Chapter 381
Truly, sometimes a person could be so very intelligent, but so very unwise.
Trask had created machines capable of learning, adapting, and improving themselves, but apparently never considered what would happen once those machines applied his hatred with perfect logic.
Or perhaps he had considered it and simply believed he would remain exempt.
Either possibility spoke poorly of him.
I leaned back against my throne, looking over the holographic image that still floated in the centre of the hall.
The Nexus.
An underground fortress containing the central intelligence behind the Sentinels, protected by enough conventional weaponry to repel an army, and enough specialised technology to render many of the Illuminati powerless.
It was an impressive structure.
A foolish one as well.
No matter how thoroughly fortified it might be, concentrating the heart of an entire army into one location created an obvious weakness. The difficulty lay not in understanding what needed to be done, but in surviving long enough to do it.
"We will need more information before we move," I said. "The exterior defences are visible enough, but the interior remains largely unknown."
"Indeed," Agravain agreed. "And the enemy is aware that the central core is vulnerable. It would be foolish to assume the paths leading toward it are less protected than the fortress itself."
"More so if Trask left behind a means to destroy it should someone else gain control."
"Or if the intelligence developed such a measure on its own."
That was also possible.
The Sentinels had changed greatly since their first appearance. The machines we faced now were no longer limited by whatever their creators had originally imagined. They had learned from every battle, every defeat, and every victory.
They had begun as tools.
What they had become was less clear.
The doors to the throne room opened again.
Captain Rogers stepped inside.
He looked as though he had come directly from the battlefield without stopping to so much as wash his face.
His uniform was torn and stained black by smoke, with one sleeve almost entirely missing. His shield remained strapped to his arm, though its once-pristine surface was covered in scorch marks and deep scratches left by weapons that would have torn a lesser object apart.
Blood covered his hands.
Judging by the absence of any serious injuries upon him, most of it was not his.
"You are late."
For a brief moment, the words seemed obvious enough that I almost believed Agravain had spoken them.
Captain Rogers was, after all, the one who had arrived only after the meeting had ended and everyone else had departed.
Yet Agravain had said nothing.
The captain's tired gaze remained fixed upon me.
"But better late than never," Steve continued.
There was no smile upon his face.
Neither was there true condemnation.
There was exhaustion, relief, and beneath both, understanding. He understood perfectly well the cost of difficult decisions.
Had he not once arrived late for a dance with the woman he loved?
Doing what he thought was right, what he thought he had to do, had cost those closest to him a friend, a future, and him seventy long years.
"Sir Rogers! Such disrespect toward His Majesty won't be tolerated!" Sir Agravain was quick to defend me.
Yet I simply raised a hand to stop him. "Indeed, I have missed much in my absence," I fully admitted.
I could have told him that only days had passed for us, that the barriers dividing Hell from the mortal world had twisted the passage of time, or that we had returned as soon as we possibly could.
But I didn't. Because he wasn't wrong. I was indeed late.
Something I fully suspected was caused by the Lords of Hell, purposefully messing with the flow of time as much as possible.
I had underestimated them, seeing them as beings to be fought, but I had forgotten that they were even less human than I was and saw things such as time differently; to them, it was more... fluid.
Something that could be touched and manipulated.
The hubris of a god indeed.
Just because the TVA had been powerless against me, I had forgotten the power of time.
And now, I was paying the price for that mistake.
Steve released a long breath through his nose.
"Good to have you back."
"It is good to be back, Captain."
His eyes moved briefly toward Agravain, then toward the holographic map hovering before us.
"I take it I missed the meeting."
"It wasn't much of a meeting; everyone is tired, so I sent them to rest, something you too appear to need," I replied.
"I'm fine," he said with a slight shake of his head, but he didn't press the subject.
He was a soldier; he understood the need to rest and regroup, even if he was not one to follow his own advice.
I could see from his face, his eyes, that he had something on his mind, so I didn't force him to rest, not just yet.
So for a moment, the three of us simply remained silent.
Finally, he couldn't hold it in and failed to outlast Agravain and me in this silent staring contest.
"Was it worth it?"
Was it worth it?
I sat back and considered the question, considering whether it had indeed been worth it.
But in the end, there was only one answer.
"Yes. Do I have regrets? Also yes. But at the time, it was indeed the correct choice. The problem needed to be handled, and only I could do it."
To say I had no regrets would be a lie; I only had to delay a little bit, and I could have dealt with the issue as it arose, or left behind more Enforcement Knights...
There were countless things I could have done differently.
But in the end, I didn't forget why I did this, or who asked for my help.
The Ancient One.
Was it possible she wasn't aware that this would have happened?
Impossible; she knew the future, saw the infinite possibilities.
The only way she wouldn't was if she were dead, but I had heard no such thing, nor did I think she was at risk of dying.
Stephen Strange wasn't yet ready.
And until she had a successor in place, she wouldn't let herself die.
Which meant that she knew.
She knew about the Sentinels and didn't tell me.
Why?
Because she saw what I would do in response to that; she saw what would happen, how the knowledge would change things.
And in the end, she came to the conclusion that not telling me was the only way.
Or at least, those were my thoughts on the matter.
Which clearly meant that any actions trying to avoid the current situation would only have brought about a far worse one.
Did I have regrets?
Yes.
But I would do it all over again if I had to.
