Over the vast Derelzfjord Bay, in the southwest of the sprawling land of Vaimar, north of the Olmaer mountain ridge, a gray evening mist stretched out, carrying snow clouds and approaching blizzards. That day, the ice had frozen into a solid sheet, strong enough now to safely travel on across the bay until February, when the thaw usually began. In the west, where the black waters of the unconquered cold ocean began beyond the edge of the frozen bay, the setting sun blazed brightly, casting its crimson rays on the reddish cliffs that bristled along the bay’s shore.

  Along the mountain path winding beside the cliffs, merchants and travelers typically descended, heading north along the trade route to the plains of the Derelz region and its capital, the major trading city of Harkon. But today, there were no merchants or travelers on the trail. Instead, there was a woman in a thin black jacket with a fur-lined hood, slowly riding down the path on horseback. In front of her, on the saddle’s pommel, nestled in a cradle, lay a tiny infant bundled in warm clothes. Two mounted bodyguards followed behind her.

  They confidently passed the turn to the northern road and continued south along the bay toward a lonely, bare cliff, upon which stood the temple of Tornir. The woman was searching for refuge, a place where her child could be safe, far from wars and palace coups, far from soldiers and criminals, a place where no one would care that she was the queen of Aktida and the child in her arms was Prince Elliar, the king’s only heir.

  She had been searching for such a place since she left Mainor with her small escort. Finally, she had found it.

  ***

  Kicking up white swirls of snow, a reindeer-drawn sleigh sped through the ancient forest growing on the mountain slopes of one of the ranges that crisscross Vaimar. It was approaching the ice bridge spanning the gorge surrounding the capital of the Kalds, the majestic city of Arctarium.

  It was the depth of night, but everything was bathed in light. In the starry sky above, the northern lights shimmered with glowing colors. It seemed like a festival was taking place in the hall of Vaimos among the stars, and the reflection of the fireworks could be seen even on earth. In the wavering glow of the aurora borealis, Arctarium looked like a shining crystal sculpture risen atop a snowy peak. The icy arches and columns shimmered with all the colors of the rainbow, unmelted even by Vaimar’s hot summers. Lights gleamed on the walls and towers of the evening city, where life still bustled despite the late hour. Statues scattered in the darkness lit up brightly, making it seem as if new stars were sparkling straight from blocks of ice.

  The sleigh flew swiftly, the reindeer bobbing their antlered heads and gracefully trampling the snow with dainty hooves. The soft jingling of bells on the shafts lulled the passengers seated beneath thick fur canopies, wrapped in heavy coats. November’s frosts had already struck, and only good furs offered protection. At the front sat a narrow-eyed driver with a weathered face and a hood. In the back, on soft seats, was a silver-haired elderly man, whose bushy eyebrows dusted with snowflakes. Next to him, sat a young Kald warrior in armor, carrying a battle axe.

  "To be honest, this is my first time visiting Arctarium and the first time I’ve ventured so deep into Vaimar, even though I’ve visited the country dozens of times," the elder admitted, gazing at the glowing city revealed in a breathtaking panorama from the high ridge.

  "Same here," the Kald replied calmly. "I grew up in Vairad, Lord Felm, right on the border of Aktida. Then I moved to Petista and rarely returned to my homeland. I regret that…" He sighed. "As you see, there’s a first time for everything. But I suppose we’ll have time for sightseeing in Arctarium. After we take care of the delicate matters at hand."

  "Can’t wait to meet Jake Farian," grumbled Ringus Felm, just as the ice groaned deafeningly under the silver reindeer’s hooves and the sleigh burst onto the bridge, speeding over the abyss. The wind howled in their ears; not wanting to look down, the general clutched the backrest of his seat in panic.

  The driver gave a jaunty whistle and snapped his whip. The team raced uphill, toward the star-filled sky and the steep mountainside.

  Frost bit at the faces of the Aktida’s envoys. The shimmering walls and the arched gate suddenly loomed before them. The reindeer stamped and halted, steam rising from their nostrils, while the guests slowly climbed out of the sleigh.

