Chapter 897: Let’s go back to Asgard!
The street still bore the recent marks of the confrontation when Scarlett and Tiamat emerged, walking side by side among broken stones, fallen awnings, and merchants slowly catching their breath. The two were laughing without any shame, as if they had just witnessed a particularly amusing performance, rather than the public humiliation of a Monarch. Scarlett kept one hand on her abdomen, trying to control her breath between laughs, while Tiamat wiped tears from the corner of her eyes, unable to hide the wild enthusiasm that radiated from every gesture. The contrast between the surrounding destruction and the lightness with which they approached made the scene even more absurd to any ordinary observer.
"Did you see her face after the second kick?" Tiamat asked, pausing to laugh again. Her voice echoed through the street like satisfied thunder. "She still thought she could win after the first blow. After the second, she seemed to be trying to remember her own name."
Scarlett took a few seconds to answer, because she could barely breathe from laughing so hard. She straightened her posture, adjusted her hair, and then spoke with impeccable elegance, as if commenting on the atmosphere of a pleasant afternoon:
"The best moment was when she realized that no one was going to save her. Not pride, not title, not pose. Only despair remained. It was beautiful to see."
A few meters ahead, Strax remained beside Ouroboros, observing the city with an expression of renewed boredom, as if everything that had just happened had already lost its importance. Ouroboros, on the other hand, still seemed emotionally shaken by the attack and everything that followed. Her gaze swept over the wreckage, the frightened civilians, and the damaged facades, silently measuring the impact that a single explosion of pride had caused. When she saw Scarlett and Tiamat approaching in that state of absolute hilarity, she sighed like someone who already knew exactly what she would hear.
Tiamat was the first to arrive. Without any ceremony, she put her arm around Ouroboros’s shoulders and pointed at Strax with her other hand.
"Your boyfriend is completely insane," she declared, with total approval. "I really enjoyed that."
Ouroboros closed her eyes for a moment, too tired to argue the comment. Scarlett stopped in front of Strax, observed him from head to toe, as one might assess a well-executed work, and tilted her head.
"Excellent control at the beginning, artistic brutality at the end. You have a natural talent for ending arguments."
Strax let out a short sound, something between contempt and disinterest.
"She tried to kill Ouroboros in the middle of the street. She received a proportional response."
Scarlett arched an amused eyebrow.
"Proportional?" she asked. "You turned her into a decorative projectile sent directly to the palace."
Tiamat laughed again so loudly that a group of soldiers in the distance recoiled reflexively. Strax shrugged.
"It could have been worse."
Ouroboros glanced at him sideways, well aware of the weight of that phrase. When Strax said things could have been worse, it usually meant that half the continent was still intact by sheer personal choice. She lightly touched his arm, a small gesture that only the three closest to her noticed.
"You’re still angry," she said in a low voice.
Strax stared at the horizon for a few seconds before replying.
"Yes. And that’s why we need to leave this kingdom soon."
The words immediately caught the attention of the other two. Tiamat crossed her arms.
"Why did the city become so dull after the fight?" she asked.
Strax shook his head.
"Because the chances of more monarchs showing up to cause trouble are too high. One will want to avenge Aelyra, another will want to test their strength, another will want to protect their reputation, another will just want to talk too much. None of those options interest me."
Scarlett nodded with rare sincerity.
"Unfortunately, you’re right. Wounded nobility breeds a line of idiots."
Ouroboros looked up at the towers of the capital, which gleamed in the afternoon sun despite recent cracks in some structures.
"I miss the calm of Asgard," he confessed, with a quiet nostalgia that softened his voice. "There the wind sounds different. People know each other by name. The biggest problem on a typical morning is usually a cart stuck in the mud or someone arguing over the price of flour."
She smiled slightly at the thought.
"Here, everything is noise. Everything wants to seem important."
Tiamat confirmed immediately, with surprisingly domestic enthusiasm.
"I like the countryside," she said, patting her chest. "Big city is tiring. Too many people staring, too many meaningless rules, too much posing. In Asgard, if someone annoys me, I just walk to the forest and break a tree. It’s therapeutic."
Scarlett gave her an amused sideways glance.
"You break trees anywhere."
Tiamat thought for a second and shrugged.
"Yes, but the countryside seems more appropriate."
Strax finally showed a slight smile.
"Asgard has space, silence, and distance between problems. That helps."
Ouroboros observed that small sign of humor like someone finding light after a storm. Since that traumatic morning, she had been trying to gauge his emotional state, knowing that his anger, when real, could drag everything around him down. Seeing that brief smile was enough to alleviate some of the weight she carried.
