15th day of Zun’s Rest, twelfth month of the year, 983

  The old and cheap looking carriage rocketed on the Imperial Northern Roads. Lacking the usual engravings of precious metals and exotic beasts of burden seeing on noble carriages, it continued unabated by wind and cold thanks to the ancient roads, now called the Imperial Highways. They were a transport grid that connected all the grand cities of the different counties, granting the Empire the ability to respond quickly and to mobilise goods and men, meeting the ever growing demand of both on the markets.

  Sadly, this was truer than before, as the war was coming back to a full swing, causing the southernmost provinces to start consuming materials with a growing hunger. But this new demand required a supply, and the north was slowly industrialising to meet it. Step by step, it was turning into the steel heart of the Empire due to their undisturbed mining operations and mountains filled with minerals. The greatest example was Alfred Snowfall, the ‘Steel Count’, regent to a county in the northwest. His new forges had set a new precedent of quality, granting the imperial armies with top notch steel in the form of armours and weapons. Yet, his output had been decreasing, leaving space for more and more forges to prop up in the north.

  The central provinces’ capabilities were in decline too, due to republican carpet bombing caused by their airborne mages. The response had been to disperse their industry to the other duchies and turn a focus into agriculture, causing their booming industry to fizzle and die.

  Returning to the carriage, the roads themselves had been built with perdurance as the focus. Pioneered ages ago, they had been blessed with extreme care and great architectural thinking in their making. These consisted of several layers of different materials. The deeper ones were made from a diverse set of rocks valued for their durability, giving an anchor point to the concrete that would go overhead. The concrete, marine concrete, was the central layer and the layer on which different enchantments have been applied, these being able to encompass all of the road. Freese resistance, shielding from water, increased weight and durability to name a few. The top layers were levelled and flat rocks and stones glued with cement. It was one of the greatest marvels the Empire had crafted.

  They had been here for half a millennium and they would withstand ten more if need be.

  All in all, it was a road of ten metres wide and uncountable kilometres long, the arteries of the Empire that fueled the capital and the very palace of the Empress. But all of my praise could not change their being. They were but roads and they could not improve the comfort of a journey, despite expectations.

  Sorak, who had left her place in the formation around the carriage, warned, “Nightfall will come soon, my Lady.” Noct and Soral were sitting on the front of the carriage, the latter fighting to win against her nausea.

  The former was the one leading the non exotic beasts. Mufalos, a northern variant of the common deer. Enormous and complex antlers and an average height of two and a half metres adorned with a good quantity of white fur, these were part of the megafauna of the north, roaming free on the frozen plains and tundra. Another northern specie would be Sorak’s mount, a trained warg. A bigger, stronger and smarter version of the northern wolves, they used to be considered monsters, despite not being magical, thanks to their elevated cunning and the capacity to learn to understand spoken languages.

  They had their uses as war beasts thanks to that last characteristic as, if you could manage to tame and train one, it would turn to be a smart and most dangerous companion in battle, with a length of almost four metres for males and four and a half for females and an average of two metres of height, give or take. Their value for intimidation could not be underestimated either, as the sheer size of their fangs would pale a common man, being as lethal as they looked.

  Soral struggled to hear the question. “Should we camp then?” Deciding she had not the energy to use on thinking, she asked Noct.

  “Did you find a suitable place for the stop, paladin?” Proved Noct, not moving his eyes from the mufalo, as they were trotting almost as fast as a horse run. ‘I should thank myself for enchanting this rectangular piece of crap before this journey. The tremors alone would have been a pain.’

  “Find?” Not understanding the question, Sorak added, “We can just rest on the roadside.”

  “...right. My apologies, old habits die hard and all that.” Noct drily said, finally starting to slow the mufalos down and looked to the sky. Sorak was right to warn them, as the sun was already halfway into disappearing. Leading the cart towards the side, he started to prepare a fire spell by muscle memory before stopping in the middle as it misfired and a migraine settled in.

  Frowning, he jumped out of the carriage once it left the road. “Baroness, prepare the bonfire. Paladin, tend to your mount. If it eats the mufalos we are dinning wolf stew.” Not needing to look at the climate thanks to the rising wind, he continued, “We won’t be able to evade the brewing storm so get moving or freeze.”

