Who: Leo Paulson What: Reflecting and planning When: Tuesday morning Where: The ruins of the Valhalla office
It was a beautiful sight, in many ways. They'd pushed Camelot far enough, things from here would take care of themselves. He was old, and Wednesday was an old god, but finally he was feeling younger and stronger again. The battle in Sherwood, waged with his name and his organization on people's minds, had given strength to the war god. This was only the beginning though. Things would escalate, and more people would know about him, and there would be war and chaos and corpses for the ravens and the wolves. He and Loki would both gain in strength, enough to sustain them for many years of calm and peace, gods forbid. They could disappear then and leave the mortals to sort it out. He already had accounts in the Caymans, a villa in Paraguay. Another month, he thought. Two, at most.
It didn't come without a cost, of course. The building had been a necessary loss, the few guards. That was the price of doing business. His granddaughter though was slipping away, into a world he didn't understand. His grandson, too, was slipping away, in a far different way. It wasn't hard to tell that his heart wasn't in it. Now his mind wasn't either. He couldn't be trusted.
"Sir?" He looked over, his mind brought back by the assistant standing there, waiting for him with insurance papers that needed seeing to. It was a windfall. The insurance on the building had been staggeringly high. The company would profit from this disaster.
Leo smiled serenely. "I'm sorry. Merely lost in thoughts. One never expects these sorts of things to truly happen."
"No sir. It's a tragedy. I'm certain the people who did this will get what's coming to them. There's justice in the world."
"There is. There's also work to be done."
He couldn't retire yet. The war was just beginning.