped.

The U.S. government had recognized the Black Badge Division’s capabilities and, more importantly, had finally decided that it could serve as a replacement for the increasingly unwieldy S.H.I.E.L.D.

After achieving such a major breakthrough, the Eredar Twins were naturally delighted.

They had come intending to congratulate Evenson properly.

Instead, they found him sitting at the bar with a troubled expression.

Alythess immediately looked concerned.

"What’s wrong? Don’t tell me you’re out of pocket money."

The two sisters reached for their wallets.

Evenson shook his head.

"No."

He promptly took the money they had pulled out.

"It’s about Asgard. There’s something I can’t figure out."

Sacrolash stared at her now-empty wallet.

If it’s about Asgard, why are you taking our money?

Then another thought occurred to her.

You’re a warlock. Why are you so damn good at pickpocketing?

"What happened over there?" she asked.

"Calling it strange..." Evenson clicked his tongue, then continued counting the bills at a speed no ordinary person could follow. "No. ’Strange’ doesn’t quite cover it. ’Disturbing’ is closer."

"Hmm."

Alythess tapped the bar.

A hidden compartment sprang open beneath it.

She reached inside and produced a bottle of liquor, pouring everyone a glass.

"I don’t think I can help much with this one. You know far more about Asgard than I do."

"That’s true."

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

So that’s where the real liquor had been hidden.

Sacrolash lifted her glass and casually tilted her chin toward another corner of the room.

"But she might be able to help."

Evenson turned.

Something dark and vaguely humanoid was crawling out from underneath the bar.

The room was dimly lit to begin with, and the woman had apparently been lying beneath the counter the entire time. Evenson hadn’t noticed her at all.

Gabrielle slowly raised her head.

Her eyes were glazed with the unmistakable haze of someone who had lost a battle with alcohol several hours ago.

She looked around at the others, smiled, and asked in a slurred voice,

"Is it... morning? Or is it night already? Should we keep drinking?"

Once upon a time, the idea of the former Sorcerer Supreme being drunk enough to lose track of day and night would have been absurd.

Now?

Evenson was looking directly at the evidence.

Gabrielle hadn’t started drinking because she was depressed about humanity’s future, either.

Quite the opposite.

She was enjoying herself.

After more than a thousand years of austere living and disciplined restraint, she’d finally decided that she had some catching up to do.

Foods she’d never been allowed to enjoy?

She ate them.

Alcohol she’d spent centuries avoiding?

She drank it.

As a result, Gabrielle had become a regular fixture at the private bar.

She could spend an entire day drinking, pass out wherever she happened to be sitting, wake up the next day, and start all over again.

"Look at you..."

Evenson couldn’t help smiling.

At the same time, he couldn’t quite bring himself to laugh.

"What’s wrong?" Gabrielle asked, looking down at herself in confusion. "Don’t I look great?"

She grabbed her bottle, raised it triumphantly, and shouted,

"I’m Gabrielle, the Angel of Sloth!"

Thump.

She promptly fell backward and began snoring.

Evenson stared at her.

There was no helping her in this condition.

Gabrielle probably knew more about Asgard than almost anyone alive, but asking her questions right now would be pointless. She couldn’t even hold a coherent conversation.

They would have to wait until she sobered up.

Drinking was wonderful while it lasted.

Stopping was another matter entirely.

Three hours later, Gabrielle was sprawled across the sofa looking like death had personally come to collect her.

Her face was pale. Her eyes were vacant. Her mouth hung open as she gasped for breath while staring blankly at the ceiling.

A cold towel rested across her forehead.

She looked utterly miserable.

Her stomach felt like it was burning from the inside out.

A huge container of ice water sat within arm’s reach, and she desperately wanted to gulp it down.

She didn’t dare.

Her insides were already churning violently enough that she was certain one swallow would result in immediate disaster.

"Hey."

Evenson waved a hand in front of her face and snapped his fingers twice.

"You still alive?"

"Please don’t talk so loudly."

Gabrielle weakly removed the towel from her forehead and turned away.

"My head hurts."

Evenson watched her for a moment.

She couldn’t even look him in the eye.

She had every reason to be embarrassed.

The things she’d said while drunk. The way she’d behaved.

Centuries of dignity, ruined in a single evening.

Alcohol really is poison.

Gabrielle made a solemn mental resolution.

She was quitting drinking.

Forever.

Unfortunately, there was a certain universal law regarding resolutions made immediately after embarrassing behavior.

Those resolutions tended to have remarkably short lifespans.

"I’ve got to ask you something."

Evenson studied her half-dead appearance.

"At this rate, forget enjoying life. You’re going to give yourself liver cancer."

"That’s your problem?"

Gabrielle lazily waved him off.

"Last time I was drinking with Mephisto, we made an agreement. If I ever get cancer, he’ll remove it for me."

Of course I will.

Keep drowning yourself in alcohol. Don’t think about anything. Don’t do anything, and most importantly, don’t start thinking about that serious problem involving eliminating humanity.

If every cell in your body becomes cancerous, I’ll remove every last one.

Mephisto would be delighted.

"So," Evenson continued, "in your current condition, can you actually answer questions properly?"

"Go ahead."

Gabrielle gave him a tired glance.

"My tongue isn’t working properly, but my brain is still fine."

"All right."

Evenson nodded, considering his next question.

"What do you think King Odin is really like?"

Gabrielle’s eyes suddenly sharpened.

Then the headache hit her again, and she winced.

"You’ve met him. You’ve spoken with him. Don’t you already have an opinion?"

"I’ve met him, yes. And I’ve had a fairly lengthy conversation with him."

Evenson remembered their previous encounter.

