Before Natasha Romanoff even began her mission, she was already questioning it. She leaned in, carrying the scent of body wash, shampoo, hot tea, and butter cookies. "The Trinity? I've never heard of this organization!" she said. "There's nothing about it in S.H.I.E.L.D. archives—what is it, another Hydra-like group?"
"S.H.I.E.L.D. doesn't know plenty," the arcane sorcerer sneered dismissively. He was more than happy to explain to her the results of Kamar-Taj's fifteen-hundred-year observation of the mundane world—provided she would drop her assumption that "S.H.I.E.L.D. knows everything."
Over Kamar-Taj's long development, the mundane agents of the Sanctum inevitably clashed or cooperated economically with various factions. It was a story of immense length and richness. Even the mundane agents began to organize themselves into secret societies by family, and no matter how their membership changed over time, their primary purpose remained to supply Kamar-Taj with resources and people.
These mundane families referred to arcane sorcerers with titles like "angel" or "venerable one," and children with talent would be sent to Kamar-Taj for training, leaving the secular world behind entirely. This phenomenon was called "ascension"—similar to the Malik family's Black Stone ritual—a way to unite the clan around a shared belief. In the same way, sorcerer apprentices from mundane families became the original bloodlines of the arcane sorcerer families, though their ties rarely extended beyond that. Without needing any command from the Ancient One, arcane sorcerers seldom showed special concern for their blood relatives—their goals and values were simply too different.
The development of those mundane clans gave Solomon extensive experience for his purges. It wasn't unheard of for secular families to regard Kamar-Taj as myth and try to become independent. Normally, Kamar-Taj allowed this. But the moment one tried to tamper with its secrets, the arcane sorcerer families would eliminate them.
"Hydra, the Freemasons, the Illuminati, the Knights Templar—all of them are the same type of secret society. They're classic business alliances. Back when monarchs and divine rule still reigned, kings across Europe tried to outlaw secret associations. Their efforts met with little success."
Solomon assumed a lecturing posture, tirelessly helping the agent trace the evolution of commercial alliances over the centuries. Natasha giggled softly. She thought he looked especially cute putting on airs with those round-rimmed glasses—the kind of look that made his face seem even more boyish.
"The only thing that can check capitalism's pursuit of profit is a centralized government. So to ensure their own survival and longevity, these secret societies conspired to dismantle monarchy. They played a crucial role in the world's transition out of feudalism and into capitalism. You can see their fingerprints on the Declaration of the Rights of Man and of the Citizen, the Declaration of Independence, the English Bill of Rights, and more. Even in Nazi Germany, the Rothschild family survived—not because of Hitler's mercy, but due to their own power. So yes, even Hydra contributed positively to the world in some ways. We need a dialectical, materialist perspective when examining secret societies—at the very least, they liberated productivity from inbred aristocratic bloodlines."
"You've already absorbed part of Hydra—why not keep doing that?"
The round vintage lenses reflected flashes from the muted television. Natasha found herself nearly entranced by his eyes.
"Because the mission of these secret societies in this world has come to an end. The moment they begin reaching for invisible thrones, they'll be swept into history's trash heap." In Solomon's shrewd answer, Natasha sensed the scent of blood.
Perhaps those secret societies had rejected his recruitment efforts (almost certainly they had, assuming he even tried), or perhaps there were irreconcilable conflicts between them (her current intel couldn't say for sure). Or maybe Solomon was already preparing for the post-war world (a probability of at least 30%). Either way, he had decided to destroy groups like the Trinity because he believed they would obstruct his plans. Natasha didn't mind carrying out such missions. The sorcerer had already explained to her what the continued existence of Hydra truly represented: unless Solomon's plan succeeded, Hydra would always exist in the world.
A sudden haze overcame her, and she instinctively sensed that this matter was far more complicated. She realized she had never actually asked Solomon what, exactly, he intended to do to save the entire species. Every time that question crossed her mind, the arcane sorcerer would divert her attention with something else. A bitter premonition stirred within her. She began to suspect that Solomon's ability to manipulate the human mind might exceed anything she had ever imagined.
Looking back at her own changing view of the Eternal City—from concern to surveillance, from suspicion to approval, and finally to her decision to join—it all seemed to have happened without her even noticing. As she began scrutinizing herself, she wondered if magic had influenced her. But then again, if Solomon had wanted to use mind-affecting spells on her, he wouldn't have waited until now. He had always been patient, tirelessly explaining his ideals and his actions to her.
"So far, the Eternal City has only destroyed Trinity's military forces. But unless we cut off their financial support, they'll just buy new mercenaries and heavy weaponry. That's why I need you to infiltrate Langley's server room and extract data—MI5 isn't worth the effort; it's basically a spy warehouse. Help the Intelligence Department map Trinity's internal financial network. Once we've identified the true power players, not just the surface-level managers, we can execute precision strikes and wipe out this organization in the most literal sense."
She had even joked that Solomon was behaving like a modern-day Philip IV. Solomon, for his part, acknowledged the French king's accomplishments and compared today's geopolitical landscape with Philip's eastward expansion. He said that the king's maneuvering against Pope Boniface VIII was particularly worth studying.
"Of course, this is just a small task."
The arcane sorcerer's voice seemed to echo in the cockpit, resonating with the white shockwaves rippling across the reinforced glass. "You're worth more than a million corpses, so don't throw yourself away on a mission. I need you to pass on your skills, your knowledge, your passion." Natasha tried to shrug but was restrained by the harness securing her in the Quinjet's pilot seat.
The aircraft gradually decelerated, a black dagger piercing the heavens. Natasha began to regain clarity. The sky outside was growing darker and deeper, sunlight receding from her face, starlight filtering through the icy void into her retina. The ascent from liftoff to orbit had been swift, and the suit's life-support systems ensured her survival.
The Quinjet followed a pre-set trajectory in a graceful arc. Meanwhile, another black aircraft mirrored its flight path precisely. Silent and unseen, it followed behind—with a team of passengers equally unnoticed. They had only one mission: to ensure the survival of Natasha Romanoff. If necessary, they were prepared to sacrifice their own lives.
(End of Chapter)
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