The late afternoon sun cast its light upon the walls of Kaelthur, painting the gray stone towers with a fierce golden hue. The wind blew steadily, carrying the scent of iron, coal, and sea salt—the aroma of reconstruction.

Along the main road, a caravan of ten wagons approached, each pulled by horned beasts of burden, covered with colorful fabrics and silver bells. Banners fluttered proudly: a symbol of three crossed spears over a silver sun. The insignia of the Aegis Merchant Guild, one of the oldest and wealthiest on the western continent.

At the head of the caravan, mounted on a white horse, rode the young merchant lord Darek Volnar, heir to the guild. He was little more than twenty years old, with a handsome and insolent face, golden hair tied back with a silk ribbon, and a smile that seemed designed to be hateful. He wore a dark blue coat embroidered with gold threads, and on his hands he displayed far too many rings for someone who did not yet understand the weight of the world.

"Finally!" he said, raising his voice to the men behind him. "The new jewel of the north. The city of Kaelthur." He smiled, with irony and disdain. "They say it was destroyed a few months ago and is already standing again. What kind of madmen live in a place that is reborn so quickly?"

One of his guards laughed, another merely muttered something about "sorcerers and warriors who play at being gods."

Darek didn't care. For him, everything was an opportunity.

"Let's go in, negotiate with the new lord of the city and secure the trade monopoly before these savages understand the value of their own gold."

The bells on the wagons jingled as they approached the gates. Two guards in silver armor advanced, their spears lowered in a defensive position.

"Stop," a firm voice echoed. "Identify yourselves and state your purpose in Asgard." Darek blinked, surprised for a moment… and then laughed. A short, arrogant, almost mocking laugh. The new lord had even changed the city's name.

"You must be joking." He gestured to the banner fluttering above the main wagon. "Don't you see? It's the flag of the Merchant Guild of Aegis, registered under the royal seal of Varran. We are allies of all the southern cities."

The soldier didn't move. He simply raised his chin, impassive.

"And yet, you need to identify yourself."

The young merchant frowned, as if insulted.

"Identify myself?" He let out a disbelieving laugh. "Listen, armored peasant, I am Darek Volnar, son of Dalen Volnar, patriarch of Aegis and advisor to three kings! I don't ask for passage—I receive it!"

Behind him, the merchants exchanged uncomfortable glances. One or two tried to whisper for him to calm down.

But Darek was already inflamed by his own arrogance.

The sound of metal rose as ten more soldiers approached, positioning themselves in formation. The spears lined up like a field of needles, pointed directly at the wagons.

The patrol leader, a man with gray eyes and a scar on his eyebrow, stepped forward.

"Lord Volnar, no one enters Asgard without direct authorization from the command. Order of Lady Monica and Lord Strax."

Darek blinked.

"Lord Strax?" he asked, mocking the title. "And who is that? A bounty hunter who proclaimed himself king of the ruins?"

Some of the soldiers exchanged quick glances. The air became heavy, dense, as if the very wind recoiled.

"I suggest you choose your words carefully," replied the captain, in a calm voice, but loaded with warning. "Lord Strax is the ruler of Asgard, and the Sovereign of this land. Watch what you say."

Darek let out a scandalous laugh.

"Sovereign of this land?" He theatrically placed his hand on his chest. "A commoner who decides to rule over ashes and thinks he can dictate who comes and goes? Oh, please! I bring shipments of silk, spices, and gems worth more than this entire city! You should be grateful for the honor of my presence!"

The sound of metal intensified. The guards advanced half a step.

"Darek…" one of the merchants murmured, pale. "Perhaps we should just wait for the officer in charge…"

But Darek had already lost control of his pride.

He rode a few meters ahead, raising his chin, the sun reflecting on his blue and gold cloak.

"I demand immediate passage!" he shouted. "Or take me to this Lord Strax so I can teach him myself how to treat an ally!"

A heavy silence fell over the gate. Only the sound of the wind and the distant rustling of flags echoed.

The captain took a deep breath and spoke in an icy tone:

"You have just demanded to be taken to the most dangerous man on this continent."

Darek smiled, convinced.

"Excellent. Perhaps he will recognize the value of true authority."

The captain looked at the men around him and gave a short gesture. The spears lowered even further, blocking the wheels of the wagons.

"Nobody enters," the captain said. "Set up camp on the road and wait for an escort. Try to force your way in and your goods will be confiscated."

"Confiscated?!" Darek shouted, his voice rising. "Do you dare threaten the Aegis Guild?"

"It's not a threat. It's a warning."