  "Aktida?" one of the guards asked calmly, blocking their path. Under the great archway stood a full squad, guarding the entrance to the main street. "The order was not to allow Alvens into the city. Royal decree."

  "We’re here to see the king," said Ringus, handing over his documents. "Urgent matters. A message from King Emerlun the Third of Aktida. I am a general of Aktida’s army, I have full documentation and must proceed to the palace immediately!"

  "General Ringus Felm and Corporal Hugo Hellerson of the 20th Vaimarian Volunteer Regiment," the guard read in surprise after carefully reviewing the papers. The guests impatiently stamped their feet—the cold was biting. "Well then… Your Excellency, you may enter, but only with an escort."

  "Wouldn’t dream of going without one," Ringus muttered with a smirk. "We’d get lost, Arctarium’s almost as big as Mainor."

  "Leave your weapons here," added the guard. "They’ll be kept in the guardhouse under the fortress commander’s supervision until your departure. You can retrieve them with a receipt when you leave the city. No exceptions. Not even for generals."

  "You could’ve started with that," Hugo grumbled, removing his axe and dagger and handing them to the soldiers. "Take good care of that weapon, it’s survived more battles than you’ve had birthdays… And General Felm is unarmed. This is a diplomatic mission, after all. We don’t need blades to speak with Jake Farian."

  This story has been stolen from Royal Road. If you read it on Amazon, please report it

  The sleigh was let through, and they moved forward along the capital’s avenues, accompanied by a military escort. Inside, Arctarium was filled with a bright, almost daylight glow. Lanterns lit the streets, signs of shops and taverns gleamed. Few people were about, and only the main streets saw traffic—sleighs drawn by reindeer. Shopkeepers slammed doors as they closed up for the night. Around them rose temples, mansions, graceful bridge arches, ice sculptures, and shaggy blue fir trees planted along the roads.

  Then, like a mirage born of the northern lights, an enormous palace emerged from the darkness, with a marble staircase leading up to its tall gates. Surrounding the residence of the King of Vaimar was a breathtaking garden: dozens of trees and bushes sculpted from glistening ice. Firs, oaks, maples, hornbeams, palms, and cypresses stood frozen still, yet looking as though they might at any moment shake off the frost and rustle under Vaimar’s wild winds.

  They were let inside after one of the guards showed a pass and Ringus once again produced the letter sealed with the insignia of Mainor. They entered a warm hall, passed through a wide reception room, and followed the chamberlain into a small office deep within the palace. A fire crackled in the fireplace, and beyond the small window, the darkness of a November night thickened.

  There was no ice in this office, and nothing reminded one of Vaimar’s winter fairy tale. Rather, it resembled the ornate luxury of Aktida's mansions: redwood-paneled walls, velvet-upholstered furniture, and gold-gilded legs on chairs and tables. In the center stood a large round table with a dozen chairs pulled up to it. The walls bore tapestries with portraits of kings from the Farian dynasty, and in niches along the walls stood black suits of armor like silent sentinels of the office.

  "Lord Felm!" Jake Farian rose from one of the chairs to greet the guests. He looked pale, with bags under his eyes, a clear sign that the king had barely slept. "What a surprise. I never would’ve expected the famed general of Aktida to pay me a visit in the middle of the night. I suppose something important brought you to Arctarium?"

  He was playing a role, masking his emotions skillfully, as he always did in the arena of politics. But the suspicion in his eyes was clear, and Ringus hastened to confirm it with a bow:

  "You’re right, Your Majesty. The matter is of utmost importance."

  "How strange," Jake said quietly. "The king sends me a message with one of his top generals, who, as I understand it, should currently be in Aktida’s Eastern Province, engaged in a life-or-death struggle with Saelin’s forces. To pull a general away from such a critical task and send him with a packet to Vaimar—surely that’s something a mere courier could’ve handled. A waste of resources... May I hazard a guess? Could it be that Aktida no longer has need of your services?"

