The great hall of the ice palace was silent—too silent. The frozen walls captured even the slightest sound, amplifying every step, every breath, every hesitation.
When Strax entered, the temperature seemed to drop a few more degrees, not because he had done anything… but because Mercedes, seated on the throne, already anticipated trouble.
And with Strax, trouble never came alone.
She raised her head as he approached and immediately frowned.
Strax was… too excited.
Excited is always dangerous.
He stopped before her with that warning smile: I'm going to do something you won't like.
Mercedes took a deep breath.
Very deep.
"…What is it now?"
Strax placed his hands on his hips.
"Mercedes, I need you to dismiss the guards from the ancient tomb in the garden."
She immediately straightened up on the throne.
"No."
He blinked.
"Wait… but I haven't even finished asking."
"No."
His voice was firm, full of authority—and concern.