The young merchant snorted, his nostrils flaring.

"This is an outrage! Do you know who you're dealing with?! I could buy ten cities like this one!"

The captain maintained a neutral tone.

"Then perhaps you should start by buying a little humility."

The provocation made the men of the caravan hold their breath. Darek turned red, his eyes flashing with anger.

"You... you'll regret this," he muttered, tense. "When the name Volnar reaches your lord's ears, you will..."

Before he could finish, the sound of firm footsteps on the stone ground echoed from inside the wall. The gate opened slowly, revealing a tall figure with dark hair tied back in a ponytail, wearing a simple tunic and a black cloak.

The air seemed to bend around him.

Strax.

The captain immediately saluted, as did the other soldiers.

Darek looked him up and down, assessing him like someone examining a product.

"So... this is the great 'lord'," he said, disdainfully. "The bandit who rules Kaelthur, or Asgard, whatever."

Strax stopped in front of him, silently. His gaze was heavy, but there was no anger—only the coldness of someone measuring the distance between pride and stupidity.

"I heard that a young merchant is causing trouble at my gates," he said calmly. "I thought I should see for myself." Darek tried to smile, but the sound seemed false.

"Not at all, my dear fellow. I am Darek Volnar, heir to the Aegis Guild. I came in peace, merely to negotiate passage and trade. Your men greeted me with spears."

Strax stared at him, motionless.

"They did their job."

"Job?" Darek retorted. "Preventing an ally from entering?"

"Preventing an arrogant man from thinking that banners make him untouchable," Strax replied, his tone still calm, but now sharp. "Here, Darek Volnar, what dictates passage is not gold. It is respect."

Darek opened his mouth to reply, but the words wouldn't come. The weight of Strax's voice was like stone upon stone, shattering any pretense of superiority.

Strax took a step forward, and the air between the two seemed to tremble.

"You will be allowed to enter," he said, finally. "But first, you will wait. And you will learn that in this city, even kings enter as guests, not as owners."

Darek's gaze wavered, for the first time hesitant.

Strax turned to the captain.

"Don't give them anything, not even water. He'll learn to be a decent human being by then."

"Yes, sir."

Strax looked at the merchant one last time.

"Welcome to Asgard, Darek Volnar. I hope you die before you enter the city," Strax said with a demonic smile.

Darek snarled like a wounded animal and, in a sudden movement, lunged at Strax with all the force that fury lent him. Horse and all, he advanced in a straight line, his blue and gold cloak fluttering like a war banner.

The captain didn't hesitate. In a swift step, he positioned himself between the merchant and the regent. With a firm hand, he grabbed the horse's reins and, in a gesture that seemed simple due to the coolness of the movement, he seized Darek by the arm that was holding the spear. A muffled crack echoed as the joint gave way.

"Ah!" Darek cried out, the sound cutting through the air. The horse stumbled, disoriented; men around him recoiled, gaping. Darek fell from the horse, rolling in the dust, his useless hand twisting at his side. The captain maintained his relentless grip, palms cold as iron, while the merchant roared in pain.

"Broken," the captain murmured, his expression unchanged. "You wanted to teach respect. Learn the lesson calmly."

Strax observed the scene unhurriedly. When Darek tried to rise, trembling and gasping, Strax turned his face to the captain and smiled, a smile that was not of joy, but of sharp approval.

"Treat them worse than dogs," Strax said, his voice low but charged with authority. "No privileges. No comfort. Let them taste the street and hunger. Let them learn what respect is before they cross my walls."

The captain nodded, carrying out the order as if he had heard a divine law. Two soldiers advanced, taking control of the wagons; others led Darek aside, handcuffing his intact arm to the reins so he couldn't escape. The merchants, pale, tried to argue, but were silenced by steely gazes.

"Don't confiscate everything immediately," Strax murmured, still staring at the fallen merchant. "Let the caravan wait. If they want to negotiate, let them negotiate from the ground. If they want to go back, let them go back with their tails between their legs. And warn the Aegis Guild: the next time they want to force doors, I will charge them in blood and reputation."

Darek groaned, his face pale, holding his broken arm with his other hand, his arrogance melting into pain and humiliation. The men of the caravan recoiled, muttering desperate apologies. Some began to dismantle their tents, accepting the forced encampment; others gazed at the horizon, wondering how many cities their riches would pay for a rescue that might never come.

Strax calmly turned around, his black cloak dragging across the stone. Before disappearing through the gate, he looked over his shoulder and muttered:

"Aegis… and I came here thinking it might have something to do with the Gods… go to hell, it was just an idiot."

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