After breakfast, nothing had been resolved. The sky was still dark, with no hint of dawn. The sun wouldn’t rise for hours, and even when it did, it would only linger briefly before sinking below the horizon again. Despite the austere beauty of the north, Justin found himself hating it.
“What are you thinking?” Lila asked, standing beside him on the icy shoreline. “Still set on a suicide mission?”
Justin gave a humorless chuckle. “It’s a suicide mission either way.”
Lila sighed. “I’m Level 9, and I’m absolutely terrified, no matter which path we choose.”
“Look on the bright side—the Vault would push you over Level 10 and maybe even further.”
Lila fell silent, her gaze fixed on the horizon.
“Listen,” Justin said after a pause. “I don’t know what’ll happen. Safety in this world is an illusion, whichever way we go. So, we might as well pick the path that gives us some kind of advantage.”
“I hate that you’re right,” she replied, her voice barely above a whisper. “I just can’t stand this anymore.”
Justin didn’t know what to say. He understood where she was coming from. For weeks, they’d been fleeing from the Baron, whose relentless pursuit left Justin feeling that no choice could have changed their situation—except maybe refusing that cursed package in the first place. But even then, he knew he’d been drawn to it.
They were at a crossroads, and Justin felt it in his bones.
“I don’t want this to be the rest of my life,” he said. “If we’re going to survive, we can’t keep holding back. The odds are already against us, so we need to do something drastic to lose him for good. It’s either that or grow strong enough to face him. And since the latter isn’t happening anytime soon, I’ll be heading north with Ryak. Maybe Bohemond had the right idea staying behind in Kaldrath, but that ship has sailed.”
Lila sighed. “I’ll change my vote if you promise me one thing.”
Justin already knew what she was going to ask. “We’ll go somewhere far from all this. Somewhere beyond Aranthia. Let Eldrin go on to Mont Elea if he wants. You know I can’t go there anyway.”
Lila nodded. “It’s a big world out there. We could set sail, change ships a few times, and there’s no way Valdrik would be able to track us down.”
“Not to mention your debtors,” Justin added with a smirk.
“Don’t remind me,” she muttered.
They stood in silence as a bitter wind cut through Justin’s clothes, the chill biting deep. His heat enchantment did little to combat the cold, and switching to his Fire Affinity would only draw unwanted attention from the villagers.
“It’s freezing,” Lila grumbled, glancing to the left. Eldrin and Kargan were already deep in conversation with Ryak and several other villagers, their voices carrying faintly over the wind. From Eldrin’s expression, it looked like negotiations weren’t going well.
“Let’s see what trouble they’re in now,” Lila said, pulling her cloak tighter as they headed over. Justin had noticed that new article ever since Kaldrath. Despite the heat enchantment in her Minstrel’s Ensemble armor, it was nowhere near enough, just as his coat wasn’t.
They arrived just in time to catch Eldrin mid-sentence, his face a mix of frustration and determination as he tried to negotiate. Ryak was translating his words to a handful of villagers, their arms crossed, expressions as hard as the icy ground beneath their feet.
“What’s going on here?” Justin asked.
Eldrin’s shoulders sagged as he turned to Justin, visibly relieved to have backup. “Trying to get provisions for the journey, plus some gear to keep us alive out there. It's…slow going.”
Justin raised an eyebrow. “What kind of gear?”
Eldrin held up a finger as he began to count off. “Parkas, for one. Thicker boots. Sealskin gloves. Out here, every inch of us needs protection, and each piece has to be enchanted for warmth. These parkas are made from snow elk hide and treated with whale oil for extra insulation. They’ve even got a water resistance enchantment to keep us dry. But they want a gold and a half for them. It’s highway robbery, but they’ve got us over a barrel.”
He gestured at crates stacked with other goods: “Then there’s two weeks’ worth of frozen fish, plus hardtack and berries, for five silvers. And we need snow goggles, too. Five silvers each, and we’ll need four pairs. There hasn’t been much snow yet, which is a small mercy, but it’s coming. There’s a potion kit, too—basic healing potions and a few warmth potions. Thirty silvers for that. And finally, a new pack enchanted with featherweight and expanded capacity. They’re asking a full gold crown for it, but I think we can get by with just one.”
