Ti passed inside the room without them truly noticing. When silence finally returned, the atmosphere still carried the heat of what had happened, but now there was a more stable, less tense feeling. Strax sat on the edge of the bed, running a hand over his face while letting out a controlled sigh, as if reorganizing his own thoughts before returning to the outside world.
Scarlett lay relaxed, clearly in no hurry to move, while Tiamat had already regained a more composed posture, calmly adjusting her hair. Ouroboros remained quieter, but unlike before, there wasn't that constant weight on her, just a lighter, more stable silence.
It was at that mont that there was a knock on the door.
The sound was firm, two well-asured knocks, enough to completely cut through the internal atmosphere and bring everyone back to reality. Strax looked up imdiately, his expression returning to normal in seconds.
"It's about ti," he murmured, rising slowly and walking to the door.
He opened it—
And locked it.
On the other side, Derick wasn't there.
Shalom stood there, her posture rigid, clearly less impulsive than before. And right behind her… the woman he had seen before, the presence that simply changed the atmosphere effortlessly.
Strax was silent for a second, analyzing the two won.
"…Hello," he finally said, in a neutral tone. "Do we have any business?"
Shalom looked away for a mont before answering, sothing that definitely didn't suit the person who had attacked him minutes before.
"…Yes," she said, letting out a small sigh. "I ca to apologize."
She crossed her arms slightly, as if trying to maintain so dignity in that situation.
"I've been dealing with constant problems involving dragons on the borders," she continued. "So… I acted before thinking. I didn't imagine that real dragons would be coming as guests."
Strax just observed, without interrupting.
Then the woman behind her stepped forward.
"My na is Mythra Ascalon," she said directly, without beating around the bush. "Current general of the Celestial Empire."
The way she spoke left no room for doubt or unnecessary formalities. It was simple, objective, and full of natural authority.
"I was the one who assigned Shalom to patrol the borders," Mythra continued. "She possesses a sensory ability far above average. She is efficient at detecting dragons."
Strax nodded slightly. "I understand."
He leaned his shoulder against the side of the door, clearly unconcerned about continuing the conversation there.
"It's all right," he said, without prolonging the conversation.
Mythra stared at him for a few seconds before replying.
"It's not," she said simply.
Strax raised an eyebrow, slightly curious.
"It's not?" he asked.
She maintained a steady gaze.
"Because you clearly look like you're going to kill her at any mont," Mythra replied, without changing her tone.
The silence that followed was short, but enough to leave the situation… slightly awkward.
Then—
Strax smiled.
It wasn't a wide smile, but it wasn't fake either.
"That's just my protective side," he said matter-of-factly. "I don't like it when they try to kill my wives."
Behind him, the slight movent in the room could be felt, probably a reaction from the three won, but no one interfered.
Mythra nodded once.
"I understand," she said. "That's why she's already been punished."
Shalom closed her eyes for a second, clearly not liking hearing that out loud, but she didn't argue.
"That won't happen again," Mythra added.
Strax shrugged.
"It doesn't make much difference to ," he replied. "I could have killed her right there."
Shalom opened her mouth imdiately.
"That's not—"
"I left her alive out of curiosity," Strax continued, cutting her off effortlessly, still in the sa calm tone.
Silence returned.
This ti, heavier.
Shalom frowned slightly, clearly irritated.
"That's a lie," she said, trying to regain so of her previous composure.
Strax looked directly at her.
Without haste.
Without raising his voice.
"It isn't," he said.
A short pause.
And then—
"I haven't even started fighting seriously."
Shalom froze.
Again.
But this ti it wasn't because of external authority.
It was because, deep down—
She knew that it could be true.
Mythra observed the two in silence, carefully analyzing the exchange without imdiately interfering. Her eyes swept over Strax more cautiously now, clearly reassessing sothing she had noticed before.
"…I understand," she finally said.
And, for the first ti—
There was a slight, genuine interest in her voice.
Mythra remained silent for a few seconds after that last sentence, observing Strax more closely than before, as if completely recalibrating how she saw him. There was no exaggerated surprise in her expression, but there was a clear recognition that this situation was unusual, even by the standards of the Celestial Empire.
She then breathed in a controlled manner, like soone who had already made a decision.
"In any case," she began, adjusting her posture slightly, returning to a more formal tone without losing firmness, "you are official guests of the Emperor."
Strax did not respond imdiately, only remaining leaning against the door, looking at her with the sa calm as before.
"And as such," Mythra continued, "it would be inappropriate for your first significant interaction with the Empire to be… this."
She made a small gesture with her hand, indicating Shalom beside her, who clearly didn't like it, but also didn't object.
"Then let's correct this," Mythra finished.
A brief pause ford before she continued, this ti being direct.
"I would like to invite you and your wives to dinner."
Strax tilted his head slightly, as if evaluating the proposal practically.
"A formal apology?" he asked.
"Partly," Mythra replied. "And partly a political necessity."
Scarlett, who until then had only been listening from inside the room, let out a small, low laugh.
"She doesn't beat around the bush," she comnted, moving closer to the door.