Because I trusted the Ancient One. I trusted the experience of someone that old and wise.
Steve didn't know my thoughts; he just nodded at my response.
"Did you already tell the others about your situation?"
"Not in any great detail."
His brow furrowed.
"Why not?"
"You have seen the state everyone is in. The Sentinels rather dominated the conversation."
Steve glanced toward the holographic image of the Nexus still floating in the middle of the throne room.
"I noticed."
He remained quiet for a moment before looking back at me.
"But you disappeared for seven weeks fighting a war in Hell."
"For us, it was considerably less."
"Seven weeks here," he corrected.
Fair enough.
"Seven weeks here."
"And nobody thought to ask what happened?"
Agravain shifted slightly beside me.
"Captain Rogers, there were rather immediate matters requiring—"
"I'm not blaming anyone," Steve interrupted, raising one hand. "I get it. We had Sentinels killing people all over the planet. Tony and Reed were probably already thinking about that bunker before they walked through the door."
That was almost certainly true.
"But one crisis doesn't make the other one disappear."
There it was.
The reason I had placed this man in command of people who were stronger than him, smarter than him, wealthier than him, and possessed powers he could never hope to match.
He looked at the person lying beneath the rubble.
But he also looked beyond them.
Not because that single life mattered less, but because he understood that saving one person today meant little if the world ended tomorrow.
"So," Steve continued, "what happened in Hell?"
I considered where to begin.
There was rather a lot.
"We won."
Steve stared at me.
"Arthuria."
"You asked what happened."
"And I'm asking for slightly more than two words."
I couldn't help the faint smile that appeared on my face.
"Very well."
I leaned back into my throne.
"The coalition fractured. Their cooperation was always built upon convenience rather than loyalty, and once sufficient pressure was applied, that weakness became increasingly obvious."
Steve stepped farther into the room, finally removing his shield from his arm and resting its edge against the floor.
"Who was in the coalition?"
"Mephisto, Satannish, Nightmare, D'Spayre, and Dormammu were the principal powers involved."
He looked focused for a moment before he faltered.
"I admit those names mean little to me," he said, somewhat embarrassed.
"Agravain, we should have a brief about them somewhere, right?" I asked my knight, who simply nodded.
"I will have it delivered to you within the hour, Captain Rogers."
"It's fine," Steve said with a shake of his head.
"Mephisto was the mastermind, the one who drew the others together and promised a fair split of humanity, endless suffering, and billions of souls. Alone, he is indeed strong enough to claim a world if not stopped; all together? Even survival would be a miracle, much less the victory we earned," I summarized.
"That bad?" Steve looked a little pale as he considered what that meant.
"Their armies alone are without end, and their powers, if fully unleashed on Earth, would be enough to shove the continents around like Lego bricks. And they brought not only their armies, but themselves."
Steve did his best to imagine it, but it was difficult. Before going into the ice, the strongest beings around had been himself and Red Skull. Now? Well, it was hard to imagine just how strong someone would have to be to move continents around.
Doing such a thing was naturally nearly impossible; even I couldn't do it, not easily at least, but that was only when looking at things from a human perspective.
For a being who ruled a dimension, they had infinite dimensional energy behind them and the powers of laws; they wouldn't really be pushing continents around, but imposing their will upon them, forcing them to move after corrupting them.
Without the magical defenses of the sorcerers and the Ancient One, any single one of these beings could twist all of Earth into their own domain and fully control it.
Dormammu had once, or would in the future, almost succeed in this, stopped only by the introduction of the concept of time by Stephen Strange.
Such things weren't easily explained, but at least Steve understood that the threat they hadn't seen, the one that had been handled without them, was far worse than the Sentinels.
One was the extermination of humanity by robots, or at least the risk of it, and the other was not just death, but eternal torment of the soul.
Not to mention, even without me taking action, they could still have dealt with the Sentinels; it would just have cost more lives. But without me, should the Lords of Hell align and unite, they would have been powerless to stop it.
Or at least, they would have needed far more extreme measures.
Steve continued to ask questions, and I continued to answer them, both highlighting the danger Earth had faced, but also reassuring him that, at least for now, the danger posed by demons and such was gone.
And that he could rest easy for at least a night before worrying further about the Sentinels.
...
"You allow him far too much disrespect, my lord," Agravain said once Steve finally went to join the others for a meal before sleep.
"He is a warrior; he isn't suited for royal court, and he has just fought for our realm. We can allow him this much at least," I replied, not caring too much about it.
"As you say, Your Majesty," he said with a bow. "Will you be joining the feast yourself?"
"No, I will wait until the true victory feast. For now, I have much to do," I said as I stood up and walked to the balcony connected to the throne room.
"Should you not take your own advice and rest?" Agravain asked, not because he wanted to command me, but because he was concerned.
"I am a goddess; rest is not a must, merely an option," I said, even though that wasn't entirely true; it was still needed.
To deny myself my own mortal limits would push me further toward divinity.
All things came with a cost.
"Now, go rest and feast; I have matters I need to deal with," I dismissed him.
"Yes, Your Majesty."
He bowed and left.
Chapter 382
For a while, I simply stood there.
The balcony stretched out before me, overlooking Camelot and the lands beyond its walls.
From here, the capital looked almost untouched.
