Strax entered the mansion in silence, carrying in his body the heavy expression of someone who had aged a few thousand years in only a few days.
The main door closed behind him with a low sound, almost respectful, while the gentle warmth inside the mansion wrapped around him after the cold of the courtyard. Outside, snow continued falling over Asgard, covering rooftops, gardens, and stone paths with an almost offensive calm. Inside, everything seemed too organized. Too clean. Too peaceful for someone who had just dealt with a hyperactive dragon child, an attempted kidnapping, an idiotic Monarch, an imperial crisis, and a possible opportunity for territorial expansion.
He crossed the corridor without greeting anyone.
Not out of rudeness.
Out of lack of energy.
