“When you’ve conquered everything, what will you have?”

  “A ridiculous question, fox,” Death snarled, wrapping the body in white at the back of his cart and covering it with potatoes. “I will need nothing, you should know this by now—you have been acting strange since I awoke, lots of questions.”

  “Of course, I want to know who I’m serving.”

  “That word again, serve, you’ve been using it more than the average man.”

  “Call it impulsive, I’m dedicated to you now.”

  Snow gave a subtle nod from behind Vera. “Fine,” he sighed. “I accept whatever you’re offering, a life of servitude to my cause, just don’t be too annoying.”

  “So…?”

  “Hm, what?” Death was confused.

  “What will you have?”

  “I answered this. Nothing.”

  “Wrong!” she exclaimed. “You will have us.”

  “I do not need you.”

  “But we’ll still be there.”

  “How terribly frightening of a thought.”

  “Rah, go fuck yourself,” she laughed. “When everything has been conquered maybe we can dress the conquered princess in little jester outfits, make them dance.”

  “What a fantasy,” Snow hummed. “That would be funny, dangle them over a fire and watch their legs wiggle like worms.”

  “You can dress a weed in white silk and pretty pearls, that does not change what they are at their pestering centre. Parasites, leeches and grubs, I do not see power in their uniform, name, marriages, only the gifts of one’s blood and birthright is what concerns me. I will not entertain others by playing with my food, they stole my lands from me and their deaths will be swift, the ones that give me a real challenge will suffer when I regain my ability to lock souls in crystals.”

  “Crystals?” the trader interrupted. “You talkin’ ‘bout that little gem those Valans hold like a prize? I heard it contains the doomed soul o’ a powerful power from before our time, that they’re trying to free the bugger from the rock and harness the power themselves.”

  “Impossible,” Death snarled. “The magical spells placed on it are of great magnitude, unbreakable, unreversible—the soul you claim doomed is already dead, the same repeating second of all of their pain crammed into a single moment, a forced consciousness of the soul that persists and retains memory. Thousands of times in a second they feel agony, their thoughts still passing like their brain is still caged in their skulls. They will never go mad; they will never go insane, their mind cannot be broken, cannot be eased, they just float in and endless void like a spectator for all eternity, a true trophy of victory against foes.”

  The trader’s jaw hung open.

  “Oh my,” Vera squeaked. “That is… oh…”

  “—a theory of course!” Snow squeaked. “My companion is just trying to scare you! The world is hungry for entertainment, just a silly attempt to calm that hunger!”

  The trader straightened his posture. “Not very plausible,” he coughed. “Very unlikely for it to be so… terrifying.”

  “If you say so,” Death sighed. “Once again, many thanks for the soup and clothing.”

  “Ain’t no fuss lad, always here to help out a nice fellow with two pretty girls at his side.”

  Vera and Snow blushed.

  Pathetic, Death thought. It’ll keep them warmer, I guess.

  Snowfall started, light then quickly turning heavy, all put their heads up, and even Vera begged the trader for a coat similar to the one he gave Snow, which he gladly offered.

  “Anythin’ else I can get for you folks?” he said. “If there’s nought more I can do, I must continue on my way.”

  “A map would suffice,” Death asked.

  The trader gave him a handshake and a map. “Gods be good and guide you through the snowy storm.”

  “Good travels to you,” Death forced. Kindness will get you not a thing in this life… he’s likely been taken advantage of so many times in his long living that he doesn’t care anymore.

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  Death spread the map across the back of the cart, whacking away the dead man’s boot sticking out the cloth. “Where are we supposed to be?” he said. “Don’t see Sekoi or Caron anywhere.”

  Snow pointed to a bundle of symbols labelled as King’s Heel.

  “Even on maps your towns are taken as a joke, you are shit at the bottom of a boot.”

  Neither Vera nor Snow disagreed with his opinion. “So, we are currently in Farfall Forest, and to the north, the north, just above us, there is Southrise Woods? Was this whole nation named by a jester scribbling onto paper with a lump of coal? How long would it take us to get from here to Vatanil.”

  “I can’t travel to there,” Vera reminded.

  “Not what I asked. Vatanil is central, we are at the edge, based on the time to travel from here to the Capital Kingdom, I can judge how long our journeys will be.”

  “Six days.”

  “Hm, the mountains are named the Chasm of Death? I would say that is where that dragon mother is, eight days ride to the bottom of the mountain, who knows how long it would take to scale.”