People moved through the streets below, lights burned warmly from homes and shops, and the great towers of Camelot stood just as proudly as they had before I left.
One could almost pretend nothing had happened.
Almost.
My eyes travelled farther.
Beyond Camelot, beyond the perfection protected by Rhongomyniad, smoke still rose into the clear sky.
Not nearly as much as before.
The fires had largely been extinguished, either by mortal hands or the rain I had called down upon them, but the scars remained.
Entire towns would need rebuilding.
Roads had been shattered.
Fields burned.
Thousands were dead.
And that was merely Albion.
The rest of the world had suffered just as greatly, if not worse.
There was much work still to be done.
The Sentinels remained.
Their Nexus remained.
Their creators had left behind a wound upon this world that would take years to truly heal.
And beyond even that, I had returned from Hell with questions of my own.
The Ancient One.
The strange passage of time.
The Lords of Hell themselves.
And whatever consequences our victory might eventually bring.
One crisis ending did not mean the world politely waited before presenting another.
Captain Rogers had been right about that.
I rested my hands upon the marble railing and released a quiet sigh.
Then I spoke.
"How long do you intend to stand there, Your Majesty?"
Silence answered me.
For perhaps three seconds.
"I had wondered how long you would permit me the courtesy of believing myself unnoticed."
The air beside one of the great marble pillars shimmered.
Green light washed over the empty space, peeling away an illusion layer by layer until the figure hidden beneath it finally revealed himself.
Loki Laufeyson leaned casually against the pillar.
He wore no helmet, though his familiar green-and-gold clothing immediately made his identity obvious. His black hair fell neatly across his shoulders, and that irritatingly pleased smile remained firmly upon his face.
"I had wondered whether Hell might have dulled your senses."
"While I can't deny that the recent series of events has left me in need of a bit of rest, it isn't yet to the point where I wouldn't notice someone standing before my throne," I said as I turned to look at him fully.
Loki let out a short, quiet laugh.
"I have no doubt of it. While I can't deny that it is somewhat grating to be so easily seen through, it also further demonstrates that you are far too noble to be a mere king of a small realm here in Midgard," he said, a little more serious than normal.
I shook my head and turned my gaze back toward Camelot outside. "I have no grand ambitions, Your Highness. I am perfectly happy with my own realm. Ruling the rest of Midgard... would be far more trouble than it is worth."
For a moment, the smile faded a little from Loki's face. "Indeed, humans are... truly masters of causing trouble, aren't they? Even I find myself somewhat impressed by how easily they seem to cause chaos."
He paused for a moment before continuing, "I find myself understanding why Father allowed Midgard so much independence."
"Finally starting to understand the burden of the crown?" I asked with a small smile.
"Yes," he sighed. "If not for Mother's help, I would indeed be greatly troubled. I envy you greatly, your knights, so capable and loyal. Within Asgard, it's hard to find someone even half as good; most are as thick-headed as Thor."
I couldn't resist letting out a small chuckle. "Don't forget that your Lord Thor got along well with many of my knights when he was living out his exile here."
Loki snorted lightly. "Indeed, I suppose a few of your knights do have a great deal in common with my foolish brother."
I let out a sigh; I had finally realized what Loki was doing, and I was thankful for it. He was truly not a bad regent; he could read a room and knew how to act, helping me feel better by bringing his little banter into a tense time.
Still, that was unlikely to be why he came here, merely to help distract me from my burdens.
"So, to what do I owe the pleasure of your visit? And without using the Bifrost at that?"
"Why, I came here to extend a warm welcome back. So, welcome home, Your Majesty," he said with a light bow and a smile.
The humour remained, but something sincere rested beneath it.
"Thank you."
"I had begun to wonder how long you intended to keep us all waiting."
I glanced sideways at him.
"I have already endured that accusation once today."
"Indeed, I can't help but wonder why you didn't think to invite us to help you? If nothing else, it would have kept my brother busy; you have no idea how annoying he has been over the past few weeks," he said, only half-joking.
He was, in fact, telling the truth.
If there was a fight to be had, Thor would be at the front of the line; being forced to sit back at home, unable to do anything, was close to torture for him.
"I'm afraid I have to disappoint you, Your Majesty; there is no grand reason. I simply didn't consider it. There was no need for further aid." I did wish I had a better reason, but it was the truth.
Loki wasn't disappointed or slighted by it at all.
If anything, he understood it all too well.
He, too, had never asked me for help when dealing with his own problems.
Despite the alliance between our realms, between Asgard and Camelot, and Albion as a whole, things were still not close enough for something like that.
"You still haven't explained why you didn't use the Bifrost to arrive, nor announce yourself, but instead snuck in for a secret meeting like this," I pointed out.
Loki sighed again. "I guess there is no getting anything past you. Indeed, I wished to meet you in private and ask if you require aid. As I said, my brother has long since wanted to lend his strength to Midgard, but without you requesting it, out of respect for the sovereignty of your realm, I had no choice but to stay out of it."
I nodded.
I understood what he was saying.
He was apologizing for not helping, explaining why... and while I would have liked the help, I couldn't fault him for not offering it.
The fault was my own, for never telling Agravain to request it should something happen.
Unable to find me as they were, Asgard had no way of knowing my intentions, so acting could have caused problems.