  "Aktida no longer has need of anything," Felm said in a hollow voice. "Including my services… May I sit down, Your Majesty?"

  "For Vaimos’ sake," Jake nodded, pulling his chair closer to the table. His tone instantly shifted from cordial to cold and businesslike. "You clearly bring serious news. So don’t drag it out."

  "We do, Your Majesty," Hugo Hellerson confirmed, "and it is this: Aktida no longer exists. There is now the Tepei-Kuon Empire under Saelin’s rule. His army consists of Talaskian pirates, Nocturn mercenaries from the Islands, and goblins from the Desert Lands. The Rikutiam envoys have declared that the regime change is Aktida’s internal matter, but in the meantime, settlers are already flooding the Southern and Eastern provinces, occupying cities the Alvens abandoned when they fled north. Vaimar is the only state that has yet to voice its position. Your Majesty, we’ve brought our troops across the border to ask for your help: to support us with weapons, clothing, and the ability to quarter in Vaimar’s military forts."

  "And Emerlun?" Jake asked softly.

  "Dead."

  The word rang out hollow and sharp, like an axe blow splitting the course of world history in two.

  Before and after the death of Aktida’s last king.

  The Age of Turmoil had begun.

  "Lord Geonar is in Vaimar as well," said Felm. "But for now, he’s in Derelz with his troops. He’ll arrive as soon as his duties allow. There’s fighting at sea too, and by New Year, we expect what’s left of our fleet to arrive, the part we managed to reclaim. Also, King Levkir signed a cooperation treaty with King Emerlun, and apparently that treaty still stands, because the centaurs are moving all their forces to Vaimar. Refugees from Mainor, Asternia, and Petista are already gathering in towns and villages in the south of the country. I believe that with our help, Vaimar will be able to raise an army… for a reconquest. If"—he hesitated—"if you agree to enter the war."

  "Of course," said Jake Farian. "There is no question. Vaimar will not accept the Tepei-Kuon Empire. Vaimar will enter the war… The Senate will support my decision. Naturally, the matter will be put on the agenda tomorrow, but I am confident we will back you."

  At the beginning of the conversation, he had been stunned by the news of Aktida’s fall. But now, the idea of the opportunity suddenly handed to him began to take over his mind, and he couldn’t shake it.

  The fact that Aktida had essentially become no man’s land—land that could be reclaimed from Saelin in war and claimed for oneself—meant the fulfillment of Jake’s long-held dream. Everything he had ever strived for was suddenly within reach: the death of Emerlun, who had no heirs, provided a perfect pretext for seizing power.

  This was the moment Jake had waited for his entire life. The hour of Vaimar’s glory. Aktida would be reconquered and become part of Vaimar. Jake’s name, as king and liberator and conqueror, would go down in history. And then… then he would go further. Laugdeil would become part of Vaimar. The Islands, too. Jake would become the first ruler of all lands from the cold Northern Wastes to the hot Southern jungles…

  "Yes?" He snapped out of the blissful haze of his dreams. Ringus was watching him closely, as if seeing through every ambition that stirred in Jake’s soul.

  "Your Majesty, we need to go," Hugo explained. "Unless you’d prefer to discuss everything now? I assumed a Senate meeting was necessary…"

  "Of course, the discussion will happen tomorrow… I’ll need a report on the condition of your troops, so I know what we’re working with, and a more detailed account of what happened in Aktida. So, here’s what we’ll do: I’ll have the chamberlain prepare rooms for you in the palace, and I expect you here tomorrow in this office at ten in the morning. Good night, Lord Felm and… hmm…"

  "Lord Hellerson, Your Majesty," Hugo prompted.

  They left with the chamberlain, and the king rose, pacing the room in agitation before collapsing into an armchair, leaning back against the soft cushion and stretching his legs toward the fire. He was shivering. He had to act quickly now, drafting the entire strategy for the brilliant campaign that could lead him to power over Laugdeil… and consider what his first move would be against the new enemy...

  Outside the window, the cold night deepened.