Lucian waved a hand and strolled in the direction the guard had indicated.
Asgard's streets were exceptionally broad, lined with enormous buildings constructed from some pale golden ore, their ruggedness carrying the grandeur of the age of myth.
Although a surprise attack had snapped many stone pillars and black smoke still rose from the ground, the residents of Asgard on the streets showed little panic. Several burly Asgardian civilians were working together to move a broken beam. When they saw Lucian pass, they stopped and nodded to him from afar.
A people who treated war as an everyday occurrence truly had a savage resilience in their bones.
After he crossed two long streets blocked with rubble, an open fountain plaza lay ahead.
The fighting had ended, and four fully armed figures stood in the center of the plaza, directing the engineers.
The burly, potbellied Volstagg held a massive battle-axe in one hand, chewing a piece of dried meat; beside him, Fandral, dressed in green with his blond hair immaculately trimmed, leaned on his rapier and chatted smilingly with several young civilian women; a little farther away, Hogun wore a stern expression, his arms folded across his chest as he scanned the surroundings warily; at the very front, Sif stood in silver armor, her longsword planted in a crack between the stones as she looked down and checked the casualty lists.
The moment Lucian stepped into the plaza, Hogun's ears twitched, and his gaze swept over immediately.
The other three stopped what they were doing as well.
"Ha! Look who's here!"
Volstagg gulped down the dried meat in his mouth and slapped his thigh hard with his thick hand. "I just heard the herald shouting that some lad from Midgard saved the day over at the Golden Palace."
Fandral smoothed the