Chapter 1015: A Day in Asgard

Scathach did not have to drag him for long before finding what she wanted. Asgard had grown enough for small confectioneries to begin appearing outside the noble districts, especially near the squares where merchants, adventurers, and families spent much of the day. The one she chose stood on a busy corner, with a few tables beneath a wooden awning and a counter open directly to the street. There was nothing particularly sophisticated about it; two girls served the customers, an enchanted machine kept the containers frozen, and a handwritten sign announced different flavors depending on which fruits had arrived that week. Even so, Scathach stood in front of the counter for so long studying the options that Strax began to suspect she was taking the decision far more seriously than necessary.

"You wanted ice cream and now you don’t know what to choose," he commented.

"I’m analyzing."

"It’s ice cream."

"And there’s more than one kind."

Strax put his hands in his pockets and looked at the containers. "Get chocolate."

"That’s what you would choose."

"Yes."

"Then I don’t want it."

"What kind of logic is that?"

Scathach ignored the question and pointed at a pale cream mixed with small pieces of red fruit. "That one."

The attendant prepared a generous portion and handed it to her. Scathach paid before Strax could even reach for his coins. He noticed the movement and raised an eyebrow, but she simply began eating as though she had done nothing. Strax ordered chocolate, naturally, and the two continued walking through the square without any hurry, blending into the flow of people. For the first few minutes, Scathach seemed too busy experiencing the ice cream to talk. She took small spoonfuls, studied the texture, and seemed genuinely interested in that completely ordinary experience, something Strax found curious coming from a woman who had lived long enough to know far more of the world than he did.

"You’ve never had it?" he asked.

"I have."

"Then why that face?"

"This one is better."

"It’s just strawberry and cream."

"You’re strangely committed to diminishing my ice cream."

"I’m trying to understand your concentration."

Scathach took another spoonful and answered calmly, "Some things are better when you pay attention."

Strax did not comment, but the sentence stayed in his head for a while. Maybe that was exactly why Scathach was enjoying the outing so much. She did not need Asgard. She did not need money, protection, titles, or anything he could offer as a ruler. What she apparently wanted was something far simpler: to be part of his routine without a disaster having to happen first. Strax realized that he had turned his relationship with many of the people close to him into a succession of emergencies. He met someone because he needed help, because there was a problem, because some creature had appeared, or because a war was about to begin. Sitting in a square with his own mother and arguing about which ice cream flavor was better seemed insignificant, but maybe that was exactly why it had value.

Their walk continued into an older part of Asgard, where the streets were narrower and the buildings still preserved some of the architecture from before the great expansion. There were fewer foreign merchants there and more families who had lived in the city for years. Some people recognized Strax and greeted him from a distance without excessive ceremony, while others simply continued with their routines. Scathach watched all of it with some curiosity, especially when an old blacksmith sitting outside a workshop raised a hand toward Strax and shouted that he was still waiting for him to bring "that ridiculous piece of metal" to be examined. Strax answered that the gauntlet was working perfectly, only to receive a long string of complaints about the difference between something working and something being well made.

Scathach waited until they had moved a little farther away before asking, "He talks to you like that?"

"Yes."

"You allow it?"

"He’s old."

"I’m much older."

"You talk to me like that too."

She looked satisfied by the answer. "Then there’s hope for this city."

Farther ahead, they found a small market set up around a secondary square. It was not a special event; local merchants simply used the space once a week to sell handmade products, food, and cheap objects. Scathach slowed in front of every stall as though she had all the time in the world, and Strax eventually began doing the same. She bought a small jar of honey, spent several minutes discussing which herb was best for tea with an elderly woman, and became genuinely interested in a collection of fabrics embroidered by women from a nearby village. Strax, meanwhile, found a stall where someone was selling meat skewers and decided that the ice cream from a few minutes earlier was not sufficient reason to ignore food.

Scathach looked at him when he received the second skewer.

"You just ate."

"That was a while ago."

"Twenty minutes."

"Exactly."

She shook her head, but accepted when he offered her a piece. The two continued walking while eating and eventually ended up in front of a small game stall. The owner had set up three wooden targets at a distance and charged a few coins for attempts with small dull knives. The main prize was an enormous white tiger plush that looked as though it had been made by someone who had never actually seen a tiger.

Scathach stared at it.

Strax noticed.

"No."

"I didn’t say anything."

"You want the tiger."

"It’s horrible."

"You’re still staring."

She turned her face toward him. "Win it."

Strax sighed. "I could destroy that target with a stone from here."

"Without using mana."

"Still could."

"Then prove it."

The stall owner recognized Strax and immediately seemed to reconsider every decision that had led him to that moment, but Scathach was already placing coins on the counter. Strax received three small knives and looked at the targets. He could hit the center with his eyes closed, which made the activity fairly ridiculous. Even so, he threw the first. The knife hit dead center. The second landed beside it. The third hit the center again.

Scathach frowned. "You missed on purpose."

"I only needed two."

"Coward."

"Want to try?"

She placed her finished ice cream cup on a small table and took three knives. The first went straight through the entire target and embedded itself in the wooden wall behind it.

The stall owner went pale.

Strax started laughing.

"No mana," he reminded her.

"I didn’t use any."

"That makes it worse."