  His attention returning to the animals, he freed the mufalos from their leathery binds to the carriage. Moving his hand, he created a spell circle in mid air, a water one to be specific. A second later a small torrent of water was created in a newly formed cavity as he transformed the snow into water. Letting the animals drink, and as the guards mounted the tents and Soral, now less nauseous, started the fire, he pulled from the shadows some feed for the mufalos.

  “This year’s winter sure is getting cold.” Shuddering, Itmas, one of the guards, a harpy, complained out loud as he fought with the tent. He greedily eyed the small fire near the baroness as his toes delved deep into the snow.

  “At least you have feathers, lucky bastard.” Retorted Likos, an exiled dwarf. Using his warhammer to secure the poles, chunks of ice flew from it every hit. Scratching his beard with his free hand, he grumbled again as it was starting to snow. “I only have this cheap ass coat. I miss the forges, and it has only been a damn day!”

  “Please, have some class. We are escorting our lady.” Admonished Tiamat, swiftly tying the knocks for the tents. Their daggers were perfectly hidden on their belt. Their stance alert and ready for danger. Their eyes always darting around and hands ready to act on what they saw. Close to the dwarf, that was the only guard they ever showed their back to.

  Hitting his last strike, Likos waved those words away. Noticing the struggles of their ladyship, he walked to give some support on the fire, surely not because he was cold. After a few more curses and a lot of tinkering with sticks that seemed to difficult as much as help the fire, he turned his heard to the guard who had just sneezed, “You heard it, green skin?! I don’t think your skinny body is holding up well in this cold and the campfire is already taking shape, so move your ass!” Turning towards Soral, who was looking at him as if he was a very weird specimen, he nodded, “Thank you for your work, lady Soral.”

  Soral silently nodded and made herself smaller inside her winter coat, shivering a bit closer to the warm bonfire.

  “As I expected, leave it to the shorty to set things on fire. Do remind me to never take you home, bastard.” The last word spoken in western elvish, as commonly known in the Empire, Lia walked to the bonfire, her long hair already in a braid so that the increasingly strong wind couldn’t annoy her. Longbow at her back, testament to her strength, she crouched near the bonfire. It was evident that she had trust in her old, in mortal time, friends. Her hands rubbing against each other, she mumbled, “Do we really have nothing for this snow?”

  Itmas shook his arms to get the snow out of the feathers, not that perturbed by the cold. “Well, having Likos drink it would be a good idea, if we judge by the way he downs his funds on taverns.” His laugh was half lost in the strong wind now. Snow getting into his mouth, he coughed a bit.

  “Nethers, if you pay I will try.” Retorted Likos, scoffing a bit as he patted the snow out of his helmet, his gauntlets making metallic sounds. Despite his earlier bravado, the cold was getting to it. The funny comments were helping a bit but, as an underground species, he was not used to drastic temperatures. And the frozen plains were, indeed, frozen.

  Itmas now roared in laughter. “As if! I have not yet recovered from that dastard game of darts you made me bet on!

  The four of them were already feeling at home, as much as one could in the middle of a snow blizzard of course. Having bonded over the last months of training, this was their first, real mission. Outside of cleaning the taverns they used to frequent, and rekt. This feeling of novelty was the principal cause of the, maybe, too comfortable atmosphere they had created around the bonfire. Both an honest enjoyable time and a try to quell their uneasiness. More jokes were exchanged as they struggled to keep the fire going, doing their best to not feel the bite of winter.

  Sneezing a fourth time, Lia was suddenly ambushed by a heavy and furry coat from a blindspot. Quickly grabbing it, she turned around to see Noct’s right hand created a few spell circles in air. Finishing the spells, the snow flowed from below them, revealing the frozen dirt below. A small circle of warm air around them was also established, reducing the amount of wind and snow near the bonfire.

  Casting a watchful gaze on the other three guards, he threw them three copies of that same coat. Turning to Soral, he added, “Your tent is ready.”

  Nodding, a youngster in the earlier stages of hypothermia wobbled her way to it. Noct sighed as the four guards struggled in their coats. He had been forced to leave the veterans back in the barony for the worst case, yet he had expected something more. To die of cold would be a ridiculous end for a personal guard.

