The workload today was so intense that even Stephanie couldn't help but doze off. Solomon and Victor Von Doom, armed with parchment, fountain pens, whiskey, and an ice bucket, had spent the entire night developing solutions to every possible issue Latveria might face in the future. Stephanie remembered that when she finally succumbed to sleep, the stack of parchment had only reached her chest. But when she was jolted awake by the cold blast of the air conditioner and the thick scent of cigars, the written parchments were already piled high enough to block her view of Victor Von Doom's iron-grey face—she could only see the top of his head, his dark, curly hair gleaming like polished obsidian under the lights.
The dialogue between Solomon and Doom wasn't limited to spoken words—most of it took place through a form of telepathic exchange, far more efficient than verbal communication. It resembled the data packet exchanges used by Malcador and the tech teams on Mars, except magical packets transmitted far greater amounts of information with unmatched speed.
In just one night, Stephanie once again witnessed Solomon's astonishing efficiency.
From defining the Eternal City's monetary credibility to countering Western financial offensives, from breaking raw material embargos to laying out the path for high-end industrial development, from propaganda strategies to militia recruitment and education plans—every challenge had been documented on parchment with precise and feasible solutions. Once the pages were categorized, compiled, and distributed to the administrative personnel supporting Latveria, they would form a comprehensive guidebook for the region's future liberation. When these parchments were signed by Victor Von Doom, it symbolized that Latveria would formally become a subordinate administrative entity of the Eternal City.
This was not a war that would end quickly.
Given the Eternal City's shortage of available forces, preliminary estimates by Solomon and his actuarial experts suggested that, even under nuclear deterrence preventing NATO intervention, it would take nearly a month to liberate the entire territory of Latveria while ensuring civilian safety—relying primarily on mechanized infantry and limited air support. If NATO did intervene, the war would stretch even longer, and the Eternal City's technological edge would be pushed to its limits. Even after military victory, eliminating the remnants of the royal family and former elites would be a prolonged task. Rebuilding Latveria into a functioning economy would take far longer.
Finance is built on trust, and for the Latverian people, Victor Von Doom was that trust. Thus, in their division of roles, Victor would remain the public figure while Solomon operated from behind the scenes. The Eternal City had no interest in inheriting a broken mess—they wanted a clean slate, a society that could immediately begin functioning under their new system. Every step had to be calculated with extreme precision.
Thanks to the formidable minds of Solomon and Victor Von Doom, that progress came quickly.
Solomon's dedication stemmed from one truth: Latveria was the first place where he could truly begin enacting his ideals. The Eternal City and the Martian foundry were only preparatory stages. Still, he knew that conditions in the frontline administrative zones would likely exceed expectations. The people there had suffered oppression for so long that even World War I and II hadn't ended their misery. Superstition and ignorance were their only means of survival. Village rivalries often outweighed national or ethnic identity, so Solomon granted administrators limited autonomy to handle local issues.
With an army in tow—that was the best way to deal with landowners' private militias and rural bandit gangs.
Time was tight. The investigation into the recent murders committed by Victor Von Doom would inevitably lead back to Latveria. Solomon couldn't afford to deal with external pressure and internal conflict simultaneously. That burden would fall to Victor, who had already opted for the simplest and most brutal solutions. As for foreign deterrence, only Solomon or Victor could handle that personally. If they wanted to secure trade deals for raw materials, food, light industry, and infrastructure in exchange for advanced tech, both would need to forge diplomatic ties—because without it, the Latverians would starve. In short, they needed to project the image of a high-tech state lacking in basic infrastructure and low-tier goods, to make the deals appear urgent but credible. To be taken seriously, the Eternal City would need a shocking display of strength.
After finalizing their list of potential international partners, Solomon and Victor concluded the meeting. A drowsy Stephanie Malik nudged her equally exhausted secretary, Diana List, awake. Following Solomon's instructions, they delivered the parchments to the scribes for proofreading and preparation for publication as the official Latveria operations manual.
"The guerrilla forces in Latveria received training from the Soviets. Now, those fighters have produced a second generation," Victor Von Doom remarked, having removed his iron mask during the marathon discussion. He shared from the liquor cabinet and lit one of the cigars brought back from Washington. "Before we initiate our campaign, I plan to meet them. They might understand your vision. If we can win their support, our administrative rollout will go much faster."
"Wrap up the preliminary phase quickly," Solomon said, downing the amber whiskey in his glass before rising from his chair. At his signal, an invisible servant appeared to help him into his coat. Only then did Victor remember that Solomon had checked his phone once during the discussion—likely the reason he was now preparing to leave the Eternal City temporarily.
"I need to check on the royal family of Asgard. You won't believe this—but the old one-eyed bastard was driving a mobility scooter through town—one of those from American supermarkets—and ran over a dog. He insists the dog's puppies are destined to devour the moon or some such nonsense and refuses to apologize to the owner. Can you imagine anything more ridiculous? Fenrir is dead. Not a single wolf cub remains. Now the old man's ranting about taking a trip to Norway. I just hope Asgard's king can stop being a nuisance in his final years."
"Where in Norway?" Victor asked curiously, slipping his mask back on.
"A place called Edda. Maybe he wants to try paragliding, or maybe the glaciers there are as ancient as he is—who knows?"
"That's where Ragnarok took place," Victor explained in response to Solomon's puzzled look. As a top student from Kamar-Taj, his theoretical knowledge was vast—his academic boundaries largely unknown. In fact, he knew some historical lore that even Solomon hadn't studied. "Edda was the last stronghold of Norse paganism before the region fully converted to Christianity. It's fair to say Edda is where Ragnarok happened—on Earth. If Wotan—Odin—wants to go to that little town, it may be a sign. A sign of the fall of the Aesir. Time is running out for Kamar-Taj. But I advise you not to go near Wotan."
"Why not?"
"Because Edda is where Christianity crushed the last vestiges of Asgardian worship, Solomon," Victor said, pointing at him. "Do you know what your presence there would represent? I'll tell you—war."
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