Strax adjusted his cloak over his shoulders, fastening the silver dragon-shaped clasp that Monica had insisted on having polished. The light streaming through the tall office windows reflected off the metal, dancing across the walls covered in maps and reports.

Monica sat at the table, surrounded by stacks of documents and magical quills that wrote on their own, keeping pace with the steady rhythm of her pen. She didn't even look up when he spoke:

"I'm leaving today. Cristhalis is waiting for me."

"Oh, of course," she replied, still reviewing a report. "Going to visit some woman made of ice and arrogance… a sensible decision for you to go after a woman, as always."

Strax smiled wryly. "You say that as if I have a choice. Come on, I was summoned, have you forgotten?"

Monica put down her pen, finally looking at him. "You always have a choice. You just usually choose the path that makes everyone else nervous. And it wasn't a summons, it was an invitation." She said, pouting slightly, after all, she was a little jealous.

He laughed, approaching the table. "Keep in touch through telecommunication magic. Or, if there's a problem, send messenger birds. Scarlet and I won't be completely out of reach."

"Telecommunication magic, birds, ravens, spirits with common sense…" Monica rested her chin on her hand, observing him with a mixed air of tenderness and weariness. "Leave it to me. I'll make sure Asgard doesn't collapse while the great hero goes to freeze himself for the love of adventure."

"Hero?" Strax raised an eyebrow. "That's new."

"Don't get used to it."

He chuckled, resting his hands on the table, observing how efficient she had become. Papers, seals, contracts, security diagrams — Monica was the silent engine of the entire city. Since Asgard's rebirth, she had taken over the administration with a cold and ruthless precision, worthy of a war strategist. "I trust you," he said, serious this time. "Keep the city safe. And see if you can figure out what to do with the Veil Company. Maybe they'll be good for something besides getting into trouble."

Monica smiled slightly. "I'm already working on it. Yennifer sent a report on them—and, honestly, they seem more useful alive than dead. I'm considering integrating part of their network into ours. Information is power, after all."

Strax nodded. "As long as you maintain control."

"Ah, Strax," she replied, returning to flipping through a map. "If there's one thing I never lose, it's control."

He was silent for a moment, watching her work. Monica rarely showed emotion, but there, in the morning light, there was something almost serene about her—as if she were finally home.

"There's one more thing," he said, changing his tone. "Agnes."

Monica looked up, curious. "What about her?"

"She's pushing herself too hard."

"Too hard?"

"Yes." He leaned back in the chair in front of the desk. "Since her daughter started training with Frieren, she's been working double shifts. She's leading, training the beastmen, helping with the reconstruction, supervising the armament… all at once. I know it's because she wants to repay the debt she feels she owes me—and Frieren—but if she continues like this, she'll end up destroying herself."

Monica crossed her arms, watching him attentively. It was rare to see Strax show such direct concern for someone.

"Do you want me to talk to her?"

"No. She won't listen." He smiled slightly. "But you can make it sound like an administrative order. Give her a few days off. Say it's a decision from the War Council, anything like that. She'll complain, but she'll obey."

Monica smiled discreetly, resting her chin on her hand. "You're really learning how to handle people, Strax. You almost sound like a leader."

He gave a short laugh. "Don't exaggerate. I just don't want my soldiers to die of exhaustion before the next war."

"Or before the next suicide mission to the far north," she retorted, amused.

Strax stood up, adjusting his cloak once more. "If I don't come back, the city is yours."

Monica looked up, serious now. "You'll be back. And you'll be grumbling, with snow up to your neck and your ego frozen solid. I already know the script."

He gave a half-smile. "Then keep the tea warm."

"It will be waiting."

As he turned to leave, Monica added, without taking her eyes off the papers:

"Strax."

He stopped at the door. "Hm?"

"Don't underestimate the Ice Monarch. They say even the wind obeys when she speaks."

"Yes," he replied, smiling. "But the wind also learns to change direction when it encounters a bigger storm."

Monica watched him leave—the sound of his boots echoing down the corridor—until silence filled the office. Then, sighing, she returned to work, but with a slight smile on her face.

"I hope this time the idiot doesn't bring half of the frozen north back here…"

Meanwhile, outside, Strax crossed the central courtyard of Asgard. Scarlet was waiting for him at the foot of the stairs, leaning against one of the columns, arms crossed and the same provocative smile as always.

"Took you long enough," she said. "I thought you'd frozen before you even left."

"Monica talks a lot," he replied.

"She talks because you act little," Scarlet teased, descending the last step. "Ready to meet the Ice Queen?"

