Asgard's snow had always seemed more romantic than Earth's. The rootless water that fell upon this floating island in the void of space was lighter than snow anywhere else.
When the drifting snowflakes landed on the window, frost spread from the edges of the frame, and several silhouettes could vaguely be seen through it.
Loki, clad in armor and a cape but without his crown, looked exceptionally cold. He said to the two attendants and one master of ceremonies before him, "I'm sorry, but everything I said is true. Asgard Palace no longer needs so many attendants. You may go home."
The two attendants lowered their heads and exchanged glances. The master of ceremonies looked up to gauge Loki's expression, then asked in a deep voice, "Forgive me, Your Highness, but may I ask whose order this is?"
"You are my attendants. Naturally, this is my order." Impatience began to show on Loki's face, but he still explained patiently. Yet the three people opposite him showed no intention of leaving.
Loki did not say anything like, "Can't you understand what I'm saying?" nor did he make similar threats. He simply took the hammer from his waist, weighed it in his hand, and said, "I have matters to attend to shortly. If you still refuse to leave, I can only find another way to ask you to leave."
The three people before Loki glanced at the hammer in his hand, exchanged looks again, then bowed and departed.
Loki could even hear their ceaseless whispers as they left.
But Loki was not angry. He merely hefted the hammer in his hand and looked at it. "Now I understand. A hammer really is useful."
He sighed and turned to leave. The moment he stepped outside, he saw another figure waiting at the end