Scathach looked slightly guilty and threw the second with much less force. This time it hit the center without destroying anything. The third did too. The man handed over the tiger plush with trembling hands, and Scathach held it against her body, examining the completely deformed-looking animal with a level of satisfaction that did not match her age or presence in the slightest.

Strax looked at her.

"You could buy ten of those."

"It wouldn’t be the same."

"You didn’t even win it by yourself."

"I hit two."

"So did I."

"Then we won it together."

That ended the argument.

They continued through the city with Scathach carrying the enormous white tiger under one arm, which attracted more attention than Strax himself. The image of a woman known for her crushing presence walking down the street hugging a ridiculous plush toy seemed too difficult for some people to process. Strax enjoyed that for several minutes, until Scathach threatened to make him carry the tiger if he kept laughing. Naturally, he kept laughing.

By late afternoon, they reached the area near the central station. A train had just arrived, unloading dozens of passengers onto the platform while workers removed crates and merchandise. Strax and Scathach spent some time watching the movement from an elevated walkway. Asgard looked very different from that point compared to the city that had existed at the beginning. The rails now crossed districts that had once been nothing but empty land, new houses appeared almost weekly, and larger structures in the distance were beginning to define a genuine urban skyline.

Scathach rested her arms on the railing.

"You’ve done quite a lot."

Strax stood beside her. "A lot of people have."

"But it started with you."

"It started because it was necessary."

"That doesn’t diminish the result."

He stayed quiet for a few seconds. Strax rarely thought much about pride when it came to Asgard. There was always some obvious flaw, some district that needed to grow, some greater threat approaching. When he looked at the kingdom, he usually saw what was still missing. Scathach seemed to look at it differently. For her, it was probably easier to see the distance between the beginning and the present.

"Do you like it here?" he asked.

Scathach did not need to think. "Yes."

"More than where you lived before?"

This time she took a little longer. "It’s different. Old places carry many things. History, responsibility, memory. You begin to exist according to what that place expects from you." She turned her face toward the people in the station. "Here, no one expects anything from me."

Strax raised an eyebrow. "Besides not melting freshly washed floors."

"Besides that."

She smiled and continued, "I can drink coffee, help the employees even when they don’t want me to, buy a cheap hair clip, carry an ugly plush toy, and no one needs to know who I was or what I was supposed to be doing."

Strax looked at the tiger.

"It’s still ugly."

Scathach hit him with the plush.

Strax laughed, grabbing the tiger’s head before another blow could come. For a few seconds, the two became engaged in a ridiculous little struggle in the middle of the walkway, drawing the attention of a nearby child who began laughing. Scathach finally recovered the toy and tucked it beneath her arm with a dignity completely incompatible with what had just happened.

When the sun began to lower, they decided to return to the mansion on foot. Neither mentioned teleportation, even though Strax could have taken them home in seconds. The movement in the streets gradually decreased, merchants began closing their stalls, and the first lighting crystals came alive along the avenues. Scathach walked closer to him now, no longer pulling him anywhere, simply matching his pace.

"You still want to learn the runes?" she asked.

"I do."

"Even after spending the entire afternoon without mentioning them?"

"I didn’t forget."

"Good."

Strax glanced sideways. "But tomorrow, are you actually going to teach me or invent something absurd to test my patience?"

Scathach thought about it.

"Both."

"Naturally."

"Draconic runes aren’t something you learn while sitting in front of a book. I’ll need to understand what you can perceive, how your energy reacts, and how far your identity has already begun forming marks of its own."

"That sounds painful."

"It can be."

"Great."

She looked at him. "Worried?"

"No."

"Then why did you ask?"

"I wanted to know whether I should drink coffee beforehand."

Scathach laughed. "Drink some."

"Important information."

By the time they reached the mansion, the sky was already beginning to darken. A few employees were moving in and out through the side entrance, and the smell of dinner drifted through the open windows. Strax stopped on the steps while Scathach continued another pace before realizing he had fallen behind.

She turned.

"What?"

Strax looked at the silver hair clip in her hair, still slightly crooked, then at the enormous tiger in her arms.

"Nothing."

"That again?"

"I was thinking you were right."

Scathach became curious.

"About?"

"I really don’t show up much."

Her expression changed subtly.

Strax continued before the conversation could become too heavy. "So we can do this from time to time. Without me needing a favor afterward."

Scathach remained silent for a moment, and the smile that appeared was much smaller than the earlier ones, but also far more sincere.

"I’d like that."

Strax nodded.

"Then it’s settled."

She climbed the steps and passed him, but before entering, she briefly rested her head against his shoulder in a simple gesture that lasted only a moment.

"Today was good."

Strax looked at her.

"It was."

Scathach entered the mansion still carrying the white tiger, leaving him alone outside for a few seconds. Strax watched the movement of the city in the distance and realized he had spent almost an entire afternoon without seriously thinking about gods, wars, armies, or ways to become stronger.

Strangely, it did not feel like wasted time.

He entered shortly afterward.

Tomorrow, the training would begin.

That night, however, there was still dinner, several complaints from Monica waiting somewhere inside the house, and probably an argument about where Scathach intended to put a tiger plush far too large for any normal piece of furniture.

For Strax, that seemed good enough.