The wise choice was indeed to do nothing and offer help once I returned, or at least do nothing until they were sure my absence wasn't something I had faked to lure my enemies into a trap.
"So, you chose not to use the Bifrost to avoid alerting any spies or enemies?" I asked, even though I had guessed the answer.
"You see right through me once again, Your Majesty; that is indeed the idea," he said with a small smile. "There's no guarantee that we weren't being watched; the last thing we need is to let the world know the full might of Asgard is ready to intervene."
That was a good point. The Sentinels would no doubt know if the Bifrost were used, and that could indeed throw off any plans we might have worked on.
One could say much about Loki, but saying he was stupid wasn't one of them.
Quite the opposite.
He had always been clever, perhaps too clever for his own good at times, but sitting upon the throne of Asgard appeared to have tempered some of that cleverness with something far more valuable.
Wisdom.
Not enough that I would ever call him wise to his face, of course.
His ego hardly needed the assistance.
"So," I said after a moment, "you came here without announcing yourself because you wished to know whether I intended to ask Asgard for aid before anyone else learned that such aid was even being considered."
Loki smiled faintly.
"Something along those lines."
"And should I refuse?"
"Then I return home, Thor continues glaring at me across every meal, and Asgard remains out of Midgard's affairs."
"You make it sound as though Thor is the greater threat."
"Have you ever attempted to share a dining table with my brother when he believes himself unjustly denied a battle?"
I considered the question.
"Fair enough."
"I thought so."
The slight humour remained between us for another moment before I turned my attention back toward the distant lands beyond Camelot.
The situation had changed greatly with my return.
The Sentinels had withdrawn for now, but we already knew where their Nexus was located, knew that eventually we would have to strike it, and knew that once we did, there was every chance every remaining machine on the planet would rush to its defence.
With my return, and that of my forces, it wouldn't be difficult to break those defences; my Enforcement Knights alone could break them with relative ease.
Add in the Round Table and myself, and there would be no challenge at all, though there was the danger that rather than defend, they might go on the offensive.
An all-out suicide assault on some important location, to force us to either pull back and deal with it or accept a high cost for our victory.
And depending on the target, that could indeed be a difficult decision.
I wouldn't pull back unless Albion was attacked, but that wasn't true for the others, and while I could no doubt destroy the core, I couldn't be sure that physical destruction would end the threat.
So I needed either Stark or Reed, or, if possible, Phastos, but given that the Eternals remained unwilling to act, that was unlikely.
So as long as the Sentinels could exploit Stark's and Reed's weaknesses, they could indeed force an end to any assault.
Therefore, having another hidden force, able to act without delay anywhere we needed them, was indeed very tempting.
I quickly considered the situation and glanced at Loki, reading him as best I could.
"And, I suppose, arriving for the final battle would not harm Asgard's reputation."
Loki's smile widened by the smallest amount. "I would be a poor king if I failed to notice such fortunate consequences."
"Fortunate."
"Entirely incidental, naturally."
"Naturally."
Leave it to Loki to always have some secret motive, but his fishing for glory and prestige didn't interfere with my own goals, so I nodded.
"Your Majesty, Regent King of Asgard," I began, "Albion requests the aid of Asgard in bringing the Sentinel war to its conclusion. Should Asgard be willing, I would welcome its warriors beside my own during the assault upon the Nexus."
Loki bowed his head.
"On behalf of Asgard, I accept."
Chapter 383
"You know, I always wanted to sit here," Tony Stark eagerly said as he rubbed his hands all over the wooden table.
"I even offered the guards a million the last time I was here, well, back when I was helping with the reactor problem anyway, but nope, they wouldn't budge," he continued.
"Show some respect, Sir Stark; it is a great honor to sit at this table, as an equal with the King himself," Sir Agravain said, none too happy that he had to share this table with these people.
But alas, the King's orders were absolute, and none could say the Illuminati hadn't earned the right.
Even if it was only for a single meeting.
"Don't be so hard on him, Sir Agravain. Sir Stark has worked hard over the last few weeks; let him enjoy himself," Sir Gareth tried to calm down her brother.
Tony, well, he didn't care much about what Sir Agravain had to say; he had long since learned to tune such things out. Far too many people said something much too similar at every board meeting.
He was beyond used to it.
Respect was simply not a word in his world.
"It really is hard, isn't it?" he mumbled as he used some small pen-like tool to shoot a laser down onto the wooden surface, only for it to do absolutely nothing, much to his shock and Sir Agravain's annoyance.
"I don't get it," Reed said. "It makes no sense at all."
"Yeah, right? It's far too hard to be wood; hell, even metal isn't this strong, not even Cap's shield." Tony nodded as he kept toying with his little tool, ignoring the death glare Sir Agravain was sending his way.
"No," Reed said after a moment, still staring down at the table with a deep frown on his face.
Tony finally stopped trying to burn a hole through the ancient wood and looked over at him. "No? You don't think it's strange that this thing apparently shrugs off a laser without even leaving a mark?"
"Of course I think that's strange," Reed replied, though from his tone, it clearly wasn't what had caught his attention. "But this is Camelot. I've been here enough times to know that half the things in this castle operate according to rules I don't understand yet."
Sir Agravain's expression darkened further at that. "They do not operate without rules, Sir Richards. Magic is no less a natural part of this world than gravity or light merely because you have failed to understand it."
