“Koch. What happened to you?”
His voice was gravel, deep and grumpy.
I stiffened. “Why would I answer your questions?” I hissed.
A pause. Then—
“Oh, my apologies. I forgot my manners.”
The voice changed. The tone, the cadence—wrong. And now, he was speaking Elven.
A sharp, cold knot twisted in my gut.
This wasn’t right.
He reached up and removed his helmet.
The air crackled.
A pulse of magic—small, delicate, but real. Like dust scattering in sunlight. A normal eye would have missed it.
The illusion fell.
What stood behind the mask… was another mask.
Pure white. Featureless, except for two hollow sockets where eyes should be.
And through those voids, magic pulsed—veins of sheer cold energy, alive and shifting, woven into its very structure.
This wasn’t a disguise.
This was his face.
The black robe around him shimmered, its lining marked with Coldian runes, etched into the very fabric of his being.
This was Laach.
One of the Three Champions of the Sheer Cold Empire. The Shadowmaster. The hand in the dark, the whisper in the ear. Ruler of intrigue, espionage, rogues, assassins, scouts. The master of persuasion, deception, and stealth.
I bowed my head, more out of instinct than respect.
“Apologies for my rudeness, Champion.” I murmured.
“Don’t worry about it.” His voice shifted—not in tone, but in accent. Ever-changing, ever-moving. “Now, can you answer a couple of my questions so I can move on?”
I nodded. “Of course.”
And I told him. Everything.
From Rukh to Leon. Valinis and Lobos. The entire bloody, tangled mess of what happened in that short, doomed trip.
He listened.
No expression. No movement. A blank, white slate. I had to trust my gut to know if he was satisfied.
A pause. Then—
“Interesting. Truly interesting.”
His voice drifted, slipping between tones and dialects.
“I want you to continue your work as you were.”
Cold. Direct.
“You have my full permission to start a war if necessary. I don’t care.”
The air thickened.
“I want you to find everything you can about Sioh and Aurelia. Kill your targets. Get your revenge. I will aid you with information when the time calls. And I will know when that time is.”
A pause.
“You don’t need to think too much about it.”
The way he said it. The weight of it.
It wasn’t a request. It wasn’t even an order. It was just fact. A reality I could either accept or suffer for.
“Are we clear?” he asked. “Or do you need certain directions?”
I swallowed. The tension in the room was thick, pressing down like ice on bone.
Say no, and something terrible would happen.
“All clear here,” I said firmly. Proudly.
Laach tilted his head slightly, then moved to the door.
“I have other business,” he said. “I’ll allow you one question before I leave.”
His hand touched the handle.
I wasn’t ready.
One question?
He knew everything. I could ask anything. Anything.
And yet, my mouth betrayed me.
“Why were we allowed to enter Lampis?” I murmured.
Not the question I wanted.
The last one that was left in my mind.
Laach laughed.
Low, amused.
“Stupid question,” he mused. “Truly stupid. Like an idiot farmer asking a Coldian if he pisses ice.”
He chuckled, shaking his head.
“They let you in because they’re in the middle of a political situation that requires… delicate care.”
A pause. Then—
“I’ll tell you more, just to see the look on your face when I say this.”
A quiet hum in his tone. Enjoyment.
“They want their own rules. Their own armies. A self-proclaimed government. A country. Everything.”
“They want the Coldians out of their lands…”
“…But they want a seat on the Council.”
With that, he opened the door.
And left.
I sat there. Stunned.
My mind reeled.
Their own country? Their own laws? Their own armies?
Who the fuck did they think they were?
I was done.
My body was wrecked—bandaged, stitched, barely functional. One arm was usable. My legs? Weak. Every movement ached, every breath felt like dragging air through shattered ribs.
Even talking hurt.
I laid back. Nothing else to do.
Leliana could wait. Tomorrow, I’d call for her.
I slept through the day. Through the night.
A sharp flap of wings woke me.
Morning.
I blinked, shaking off the weight of sleep. Something felt… different. My clothes. Clean. Soft cloth wrapped around me, unfamiliar but comfortable. Leliana’s work, most likely.
Food sat on the small table beside me—meat, bread, tea. The tea had gone cold, but I still appreciated it.