Eldrin rubbed his temples. “Then I'm hoping to coax you into buying a scryer’s lens, two golds. If we run across enchanted items in the Vault, that lens will tell us what they do.”
“So that’s…five golds and five silvers?” Justin did a quick calculation. “No hero’s discount, I take it?”
“That’s with the hero’s discount,” Eldrin replied sourly, his voice flat. “Seems they don’t think we’ll be coming back, so they want to bleed us dry while they have the chance.”
Justin glanced at Ryak and then the trader—a tall, stern woman with a pale face as weathered as ancient stone. Her gray hair was braided with bits of bone and woven charms. She regarded him impassively, her bright blue eyes glinting like the ice around them. Behind her were rows of provisions stacked in crates and barrels, some filled with smoked meats, others packed with enchanted amulets and gear, along with vials of potions in hues of crimson, blue, and green.
Justin stepped forward, signaling to Ryak. “Could you translate for me?”
Ryak nodded, stepping aside to let Justin address her directly.
Justin met her stare, offering a slight, respectful smile. “Your goods are well-crafted and worth the price,” he began carefully. “But we’re risking our lives in the Vault for the good of your tribe. Perhaps we could agree on a fairer trade. Five golds is quite the markup.”
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The trader’s mouth pressed into a thin line as Ryak translated, her expression revealing nothing but the faintest twitch of irritation.
Ryak relayed her words. “She says all of these supplies are needed desperately by the tribe, so they must be sold at a premium. She begs your forgiveness, but there’s little she can do.”
Justin tried his best to size her up. Insightful Gaze was proving useless against her impassive, unyielding expression. He kept his tone polite but persistent.
“Respectfully, I understand the tribe’s needs,” he said, nodding toward the supplies, “but our survival benefits you, too. Ryak has told me the hunting and fishing used to be good around here—until that Vault appeared. Could we settle for four golds, even?”
Around him, his companions shifted, listening intently. Though they hadn’t decided definitively on the Vault, everyone seemed to support the argument in silence, none of them protesting.
The trader’s eyes narrowed, and she responded briskly. Her words were clipped, each syllable firm.
Ryak translated, his tone dry. “She quotes a familiar Qilungit saying: ‘The cold doesn’t bargain.’ But she will lower the price by ten silvers—for your bravery.”
Justin grit his teeth. She was testing him, feeling out how much they truly needed these supplies. He leaned in, lowering his voice.
“Winter is almost upon us,” he said, gesturing to the dark clouds looming heavy on the horizon. “Without snow goggles, we risk snow blindness. Without warmth potions, an unexpected freeze could kill us in an hour. Your tribe’s future depends on our success. Three golds and sixty silvers should be more than enough for what we’re taking.”
The trader’s fingers drummed rhythmically on a nearby crate, her face unreadable as she considered his words. She spoke quickly, her tone final.
Ryak relayed the response with a shrug. “Anything less than four golds and twenty silvers would be financial suicide, she says. The Vault has claimed many brave Qilungit, and if these supplies go to waste with your deaths, that’s part of her calculation.”
Justin met her gaze, sensing a faint opportunity. “Four golds even, and we take half the fish, leaving more for your people. We’re not here to exploit your kindness—just to survive. Clearing out the Vault would be a priceless benefit to your tribe, and we are experts in it.”
It was a slight exaggeration, but only slight.
The trader’s expression softened just slightly, her eyes no longer cold as she murmured a few words.
“She says she admires your persistence,” Ryak translated, almost amused. “She’ll accept four golds and five silvers, but no less. Take all the fish. She’s not in the business of sending travelers to their deaths, she claims, but she’s giving you a fair deal, on the off chance Ulthara grants calm seas and Searphis blesses your journey with peace.”
Justin felt a surge of relief. “Done."
