Strax woke slowly, not because he was tired, but because his body simply wasn't in a hurry. The room was still bathed in the soft twilight of the morning, broken only by the light escaping through the heavy curtains. The scent of rumpled sheets, old incense, and polished wood filled the air.
He propped himself up on his elbows and looked around.
Kryssia slept on her side, her hair spread across the pillow, its light blue strands reflecting like the sea, her breathing slow and deep.
Xenovia was closer, partially curled up in the sheets, one hand resting on her abdon, the tranquil expression of soone who had finally switched off from the world.
Strax observed the two for a few seconds, in absolute silence.
A small—honest—smile appeared on his face.
He got up carefully so as not to wake them, picked up a piece of clothing lying on the floor, and dressed haphazardly. Before leaving, he cast one last glance at the king-size bed, as if morizing that peace before returning to reality.
He opened the door.
And ca face to face with Monica.
She was standing in the hallway, perfectly erect, holding a thick clipboard against her chest. Her hair was impeccably styled, her dress neatly aligned, but her eyes… her eyes betrayed everything.
Tiredness. Jealousy. Irritation.
A lot of jealousy.
"You have work," she said bluntly. "And you need to stop having sex."
Strax blinked once.
Then laughed. "Is that jealousy?"
Monica's gaze turned deadly. "EXACTLY. THEN STOP."
He laughed even harder, clearly amused by her reaction. "I won't stop."
Before she could answer, Strax leaned in and kissed her.
It wasn't long. Nor excessive. But he was direct, confident, the kind who dismantled defenses without asking permission. Monica froze for a split second… and then responded, albeit against her own will.
He stepped back before things could escalate.
"Good morning to you too," he said with a lazy smile.
Monica took a deep breath, clearly trying to regain control, and pushed the clipboard against his chest. "Read."
Strax picked up the papers.
"I understand…" he murmured, his eyes quickly scanning the lines. His tone changed, becoming more attentive. "This is serious."
"It is," Monica confird, crossing her arms. "An entire city bleeding in silence."
He walked a few steps down the hallway while reading, now completely focused.
"Taxes almost tripled… confiscation of production… 'protection' levies…" he raised an eyebrow. "Classic."
"Classic and efficient," Monica replied. "At least until the economy collapses." Strax stopped.
"Who's in charge?"
"In charge is a generous word," she replied. "Officially, the city is under the dominion of the Monarch of the White Flas."
Strax looked up slowly.
"…Who?"
Monica sighed.
"An idiot."
"I like it when you start like that."
"He possesses a rare ability: white fire. Extrely destructive, extrely unstable. He uses it as a symbol of power. In practice?" she shrugged. "A playboy ard with magic."
Strax looked back at the report.
"Remote territory…"
"Yes. Far enough to avoid direct oversight. Close enough to cause indirect problems."
"And nobody did anything?"
"Christine did," Monica replied. "She investigated along with Yennefer."
Strax raised an eyebrow.
"And?"
"They confird the obvious. He doesn't govern. He exploits. He doesn't invest in infrastructure, he doesn't protect routes, he doesn't maintain a real army. He just sucks."
"A parasite with white fire," Strax concluded.
"Exactly."
He slowly closed the clipboard.
"How many people affected?"
"Directly?" Monica answered without hesitation. "About eighty thousand. Indirectly? Double that."
Silence fell for a mont.
Strax took a deep breath.
"I want a complete report," he said finally. "Trade routes, ruling families, internal support. I want to know who profits from this besides him."
"I'm already preparing it," Monica replied imdiately. "I also recomnd caution. He's an imbecile, but he's not weak."
"Dangerous imbeciles are the worst," Strax agreed. "Because they don't know when to stop."
He handed the clipboard back to her. "Tell Christine to keep watching. And tell Yennifer I might need her."
Monica nodded, but didn't leave.
She stared at him for a mont longer than necessary.
"You know," she said, in a lower tone, "this is going to end in a confrontation."
"Probably."
"And you're going to get personally involved."
"Definitely."
She sighed, massaging her forehead.
"One day you're going to stress out."
Strax smiled slightly.
"You love ."
"I tolerate you," she corrected imdiately. "With extre competence."
He laughed.
"I'm going to take a shower. Then we can talk about strategy."
"No sex," she warned.
He was already walking away when he replied, over his shoulder:
"I promise nothing."