Scarlett then clapped once, regaining her focus with elegant practicality.
"If we’re leaving," she said, "it would be wise to buy seeds and seedlings before we depart."
The other three turned to her.
"Asgard has grown too fast. Houses, workshops, bakeries, markets. Soon, consumption will exceed current production. If we bring in new varieties, local agriculture can develop in a few cycles."
Strax inclined his head, interested.
"Good idea."
Scarlett continued, now completely serious.
"Hardworking grains, fast-harvesting vegetables, adaptable fruit trees, medicinal herbs, perhaps vines, if the soil allows it. It would also be good to look for pollinating flowers and plants that replenish exhausted land."
Tiamat blinked a few times.
"I understood half of that," she admitted. "But I liked the part about the fruit."
Ouroboros, who knew the Asgardian fields better, began to consider everything in silence.
"The climate really helps," he commented afterward. "We don’t have extreme cold, nor suffocating heat. The seasons are firm, but balanced. The land responds well when cared for."
Strax nodded.
"Exactly. Not too cold, not too hot. You can grow a lot of things if you do it right."
His tone carried something rare in it: patient planning. It wasn’t conquest, nor war, nor challenge. It was construction.
Scarlett smiled, noticing this.
"Look at that," she teased gently. "The terror of monarchs discussing fertilization."
Strax wasn’t bothered.
"Fertilization feeds cities. Monarchs only disrupt meetings."
Tiamat let out another laugh and almost tripped over a loose stone. Ouroboros, for the first time since the attack, truly laughed. The sound was discreet, brief, but enough for everyone to notice. Strax looked at her immediately, as if that small laugh was worth more than any recent victory.
They continued walking down the main avenue, now less tense. Residents began to emerge from their hiding places. Some recognized something strange in the group’s presence, even disguised or inconspicuous. There was always a kind of energy impossible to completely conceal. Still, no one stopped them. Merchants were setting up their stalls again, artisans were collecting debris, and guards pretended not to notice who was actually passing among them. In ancient cities, surviving also meant knowing when not to ask questions.
They stopped in front of a large trading house specializing in agricultural products. Sacks of grain, tools, barrels, and vases adorned the entrance. Scarlett observed the facade and approved.
"This place looks promising."
Tiamat peeked through the window and commented:
"If they have sweets inside, it also looks promising."
Ouroboros shook his head, now lighter. Strax opened the door and gestured for them to enter first.
Inside, the merchant looked up, ready to attend to ordinary customers. Then he saw the group and momentarily lost his ability to interpret reality. There was something about them that suggested problems of continental scale. Even so, like a good salesman, he composed himself.
"Can I help you?" he asked, his voice hesitant.
Scarlett took the lead with absolute ease.
"Yes. We need seeds, seedlings, and recommendations for a region with a stable climate and promising soil."
The man blinked twice. Then he began to talk more than he breathed. He showed catalogs, boxes, samples, explained planting cycles, irrigation, grafting, crop rotation, and storage. Scarlett listened to everything with elegant attention. Ouroboros asked precise questions. Strax carried heavy sacks without apparent effort. Tiamat tested fruits as if they were strategic items of war.
During the negotiation, Ouroboros discreetly approached Strax.
"Thank you," she said softly.
He looked at her.
"For what?"
She hesitated for a second before answering.
"For protecting me. For getting me out of there. For trying to get back to normal now."
Strax held her gaze for a few moments, unusually silent.
"You are my normal," he finally replied.
Ouroboros blushed almost imperceptibly. Tiamat, listening from afar, dramatically exaggeratedly placed her hand on her chest.
"How adorablely disgusting," she declared.
Scarlett continued examining seeds as if nothing had happened, though she hid a smile. The merchant, without understanding any context, decided that the best thing would be to collect quickly and say little.
When they left the store with boxes, bags, and small seedlings carefully packaged, the afternoon was already descending in golden hues over the capital. The city still seemed grand, but, for them, it had lost its charm. There were palaces, markets, wealth, and power scattered on every corner. Yet, none of those excesses competed with the simple image of Asgard awaiting them: open fields, rebuilt houses, ordinary people working, children running among new streets, and a horizon that demanded no mask.
Strax adjusted the load on his shoulder and began to walk.
"We’ll settle the rest today. We leave tomorrow."
No one disagreed. Tiamat bit into a newly purchased fruit. Scarlett mentally reviewed future plantings.
Ouroboros walked closer to him than before, finally serene.
And so they continued through the capital that seemed too immense, carrying with them something far more valuable than any trophy won there: the certainty that the true center of their lives lay far from that kingdom, in a tranquil land called Asgard.
