The morning sun streamed lazily through the windows of the new office, bathing the polished stone floor in warm golden tones. The distant sound of hammers in the forges mingled with the soft murmur of the streets of Asgard—a gentle, almost tranquil melody.

Strax sat in his large chair, made of dark wood and leather, reclined enough so that his feet rested on the table. An open newspaper covered his face, and only the slow rhythm of his breathing betrayed that he wasn't asleep—just resting with his eyes closed, enjoying the rare silence that the new world afforded him.

On the table, piles of documents, maps, and reports were haphazardly stacked. A glass with the remains of some wine rested beside an ornate dagger, apparently used as a letter opener.

It was the kind of scene anyone would describe as peaceful.

Almost serene.

Almost.

The door opened with a dry crack.

Strax didn't move. Not a muscle.

He only slightly turned his face from under the newspaper.

"If it's another appeal request, leave it on the table," he murmured, his voice muffled. "Or burn it with the rest."

"It's not paper," a feminine voice replied, laden with irony. "It's trouble."

The newspaper slowly slipped from his face, revealing golden eyes that gleamed lazily in the light.

Xyn leaned against the door, arms crossed. Her white-streaked hair was loose, her expression one of amusement, as if she was about to disturb someone else's peace.

"Trouble?" Strax repeated, raising an eyebrow. "You know that could mean anything in this place. Be specific before I imagine the worst."

"That boy," she replied.

"Which boy?" he asked, without moving, leaning back in his chair again.

"The whatever-his-name-is from the Aegis Guild." She commented, dismissively.

Strax let out a sound that was half sigh, half laugh.

"Ah… the idiot." He shook his head, as if remembering an old nightmare. "What has he done now?"

Xyn took a few steps inside, stopping in front of the table.

"He's trying to force his way into the city." She rested her hands on her hips. "Again."

The newspaper, still dangling from Strax's hand, slid to the floor with a soft rustle. He slowly straightened in his chair, crossing his fingers in front of his face.

"Tch…" he clicked his tongue. "Two days. Two miserable days. I underestimated his stubbornness."

"And his ego," Xyn added, smiling wryly. "It's bigger than the wall."

Strax ran a hand through his hair, thoughtfully, his gaze lost in the window. Outside, the city was bustling—builders, blacksmiths, soldiers training. Everything still smelled of beginnings, of reconstruction.

"Asgard was certainly going to go through this at some point," he murmured, with a serene weariness. "But the city has barely been reborn and it already has problems with idiots? The universe really doesn't waste time testing my patience."

Xyn chuckled softly.

"It seems the world doesn't like peace."

"Neither do I," he retorted with a sigh. "But still, I try to pretend."

The silence stretched for a few seconds. The wind made the curtains sway gently, and the sound of a distant hammer broke the calm.

"So," Xyn said, crossing her arms. "Do you have something in mind to deal with this? Or would you prefer to simply ignore it and send some knights to scare the boy away again?"

Strax became thoughtful. He tapped his index finger on the tabletop a few times—a habit that betrayed the inner workings of his mind.

"Ignoring it would be good," he said, finally. "I like watching arrogant people wear themselves out. But… he's too young to understand when he's lost. He'll keep going until someone does something that kills him."

"And you don't want to kill him."

"No." Strax looked at her, a half-smile appearing. "I want him to learn. Dying is too easy for an idiot."

Xyn leaned closer to the table, resting her hands lightly on it.

"So what are you going to do?"

Strax took a deep breath and looked at the ceiling for a moment. Then, he spoke calmly:

"I'm going to go take care of him."

Xyn raised an eyebrow, surprised.

"Take care?"

"Exactly," he said, a lazy smile spreading across his face. "I'm going to put the fear of God into him, then he should run away. I don't have the patience to deal with stupid people."

Xyn looked at him for a long moment, her ironic smile transforming into an expression of pure disbelief.

"You? Going personally to deal with an arrogant kid? That I want to see."

Strax rose from the chair, the leather creaking under his weight. The newspaper fell completely to the floor, forgotten. He stretched his neck, the muscles of his shoulder moving under the dark fabric of his shirt.

"Don't look at me like that," he said, adjusting the cloak that rested on the back of the chair. "Sometimes, a good scare is worth more than an execution. It saves time, paperwork, and blood."

"And you enjoy it," Xyn added, smiling mischievously.

"Perhaps a little."

Strax walked past her, the scent of leather and metal mixing with the faint aroma of smoke that always accompanied him. He paused for a moment at the door and looked over his shoulder.

"Are you coming?"

"It depends." She raised an eyebrow. "Is it going to be an educational spectacle or a traumatic lesson?"

"A little of both."