  “I will do the watches today. You lot get used to the climate.” His gaze turned into a glare to drive his point home. “This journey is no training ground. Do not expect the cold to stop because you are tired. Next time bring something warmer.” Not waiting for a reply, he turned and turned invisible in the middle of the blizzard.

  “Yes, my…..and there he goes.” Tried to salute Likos, not quick enough to get it right before Noct got out of earshot. Smirking, he added, “That bastard would make for an excellent caretaker. But I could do with less sass, to be honest.”

  Lia cursed in elvish as she facepalmed, “For the record, I do not endorse that statement. You can get hanged alone, bastard.”

  Likos’ response was another hearty laugh as his hands recovered some sense of touch.

  ………….

  “Are all of the tents ready?” Asked Noct as he checked on the servant.

  “Ye…yes.” A sneeze cut Mulia’s response, before she could continue she got hit by a coat of fur launched by Noct. Quickly dressing it, she threw him a thankful nod.

  “What is with all of you and not having winter coats in winter?” Sighed Noct, more to himself than to anybody.

  “Well, I think nobody expected the Frozen Planes to be this cold.”

  Noct threw her a tired gaze. “It says it in the very name.”

  “Em, innocent overconfidence?” Tried to joke Mulia as she was also given a pair of winter gloves.

  “Neither innocence nor overconfidence will help you when you freeze to death. Whatever. Is the soon to be baroness better?” Noct eyed the tent. He had done his best to enchant it and was sure the inside would be at eighteen degrees, yet worry was bound to no logic.

  “She fell asleep as soon as she entered, regent. But I believe she is fine. More time outside could have been…not that good.” Mulia sighed. “Maybe we should make more stops? Hypothermia is dangerous.”

  Noct looked to the side. “I will take it into account.” Noticing the readied tents, he nodded. “Good work mounting the tents by the way. Not bad for a first timer.” Congratulated Noct, looking at the nine tents neatly mounted. They were his old military tents and he had spent a good deal of his early days there, so a bit of nostalgia was making him more approachable.

  “Not at all!” Mulia waved away the compliment. “Caesar and Mulligan did almost all the work.”

  “They are veteran mercenaries, it is expected of them. You being able to get them to help you is already an achievement in and out of itself. These skills you learn will never betray you. Speaking about them, give these to them.“ Noct picked three more coats and passed them to Mulia. ”Include Max in the offer. This year is really getting cold.”

  “Will do. But, if I am not being too bold, we do have enough tents for everybody, why only mount six?”

  “Tents can break and we will be travelling for at least a week. Better to arrive with more in the carriage than with less than necessary. You will sleep with Soral. The rest will manage between themselves.”

  “And you?”

  “I will keep watch. I doubt anyone besides me will be able to see in this blizzard.”

  “All night?”

  “The paladin will switch with me.” Noct did nothing to hide the poison in that word.

  A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.

  “I see.” Trying to stop a yawn and the grumbling of her stomach, she gave up. “Well, I'm going to go grab something to eat. Good nigh…watch, Noct.”

  The sound of crunching snow marking her retreat, Noct walked far away from the campment and started to prepare the alarm spell on the ground. He made a perimeter with twelve different spell circles. Once he finished the twelve, they all flared up, linking around the campment. Five seconds later they stopped shining. With the preparations complete, he activated the alarm, a spell that formed an spheric, invisible area around the area circled centered in a point on the center of the anchorages. If anything crossed that realm it would warn the user and point at the breaking point of the barrier.

  Looking back at the campment, the merry atmosphere of a group dinner proved too much for him at this moment. A lot of memories of different times were trying to resurface and he had to hold them in. Climbing a nearby tree, he sat on a wide branch, knocking a metre of snow to the ground, and looked at the forest. As night had already fallen in earnest, he could see but black. Activating a spell of dark vision he stood guard, unbothered by the snow that was piling on him and which would soon cover him. His armour activated, slowly burning the surrounding mana to keep him both warm and protected.

  A few uneventful hours later, and when everyone should have been asleep, Sorak got out of her tent and started to walk towards him. Once he reached him, she sat with the back against the tree, relaxing.

  A very awkward silence remained between the two of you. Sorak, never one to stop her words, spoke first. “You didn’t murder me in my sleep.”

  Noct didn’t bother to answer.

  Sorak didn’t care. “It hurt like Nethers when you broke my arm the last time we saw each other.”