Reed glanced toward him. "I didn't say it had no rules. I said I don't understand them, which is precisely the problem. If there are consistent principles behind magic, then those principles should be observable, measurable, and eventually explainable."
"They are explainable," Agravain replied rather stiffly. "There are libraries within Camelot containing several thousand years of magical theory."
Reed blinked at that, his irritation momentarily giving way to genuine interest. "There are?"
"Oh no." Tony immediately pointed the little pen-like tool at him instead. "Don't distract him with magical textbooks. I want to know what's actually bothering him, because that is very clearly the face Reed makes when reality has personally offended him."
"Reality has not offended me," Reed said.
"You have the face."
"What face?"
"The one where you start looking at the universe like you're preparing to file a complaint."
Gareth covered a small laugh behind one hand while Agravain looked increasingly tempted to remove Tony from the chamber himself.
Reed ignored all of them and instead gestured toward the table. "There are too many seats."
Tony stared at him for a second before following his gaze around the great wooden table. "That's what this is about?"
"Yes."
"Not the indestructible medieval furniture?"
"Tony."
"Just making sure."
Reed pushed his chair back and stood, slowly walking around the edge of the Round Table as he counted beneath his breath, his eyes narrowing a little more with every seat he passed.
"There are twenty-five."
Tony shrugged. "Okay."
Reed stopped and looked at him as though the problem should have been obvious. "There should be sixteen."
That earned a pause.
Tony leaned back slightly, his expression changing from amusement to curiosity. "And you know that how?"
"Because I've seen this table before."
"So have I."
"I've seen it several times."
"Still not explaining why you know the exact number of chairs."
Reed hesitated.
It was only for a fraction of a second, but Tony caught it immediately.
His eyes narrowed.
"Reed."
"What?"
"Did you count the chairs?"
"No."
The answer came so quickly that even Gareth looked suspicious.
Tony slowly grinned. "You counted the chairs."
"I did not count the chairs."
"You absolutely counted the chairs."
"I happened to notice there were sixteen."
Tony stared at him.
Reed stared back.
"Nobody accidentally notices that there are exactly sixteen chairs around a giant round table, Reed."
"I possess excellent spatial awareness."
"You counted them."
Reed crossed his arms, apparently deciding that continuing to deny it was beneath him. "There were sixteen."
Tony let out a laugh and shook his head. "This is incredible. You actually counted King Arthur's chairs."
"That isn't the point."
"It is absolutely part of the point."
Reed turned away from him and looked toward Gareth instead, clearly deciding she was more likely to provide a useful answer. "Lady Gareth, the last time I was in this chamber, were there sixteen seats around the table?"
Gareth looked down at the table, then around at the seats as though she had never once considered counting them herself. "I suppose so."
Reed frowned. "You suppose?"
"I don't normally count them."
Tony made a satisfied sound from behind him.
Reed ignored it with impressive determination. "There are twenty-five now."
"Yes."
"So where did the others come from?"
"Oh, come on, Reed," Tony sighed. "I'm sure they have a few extra chairs somewhere. Do you want to go to the chair storage room and count how many there are there as well?"
"It's not just extra chairs, Tony; the original sixteen are perfectly spaced out, leaving no room for more, yet here there are more, and they sit no closer together, as if the table itself has changed, gotten bigger," Reed pointed out, sharing his discovery.
Tony paused for a moment to inspect the table, counting the chairs and judging whether the table looked any different from when he last saw it.
"Say, there are nineteen of you, aren't there?" he suddenly asked Sir Percival.
"Knights of the Round Table? Indeed, there are nineteen of us, or twenty when you include the King himself," he replied with a nod.
Reed's frown deepened. "So there are always four people who have to stand?"
"What? Of course not. When we all gather, we all sit around the table; that is what makes it special. Everyone sits together, as equals," Gareth replied, a little confused.
"Then how can there be nineteen of you if there are only sixteen chairs?"
At this question, not only did the members of the Illuminati seem interested, but even many of the knights themselves suddenly found themselves surprised.
Because they had never considered it.
They would just sit down, and there were always enough chairs for everyone, and honestly, no one went around counting the number of chairs.
Tony found the entire thing hilarious; here were the legendary Knights of the Round Table, having sat around this table countless times, never noticing this, while Reed had.
The reason he found this so funny was because it highlighted one important thing.
Reed Richards was the only person in all this time who had bothered to count the chairs.
It was both sad and hilarious, and he couldn't wait to tell him how weird he was.
But before he could, he too realized what this meant.
Magic, of course.
"All right, I'll bite," Tony said, his grin unwavering. "So the table magically grows more chairs when it needs to. And I assume it also magically resists my laser because it's, what, an artifact? One of those things that's more important than it looks?"
Agravain looked like he'd been forced to swallow a sour lemon. "It is more than an artifact, Sir Stark. It is a symbol. A symbol of the unity and equality of all who sit here. A symbol of the Round Table's ideals."
"Right," Tony said, nodding slowly. "So it's a magic table that grows chairs and is basically indestructible. Got it."
He turned back to Reed. "Still doesn't explain why you're so hung up on the number. We've got nine extra chairs. Enough for all of us and then some. Problem solved."
Reed shook his head slowly.
"No, it isn't."