I ate.
Then, I decided. Time to get moving.
Pain flared as I pushed myself upright, my spine cracking in protest. I coughed, tried to steady my breath, then forced out a weak yell.
“Leliana.”
Stolen novel; please report.
A pause.
The door opened.
It wasn’t her.
A man stood there instead, dressed in medical garments.
“Shut up, imbecile. There are patients sleeping. We don’t need you waking them up with your gawking.”
His voice was pure hatred.
He shut the door before I could even think of a reply.
I wanted to get up and snap his neck.
But I couldn’t. Not yet.
Moments later, the door opened again.
Leliana.
“Sorry, I wasn’t here sooner,” she said, genuine as always. “Had some documents to fill out.”
“No worries.” I waved it off. Then—“Who was that man?”
She blinked. “What man?”
“A man came in and told me to fuck off.” I chuckled, despite the lingering frustration.
“Oh. That must be Doctor Arnell. I work for him. Officially.” She smirked, fully aware of how much that annoyed me.
I shook my head. Fine. Whatever.
“I’m ready for this walk.” I met her gaze.
“One second.”
She disappeared.
Came back a moment later.
With a wheelchair.
A fucking wheelchair.
I glared at it.
“I’m not sitting in that. You said we’d walk.” My voice was cold.
“You’re in no condition to walk.” She smiled.
I hate being called weak.
“Just watch me.”
I forced myself up. Every muscle screamed. Every nerve burned.
For a second, I was standing.
Then—
My legs gave out.
I crashed down, head smashing into the table, splinters flying. My injured shoulder slammed into the floor with a sickening thud.
Pain didn’t hit me.
It paralyzed me.
“Told you.”
Leliana lifted me—effortless—and placed me in the wheelchair. She checked my head and shoulder.
“You’re fine.” A small pat on the back.
“Stop humiliating me,” I growled.
“Sorry,” she murmured. And meant it.
Then, without another word, she pushed the wheelchair forward.
We left the room.
The corridor stretched ahead, long and empty, its rows of closed doors sealing away the sick and the dying.
We moved toward a set of massive double doors.
I broke the silence.
“Where’s Manach? My coldian ally.”
Leliana didn’t stop pushing. Didn’t even hesitate.
“Room 246, second floor. We’ll check on him when we get back, okay?”
I glanced at a door as we passed. Room 122.
Big hospital.
The doors ahead swung open.
Sunlight stabbed into my eyes.
I winced, momentarily blinded. But still—I was grateful for it.
A breeze lashed my face, sharp but refreshing.
I blinked through the light, taking in the city.
Streets stretched out before me, crisscrossed by merchants and travelers. Buildings loomed, all manner of architecture jumbled together—stone, wood, and metalwork melding into a strange, elegant chaos. Caravans rolled by, people in layered robes and fine tunics walked the polished stone roads. The place was clean.
Almost too clean.
We moved through the streets, Leliana pushing me along. We talked—idle, easy conversation. Favorite food. Favorite weather. Nothing important. Nothing deep.
But it felt… nice.
I took in more of the city.
It was vast, each corner a different world.
Ornate taverns stood beside stark merchant halls. Gardens bloomed in tight alleys, their vines twisting over rich stone facades. Shops crowded together, selling everything from fine silks to bottled medicines, even seashell pebbles, because people will buy anything these days.
But two things were constant.
The first—the lanterns.
Every building. Every pillar. Every damn thing had at least four. And these weren’t cheap, hanging rusted tin lamps. These were crafted, expensive. Always burning.
A fortune in oil, wasted daily.
The second—the hate.
It followed us like a shadow.
I noticed it quickly—the glares, the muttered curses. The spitting. Some subtle, some not. I wasn’t a stranger to hatred. But this?
This was old.
I turned my head slightly. “Leliana.”
“Hm?”
“Why do your people hate coldians so much? I don’t recall us ever doing anything to you. The teachings don’t mention it.” I frowned. “We weren’t even supposed to come here. Or harm you. Just… protect you.”
Leliana chuckled.
“It’s tradition.”
Tradition?
I narrowed my eyes. “Like the lantern thing? Hate for coldians is a tradition? Why?”