Tiamat appeared right behind her, crossing her arms, analyzing Mythra with a more critical look.
"Is this an invitation or an obligation?" "An invitation," she replied. "But refusing it would create unnecessary misinterpretations."
Tiamat let out a small sigh through her nose.
"Then it's an obligation," she murmured.
Strax let out a slight, wry smile at the exchange, but didn't comnt directly. He rely glanced into the room for a mont, as if silently consulting the three of them.
Ouroboros was a little further away, but clearly attentive. When she noticed his gaze, she only nodded slightly, saying nothing, but making it clear that she didn't object.
Strax looked back at Mythra.
"All right," he said. "Dinner doesn't seem like a problem."
Shalom exhaled discreetly, as if relieved that the answer hadn't been negative.
"Good," said Mythra, without showing the sa relief. "Then it's settled."
She turned slightly, preparing to leave, but paused for a mont.
"Dinner will be soon," she added. "I suggest you not be late."
Scarlett raised an eyebrow.
"Does that include her?" she asked, pointing slightly at Shalom.
Shalom imdiately frowned.
"I won't—"
"You will," Mythra interrupted, without even looking at her.
The silence that followed was almost comical.
Shalom closed her mouth slowly, clearly annoyed, but completely without room for argunt.
Strax observed this with slight interest, crossing his arms.
"Complicated family," he comnted.
Mythra finally turned her face back to him, with a small, almost imperceptible smile.
"You have no idea," she replied.
Without adding anything else, she began to walk away down the hall. Shalom stood still for a second, looking at Strax with a strange mixture of irritation and… sothing harder to define.
Then she looked away.
"Don't be late," she said dryly, before turning and following her mother.
The door remained open for a few seconds after the two left.
Silence returned.
And then—
Scarlett chuckled.
"This is going to be interesting."
Tiamat nodded in agreent.
"Political dinner after almost killing each other. Great start."
Strax closed the door quietly.
"We've had worse," he said.
Ouroboros looked at him for a mont.
"…We really have," she murmured.
Strax then stepped away from the door and went back into the room.
"Get ready," he said. "Let's see how far this goes."
And, considering everything that had already happened—
It promised to be anything but a peaceful dinner.
…
[In Asgard]
The scene shifts cleanly, without dramatic transition, revealing the imnsity of Asgard stretching as far as the eye can see. The city was no longer just a growing settlent—it had beco sothing alive, expansive, with buildings springing up at a steady pace, streets being filled, structures being erected with almost frightening efficiency. Newly completed towers reflected the light of the sky, while workers and soldiers moved in perfect order, as if everything were following a very well-defined plan.
At the highest point of one of the central structures, two figures observed everything in silence.
Morgana leaned lightly on the balcony, her arms crossed, her gaze sweeping over the city with a mixture of analysis and… slight disbelief. Beside her, Beatrice maintained a more elegant posture, her hands resting in front of her body, observing the sa scene with a more satisfied look.
For a few seconds, neither of them said anything.
Until Morgana sighed.
"…I think we overdid it," she said, without taking her eyes off the city.
Beatrice tilted her head slightly, as if considering the sentence, before letting out a small, restrained smile.
"A little," she replied. "But we were also very… thoughtful."
Morgana made a small sound through her nose.
"Thoughtful?" she repeated. "We practically turned this place into a capital in record ti."
Beatrice didn't seem to disagree.
"And yet," she continued calmly, "everything is functional. There's no chaos, no structural collapse, and the population is responding well."
Morgana uncrossed her arms and rested her hands on the balcony, leaning slightly forward.
"Because we anticipated everything," she said. "Resources, routes, defense, logistics… even future expansion."
Beatrice nodded.
"Exactly."
A brief silence followed as they both watched a new area being organized in the distance, structures springing up with the help of magic and precise coordination.
Morgana closed her eyes for a second, then opened them again.
"…He'll complain," she comnted.
Beatrice chuckled softly.
"He will," she agreed. "Especially when he realizes how much was spent."
Morgana turned her face slightly toward her.
"Half the coffers, Beatrice."
"An investnt," she corrected, without hesitation.
Morgana narrowed her eyes.
"You say that so easily when you're not the one who's going to hear him complaining."
Beatrice just smiled, clearly unconcerned.
"He'll complain," she said again. "And then he'll accept it."
Morgana was silent for a mont, thinking about it.
"…Yeah," she murmured. "Probably."
Her gaze returned to the city, now more focused on specific points—military areas, watchtowers, the flow of people in and out.
"But I admit," Morgana continued, "it turned out… good."
Beatrice followed her gaze.
"It turned out better than expected," she replied.
Morgana let out a small sigh, this ti less heavy.
"…We really don't know how to do anything halfway, do we?"
Beatrice turned her face slightly toward her, with a discreet smile.
"Not when it cos to him."
Morgana didn't answer imdiately.
But she didn't deny it either.
The wind passed by them both, gently moving their hair as the city below continued to grow, vibrant, organized, efficient.
And, despite the initial comnt—
Neither of them seed truly regretful.
User Comments
0 comments from readers