Loki began to explain, as if teaching an ignorant child:
"This arrogant craftsman will start repairing the wall. But he will never finish! He'll work for us all winter without limits! When winter has passed, we'll drive him away because he didn't finish the work on time—perhaps a lesson in passing, considering his arrogance—and then we could take advantage of the foundation and structure of the part of the wall he's already repaired, and on that basis, our craftsmen would only need a few years to build the entire wall! We can get a solid foundation for a huge wall for free, greatly reducing our construction time! This is a profitable deal!"
"How could he possibly agree to build this wall in one season?" a voice asked.
"He probably won't agree," Loki shrugged, looking indifferent.
"But he looks like a proud guy, not one to refuse a challenge. And what if he agrees when his brain is hot? Then wouldn't we make a lot of money? Even if he doesn't agree, we lose nothing, right?"
This explanation was like seeing the light of day, and the doubts and opposition on the gods' faces gradually gave way to a kind of greed and calculation.
They whispered among themselves, and the more they thought about it, the more they felt Loki's plan was flawless, simply a perfect trap set for Ásgarðr!
They patted Loki on the back, praising him for being a very clever guy, rejoicing that such a cunning mind was on their side.
They seemed to see the arrogant craftsman, busy and shamed, driven away, and the future of Ásgarðr, where majestic barriers were quickly erected with ready-made foundations.
They congratulated each other, praising his outstanding intellect and exceptional negotiation skills, and the Golden Palace was filled with a joyful atmosphere.
At this moment, the joyful atmosphere in the Golden Palace was suddenly shattered by Freyja's cold and firm voice.
"Enough!"
Freyja stepped forward.
Her beautiful face no longer held its usual sunlight, only the majesty and anger inherent to the Vanir.
"God-King of the Æsir, and all you Æsir gods," Freyja's gaze swept over Odin and the gods rejoicing in their 'free gain', and finally settled on Loki with undisguised contempt.
"It seems you have forgotten, this is my sister, the noble goddess of the Vanir! Her marriage—how can you Æsir haggle here as if bargaining? Using her as a stake? This is simply absurd!"
Suddenly, she slammed Tyrfing, still in its scabbard, to the floor, producing a dull thud that seemed to strike the hearts of all the Æsir gods.
"If you insist on this dirty deal, considering the dignity of my Vanir people as nothing, then I declare that Freyja and I will immediately return to Vanaheimr! And you can fix this wall yourselves! As for the peace agreement? Hmph!"
Freyja's threat instantly deflated the warmth and calculation in the Golden Palace.
The smiles on the gods' faces froze.
Suddenly, they realized that Freyja and Freyr were not their appendages, but emissaries of the powerful Vanir, a key link maintaining the fragile peace.
If this farce caused the two main Vanir gods to leave in anger, or even provoked a new round of conflict, it would be a real disaster!
What was more important than a possible war?
Odin's one eye narrowed slightly; of course, he knew the stakes.
He looked at Freyja, his voice calm, trying to soothe her:
"Freyja, your anger is understandable. Ásgarðr does not intend to disrespect the Vanir. But building a barrier concerns the peace of the Nine Realms, and is also a common interest. Although Loki's proposal was inappropriate, its original purpose was to protect Ásgarðr, and indeed all the Nine Realms."
"The peace of the Nine Realms?" Freyja sneered and stepped forward to stand shoulder to shoulder with her brother, her beautiful eyes burning with anger.
"I despise Vanaheimr, having exchanged my freedom and dignity for this so-called peace! Father of the Gods, is this how you treat your allies?"
The place was deadlocked again.
The Æsir were unwilling to give up the capital-free wall repair plan, but dared not truly anger the Vanir.
All eyes turned again to Loki—the instigator, who seemed the only one who could always find a 'crooked path' out of a desperate situation.
Under the scrutiny of the gods, Loki was not nervous, but showed an even more cunning smile, as if everything was under control.
He lightly clapped his hands to get everyone's attention.
Loki's cunning eyes glided between Freyr and Freyja, and finally stopped on the ominous blade of Tyrfing in Freyr's hand.
A look of sudden realization and an exaggerated expression of 'of course' appeared on his face.
"Oh——! My dear Freyr, honorable son of the Vanir!"
Loki drew out his voice, as if revealing some great secret. He stepped forward, circled Freyr, and stared at Tyrfing with burning eyes.
"I see, I see! No wonder you're so nervous and so adamantly demand Tyrfing as the bride price..."
Loki paused, tapping his fingers on his temples, his face full of smiles that seemed sincere but were actually full of provocative smirks.
"I get it! You're not actually fighting for your sister's rights and interests, and you don't care about the glory of the Vanir! You just... can't bear to part with this sword, right?"
He turned to the gods, spread his arms, and announced loudly, as if performing on stage:
"You all see this! His Highness Freyr wields such a divine weapon—a gift from the God-King Narcissus! This legendary Tyrfing is the sharpest magical sword in the Nine Realms! It symbolizes power and glory! May I ask, what soldier is willing to easily let go after obtaining it?"
Loki's words were like a venomous snake, precisely biting Freyr's most sensitive nerve—his pride as a warrior and undeniable possessive nature.
"You talk nonsense!" Freyr's face instantly reddened, the hand holding Tyrfing subconsciously tightened, his knuckles white.
Loki's slander made him feel humiliated like never before, as if he had truly become a villain who sacrificed his sister for a sword.
"I am not a man greedy for others' possessions! My protection of my sister and the dignity of the Vanir can be attested to by heaven and earth!"
"Really?" Loki tilted his head, his smile becoming even more 'innocent'.
"Then prove it to us, Your Highness Freyr. Prove that you love your sister far more than this cold weapon. After all, if this craftsman truly can accomplish a miracle—though it's absolutely impossible—wouldn't it be good to exchange a sword you are 'not greedy for' for a strong barrier for Ásgarðr and peace for the Nine Realms? Or... in your heart, is the value of this sword actually far higher than the righteousness you speak of?"
Loki's sophistry was like a tangled thread, trapping Freyr in a corner.
The gods' eyes were curious and suspicious, as if they were truly weighing the truth of his words.
Freyr only felt his blood rush, the flames of misunderstanding and anger burning his reason.
"Proof? Fine! I'll prove it to you!" Freyr nearly roared, sharply turning to face Odin, raising his hands and extending Tyrfing, blade and scabbard together.
"King of the Æsir!" Freyr's voice trembled slightly with emotion, but his eyes were extremely resolute.
"I, Freyr, light of the Vanir, am willing to temporarily entrust this sword, Tyrfing, to Ásgarðr for your safekeeping! This shows that my mind is as bright as the sun and moon, and is by no means for my own selfish interests!"
He paused, took a deep breath, forcibly suppressed his surging emotions, and emphasized word by word, as if making an oath:
"But! I have a condition! This sword can remain in Ásgarðr, but it cannot be used as a bride price! Freyja's belonging must not be linked to any weapon! This is my final word, and it is also the sacred and inviolable dignity of the Vanir!"
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