  “I intended for it to hurt.”

  Sorak scoffed. Not expecting an apology, she let the matter drop after having said her piece.“I am here to switch with you.”

  “I would rather not sleep than be killed in my sleep.”

  “Fair.”

  A few moments of silence, or more like the ambient sounds of a dying blizzard. “May I ask something?”

  “No.”

  “Why am I here? I understand the need of a loyal paladin to give legitimacy to my Lady yet, why me? If anything I have shown is my inability to do politics and my outright hostility to you so, why did you let me come and why didn’t you pick one of the paladins that tolerate you?”

  Now it was Noct who scoffed. “As if I could ever trust them. You are a buffon, but a loyal and predictable buffon. That I can work with.”

  “But I am not loyal to you.”

  “That is the point. You are loyal to the baroness and that is what matters.” Noct continued analysing the surroundings as he grumbled, patience slowly depleting. “I am neither omniscient nor all-powerful. And all the conflict between us has shown me you are reliable both in spirit and in a fight and that is why I allow you to be here. I know you will do your best to protect the future baroness and that your best will be better than mine. Your capabilities and allegiances have earned my trust in those regards. I do not care if that is hard to believe.”

  Not detecting a single lie, Sorak mumbled two words, “I see.”

  For a few minutes nothing more could be heard but the night sounds common on a winter night. The sounds of Sorak accommodating herself on the tree resounded with more force than she intended.

  Sorak also joined in at looking at their surroundings. “You fear something may happen?”

  “It’s not a fear as much as a reality.” Noct healed his frostbitten hands as they worsened while his armour recharged, having depleted the nearby atmospheric mana, before restarting its heating enchantment. He clenched and unclenched his pained hands. Minus forty degrees was a cold temperature after all. “A baroness thought a puppet of a tyrant from a fallen household no less? One that is training herself a warrior and does not know how to sew nor dance? If she is only thrown insults I would donate my sword to Elenia.” His voice lowered to the atmospheric temperatures. “She is the last of her family tree. A plot to kill her would be the least I expect. Either for personal power or to gain my favour.” Lots of idiots had tried to gain his graces by offering to kill Soral. One had almost succeeded. He was, at this point, another liability.

  “So…I am a shield against you and your wannabe allies?” Asked Sorak, not knowing why Noct was this talkative nor why he wasn't lying.

  “What a stupid question. I have been paying you to do that from the beginning.”

  Another period of silence. “I will do my best, then.”

  “I knew that already.”

  Sorak shook her head. Why was the person she hated most in her life the only one who afforded her some modicum of trust and respect? “How do you know I won’t betray you both?”

  “Because you are better than me.” Was the simple yet true reply, given with no fanfare nor emotion.

  Surprised, Sorak turned to look at him. He kept looking at the nearby forest. Giving up, she looked at the front and asked a question, trying to remind herself of what he was and what he had done. This was no time, place nor person to build comradery with.

  “I heard you almost started a war. Did you really murdered a high merchant?”

  “A slave merchant but yes.”

  “Does your pride matter more than the life of your subjects?”

  Noct laughed darkly. “You know of the debt my ancestors took to build a better Bonfire? The Library we are known for? Well, my m…the past baroness had almost paid it off before she was brutally murdered.” Nothing came to his voice. He kept going. “Well, what could you do in such tragic circumstances? The association was so kind as to stop the collection of our debt for three years, while I grew up and all that. Flattering favours and words.” Sarcasm came and went.

  His voice gained fire. His hands turned fists. “You know what were the hidden clauses in that good faith gesture? That they kept counting the interest of the loan. Every month, for thirty six months, they kept counting. Hiding that fact behind fake and horrendous smiles. I was young and knew no better. The almost paid quantity, a single damned coin, quickly skyrocketed as the compound interest was based on the initial quantity. They saw a youngster as a regent and they didn't even doubt about scamming him of everything he had not even inherited. The rebellions didn’t help, nor did anybody in a position of power in that regard. You know where the money for the recent innovations and upgrades of the city came from? Yeah, you guessed it. From this year's payment.”

  Sorak didn’t like where this conversation was going. She tried to stop him but his lessening voice forced her to focus on listening.