He pointed a finger at the empty seats. "There are exactly nine empty places. One for each of us. The table adjusted itself to accommodate our presence. It didn't just add chairs; it anticipated our arrival and prepared a place for us."
"Wait a minute," Steve Rogers suddenly interjected. "Who is the last chair for? Has Doom returned, or will we finally get to meet this mysterious Illuminati member, the Sorcerer Supreme?"
Everyone quickly did a headcount, and indeed, even accounting for Bedivere and Mordred, along with Arthuria herself, there was still one unexplained seat.
At the mention of the Sorcerer Supreme, all the Illuminati members looked toward Sir Agravain.
This person had a seat on the Illuminati, something even Tony didn't have, a true voting member, but none of them had ever met them.
The only reason they had the seat was that Arthuria had grandfathered a seat for the Sorcerer Supreme into the Illuminati.
So, were they finally going to meet this last member?
Sir Agravain, however, had no intention of answering; he knew well enough who the last seat was prepared for, but given the disrespect shown here, he wasn't inclined to reveal that information.
So for a few moments, the Illuminati just stared at the silent Sir Agravain before finally realizing he wasn't going to talk and looking toward the other knights, but they too offered no answer.
"I'm sure we will find out soon," Charles said as he sat in the wooden chair, feeling rather naked outside of his normal wheelchair.
"Right, leave it to the telepath to know, but no doubt, you also won't tell anyone," Tony said with a sigh, having long since learned that Charles Xavier wasn't one for gossiping about what he learned from people's minds.
Before Charles could dignify that with a response, the heavy doors to the chamber opened, and Sir Bedivere stepped forward, striking the butt of his spear once against the stone floor.
The sound was enough to silence the room.
Even Tony seemed to remember that, however unusual the meeting might be, they were still within the royal halls of Camelot.
"His Royal Highness, Prince Mordred Pendragon, Heir to Camelot!"
Mordred entered first, dressed in full armour, his expression considerably more restrained than usual as he crossed the chamber and took his place beside one of the empty chairs.
Bedivere waited until he had stopped before announcing the next arrival.
"His Majesty, Arthuria Pendragon, King of Camelot and Sovereign of Albion!"
Everyone rose.
Arthuria entered without hurry, acknowledging those gathered with a slight nod before moving toward the Round Table.
Still, one chair remained empty.
Tony noticed.
So did Reed.
Bedivere struck the floor once more.
"His Majesty, Loki Odinson, Regent King of Asgard!"
For perhaps a second, nobody reacted.
Then Tony slowly looked toward Reed.
Reed was already staring at the final chair.
Loki entered with an easy smile, seemingly entirely unaware of the small existential crisis his seat had caused before his arrival.
Once all three had taken their places, Arthuria looked around the now-complete Round Table.
"Now," he said, "let us decide how this war ends."
Chapter 384
For several seconds after everyone had settled into their seats, nobody spoke.
The Round Table had accommodated us all without complaint, its surface now considerably larger than Reed remembered it being, though judging by the occasional glance he continued to give it, he had not yet accepted that particular mystery.
There would be time for that later.
For now, there were considerably more important matters.
Or so I thought.
Magneto's gaze remained fixed upon Loki.
His expression had been restrained throughout the Regent King's entrance, but I knew Erik well enough to recognize the coldness behind it.
Eventually, he leaned back in his chair.
"How fortunate."
Loki turned his attention toward him.
Magneto continued before anyone could interrupt.
"Asgard arrives just in time for the victory."
The room became noticeably quieter.
Loki did not immediately answer.
Neither did he appear offended.
If anything, the faint smile upon his face disappeared as he studied Erik more seriously.
"I imagine you have something more you wish to say, Your Majesty."
Magneto's eyes narrowed slightly at the title.
"Millions of mutants live in Albion because they were promised sanctuary here. Sentinels descended upon that sanctuary, hunted them through their homes, and killed them for weeks."
His fingers tightened slightly against the arm of his chair.
"Your people watched."
That was considerably less diplomatic than the conversation Loki and I had shared the previous evening.
But then, Erik was not particularly interested in diplomacy at the moment.
Nor, apparently, was Stark.
"He's got a point," Tony said, all amusement from earlier gone. "Last time you did your grand tour around Earth, there was a lot of talk about friendship between realms, protecting Midgard, Asgard standing beside us, all that good PR stuff."
Loki glanced toward him.
Tony spread his hands.
"Then killer robots try to wipe out the planet and Asgard goes strangely quiet."
"Tony," Steve said.
"What? I'm asking."
"I know."
Steve turned toward Loki himself.
Unlike Tony or Magneto, there was no accusation in his tone, but neither was there much softness.
"I'd like an answer too."
Loki looked around the table.
Reed was watching him.
Charles remained silent, though his attention was obvious.
Even several of my knights appeared curious as to how Loki intended to answer.
I already knew.
Still, I said nothing.
This was his decision.
He should be the one to defend it.
Loki folded his hands together upon the table.
"Very well."
There was no smile now.
"No request for assistance ever came from Camelot."
Tony frowned. "That's it?"
"No. But it is the beginning."
Loki's gaze moved toward him.
"Your Majesty disappeared without announcing where you were going. Most of the Round Table disappeared with you. Tens of thousands of Enforcement Knights vanished at the same time, and Albion's government refused to explain where they had gone."
He paused.
