Interlude 1
In Glaðsheimr, capital of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire, stood Valaskjálf Palace.
It was the seat of power for the þjóðann, or divine emperor, the ruler of all of Yggdrasil.
Even with the work of tens of thousands of slaves, it had taken twenty years to finish the palace’s construction, and it was so large that even a small town would fit within its walls.
From deep within its interior rose a great castle keep, so tall that it seemed to be reaching for the heavens.
Although, to be more precise, it wasn’t a traditional castle keep at all. It held no residential or ceremonial rooms within its interior; it was simply a tower of bricks stacked upon bricks.
This was the building known as the Hliðskjálf, or “sacred tower.”
It was constructed to allow sacred rites to be performed as close to the sky — and thus, the gods — as possible, and so there were similar towers in many of Yggdrasil’s major cities. However, to the people of Glaðsheimr, the tower here was the only true Hliðskjálf, and the ones in other cities were nothing more than fakes, pathetic imitations of the real thing.
The sacred tower of Glaðsheimr was indeed markedly larger and much taller than its counterparts elsewhere. But like its counterparts, at its apex was a sacred sanctuary, or hörgr. It was here that the divine emperor herself was seated, awaiting her visitor.
Fagrahvél entered the hörgr and slowly made his way towards her.
Each of his steps was accompanied by the stiff, clicking sounds of the plates of his golden armor and the heavily decorated sword at his waist. He had long, golden hair that flowed down in a ponytail from the nape of his neck, and swayed in place as he walked.
His features were stern but very beautiful, and the ladies-in-waiting he passed by were always so struck by his gallant figure that they let out sighs of wonder.
“Your Majesty, by your command, I, Patriarch Fagrahvél of the Sword Clan, have arrived,” he announced. “I am at your service.”
Fagrahvél deftly dropped to his knee and bowed low. His movements were refined, evidently well-practiced.
A soft, clear voice replied to him from behind a dividing screen. “Ahh, well met. We are glad to see you again.”
This was the voice of the divine emperor of the Holy Ásgarðr Empire, Sigrdrífa. This girl was bearer of the noblest and most sacred bloodline in the world of Yggdrasil.
“And I as well, Your Majesty. In what way might I serve you?”
“Mm. As Our foster brother with whom We were raised and nursed, We have a special trust in you, and a request. Come closer.”
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