The crumbling fortress reeked of wine and cheap perfume. Astrid’s boots echoed against the dusty stone floor as she stepped into the great hall. Her expression was blank, cold eyes sweeping across the gathering of thugs and mercenaries. They sneered and whispered, unaware of the power she carried — the glint of her golden scale strapped across her back.
At the center, seated lazily on a throne carved from stolen wealth, was Lord Drevon — a self-proclaimed noble who ruled a bandit-infested territory with fear and brutality. His bloated form was barely covered in gilded armor, a goblet of wine in one hand, the other draped around a trembling servant girl.
"Well, well," he chuckled, raising his goblet mockingly. "What do we have here? A little girl playing warrior?"
Astrid stopped three steps in. She didn’t blink. She didn’t smile.
She raised her spear.
The entire room went silent.
"Men," Drevon barked. "Kill her."
They didn’t hesitate. Five armed guards rushed toward her from either side. One swung a massive axe. Astrid ducked, the blade cleaving empty air. She spun, her spear slicing upward and tearing through his armor with brutal grace.
Steel met steel. Screams echoed as her movements blurred. In one breath, she parried a sword; in the next, she launched a devastating strike that sent another soldier flying across the room.
The hall became chaos — until only Drevon remained, eyes wide, mouth agape, sweat beading on his piggish face.
"Wh-What do you want?" he stammered, rising shakily to his feet.
Astrid walked forward, her steps deliberate. "Your army," she said flatly.
"You—you think I’ll just give them to you?! I’ll die before—"
She raised the Scale of Obedience and placed it between them. Instantly, a pulse of ancient magic surged through the room. The scale hovered in the air, shimmering with ethereal light.
"I challenge your will."
The scale’s plates slowly balanced themselves as a faint golden glow formed around it. Drevon’s body shook. He dropped to his knees, gasping, clutching his chest.
"No—No! I... I command thousands! You can’t—"
Astrid’s voice remained calm. "Your mana is filth. Mine is absolute."
The magic hit him like a mountain. His body slammed to the ground, twitching under the pressure. His mouth opened in a silent scream.
In a single heartbeat, the scale settled — its glow fading. Lord Drevon collapsed, eyes glazed over.
"I obey," he whispered.
Astrid turned to the remaining soldiers — all watching in paralyzed horror.
"Gather your men. Your new orders begin now."