  “And I arrived at a brilliant conclusion. I am a criminal, so another crime to the list is of no consequence. I will use this….half a year?, to better this barony to the point the baroness will be able to both meet dead ends and invest in her lands instead of trying to repay a debt that will take years to. The association will only target me and won’t be able to accuse her of nothing because they truly believe she is a puppet of mine. Or she will turn into their ally.” He let that sink in. “So, do I believe my pride has more value than the people of the barony? Yes. Yes I do.”

  “....why did you kill them still?”

  Noct let out a short, empty laugh. “Why do we harm others? Because we see our reflections on them, the things we hate about ourselves. And there’s nothing more cathartic than breaking the mirror. Don’t you think so, paladin?”

  Sorak let the conversation die, not confident in her ability to answer truthfully to that question.

  ……………….

  “Is this the place?” Asked Albestus

  Looking at the map his scouts have drawn, Andras signalled a not so far tree and nodded. Riding on horses, they rode towards where they thought a part of the spell circle was. Before they could cross the nearby trees that obscured their vision, a most unexpected development happened before the forest eyes.

  “At least clean after yourself. What do you mean you forgot a spot! Is this a spot?! This is the whole damn laundry! Sun-God Zh?n, grant me patience or I may very well bury myself.” An angry voice cursed, resounding in the forest.

  Quickly dismounting Andras prepared himself for the worst while Albestus started to make some spells in preparation, landing on the ground as he deactivated his fly spell. Crossing the undergrowth, they arrived at a small clearing with a marked tree and a humanoid clacked in full plate armour, a tower shield and a high quality mace, who was crouching and looking at the ground. Seeing them arrive, they quickly got up and saluted.

  “Praised be the Sun! Is that you, High Commander Andras!?” They quickly tried to hold in their voice, coughed and, now calmer, continued, stringing their mace back on their waist. “Pardon me, I have heard of your exploits during my travels from the east and I have done a poor job of hiding my excitement.”

  “A paladin of Zh?n? Your kind is rare to meet in these parts.” Gazing at Albestus, who gestured to be very wary, Andras’ trained eyes told him of the danger in that figure. Respecting his instincts, he rearranged his posture yet continued. “Yet I do not take myself for someone deserving of such praise but, if you do not mind, could you show us your faith? I’m sorry for the disrespect and paranoia. Brigands are common on these lands, more so in forests.”

  Lantraz nodded. “I take no offence at a man doing his job with dedication.” Unsheathing a sword in his waist, which Andras took especial care to observe as it was both beautiful and familiar, it catched a white fire quickly. Albestus corroborating its veracity with a hand gesture made Andras relax a bit.

  “My deepest apologies. One can never be too cautious.” Signalling to Albestus to start investigating, he tried to distract him by talking. That gesture was not needed, as Albestus could not stop himself from starting already. And he had to observe for a few seconds before his mind started to curse blasphemies. Now they were playing a dangerous game, this spell circle was banished. Talking about their theoretical existence would get you hanged. ‘An undead, here?! This spell circle…only usable by grey…What…I cannot be wrong, I have tested it three times! Nethers... And a water spell at that? Were they trying to poison the forest?...No, if they had it would have warned us…What could this have been…This is but a piece of the grand painting…’

  “I take no offence, High Commander Andras. You set up a good example for all Imperial men.” Lantraz’s hand went to his head and scratched his helmet. “If I may ask for a favour? I think I got lost in this forest. I believe this request could burden you but, if you could escort me to Bonfire I would greatly appreciate it. My travels have been long and I fear it will take longer than necessary to reach my destination.” Looking at the, now hunched over, High Mage Albestus, completely focused on the spell circle that was very well hidden, he asked. ”I found this walking by. Does it pose a threat?”

  “Did you find it by chance?” Proved Andras, still feeling weird about the presence in front of him. Albestus discreetly paid attention with his enchanted ring of detect lies. It had yet to test a lie, thing he had grown nervous with.

  The full armoured humanoid laughed awkwardly and, scratching their helmet again, confessed. “Well, as you could tell, I was talking to myself. This forest can be a creepy sight to some souls and I take no pride in admitting my inclusion in that cowardly group. If you hadn’t noticed,” Said, while contorning his armoured leg to show a rusted spot. “laziness took over me after my last trip and, more to ease my nervousness than anything else, I started to curse myself. I feel unworthy of my battle progress, acting scared in a forest in broad light, but….” as if to mock them, an eerily but quiet laugh resounded from nowhere and everywhere. Jumping a bit, they cursed again, “Nethers be present. There’s that sound again. Its reputation as an eater of brigands is no joke I surmise.”

