Spring was slow to come to Septentrion. Snow still clung to the landscape, a stubborn white blanket refusing to give way. As far north as Hellfrost, the snowpack likely wouldn’t clear until the second month.

  Aelia had to trust that everything would remain functioning in Hellfrost during her absence. The farmers knew their practices better than she did, of course. That didn’t reduce the anxiety she felt, leaving everything in others’ care to journey southward. Especially since the visit to Northstar could undo everything they’d worked for at Hellfrost. Governor Iraias still had yet to ratify the treaty, so technically the Hravast and Kvormskaja tribes’ status remained ambiguous.

  She hoped testimony from Mensikhana and Hrolf would help persuade the Governor. They had come to Northstar to support her case, along with a handful of others. Aven and Esharah, of course. Along with Katrin, Janaya, Sunshine, and Ouron (as well as Ouron’s family). Eleven of them packed into a pair of ox-pulled sledges.

  Travel was...not an experience Aelia found pleasant. Especially not in that particular mode of transportation. The road was not a road, not really. More of a collection of ruts through the snow. And the sledge, while efficient at traversing the snow, had no suspension. Aelia felt every rut and every stone they passed over. Half a month of jolting, cold travel lay ahead before they’d even see Northstar’s walls.

  There were consolations, Aelia admitted, while curled up next to Aven for warmth in the small sledge as a wind howled outside the covered canopy. No one looked askance at them huddled together for warmth.

  Still, cuddling could only stave off cold, not boredom. Trying to write was useless; the brief, ill-fated attempt had left ink spilled all over her coat when the sledge hit an inopportune bump. Travel stories were all well and good, but after a certain point, Aelia would have rather gouged out her own eardrums than hear another word out of Sunshine’s mouth. Thankfully, Esharah sensed her mood well before Aelia actually snapped, and Sunshine had opportunity to entertain the other cart from then on.

  Imperial waystations were placed such that they never had to spend a night in the wilderness, and after the first week of travel they reached roads better maintained and cleared. Switching from sledge to carriage was a welcome change (if only because the latter was better insulated) and sped up the journey considerably.

  Another five days brought them to the northernmost shore of Lake Agenthus, to areas where settlements were closer together and roads almost as well maintained as in the greater provinces. The land was still sparsely populated, but there were towns and farms and actual inns at nearly every waystation. The presence of the lake, an inland sea that stretched horizon to horizon, was a constant marvel.

  Mensikhana and Hrolf were especially awed by the sight. When they stopped for a rest and stretch on an overlook of the shore, the two stood in utter silence for a long time. Aelia felt a pang of sympathy for them. To have lived in the narrow valleys of the north your entire life, only to see this...it must be like seeing the ocean for the first time.

  “It does not end,” Hrolf whispered in his deep, rumbling voice. “And your empire...extends even to the other side?”

  “Much farther,” Esharah answered. “The empire extends all the way to the ocean. Everything you’ve seen so far, and everything you will see on this journey, is part of one province of the empire. One of seventeen. One of the smallest.”

  Hrolf shook his head, “How can you consider yourself part of the same people with those so far away? So many you will never meet.”

  That was an...apt question. One Aelia had never quite thought about so directly. Of course they were all part of the empire. It was self-evident. But perhaps not to those who had not been born within it.

  “It is the Ideals that bind us together,” Aelia answered. “No matter where you are born in the empire, you learn the Ideals. You learn to value them, to uphold them. That shared purpose...makes us one people.”

  “But your leader, the Emperor who you serve,” Mensikhana pressed. “He is far beyond this lake, yes? Has that man ever even laid eyes upon Hellfrost? How could someone lead those who he has never seen? Who has no idea what their lives are like?”

  “That is why our bureaucracy is so important,” Aelia explained. Now this was a subject she could answer confidently. “Executors and other local officials have the direct knowledge that you perceive as important. Those at higher levels of the hierarchy, such as Governor Iraias and Emperor Dramus, do not need to know the particulars of life in Hellfrost. But they do take our reports into account when making decisions of grand strategy. And at each stage, the Ideals guide their decisions to ensure they are aligned with Imperial principles.”

  Hrolf grunted. Mensikhana was quiet for a long while before responding, “It sounds...fragile.”

  “Does it?” Aelia asked. “Please elaborate.”

  Mensikhana glanced to Esharah as if seeking assurance, and Esharah relayed to underlying feeling: worry that questioning the empire would bring down its wrath.

  “You don’t need to be concerned,” Aelia reassured her. “This is just a discussion. Inquiry is a healthy part of governance. It is how we find flaws and correct them. It would be a much more fragile system if we were not permitted to speak its flaws.”

  Mensikhana nodded and said, “If one of your local leaders fails or neglects their Ideals, then the next level suffers as well.”