"I did not know whether King Arthur had been killed, imprisoned, deliberately concealed, or whether your disappearance itself was part of some larger strategy."
Magneto remained unmoved.
"So you did nothing."
"I ruled."
That answer caught the room.
Loki's voice never rose.
"I am not an Avenger, King Magnus. I am not a wandering hero who may see suffering and simply decide that my strength gives me the right to intervene. I sit upon the throne of Asgard."
His eyes briefly met mine before returning to Magneto.
"Had I dispatched an Asgardian army into Albion without the consent of its King, I would have been placing foreign soldiers upon the soil of a sovereign allied realm whose ruler had mysteriously disappeared."
Tony opened his mouth.
Loki raised one finger.
"Consider what you would have believed had Asgardian soldiers appeared throughout Albion three days after Arthuria vanished."
Tony stopped.
That, at least, made him think.
Loki continued.
"Perhaps you would have thanked me. Perhaps Camelot would have thanked me. Or perhaps everyone on Midgard would have wondered whether Asgard knew more about Arthuria's disappearance than it admitted."
Silence answered him.
"Thor wished to come," Loki said. "Repeatedly. I refused him repeatedly. Heimdall watched your world, and had Midgard truly reached the point where extinction was imminent, I would have acted regardless of the consequences."
He looked toward Steve.
"But you were still fighting."
Steve's expression tightened.
"People were still dying."
"Yes."
Loki did not attempt to soften it.
"They were."
That answer seemed to matter.
He was not pretending there had been no cost to his caution.
"But humans die every day. Should I send down my army to stop every murderer? What about your wars? Should I stop those as well?" he asked, a rather natural question.
But it was also spot on.
It was the same reason I didn't get involved with things outside of Albion itself.
There were just some things humanity had to deal with on their own. To both Loki and me, every war was pointless, but to humanity, to those who fought, didn't the fighting have meaning?
Weren't they all fighting for what they believed in?
To stop that... it wouldn't be right; it would trap humanity as it was right now, unable to grow. Because with growth came growing pains, and if you shielded them from all pain, then that would strangle their growth.
"That's..."
"That clearly isn't the same."
And while they weren't wrong, neither was Loki.
For a moment, nobody spoke.
Then I placed one hand against the table.
"His decision was correct."
Several eyes immediately turned toward me.
Tony looked surprised.
Magneto less so, though he clearly disagreed.
I continued before either could respond.
"Had I wished Asgard to intervene in my absence, I should have made that clear before leaving, or granted Agravain the authority to request Asgardian military assistance should it become necessary."
Agravain inclined his head slightly.
"I did neither."
The fault was mine.
There was little purpose in pretending otherwise.
"Loki respected the sovereignty of Albion while ensuring Asgard remained prepared should the situation become irrecoverable. I would have done the same."
Steve studied the two of us for several moments before slowly nodding.
He did not necessarily like the answer.
But understanding a decision and liking it were hardly the same thing.
"Fine," Tony eventually said. "I still don't like it."
"You are under no obligation to," Loki replied.
That earned him a slightly more approving look from Steve.
Magneto remained silent for another moment before leaning back.
"I suppose arriving late is preferable to never arriving at all."
Loki's mouth curved faintly.
"I have recently been informed that this is a popular sentiment upon Midgard."
Steve gave me a look.
I ignored him.
That was enough of that.
"The question of Asgard's absence has been answered," I said. "Now we should discuss its presence."
Reed activated a small display device placed in the center of the table, and high-quality holographic imagery of the Nexus rose above us.
The atmosphere changed almost immediately.
Tony leaned forward.
Steve's expression hardened.
Magneto's attention left Loki entirely.
The Sentinels had returned to the centre of the room.
"Our problem hasn't changed," Reed began. "The Nexus is still the single most heavily defended Sentinel installation we've identified. Every model we've run assumes that once we begin the assault, the network will redirect whatever forces remain toward its defence."
"Then destroy them," Mordred said.
Reed paused.
Mordred looked back at him.
"What?"
Tony stared at him for a moment before gesturing toward the hologram.
"That's the plan."
"Then why are you saying it as though it's a problem?"
That earned a silence very different from the one before.
Gawain looked toward the display as well.
"How many remain?"
"Several thousand operational units that we know about," Tony answered.
Gawain nodded.
"Then it should not take particularly long."
Tony slowly looked around the table.
Mordred appeared entirely serious.
So did Gawain.
Agravain barely seemed interested in the number at all.
Before my return, the return of my knights and army, he might have had a headache over such a number, but now? Not even ten times that number would make him blink an eye.
Tony seemed to notice that as well.
He slowly looked from Gawain to Mordred, then toward Agravain, perhaps waiting for one of them to show even the slightest hint that the number had concerned them.
None did.
"Several thousand," he repeated, just to make sure there had been no misunderstanding.
"Yes," Gawain replied.
"Sentinels."
"I am aware of what we are discussing, Sir Stark."
Tony leaned back in his chair and rubbed at his forehead. "Right. Okay. I think we might be looking at this from very different perspectives."
"Clearly," Mordred said.
Reed glanced toward him. "Those several thousand machines have spent weeks adapting to almost everything we've used against them. Every engagement gives the central intelligence more information, and every new model has been noticeably more effective than the last."