She sighed, as if this was exhausting to explain.
“Two reasons,” she said. “First—religion. Everyone here follows the Light. The Dawn. The goddess Lightrai. Light deems anything inhuman an abomination, a corruption of dark forces. Impure. Dangerous.”
That… made sense.
The Cold and the Light had history. Wars. Clashes. Domino himself had battled their champions, supposedly slaughtering a Crusader of the faith.
Leliana continued.
“The second reason? Lampis is where the first Coldian was created.”
I stilled.
“What?”
She nodded.
“Back then, it was just a village. The Elder of the time sacrificed himself to create the first of your kind.”
The name struck like ice down my spine.
“Wuch? Wuch was created here?”
The first Coldian. The only one who rejected Domino. Some say Domino killed him. Others whisper he became Laach. That’s the problem with Laach.
He could be anyone.
Leliana shrugged. “I guess that was his name. Yes.”
I let the information settle. A tradition of hatred.
It wouldn’t change.
Not now. Not ever.
And yet, we were their protectors.
The irony was thick enough to choke on.
We passed a massive building.
I studied it.
Not a castle.
More of a dome, with great pillars lining its perimeter. Flags of Lampis hung from every column, embroidered and shining in the light. The garden surrounding it was lush, a stark contrast to the rigid stonework.
I tilted my head. “What is that?”
Leliana followed my gaze.
“That’s the Parliament of Lampis. Seat of leadership.”
I frowned. “Parliament? I thought this place was a monarchy.”
She shook her head. “No. The city is run by a governor, but most decisions go through votes in the Parliament.”
A democracy.
Odd.
Orbis had seen empires, tyrannies, kingdoms ruled by iron-fisted warlords. But a single city, not even a city-state, governing itself by vote?
Interesting.
We moved on.
We stopped at a small park, nestled on the town’s edge.
It was beautiful—too beautiful for a place like this.
Flowers of every color swayed in the breeze, some I recognized, most I didn’t. The scent was overwhelming. Beyond the garden’s border, the land fell away, revealing the vast stretch of ocean, deep blue and restless.
I had never seen anything like it.
Leliana wheeled me to the edge of the park, positioning my chair so I faced the sea.
Smart.
No one could sneak up on me from here. Even if I was an easy target, I didn’t feel uneasy.
She settled onto a bench beside me, unwrapped a chocolate cream sandwich, split it in half, and handed me a piece.
I took it. Ate it without thinking.
She broke the silence.
“It’s a nice view.”
Her voice was calm.
I chewed, swallowed. “It is. Secluded. Peaceful. Just like you wanted.”
A small, satisfied hum. “Yes. I come here to clear my head.”
A pause.
Then—“I need a favor.”
I stopped chewing. Met her gaze.
“I understand. Let’s hear it.”
She exhaled, then forced it out.
“I want you to take me with you. Out of Lampis.”
The words hung between us.
I processed them. Let them settle.
Didn’t like them.
At all.
I stared at her. “You want to leave? With two coldians? Outside the safety of this city? You don’t even know where we’re going.” I gestured at myself. “You’d be walking straight into the same danger. You’d end up like us.”
I watched her reaction.
She didn’t flinch.
“I know,” she said. “Let me explain first.”
“No.” My voice was flat. Firm. “You don’t know what you’re getting into. It’s not safe. And if you can’t fight, you’re just a burden.”
Brutal. Honest.
She didn’t like that.
“I don’t care,” she snapped. “I want out. I want freedom of choice.”
I scoffed. “You have that here. Even leaving. But coming with us? That’s suicide.”
Her jaw tightened. “I don’t care.”
A moment of stillness.
Then she sighed. Shoulders sagged.
The fight drained out of her.
“Please,” she said, softer now. “Let me explain. Then you can decide.”
I considered her.
It was fair.
“Alright. Go ahead.”
She took a breath, collecting herself.
“See, Koch… it’s complicated.”
Of course it was.
She looked out at the sea.
“I’m the daughter of a Parliament member. One of the richest men in town. My father—a chancellor—wanted me in politics. That’s all he ever saw me as. A smart girl. A useful piece on his board. But I didn’t want that. I wanted to be a doctor. I wanted to see the world.