  “Like a tower of stones,” Hrolf muttered.

  Aelia looked at him questioningly.

  He chuckled, “In our tribe, it’s a game. We stack towers of stones as high as we can, then test their construction by removing pieces. If stones at the bottom are weak or placed improperly, the whole tower falls. Those at the bottom are greater than those at the top.”

  “An interesting analogy,” Aelia mulled it over for a while, “...but the Empire is made of people, not stones. It cannot simply sit immobile. Those at the top must guide the rest, and those at the top can stabilize other pieces. Or even replace them, should they prove inadequate.”

  Which is what could very well be their fate if Governor Iraias did not approve the treaty, but Aelia kept that thought to herself. Part of leadership was knowing what weights to burden the rest with.

  “Your example does make an important point, however,” Aelia conceded. “The strength of the Empire does depend on the strength of each part. Hence why even a distant province such as Septentrion, and even a distant county such as Hellfrost are of utmost importance. If we do maintain that stability, then yes, the whole of the Empire is harmed. That interconnectedness is ultimately the Empire’s strength as well. A success in any part benefits the whole.” The discovery of voidglass, for instance, could ripple across the entire empire.

  The tale has been taken without authorization; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.

  Mensikhana and Hrolf were quiet again, letting the wind whip around them. Aelia could not quite tell if she had convinced them or simply given them more things to worry about. She half-hoped that they’d continue the discussion, but apparently matters of politics were not their preferred topic of road conversation.

  Aelia caught Aven staring at her as they rejoined the carts and set off again. A strange look that she couldn’t quite interpret. Was it skepticism? Aven’s own experiences with imperial power had left him less than fond of it. Or was it...something else? She couldn’t be sure.

  “I suppose I must sound terribly naive,” Aelia told him, “when those such as Yvris and Sergrud are what the Empire sends to the frontier.”

  “Not naive,” Aven gave her a smile that sent warmth through Aelia’s body entirely unconnected to the fact that Janaya was in the same carriage. “Idealistic. There’s a difference.”

  Aelia gave a small smile in return, her eyes still on the road. She was still not entirely certain of the difference, but she was glad that Aven saw her as the latter rather than the former.

  * * *

  The end of the 15th day brought them within sight of Northstar. Technically, Aven had visited the city before. Given that, at the time, he’d only passed through in a barred cart bound for Hellfrost, it was hardly a proper tour. Back then, he’d passed through right before the New Year, when late winter still held its dying grip. Now, a month into spring, the frost retreated during the day, and the city was waking up. The Whiterun River, which had been covered in a solid sheet of ice on his first visit, now flowed with a dark, powerful current.

  Northstar’s walls rose grey and grim from the landscape. At the gates, the stone transitioned to gleaming black - fruit of Hellfrost’s quarries, no doubt. This close to the city, they no longer were the only carriages visible on the road, traffic picking up as they joined a slow trickle of other travelers making their way in and out of the city. They were a motley assortment of merchants’ wagons, farmers’ carts, even an entire family of nomadic herders driving a flock of some strange shaggy mountain goat, all merging into the flow into the city. A sporadic, meagre flow compared to even what the eastern gate of Northstar experienced (much less the gates of a greater city), but far greater than the isolation they’d felt at other stages of the journey.

  Aven glanced back to Aelia, who notably was not looking out the window, “Don’t want to take in the view?”

  She looked confused, “I’ve seen it before.”

  Janaya snorted in laughter. She was also not looking out the window, consumed as she was in staring at the bottom of the carriage. As if burning a hole in the floor with her eyes. Or battling some imaginary demons behind her eyes. No doubt practicing her speeches for the true battles with said demons.

  Esharah and Mensikhana were at least enjoying the view. Though they mostly seemed to be having a vigorous mental conversation that no else was privy to. Aven resolved to appreciate the view enough for the rest of them.

  A glance back out the window revealed a man sitting on the roadside ahead. A dezar man, precisely, skin a bit of a lighter lavender than Esharah’s blue, one crooked horn protruding out of the turban he wore around his head.

  The carriage driver yelped when the man popped to his feet and strode right into the middle of the road, the yelp echoed by the horses’ started neighs.

  Aelia gasped and clung to Aven when the carriage jerked to a stop, which was nice, but not the biggest concern.

  “Ho, travellers!” A rough voice called out, as the man sidestepped the horses and walked right up to the window, “Spare a coin for a misfortunate soul?”

  “Move aside, beggar,” the driver grumbled, fumbling for a crop.

  Aven caught the flicker in the air with the Battle Mind as the “beggar” dodged the crop. Far too fast for a common man. A vis.

  Aven kicked open the door, ignoring Aelia’s gasp behind him.

