"To this day, the CIA still hasn't uncovered the truth about the Eternal City—and that's incredibly important to us." The Eternal City's regular council meetings were minimalistic. A cup of hot tea for everyone and a single holographic projection table solved most communication needs. The meeting room itself was bright, adorned in Renaissance décor. Monitors disguised as massive floor-to-ceiling windows displayed idyllic pastoral scenes, and cleverly hidden air vents gently stirred the sheer white curtains.
All related documents had already been sent to the data terminals of each department head.
One of the first priorities after the founding of the Eternal City was the production of proprietary chips and the establishment of high-security communication networks to avoid sabotage or surveillance from hostile forces. As a personal quirk—or perhaps out of dark humor—Solomon had ordered that all Eternal City data terminals eschew the sleek, fragile aesthetic of mainstream high-tech devices (those flimsy things that shatter when dropped and need to be taken to a pretentious boutique for repair), and instead embrace the rugged, ornate practicality of steampunk design (capable of being used as blunt weapons, featuring modular components and insane battery life).
Natasha, present at the meeting, had one in her hand. It had taken her a long time to figure out how to operate the damn thing, its user interface drowning in golden ornamentation. Thanks to her efforts, the Eternal City had finally gained insight into Langley's closely guarded secrets—information they had long desired. Solomon nodded to her. "The post-op cover went well. I believe the CIA still doesn't realize what they lost—or who took it."
Natasha's response was calm and understated. With her skill, intellect, and specialized infiltration assassin armor, being detected during a data theft was almost impossible. The only reason the Langley attack even made headlines was due to the Eternal City's deliberate choice to cover her mission with a large-scale assault. The assassins from the Assassination Department had executed their part flawlessly: a coordinated series of explosions wiped out digital and physical traces, leaving behind evidence that redirected blame to the remnants of Hydra.
As for William Rosslyn—one of the men responsible for the destruction of Frank Castle's family—his death had been personally requested by Victoria Hand. Normally, Solomon wouldn't stir up additional complications just for Castle's revenge, but Hand had insisted Rosslyn was strategically critical. His brain not only held the data necessary to win Castle's loyalty but also the entire CIA Middle East intelligence network. After a brief deliberation, Solomon granted Victoria the necessary authority.
Meetings like this focused on interdepartmental coordination. The Langley assault was a joint op between the Intelligence and Assassination departments. Meanwhile, Maya Hansen from the biotech labs and Malbus (attending via hologram) were present to review power armor usage logs and promised improvements based on assassination feedback, helping the Internal Affairs Department plan the next operational phase.
Another point on the agenda was Sophia's recruitment of a standing army—including but not limited to veterans of the U.S. military, the Soviet-Afghan War, and the Vietnam War. This task went far beyond standard training and had drained much of her energy. Many of those men had become little more than rabid war dogs, addicted to bloodshed. Sophia had to use every ounce of her strength and cunning to tame them. Solomon had assigned her the task not just for the army's sake, but as a deliberate opportunity for her to cultivate discipline, command, and diplomacy.
Solomon himself appeared completely relaxed. After all, he had recruited these people so that he wouldn't have to manage every little thing himself.
With the departments now running independently, he had been able to reclaim lost leisure time (mostly spent canoodling with witches) or turn his attention to terrifying arcane experiments that only he could conduct (followed by more canoodling with different witches). To outsiders unaware of his workload, Solomon looked like a parking lot guard who had nothing to do—sipping tea, humming softly, exuding laziness from every strand of his hair.
But that didn't change the heavy, almost suffocating tension in the room. Everyone besides Solomon was deadly serious. Each of them had been forged in war; none of them showed even the slightest sign of slacking. Some wondered whether the man sitting in the meeting room was even the real Solomon—or just a magically animated construct built of machine and alchemy. Yet true or not, the answer was known only to Royal Guard No. 0, who stood silently beside him in full power armor. No one else knew for sure.
The meeting ended quickly. Once agenda items were reviewed and coordination confirmed, everyone dispersed.
"The Avengers are calling me back. There's an op that needs my involvement." After the others had gone, Natasha Romanoff finally spoke. "Besides the files you gave me, is there anything you want me to pass along?"
Solomon thought for a moment. "Perhaps let them know that I'm currently funding the DEA's anti-narcotics operations."
Natasha smiled warmly.
Solomon hadn't mentioned anything about the subsequent destruction of incriminating evidence—but that didn't bother her. She had seen Victoria Hand's justification for eliminating William Rosslyn, as well as the follow-up investigative reports. Though the CIA's database was massive, the Eternal City's analysts had focused on urgent intel only. Still, Natasha didn't need a report to understand Solomon's reasoning. Every move he made contained a thousand layers of calculation. Funding the DEA was clearly part of it—just another way to weaken CIA control over the Middle East and choke off narcotics routes into the U.S. All of it served the Eternal City's next phase.
To Solomon, there was no better strategic base on Earth than the Middle East. The Eternal City was too small for heavy industry. Kamar-Taj was too high up, and the Himalayas too conspicuous and difficult to build on. The Middle East was the only viable choice. In Natasha Romanoff's view—especially after seeing his interstellar warships—it was a merciful decision. Solomon could have used brute force to reach his goals, but he still chose methods that minimized unnecessary casualties.
She found that deeply human side of Solomon deeply satisfying.
Natasha Romanoff stood up with contentment, then leaned in to kiss the arcane sorcerer seated in the main chair. Royal Guard No. 0 pretended not to see it—but if Natasha hadn't passed the screening prior to entering the chamber, there was no way No. 0 would've let her get that close to their sovereign.
"This is the real you, right? Not an alchemical golem?"
"All I can say is, our biotech lab has made great strides in synthetic skin lately." Wisdom from others was just as valuable—no one could learn everything alone. Solomon had known this truth early on. That's why the first department founded in the Eternal City wasn't military—it was research.
"Give my regards to Captain Rogers," he said. "If he's still willing to hear my name."
(End of Chapter)
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