He hated that.”
Her hands curled into fists.
“I wasn’t born with magic. No gifts. No affinities. So, as far as he was concerned, I was wasting myself. I fought him. Went to medical school. Graduated. Started work as a caretaker. But this city—this damned city—is ruled by magic. By alchemy. Ordinary medicine is… meaningless here. Not enough.”
She exhaled, sharp and bitter.
“I accepted that. I wanted to learn alchemy. But my father made sure I never could. He blacklisted me. Used his influence. Four alchemists in the city. Four doctors. Not one would teach me.
Not just that.
Every book on alchemy was forbidden to me.
Anyone caught giving me one? A criminal. A traitor. A Coldian sympathizer.”
I listened.
Didn’t interrupt.
Didn’t need to.
“I didn’t give up,” she continued. “I stayed a caretaker. Kept working. But my father… he never let up. Constant pressure. Constant control. Every door closed in my face.
I tried the Governor.
Nothing.
I tried making allies. No one would risk it.
I have no friends here. No one I can trust. No one.
But then—you.”
She looked at me.
“You and Manach. You’re my chance.
If you take me in—to Coldian custody—I can get out. You could claim I mistreated you. Or something. The Parliament won’t fight it. They’ll be happy to be rid of me.”
She leaned forward.
Desperate.
“What do you say, Koch?”
I sat there.
Staring at her.
Tough life.
“The Parliament would be glad to be rid of you?” I frowned. “And what of your father?”
Her lips pressed into a thin line, but I wasn’t done.
“You’re the daughter of a chancellor. If you get taken into custody by two coldians—for mistreatment, no less—do you really think that would ease tensions between the Citadel and Lampis?”
I could already hear the political fallout. This wasn’t a simple escape.
“You haven’t thought this through,” I said.
She cut me off.
“Yes, I have.”
Her tone was sharp.
“My father’s hands would be tied. Because you’d be using the law.”
I narrowed my eyes. “Law? What do you mean?”
She leaned forward.
“The agreement between the Citadel—the seat of the Sheer Cold Empire—and Lampis states that no harm shall come to coldians, no matter how much the people here hate you.”
I already knew this. But I let her continue.
“If a coldian is mistreated, the Empire has the right to intervene. They can exert control, take people into custody, apply pressure. It’s a rule that Lampis despises. They’re trying to break it by getting one of their own into the Sheer Cold Council. But for that to happen, they need three things:
- City-state status.
- Council approval.
- Dominance in a key sector—trade, military, finance, something.
Right now, they only have trade. The other two?” She shook her head. “Not happening anytime soon.”
I let that sink in.
It made sense.
And something about the political maneuvering excited me. I wasn’t sure why.
“I understand,” I said slowly. “But even if I accept, you’d be a burden.”
She cut me off again.
“I won’t.”
Her eyes burned with certainty.
“I’ll stay out of your way. I won’t question your decisions. I’ll be loyal, under your custody, until you release me. Hopefully somewhere I can study alchemy.”
I didn’t appreciate the interruption. She noticed. Looked a little guilty.
But I let it slide.
“What if we get into a fight?” I asked.
“I know how to run. How to hide.” She squared her shoulders. “If I die, I die by my own free will.”
So if she died, it would only be on my conscience.
Funny.
“There’s an easier way,” I said. “We take you outside. Let you go. You could go to the Bloodclaw Lychen. Learn there.”
She shook her head.
“No. If you release me, I’ll be expected to report back to the Parliament with the outcome. If I don’t, I become a fugitive.” She met my gaze. “And you know what happens to fugitives.”
I did.
I’d hunted one before.
A kid. Barely fifteen. Had the bad luck to wander onto a coldian ship. The job was simple: retrieve him, bring him back. That’s how it worked. That’s the law.
I wanted to say no.
I really did.
But I owed her.
I exhaled. “Alright. But the decision isn’t just mine. Manach has to agree. We’re a duo.”
“That’s fine by me.”
The conversation ended.
The sun had begun to set, turning the ocean into molten gold.
We sat there, watching it in silence.
Then, without a word, we made our way back to the hospital.
I needed to check on Manach.