Once the room was cleared, I felt a barrier form—a privacy screen formed of ice and layered with the Asgard divine element. The Jotunn were as much a people of the Asgard Realm as the Asgardians, so it was no surprise that their essence for the divine was Asgardian. The privacy screen would keep sight and sound from entering and leaving. It formed with an opaqueness just dense enough to allow light in and little else.

The shield had formed with Bergfinnr still protesting. Unlike most of the Jotunn, he had not left when Thrym ordered the room cleared; he had to be escorted out. Utgard-Loki had been excluded from this meeting, as well, and had taken his exclusion without issue.

The presence of Krampus in this meeting only confirmed my supposition that there was more to the relationship between Thrym and him than anyone suspected. That supposition was confirmed when Krampus started the discussion.

“Is there a reason you won’t identify yourself?” He asked, more curious than angry.

“A few, but I can promise my reasons to have nothing to do with the Jotunn,” I answered. Not being able to lie had its drawbacks, but I had long mastered the art of speaking only the truth while twisting what it is the person listening heard. For this question, there was no reason to prevaricate.

“A promise cloaked in lies is no real promise,” Thrym answered. I was shocked at his response. My assumption that Krampus was the one pulling the strings in their relationship also included a presumption that Thrym lacked intelligence. That might not be the case.

“That may be true,” I agreed, not bothered by his accusation. If I had been standing before him in my proper form, I might have had cause to call challenge at his impugning my honor. It was a grievous insult to say a Sidhe was lying. There had been duels fought over the hint of such an accusation.

“But I am willing to give [Oath] that I mean the Jotunn no harm, that my interest lies within Asgard City and with Odin.”

The look Krampus and Thrym shared at my offer was nuanced. Glances and expressions were shared between them, communication that included words and messages in their secret language. That language that had been created over eons. Their conversations were filled with understanding, planning, and agreement.

“That you offered to make [Oath] might be seen by some as proof of your words,” Krampus finally said, their secret conversation concluded. “We are not those people. We will accept your [Oath].”

It would have been an even more grievous insult to my honor as a Sidhe to ask for an [Oath] when I had made the offer. That the offer was made was enough to prove my motives. But they were not Sidhe, and I was not in my true form, so I had to ignore this insult as well.

‘I give [Oath] that my goal and the target of my plans are not against the Jotunn, but are focused on Asgard and Odin. I hoped to enlist the Jotunn to help me attain those goals, but I will not kill or wound any Jotunn unless attacked, tricked, or my own life is in peril because of the actions of Jotunn. That does not mean they may not be wounded, killed, or captured by others. I have no control over the actions of anyone but myself.’

I worded the [Oath] as narrowly as possible. I didn’t intentionally plan to lead the Jotunn into harms-way, but I wouldn’t hesitate to act and orchestrate tactics that might be dangerous for them. Their safety would be in their hands; how they responded and defended themselves if needed was up to them.

I had constructed my [Oath] so that a Jotunn could not allow themselves to be wounded or killed, their action or lack of action designed to name me [Oath-breaker]. Something I was sure Bergfinnr would consider at some point if he ever found out that I had given [Oath].

“Good enough,” Thrym said, only after examining my words and giving them real consideration. He and Krampus had another one of those silent conversations as they dissected my [Oath], trying to fathom any loopholes before he gave his approval.

The loopholes existed, not that I couldn’t have done better. The [Oath] was filled with intent, hidden subtext in how each word was pronounced and how each sentence was constructed. Not the trickiest [Oath] I could have given, but well enough to confound the Jotunn.

“What do you want the Jotunn to do, and why should we help you instead of killing or chaining you in the dungeon?” Krampus asked, his threat very clear. They were just as willing to attack and kill me as they were to listen to my plan.

If the Sidhe were known for their ability with illusion and glamour, the Jotunn were known for their ferocity and battle lust. Honestly, I was surprised I had gotten even an audience when they had discovered I was hiding behind a Jotunn illusion.

Utgard-Loki wasn’t known for his restraint. He was easily provoked, quick to anger, and fearsome in battle. Thrym or Krampus must have given him orders for capture before he approached me; only that intervention kept me reasonably safe.

“I had planned to goad the Jotunn into attacking Asgard and use the confusion of war to keep Odin from noticing my movements, but from what I learned, that won’t work. There would be no reason for him to act or concern himself with a Jotunn army when he knew that everything would be undone once the battle ended.

“So, I think a new type of battle should be used, something the Asgardians have never encountered before. Consecutive hit-and-run attacks that targeted strategic locations that got the Asgardians to chase the Jotunn. The Jotunn that are fleeing will be leading them into traps.

“If the Jotunn capture the Asgardians instead of killing them- holding them hostage or leaving them for Hel to deal with, then these attacks should be outside the framework that resets events,” I explained.

It was only when I considered that the Jotunn and Asgardians were trapped in a framework of expected actions that I realized why the System was available to me. The System was the framework for every battle and war that allowed individuals to respawn.

Sometime in the past, Odin must have agreed to allow the System enough authority to create the conditions for war amongst those of this realm. I wasn’t sure if the System constrained Odin himself, but I thought it likely.

He would have had to give up some of his Divinity, some of the divine power of every God and godling of his realm, to allow destroyed cities to be restored and the dead brought back to life. That he and his Pantheon were still so strong with that power sacrifice was impressive.

I thought I understood why he would do such a thing. If Asgard was the only Pantheon of Gods in this Universe, his actions would have made no sense, but with the inclusion of other Pantheons, he needed the full military might of his people. He could not afford the loss of life for even one of them.

If war broke out between the Pantheons of Gods, he might find himself at a disadvantage if the ravages of war with the Jotunn had weakened his people. He might have been able to defend and attack against another Pantheon with the Jotunn at his back, but for every Asgardian that fell in battle, that meant one less warrior to protect the realm.

Odin would rather suffer the unending battle of Jotunn clashes than lose someone that might be vital to the survival of the realm.

Ragnarok was real for him. [Fate] had already determined the outcome of that final conflict. It had been woven into the tapestry of the Universe, written in the stars for any with the ability to read to see.

It must be a frightful thing to know that as one of the most powerful Gods in existence, your time was limited. That you would fall and die. That fear might explain why Odin and Zeus embraced the idea of killing and stealing other Gods [Domains].