Monica closed her eyes for a second.
"Gods, give patience."
At the end of the corridor, the mansion remained silent. Kryssia and Xenovia were still asleep. The distant city suffered. And, sowhere beyond the borders, a monarch of white fire believed himself untouchable.
Not for long.
Strax walked through the mansion with calm steps, feeling the ancient floor beneath his bare feet while the morning air still carried that comfortable silence of a place rarely caught by surprise. The wide corridors, adorned with ancient tapestries and statues forgotten by ti, seed to breathe along with him.
It was in the middle of the central gallery that he felt it.
It wasn't a shock. Nor an alert.
It was two overwhelming presences, vast as moving mountains. Ancient, dense, powerful auras, enough to send any ordinary mage into a panic… but to Strax, they were as familiar as beloved voices.
He stopped.
He closed his eyes for a mont.
And smiled.
"It's been a long ti…" he murmured, more to himself than to the world.
He turned slowly and walked to the doors leading to the mansion's inner courtyard. As soon as he opened them, the warm wind hit him, accompanied by a colossal shadow that covered part of the garden.
The ground trembled slightly.
In the sky, two dragons descended in slow circles.
One was golden, its scales gleaming like living tal in the sunlight, its broad wings cutting through the air with serene authority. The other was black, so dark it seed to absorb the light around it, its eyes gleaming like deep embers.
Strax crossed his arms and laughed loudly.
—Finally!— she said, raising her voice. —I was beginning to think you'd forgotten about .
The dragons landed with controlled force, displacing the air and making the courtyard trees sway. Their presence was overwhelming—not aggressive, but impossible to ignore.
Then, as if it were the most natural thing in the world, they both began to change.
Scales gave way to skin. Wings retracted like shadows being gathered. The draconic grandeur molded itself into humanoid forms, still retaining that ancient weight in the air.
The first to reveal itself was the figure with hair as black as a starless night.
Ouroboros.
She barely finished the transformation before running towards Strax, her long hair swaying freely, her smile too wide to contain her joy.
—HUSBAND!— she shouted, without any sha.
She threw herself at him, wrapping her arms around him and kissing him intensely, without caring about the place or the mont. There was longing there. A lot of it. The kind that doesn't ask permission.
Strax let out a surprised but firm laugh, easily holding her despite the impact.
"You never change," he comnted, still laughing.
"Days fly by without you," she retorted, finally pulling away slightly, her eyes shining. "That should be a cri."
Before he could answer, calr footsteps approached.
Tiamat.
She walked with the tranquility of soone who had never needed to hurry in life. Her golden hair fell in soft waves, and her presence was different from Ouroboros's: less explosive, more absolute. When she got close, she touched Strax's face delicately… and then kissed him, firmly and calmly, like soone reclaiming sothing that had always been hers.
Strax closed his eyes for a brief mont, accepting the gesture with a smile.
"They were gone," he said, as Tiamat stepped away. "They took longer than usual."
Tiamat crossed her arms, observing the sky for a mont before answering.
"We decided to explore the entire continent… by air."
Strax raised an eyebrow.
"The entire continent?"
"The entire continent," she confird. "And it's gigantic."
Ouroboros circled him, clearly pleased to be back.
"It took us days," she added, excitedly. "Endless mountains, forests that look like green oceans… tiny cities trying to pretend they're big."
"They were probably seen," Strax comnted.
Tiamat nodded, unconcerned.
"Undoubtedly."
"And that doesn't matter?" he asked, almost amused.
"No," she replied simply. "This continent still doesn't understand what truly inhabits the world. A little fear is educational."
Strax chuckled softly, shaking his head.
"You've always been terrible at going unnoticed."
"Lies," said Ouroboros. "We're great at choosing when to be seen."
She moved closer again, putting her arm around his, leaning intimately against him.
"And you?" she asked. "We can sll trouble from a mile away."
Strax sighed, looking towards the mansion.
"There's always sothing," he replied. "But I'm glad you're back. The timing is… convenient."
Tiamat watched him with renewed attention.
"Then let's listen," she said. "It seems the world still needs fixing."
The wind swept across the courtyard, lifting leaves and shadows. Three ancient presences gathered there again, as if ti had never passed.
And sowhere beyond the walls of that mansion, problems were beginning to align with a destiny they couldn't yet na.
User Comments
0 comments from readers