Xyn laughed and followed him down the stone corridors, their footsteps echoing in the silence of the administrative building. The towers of Asgard rose outside, proud and still stained with the dust of reconstruction. The guards saluted as he passed, rigid and attentive—and it was almost comical to see the contrast between their reverence and the careless way Strax walked, hands in his pockets and his cloak dragging on the ground.

"So explain something to me," Xyn began, as they descended the staircase. "Why didn't you just banish the boy? It would be easier."

"Because fools always come back," he replied. "If I send him away, he'll return with more pride and less sense. If I mark him with fear, he will remember Asgard as the place where he almost lost his soul. That will keep him away... or make him respect the gate."

"And what if he doesn't learn?"

Strax looked at her, and the golden glint in his eyes flickered briefly.

"Then he will learn the hard way."

When they emerged into the courtyard, the morning wind hit them forcefully. The black flag of the Einherjar fluttered above the walls, reflecting the sun. Soldiers were training further on, the sounds of swords and rhythmic shouts echoing among the stones.

Strax took a deep breath—that air mixed with metal, dust, and power.

It was the smell of a living Asgard.

From above, he spotted the north gate. Even from a distance, the movement was visible: a small crowd was forming in front of the Aegis Guild's wagons. And in the middle of it, Darek Volnar—the young merchant with golden hair—was shouting something that probably involved insults and demands.

"He really doesn't learn," Xyn muttered, crossing his arms.

Strax simply smiled. "Don't worry. He will soon."

They walked to the gate. With each step, Strax's presence seemed to weigh more heavily on the surroundings—the guards straightened their posture, the workers stopped what they were doing, even the birds on the parapet ceased their singing. The air seemed to grow denser, colder.

When they arrived, the captain of the guard—the same one who had confronted Darek days before—greeted them with a quick salute.

"Sir, he's back. He tried to bribe the patrol and threaten the guards."

Strax nodded, observing the merchant who, noticing his approach, swallowed hard. There was still arrogance in his eyes, but it was now mixed with a spark of fear.

"Ah... the great Lord of Asgard," Darek said, trying to disguise his nervousness with sarcasm. "Did you come personally to greet me this time?"

Strax walked slowly towards him, the sound of his boots echoing like muffled thunder. He stopped a few steps away and stared at him in silence.

"You really like to test the limits of your stupidity," he said calmly.

"I only want what's fair!" Darek retorted, raising his chin. "I'm a Volnar! My name is respected throughout the south! You can't treat me like—"

Strax interrupted him with a wave of his hand.

"Your name," he said, "is worth nothing here."

Darek blinked, surprised. "What?"

Strax took a step forward—and the air seemed to tremble. His shadow loomed over the young man, distorted, alive.

"In Asgard," he continued, his voice low, almost a whisper, but charged with power, "there are no nobles. There are no privileges. Here, what defines a man is what he can endure. And so far, you haven't even endured your own pride."

The merchant tried to answer, but the words died in his throat. Strax's golden gaze pierced him, burning.

Xyn approached, smiling mockingly. "He'll faint before he learns anything, Strax."

"Then let him faint," he replied without averting his eyes. "Better that than for him to keep talking."

The silence that followed was suffocating.

Darek trembled, but forced a weak laugh.

"Do you think you can scare me with theatrics?"

Strax tilted his head—and the smile that appeared on his lips was anything but human.

"Not theatrics. A lesson."

He raised his hand. The wind shifted. The shadows around them seemed to lengthen, twisting at his command. The air grew heavy, and the sun, for an instant, seemed to dim.

Darek staggered, feeling the ground give way beneath his feet—or perhaps it was his mind that was giving way.

"Remember this feeling," Strax murmured, drawing closer until his words brushed the young man's ear. "It is the taste of insignificance. It is what every man must taste before he deems himself worthy to raise his face before Asgard."

Darek fell to his knees. The sound of chains in his mind echoed, invisible but present.

Strax stepped back, and the pressure vanished as if it had never existed. The sun shone again. The wind blew once more.

Xyn watched him, amused. "And I thought you were going to go easy on him."

"I did," he replied, without emotion. "If it were for real, he would already be mute."

The captain of the guard awaited orders. Strax looked one last time at the kneeling merchant and murmured:

"Let him go. If he returns… let him return on his knees."

And, turning to Xyn, he added with a half-smile:

"There. I took care of him."

Xyn laughed, shaking her head. "You and your obsession with teaching the world by force."

Strax shrugged, walking back towards the fortress.

"If the world doesn't learn with words," he said, "it learns with fear."

If you find any errors ( broken links, non-standard content, etc.. ), Please let us know < report chapter > so we can fix it as soon as possible.