  “There’s a lot of powerful people to kill at Vatanil,” Snow said. “I already told you about Bianca, she has a group underneath her which have no official name, the books call them Bianca’s Bastards for some reason, Quinn is one of them.”

  “Cum Master has friends?”

  “Yes,” Snow snickered. “I don’t know their names.”

  “I do,” Vera said. “Bollo, Fiasco, and Quinn’s cousin, Zishang.”

  “I’ve already forgotten those names,” Death admitted. “All of them combined with the Valan family, I would likely die from the abundance of power even if my fighting skill exceeds them all. I’m uncertain if we could kill this dragon mother either, I would need to see how large she is. The only thing I can think to do is to travel to the east, to this place—Lakevalor, not for any particular reason, just to browse and see if opportunities arise… unless this marking is misleading and this is just another bundle of shitty towns.”

  “It’s a city,” Vera answered. “Killian Entrail doesn’t live there, a lot of his followers tend to stay there though… well-protected, a big fuckin’ wall, probably hundreds of ballistae scattered in towers, so we won’t have to worry about a dragon attack.”

  “Are there any names that should worry me?”

  Vera shrugged and didn’t know.

  Perfect… I’ll be entering a city where any one of those mongrels could have a magical gift hiding up their arses. Don’t have much else of a choice, the alternative is to stay here and wait.

  Snow squealed in fear for a second, a red flash and a quick puff of smoke rose from the front of the cart. “Fuck Snow!” Vera yelled, struggling to breathe. “You scared me! Almost stopped my heart!”

  Death pushed through them and found a red-paper letter at the front of the cart, warm to the touch, a waxy seal of a pentagram.

  ‘To the false cambion,’ the back said, alongside a poorly drawn heart with black ink. ‘For the eyes of him and his companions only.’

  Snow snatched the note. “Other bitches sending you letters with hearts? I should rip this in half!”

  Death snatched it back and hit her on the head with the letter. “Clearly this is a message from the real cambions,” Death said. “A pleasant surprise with ideal timing.”

  He opened the letter.

  “Dear false cambion, whom I have heard referred to as ‘Death’, and his two followers, who I have also heard named as ‘Snow’ and ‘Vera’,

  Well done. I truly mean that, the three of you, we observed your activity at Caron, and we are impressed but also stung—you were never meant to be at that place and that time, your disruption has caused us many issues that need to be fixed. We do not want you as an enemy, nor do we see a path where we become allies—we request you meet us at Southrise Woods, the main path, you will feel the place of meeting when you see it. Once you have crossed the bridge over the river, know that we will be watching, waiting for you to find our place of meeting, and we have much to discuss.

  We also understand that you must be a busy man, so to keep things short and sweet, I will outline what I want: the tear of the angel you took from that girl’s heart, it is a necessity that it is returned to us for a plethora of reasons, and we also request that you continue to take blame for the actions you took responsibility for. What do I offer you? Information, a favour, anything that you wish, we can discuss this deal in more detail face-to-face.

  Destroy this letter once you have read and remembered, you must know that cambions are not well-liked in Valan, and neither are those who shelter or communicate with them.

  To excellent relations, may this meeting bring luck to us both.

  Your new friend, if you wish it, as I already do,

  Aleirica.”

  Death ripped the letter and then burned it at the end of a candle.

  “Hey!” Vera yelled. “I wasn’t done reading that!”

  “Doesn’t matter, Fox,” he sighed. “If they wished to fight, they would’ve done it here—a few traders and peasants wouldn’t deter them. This Aleirica is deliberate with her words, I respect that, she has used ‘we’ and ‘us’ in ways meant to explain she is not alone.”

  “She?” Snow asked.

  “Yes, Snow, she, or a very promiscuous man who wishes to send hearts to someone like me.”

  “I don’t like it,” Vera said. “Seems weird.”

  “She wants our trust,” Death said. “She won’t get it, she will get caution, however we will attend this meeting.” He looked at the map and checked the distance. “A few hours, we will feel the place of meeting when we see it. If a fight begins, I will fight, and you will protect Snow with your life, understand?”

  “I don’t need protecting!” Snow yelled. “I killed a dragon!”

  “You do need it,” he sighed. “Our roles are clear, we will move now and dump this body in the river when we pass over it, I do not care to bury it.”