  A reaction too human, and too similar to ones he had had, Andras felt himself relaxing a bit. Laughing a bit, he tried to lighten up the atmosphere, “We think the same. This forest does sound a demon. Care to help us a bit, paladin of Zh?n? If you know something about that spell, we would be very grateful. Escorting you, on the other hand, will prove impossible, we are on a mission as you can see. Just follow our footsteps.” Said, signalling to his horse and the trail behind it.

  “Well, more than that is a grey mana runic spell, I know not…..”

  “That’s simply impossible!” Lied Albestus. “No spell circles can handle grey mana. Still, thank you for your missguided input that is not needed. Please, do restrain your tongue when spouting heretical thoughts.” Ended, in a fake angry tone, Albestus. He would hate nothing more than to have to execute that man for simply telling the truth. Theocratic emigres usually meet that fate.

  Yet, not understanding the olive branch he was being offered, Lantraz squared up, never too pleased to be discounted when he was in the right. “....can you repeat yourself? I know lots about the Theocracy of the Sands and their nobles have mastered this art.”

  “Let me correct you, the monstrosities of the east have learned how to write falsehoods. Vampires are no mages and it is heresy to say the contrary.” Said Albestus. ‘Another Sorak. Why do paladins never get innuendos?’

  Getting angry now, the paladin rebutted, “It does not matter what a simple sorcerer thinks, the proof is in front of your very eyes. You being so close minded to not see both the advancements and just society the Theocracy has built from the ground up is not their problem.”

  Andras, trying to stop the confrontation that could very well end in the beheading of the idealistic paladin in the near future, butted in. ”Calm down, paladin. Joking has limits. We ought to not make treacherous statements just for t…”

  “Joking? I can very well speak my mind and think whatever I want. What are you going to do, execute me for speaking my mind?” Puffed the paladin.

  “....we may very well do so. I do not see this as a joking matter.” Said Andras, cringing a bit. Looking at Albestus, he begged him for help in hiding these statements under the rug, his old fears rebuked by now.

  The paladin started to laugh and continued. “What a good cause it would make for the ‘Courts’! Paladin detained for speaking his mind!”

  “Courts are only for the nobles, paladin.” Albestus revealed with a slightly pitying gaze. That fool was not living long.

  “...Care to repeat? They are what?”

  “You sure come from another country. I thought of you as an Imperial paladin, my mistake. You don’t have your old rights here, so keep those jokes about the theocracy outside of the Empire. For your own safety.”

  “Wiat, you do not have equal law rights?!” They shook their heads. “No liberty of thought and speech? No right to a proper judgement? I thought better of this country!”

  Albestus, now a bit exasperated as he really wanted to focus on the spell at hand, counterattacked, “It’s a country in which vampires do not rule, paladin. Your faith may be praised in the theocracy as a light of hope but we all know it's a tool of control, as any faith is.”

  Danger coming to the eyes of the outraged paladin, “A rightful country is not a nation without discrimination nor laws against non believers? Then send me to the Nethers, I think I would be more comfortable there. Nonetheless, if I may, High Commander Andras, a warning word, do not test a sapient’s faith.”

  Realising now that the paladin was not a human and sure had suffered from those, Andras tried to backtrack but Albestus was quicker. Dispelling his vision augmenting spell, he walked to the paladin and patted him on the shoulder, the dull light of a spell remained undetected by the other two. Studying a spell from a magic memory would be difficult for him, but it was what it was. “Do not take us to heart, paladin. You talk too much and that could get you killed.” Looking at Andras and signalling that everything was alright with a confident gaze, he continued. “We will escort you to Bonfire as an apology.”

  “Thank you for the kind gesture.” Said, nodding, the paladin, also willing to let the matter drop.

  The questioning look of Andras answered by a metal whisper of Albestus, “Already copied the spell, I will need my disciples to mull it over. That paladin is right, this could be a…..grey spell circle.”

  “Then let's march towards the city.”

  ………….