"On the surface, he’s imposing. He cares deeply about honor and reputation. But beneath that, he’s maintained absolute control over Asgard and treats the kingdom almost as his personal possession. He’s ambitious. Very ambitious."

"If you’ve already reached that conclusion, why ask me?"

Gabrielle slowly rotated her aching head.

She thought Evenson’s assessment was fairly reasonable.

Odin was a man who wanted both power and prestige.

He had once dreamed of establishing Asgardian dominance over Earth, but the timing had never been right. First Asgard had been consumed by internal conflicts. Then the Frost Giants became a problem.

He had never been able to spare the resources.

Later, the only thing that had truly stopped him had been the agreement he’d made with Gabrielle.

Even so, he had never completely abandoned the idea.

For years, he’d tested her from every possible angle, with both overt pressure and subtle maneuvering.

She had spent far too long holding the line.

Thirty years ago, when a Kree Accuser fleet approached Earth and threatened the planet, Odin had chosen not to intervene.

Instead, he had thrown an extravagant celebration for Thor’s triumphant return from one of his adventures.

The message had been obvious.

Odin wanted Gabrielle to come to him.

He wanted her to ask for Asgard’s military assistance.

And once she did, he could use that request to establish Asgard’s authority over Earth in all but name.

Unfortunately for him, someone had appeared at exactly the right moment and resolved the crisis before Odin’s plan could bear fruit.

His carefully laid scheme had collapsed.

"Knowing what a person is truly like—especially a king—isn’t something you can determine from one meeting and a few conversations."

Evenson shook his head.

"A lot has happened in Asgard recently. I’m worried I’ve misjudged him."

"What happened?"

Gabrielle forced herself halfway upright.

There was a strange smile on her face.

Evenson didn’t hold anything back.

He explained everything Frigga had been doing in Asgard recently.

"A ruler with an overwhelming desire for power doesn’t simply hand all of that power over to someone else," Evenson said. "People talk about husband and wife being one, but history is full of fathers turning against sons and brothers turning against brothers when power is involved. Why would marriage make that any different?"

"And what Frigga is doing isn’t simply governing on his behalf."

Evenson paused, searching for the right word.

"She’s reforming the entire system."

"Ah."

Gabrielle’s voice was barely audible.

Then she looked at him.

"But if that’s the case, it actually fits Odin’s character."

She quoted an old saying:

"If I am without fault, then the fault lies with everyone else."

Evenson’s eyes narrowed.

Could it be?

Was Frigga’s entire campaign being carried out with Odin’s approval?

Perhaps every reform, every new policy, every change she was pushing through Asgard had actually originated with Odin.

He had simply placed Frigga in front of him, allowing her to take responsibility while he remained safely in the shadows.

It made a certain amount of sense.

A competent ruler could support reform or oppose it.

But personally leading it?

That was dangerous.

Reform inevitably created enemies.

Why would a king willingly wear the target on his own back when someone else could carry it for him?

Evenson thought of history.

Frigga was currently studying the Book of Lord Cassian.

During the reign of Aurelius, the reforms were formulated and implemented by Cassian, but did that mean the king hadn’t wanted them?

Of course not.

Cassian could never have gone so far as punishing members of the royal family, including the Crown Prince’s associates, without Aurelius’s backing.

Yet the public fury fell upon Cassian.

He became the tyrant.

The king remained above the fray.

Later, Marcellus had Cassian executed in a brutal display meant to placate the old aristocracy.

And then he continued many of Cassian’s reforms anyway.

The lesson was obvious.

The reformer could become the king’s shield—the man who implemented the ruler’s will and absorbed the hatred that came with it.

There were exceptions, of course.

Severin Holt was one.

That man—who might very well have been a transmigrator himself—had personally thrown himself into his reforms.

He had given himself no room to retreat and left no one else to shoulder the blame.

When everything finally collapsed, he had nothing left to sacrifice except his own life.

Following that logic, Odin allowing Frigga to take the lead was actually an excellent move.

But...

"Frigga isn’t merely reforming Asgard."

Evenson’s expression darkened.

"She’s taking power."

He slowly pieced together the implications.

"At the current rate, it won’t be long before the people of Asgard—and even the kingdoms under its authority—recognize the Queen’s authority more readily than the King’s. If Odin continues to sit back and do nothing while that happens..."

He shook his head.

"That makes no sense."

"If my original assessment of Odin was correct..."

Evenson hesitated.

The conclusion was almost too strange to say aloud.

"Then Odin is practically a different person."

"Heh."

Gabrielle slowly shook her aching head.

Then, with considerable effort, she sat upright.

"That was supposed to be the final test I left for those idiot apprentices of mine."

Evenson blinked.

"What are you talking about?"

"It was meant to be the last task of my tenure as Sorcerer Supreme."

Gabrielle grabbed the enormous container of ice water beside her and dumped it directly over her face.

She wiped herself dry with the towel.

The shock seemed to clear some of the fog from her mind.

"Before Kaecilius and the others made their move, I discovered something very strange."

She paused.

"I didn’t tell anyone."

Evenson’s attention sharpened.

"I wanted to leave it behind as a problem for those idiots to discover on their own. Consider it a final lesson. A way to test whether they’d actually learned how to investigate something properly."

A bitter smile crossed her face.

"Unfortunately, judging by the results, they haven’t even come close."

She stood.

"But you’ve already figured out this much."

Gabrielle looked directly at Evenson.

"So I don’t see any reason to keep hiding it from you."

She turned toward the door.

"Come with me. I’ll show you."

Evenson remained seated.

Gabrielle took one step.

Then another.

Then a third.

Thump.

Her legs gave out, and she collapsed straight back onto the sofa.

Silence.

She slowly turned her head toward Evenson.

"My legs are still a little weak."

A pause.

"And the room is still moving."

She sighed.

"Give me another two hours."

...