"Ah, Perseus Jackson. I've been expecting you."

I pivot on the balls of my feet. Standing behind is a tall and slender man, with piercing blue eyes and smooth, shoulder-length black hair. He is dressed in a black Napoleonic Field-Marshal's uniform, decked with a set of golden epaulettes and finished off with an ornate bicorne. A sheathed basket-hilted sabre hangs from his hip, alongside a beautiful flintlock.

My gaze lingers on the weapons. I've seen them before, but I simply can't place where. I frown. I'll think about it later.

Suddenly, the deja-vu hits me.

"I know you!" I yell. For a second, I see apprehension flash in the man's eyes. Then, as fast as it had appeared, it was gone. Thinking nothing of it, I continue, "Arent you that dude from the movie Avengers? That evil gu-" "-Yes, yes," he interrupts, "I've casted in quite a few mortal movies. They know me as Tom Hiddleston. Good source of income if you ask me: won't have to depend on Order nearly as much."

"So you're Tom Hiddleston," I say, confused. How did Tom Hiddleston get… here?

"No," he clarifies, "I'm Tom Hiddleston only to the mortal world. To everybody else here, I'm referred to as 'Sir'. You will call me 'Sir' until you graduate out of the academy, then you will address me by rank. I am a Field Marshal. You will do that to every officer both above and below you until you get out of the academy."

"What academy?" I ask, confused yet again.

Hiddleston chuckles. "And that's what the briefing is for," he waves me over to an intricate hardwood desk, "have a seat, let me explain."

I sit.

Tom runs his hand through his hair. "You're not the only one out of place," he begins, "Let me give you some background knowledge on both myself and how things work in general. Before I was whisked here, I belonged to a separate universe."

Thoughts were racing through my mind at never-seen-before paces. Did this Hiddleston guy just confirm the existence of a multiverse, like the Avengers?

I open my mouth, but Tom sees and waves me off. "Let me explain first," he says, "As far as my knowledge is concerned, there is a veritable lot of universes all arranged throughout spacetime. Chaos and Order created this universe, while other beings constructed their universes. In my universe, the Norse Gods rule supreme. As for this universe, Chaos and Order originally planned to have the Greek gods rule, but their feisty squabbles and overall incompetence led to that plan being scrapped. It also lead to us."

Hiddleston spreads his arms.

"We are the Lux Ordinis. Instead of gods, we are the policemen of this universe. We make sure everything is running well, with no dictatorships or unnecessary wars-"

His face clouds up. "-... and we're currently not having much success in that field."

Hiddleston beckons with his left hand, towards an unoccupied tent wall. It lights up, illuminating a detailed map, showing 7 planets. He jabs his finger at the leftmost one, a rocky white snowball world. "Frostaria," he says, "currently an ultra-ultra-liberal stronghold. They've established over 150 genders into officiality. Because of this, a new form of widespread racism emerged, this time between genders. Those who identify as amongst the original and traditional genders are being persecuted, Holocaust style."

I shake my head. "This is absurd," I say, "people are fighting now not even because of differences in race or religion, but for differences in gender. That doesn't even make sense. How do they even fight? Does each gender have it's own little country like Earth?"

"Excellent guess," Tom remarks, "You are not far from the truth. In fact, Frostaria was indeed formerly split into separate territories marked by different genders. Mind you, they recognize over 150 genders: with over 150 different countries, it was quite a lively world. That is until all the genders decided to bond and unite into a single gender: Pangenda. That's when it all fell to pieces, and the minority begin getting slaughtered, Therefore, we invade to 'clean the slate' and guide that world to a more benevolent regime."

I nod in understanding. Makes sense. Too much of any good thing can result in it turning sour.

He again motions with his hand, zooming in onto what seems to be a battlefield. Grey jagged rocks protrude from the shining snow. Formations of soldiers armed with muskets shoot at each other, with neither side making any clear advances.

"This is the Assault on Celeste, aimed at capturing a major chokepoint area," Tom voice grows sombre, "It's capture is vital to the ultimate defeat of the regime, however the Frostarians are completely dug in. Right now, it's a stalemate that would result ultimately in our defeat, unless some miracle happens. All the same, we cannot retreat, lest the Frostarians decide to give chase with cavalry."

Hiddleston claps his hands. "Enough of this. This does not concern you yet," he declares, "For now, I want you to report to Sergeant-Major Woolridge, by sector E-8. He will escort you to your barracks and give you a taste of what's about to come."

I look at him, confused. "Where is sector E-8?" I ask.

"Ah yes," Tom says, "Here's a map for you." He tosses a folded piece of paper to me. "E-8 is just to the west of here, right past the parade square. Off you go now."

I nod, and head off.