“Thrym would speak with you,” a Jotunn flanked by four other Jotunn said as he approached me.

“Me?” I asked, not yet worried but undoubtedly confused.

I had hours left to myself, exploring the city. Even as empty of purpose and bereft of all life, the city offered clues into the daily living of the Jotunn. They were military people, and the numerous training grounds dotting the landscape were proof.

The training grounds were the only place Jotunn gathered, harsh commands echoing throughout empty streets as commanders trained the warriors to work in concert and wizards to synchronize, linking them together to increase their potency.

“You and the Hrimfaxi,” the Jotunn said, clarifying his message.

“Who are you?” I asked, stalling as I silently communed with Draioct to try to understand what was happening.

“That question is what Thrym wonders and the reason he would speak with you,” the Jotunn replied. “Your question simply proves that whoever you are, you are not Jotunn. How is it possible for any Jotunn not to recognize me? I am Utgard-Loki, ruler of this city and sworn vassal to Thrym, King of all Giants.

“The wards let you past the entrance to Utgard, but the aura of a Jotunn hidden within the influence of a Hrimfaxi was noted and reported. Thrym would know who you are, what you are, and how you convinced the Hrimfaxi to aid you.”

I considered escaping. Sidhe were well known for their ability to escape and flee when needed. My [S- Rank] body would give me the agility and speed required to avoid capture. That, combined with the gains to my constitution and body that I received from partnering with Draioct, made escape all but certain.

I could leave enough destruction in my escape that the Jotunn might be slowed even further. My affinity with fire was enough that I could destroy this city of ice given enough time.

But I was curious. I wanted to meet Thrym. My original plan to trick the Jotunn into invading Asgard seemed all but futile now that I knew that the constant wages of war were nothing but pretense. Maybe I could find a way for Thrym to act in a way that might change the outcome of the battle, something that added real consequence to their eternal war. Something that might be the leverage I needed to convince Thrym to help me.

The Jotunn had a portal network they used to travel from place to place. A pale imitation of what the Sidhe could create. Their portals were limited in range, and they were unable to traverse the nine realms.

Without the aid of the World Tree, the Jotunn and Asgardians could only navigate the realms using the Bifrost Bridge. I had used the World Tree to gain admittance to Asgard, but now that I had gained access to this plane, it was a simple matter to create [Fairy Rings] to open passage between Urt and Asgard.

I could travel betwixt and between without the use of the World Tree or the Bifrost Bridge.

The portal that we used kept Thrym’s location hidden, or it would have if I didn’t have the map feature. A quick glance allowed me to determine my location in relation to where Utgard City was standing. Thrym and a good portion of the Giants he ruled had set up their real base in a series of caverns and caves. The caverns were large enough that an actual city existed, and those Jotunn, not warrior or wizard caste, could live in safety.

The testing wards placed at the cavern’s opening were much more robust than those at Utgard. They reacted as I crossed into the cave, a spotlight blazing to life, a glowing beacon that enveloped me and tracked my passage.

There was no way my passage had not been noticed. The guards on duty glared at me balefully with killing intent, auras I shrugged off carelessly. I still believed I could escape if I chose, and that belief remained the farther we traveled within the depths of the mountain.

I was interested in if I could find a way to circumvent the defensive wards or nullify them before they activated. I would have Balfour, and the Azi-Fey examine them. They were immune to even wards created by Gods, proven when Utgard-Loki confronted me but never mentioned Balfour or his people.

“Why recreate Utgard here?” I wondered, not sure if Utgard-Loki would answer.

“The mortals have coined a phrase, a truism that expresses a Universal Constant. As above, so below,” Utgard-Loki replied. “The concept of Utgard exists in some manner in every one of the nine realms. Recreating the city here gives power and shape to that truism.

“The two cities, one illusion, one real, combine to forge a framework that serves as the mold for those places below that conform to what Utgard represents.”

The city was brimming with the trappings of life that Utgard lacked. Giants were living and working in a city filled with energy and industry. I did wonder why a race of Gods bothered with performing menial duties. Why would a Jotunn or an Asgardian, for that matter, work as a scullery maid or stable hand?

But if the ‘As above, so below’ maxim was a Universal constant, then maybe these tasks that seemed a waste of time for Gods were their own kind of template, one that the System would use to create classes and professions, one this universe reproduced in a more holistic manner.

I realized as we walked toward what was assuredly Thrym’s castle that it was the little imperfections that were easy to note that separated his place from the other. The buildings here showed wear and tear, the roads worn over time. The perception of buildings as ice sculptures that Utgard represented was replaced by a city that was lived in.

It was well cared for, there weren’t any buildings about to collapse or hovels and slums that would house the poor, but there was a homeyness to the place, an intent to claim the area. A place that was part and parcel of homes and businesses that reflected individuality. The sterile perfection of Utgard was missing here, and I admitted that I preferred this place of imperfection.

The castle that we eventually arrived at was created with defense in mind. It was more a fortress than a symbol of wealth and prestige. The throne room I was ushered into was ablaze with light. The ice refracted that light but controlled. Instead of the prism of colors that I would expect, the light remained uniform. The light refractions were gathered and redistributed from designated light cells that gave shade and shape to the ice itself.

Deep purples, some almost black in hue, and vibrant blues coated the walls, floors, and ceiling. Thrym’s throne was a bastardized amalgam of weapon and ice, rivulets of blood running through channels that had been carved to create a statement.

Utgard-Loki and his guards knelt once we had approached the throne, their heads bowed deeply, waiting to be acknowledged. I had already decided that I could not appear weak and that if I took a knee as the others had, I would be stating that Thrym had power over me.

I would not put my life and fate in his hands. I would stand as equal. Even if he was an [SS Rank] God and had barely come into my own [Domain], he was not a member of my Pantheon. To prostrate, myself, before him would set a precedence that might entangle the Tuatha de Danann as subjects to the Jotunn forever. So, I stood calmly examining the room and people as I waited.

Thyrm released his aura in response to my decision. An oppressive weight that smashed against my body, trying to force me to my knees. Politics and diplomacy were always a contest of weakness and strengths, feints hidden in words and action to gain the most from allies and enemies alike. That contest took on an entirely new meaning when your words or actions might reverberate across the Heavens.

I had stood before a Senate populated by Gods from all Pantheons. I would endure. My ability to withstand his aura was made easier when I surrounded myself with my aura, tempered and filtered through Draioct.

That filtering allowed me to hide the nature of my powers while I remained standing. A calmness enveloped me as I raised a hand to begin stroking Draioct. The ability to withstand that the rest of the room would have seen if they hadn’t been forced to bend their knee and lower their heads.