  The vis dodged the door as easily as the crop, flickering back to the road’s edge. Speed that Aven had only seen from Father in his prime. Swiftfoot domain, at least third circle.

  “We’re not here for trouble,” Aven glared at the assailant. “But we’re ready if you’ve brought it.” He felt the void gather at his shoulders, forming a pair of voidclaws.

  “What’s this?!” Sunshine’s voice rose from the other wagon. “A highwayman, besetting innocent traveller?! A fateful encounter mere minutes from our destination?!”

  The vis dezar ignored the calls, eyes firmly fixed on Aven. His wrist flicked, almost too fast for even the Battle Mind to track, and a knife dropped into his hand. A knife made of a familiar blue-tinged metal.

  “Arcsteel knife!” Aven called warning to the others. Barely got the syllables out before the man lunged.

  Aven’s claws rose to block. The knife parried, sparks flying where metal met mist. The man was impossibly fast. Faster than Aven. Or Sergrud, for that matter. Too fast to fight head on. Arcsteel burned through the void, the reaction lancing fire back into Aven’s arm, but it was only pain.

  Splitting was almost natural now, second body jerking out while Aven’s main body kept a defensive stance in front of the open carriage door. Sound slowed as he went deep into the Battle Mind, trying to keep up with the impossibly fast movements. Twin sets of voidhands lashed out, two as sweeping claws and two as thrusting spears.

  The man dodged them all with contemptuous ease. He didn’t just move, he flowed. Water given shape. Every step was a precise, measured movement that wasted not a single ounce of effort. And when voidclaws hemmed him in so there was no room to run, he bent. Twisting again like flowing water, with a flexibility that would have broken a normal man’s spine.

  A tail whipped out from behind the man’s cloak, writhing like a snake. The tip stabbed Aven’s double right through the throat. The body dissolved to mist, and the split mind retreated, screaming in pain as its body died. In the split second when Aven’s mind tried to stitch itself back together, the vis’ tail slithered around Aven’s ankle and yanked.

  Aven hit the ground, facedown, as a boot slammed between his shoulder blades. Pinned. Arcsteel knife at his throat. Aven got a face-full of the mud and snowmelt sludge of a half-cleared imperial road in early spring.

  All before any of the others even made it out of the carriage to help him.

  The rough voice chuckled in his ear, “A few tricks, but not enough-”

  Aven gathered the void inside him and shot a voidclaw straight out his back, erupting through his cloak to stab straight into the man’s neck.

  Or where the neck should have been. Aven felt cloth tear, felt voidclaw graze skin and draw blood, but when he looked, the man had already flickered away. Just in time to dodge a burst of hellfire rushing out from Janaya too, followed by a diving, shrieking Vili shaped into a blade.

  “Stop this!” Aelia’s voice cut in above the flames. “Tetravis Velian, what is the meaning of this?!”

  Tetravis. Aven’s eyes widened as he stared at a fourth circle vis laughing while rubbing his neck.

  “Alright.” The man held up a hand. Empty, the arcsteel dagger somehow already sheathed. “I’ve had my fun. Apologies for the rough welcome, Executor. You too, Captain. Vestra’s been talking you up for weeks, so I had to see for myself what all the fuss was about.”

  Aven groaned. More trouble that damn woman was causing him.

  The thrum of Sunshine’s strings brought the world back to full speed as the Battle Mind relaxed. Ouron was out of the cart now, spear in hand with Hrolf beside him. Vili hovered alongside Katrin, spitting curses at the man that (thankfully) only Katrin and Aven could understand. Janaya stood in front of Aven, hellfire flaring off her.

  “Surely testing my captain can wait until a...more appropriate setting,” Aelia demanded, though her voice shook a little from the shock.

  “Oh, I’ve seen enough,” the fourth-circle dezar’s chuckle gave little sign whether he considered what he saw adequate or lacking. His bow equally could have been sincere or mocking. “Welcome, honored guests of Hellfrost! Governor Iraias sent me to collect you.”

  Aelia sighed, “Then it falls to me to introduce you all. Everyone, this is Nadyar Velian, tetravis under the governor.” She glared at him, “...politeness demands I say it is a pleasure to see you again.”

  “Nothing but sincerity moves me to say the same,” Nadyar Velian bowed lower in reply. “Northstar has been darker without your presence these many long years.”

  Aelia blinked, “I’ve...only been in Hellfrost for one year.”

  “And every day without you here has felt like three,” Velian chuckled. He rose and beckoned them to follow. “Come along then. The Governor is expecting you.”

  Aven just glared, massaging the ache out of his shoulder while Aelia helped him back into the carriage. Hardly an auspicious start to their visit. He could only hope Governor Iraias was less...interested in him than the governor’s enforcers.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

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