"And yet they remain machines of metal," Mordred replied, apparently struggling to see where the difficulty lay. "You cut them apart, crush the remains, then move on to the next."
Tony stared at him.
"You make that sound really easy."
Mordred's brow furrowed. "It is."
That answer hung over the table for a moment.
There was no arrogance behind it.
No attempt to boast.
To Mordred, it was simply a fact.
A Sentinel could develop whatever weapon it pleased, but it still needed a weapon capable of harming him before that mattered. It could predict his movements with perfect accuracy, but prediction meant little if it lacked the speed to respond. It could reinforce its armour again and again, yet Clarent would still pass through it.
The same was true for the others.
Gawain.
Lancelot.
Tristan.
Gareth.
All of them stood on a level where the machines that had terrorised humanity for weeks simply weren't particularly impressive opponents.
And that was before considering the Enforcement Knights.
Or Asgard.
Or me.
"They're not wrong," I said.
Tony looked toward me.
"I know they're not wrong," he replied, and there was perhaps more frustration in his voice because of that. "That's kind of the problem."
"Explain," Agravain said.
Tony gestured toward the hologram. "For the last few weeks, one of those things showing up meant people died. Maybe we killed it. Usually we did, eventually. But first somebody got hurt, or a building came down, or another machine learned something that made the next fight worse."
His eyes moved across the knights.
"You guys look at a thousand Sentinels and think about how long it'll take you to kill them."
He tapped the table once.
"We look at a thousand Sentinels and think about how many people they'll kill before we're done."
That was better put.
Mordred's expression changed slightly.
Not because Tony had convinced him that the machines were suddenly dangerous to us, but because he understood the distinction.
"Then keep them away from the people," he said.
"Exactly," Steve finally spoke.
He had remained quiet throughout the exchange, listening rather than immediately taking control of it, but now his attention was fixed upon the holographic image.
"The problem isn't whether the Sentinels can beat Arthuria."
His eyes moved briefly toward Loki.
"Or Asgard."
Then toward my knights.
"Or any of you."
Steve reached forward and touched the controls Reed had placed upon the table, reducing the Nexus until the image showed not merely the fortress, but a large portion of the surrounding world.
"The problem is how much damage they can do before we beat them."
That silenced the room.
Because that was the war we were now fighting.
Not one whose outcome remained uncertain.
One whose price did.
"Humanity would have won eventually," Charles said quietly, his fingers folded together before him. "Even without His Majesty's return."
Erik glanced toward his old friend, but Charles continued.
"We were adapting as well. Stark and Richards were producing increasingly effective weapons. Mutants were learning how to fight the newer models. Governments were finally cooperating, at least where necessity forced them to."
His expression grew somewhat darker.
"But eventually could have meant another month. Perhaps two. Perhaps longer. And with each week, the dead would have continued to accumulate."
"Millions," Reed said.
Tony's expression hardened. "Tens of millions if things went badly enough."
Loki listened without comment, though I doubted those numbers affected him in quite the same way they affected the mortals around this table.
Nor, truthfully, did they affect me in precisely the same manner.
That did not make those lives unimportant.
It merely meant we understood death differently.
Steve enlarged the image of the Nexus again.
"So we don't give them those weeks."
"Agreed," I said.
"And we don't assume they're going to fight this the way we want them to."
That drew my attention.
Reed frowned. "Every projection indicates the network will attempt to defend the core."
"I'm sure it will," Steve replied. "I'm asking what else it does."
Tony looked at the map for a moment before understanding began to show on his face.
"You're thinking diversion."
"I'm thinking these machines have spent weeks learning what makes us stop fighting."
Steve began moving across the holographic globe.
New York appeared.
Then several major mutant settlements.
Military installations.
Population centres.
Albion.
"They don't need to beat Arthuria at the Nexus," he said. "They just need to give her a reason to leave."
I almost corrected him.
Almost.
Because there were very few things that would make me abandon the Nexus once the assault began.
But Steve wasn't really speaking about me.
He was speaking about everyone.
Stark had people he would protect.
Richards had people he would protect.
Erik had an entire species he considered his responsibility.
Steve himself would abandon almost anything if the alternative was knowingly allowing civilians to die.
The Sentinels knew that.
"So they attack somewhere else," Gawain said, finally seeing the shape of the problem. "Not because they expect to achieve victory there, but because they expect us to respond."
"Exactly," Steve replied.
Mordred leaned back slightly. "Then we leave enough people behind that nobody has to respond."
Simple and direct.
And, given the forces now available to us, entirely possible.
Loki's faint smile returned.
"I believe," he said, folding his hands before him, "this may be where Asgard becomes particularly useful."
Steve looked toward him.
"How quickly can the Bifrost move an army?"
"To anywhere Heimdall can see?" Loki asked. "Almost immediately."
Steve's attention returned to the map.
For several seconds, he said nothing.
Then he began moving the pieces.
"All right," he said. "Then we don't try to predict where the Sentinels will attack."
Reed frowned slightly. "What do we do instead?"
Steve looked around the Round Table.
"We make sure it doesn't matter."
That earned my attention.
"Explain."
Steve reached toward the hologram.
"Arthuria, I need you at the Nexus. Stark and Reed go with you. Everyone else—"
He paused.
Then smiled faintly.
"Everyone else gets the harder job."
And so the planning began.