Strax looked at the horizon—where the distant mountains were covered by a white veil and the wind carried a chill that seemed to whisper his name.

"Ready? No. But curious, certainly."

The wind of Asgard was cold that morning, but not enough to discourage Strax. The pale sun barely managed to penetrate the veil of clouds, and the city was still waking up amidst the distant sound of bells, the hammering of forges, and the echo of footsteps on the stone streets. Scarlet walked beside him, her red coat contrasting with Strax's dark cloak. The two descended the steps leading from the mansion's main courtyard to the lower square. The guards parted, bowing to the leader and the woman with the predatory gaze who accompanied him.

"Finally leaving," Scarlet murmured, her hands in her pockets. "I confess I was starting to think you were going to postpone it again."

"No," he replied, looking ahead. "When destiny sends a letter, it's impolite not to answer."

"Hah. And they say you have no manners," she scoffed, laughing softly.

As soon as they passed through the gates, a deep roar cut through the air—not of anger, but of power. The people nearby instinctively moved away, some holding their children, others simply freezing in fear.

Scarlet raised an eyebrow. "Ah... great. The zoo woke up."

From the end of the street, a colossal shadow approached. Shura.

The white tiger walked with the majesty of an ancient king, his muscles rippling beneath his scarred fur, his fiery gaze sweeping the path ahead. Behind him, four smaller tigers—his hunters—dragged fresh prey: enormous wild boars, a deer, and what appeared to be the carcass of a bear. The smell of blood and fresh earth filled the air.

"Good morning, boss!" Shura roared in a deep, almost guttural voice, flashing an animalistic grin. "The hunt was good. The Beast-Men will have plenty to eat for weeks."

Strax crossed his arms, observing the scene with a mixture of pride and amusement. "Impressive. But you always exaggerate."

"Exaggeration is synonymous with victory, isn't it?" Shura replied, letting out a laugh so loud that it echoed off the walls of the square.

Scarlet looked at the carcasses and wrinkled her nose. "Exaggeration is also synonymous with the smell of decay. You could, I don't know, clean up before bringing the whole zoo to the main gate."

Shura ignored the comment and turned to Strax, her eyes sparkling with curiosity. "So… where are you going dressed like that, with that look of someone about to get into trouble?"

Strax adjusted his cloak, a discreet smile on his face. "Cristhalis. I have matters to discuss with the Ice Monarch."

The air seemed to freeze.

Literally.

The warm breath coming from Shura's nostrils turned into cold vapor, and for an instant, the tigers behind him recoiled, restless. The golden eyes of the white tiger turned red—a pulsating, wild, vibrant red.

Scarlet raised her hand instinctively, ready to react, but Strax subtly gestured for her to stay put.

Shura took two steps forward, his body tense, muscles trembling beneath his fur. When he spoke, his voice was a contained roar between clenched teeth.

"With that Bitch…?"

Strax raised an eyebrow. "So you know her."

The tiger lowered his head slightly, teeth bared. "Not know… remember. She hunted my people decades ago. Her cold isn't just ice. It's a curse. When her wind blows, even the spirits of the mountains fall silent."

Scarlet smiled, fascinated. "Well, it seems someone holds a grudge."

Shura ignored her, fixing his eyes on Strax. "Are you going to her of your own free will?"

"Yes," Strax replied calmly. "She invited me."

The tiger's gaze narrowed, and the air around him seemed to crackle. "Invited?"

Strax nodded. "A direct letter. Polite, even. She said she wants to meet me personally."

Shura let out a guttural sound, something between a growl and an incredulous laugh.

"Polite, is it? That woman doesn't know the word. She only speaks with ice and death."

"Then perhaps she's trying to change," Scarlet provoked, with a half-smile. "Or perhaps she wants to test the man who made the heavens tremble in the south."

The tiger glanced at her for a brief moment, then turned back to Strax.

"I want to go."

The silence that followed was heavy. Even the other tigers stopped breathing for a moment.

Scarlet crossed her arms. "Go along? To Cristhalis?"

Shura growled low, the sound vibrating on the ground. "I want to look into her eyes again. To see if she still carries the same hatred she used to massacre the White Claws clan. I want to feel her wind threaten me… and not back down this time."

Strax observed the tiger for a few seconds. There was something more there than just revenge — an ancient fury, shaped by memories and pride.

"If you come with me," he finally said, "you will follow my orders."

Shura snorted. "Orders? I follow the path of instinct."

"Then stay," Strax replied, turning away.

The silence lasted a second… two… until Shura's roar broke the air, loud and fierce. "I follow instinct, but I respect command!"

Scarlet raised her eyebrows, whispering: "Hah… it worked."

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