He reached into his pouch to hand over the agreed amount. The trader nodded approvingly, stowing the coins away as villagers gathered their newly purchased supplies.
[50 Experience Gained! Your experience stands at 594/2070.]
Justin glanced at his pouch, still holding 33 gold coins. He knew this would barely dent his fortune, but many more expenses lay ahead, especially in unknown lands.
Eldrin and the others quickly grabbed their new parkas, snow goggles, and the potion kit. They donned the clothing quickly, and Justin felt the warmth of the parka spreading immediately through his body. He decided to keep his Invari Ambassador Boots on for the +1 to Endurance; they were enchanted to remain dry already. He slipped on the sealskin gloves. The difference was night and day compared to his old, unenchanted ones.
Justin tucked the scryer’s lens into his old pack, while Eldrin redistributed supplies into the new featherweight pack, reorganizing everything within ten minutes. The potion kit came with about twenty potions, half a pale, glowing pink, and the other half glowing a rich yellow, like a sliver of the sun. The fish was carried off by some villagers, Justin assumed to be loaded directly into their umiak.
After putting on the new gear, Justin inspected the scryer’s lens. It was a small disc of crystal-clear glass, bordered with a fine silver edge that glinted faintly. Inside, threads of iridescent color swirled lazily, hinting at enchantments lying dormant. The lens warmed his hand despite the cold air—a subtle reminder of the potent magic within its fragile surface.
“Well done, lad,” Eldrin said as they moved aside. “The Qilungit aren’t easy to bargain with. You’ve done well.”
Justin allowed himself a faint smile. “Glad to have gotten what we needed.”
Kargan gave a groan as he eyed the choppy, ice-strewn water to the north. “Are we really going to the Vault?”
Lila, her gaze distant, nodded. “I’ve changed my mind. Not sure I like our chances in the tundra without a guide.”
Kargan sighed. “Sometimes, it feels like I’m the only sane one here.”
“Give it another week,” Justin said, patting him on the shoulder. “You’ll be just as insane as the rest of us.”
Ryak joined them, gesturing north. “Nithral Island is about twenty miles northeast. We’ll follow the coastline most of the way. The sea is calm today. If we paddle steadily, we’ll reach the Northern Promontory in time to set up camp.”
They reached the shoreline, where a group of younger tribesmen had already loaded their umiak with their purchased provisions. The elders, Jarak and Veya, watched from nearby, their expressions impassive.
“Be careful, Ryak,” Jarak said, his voice low and firm.
Ryak nodded, bowing slightly. “I will, Honored Father.”
Justin blinked, surprised. Was Jarak his actual father, or was this some formality? Neither Jarak nor Veya betrayed any emotion, their faces set like carved stone.
“The sea is more dangerous than any beast,” Veya said. “Take your time. The Vault isn’t going anywhere.”
“Thank you, Honored Mother,” Ryak replied. “We will not fail.”
After this simple farewell, with a nod from Ryak, they pushed the umiak into the frigid sea, where the ice had been broken away, creating a narrow channel. Justin climbed in, bundling his parka around him. Despite the harsh wind, he felt comfortably warm, though his ears and face tingled from the cold.
He took the paddle—made of sturdy birch with a thin metal edge—and began paddling in rhythm with the others. Given the material of the paddle, Justin realized the Iceborne must have traded for it.
Ryak barked directions, his voice carrying over the splashing water. Within minutes, they settled into a steady pace, paddling through patches of floating ice and frosty slush.
The hours wore on, the coastline a desolate, rocky ribbon stretching to their right, while the ocean grew more foreboding. They paddled in near-total silence, each stroke feeling like a small battle against the relentless cold.
The sun rose briefly, a pale sliver of light that cast an eerie glow over the frozen landscape before dipping below the horizon again. They took a quick break, chewing on hardtack and biting into frozen fish. Justin hesitated, but reminded himself that if sushi was safe, this probably was, too, especially considering the food was likely fresher than anything he’d eaten back home. To his surprise, he didn’t find the taste disagreeable, but that might have been the hunger.
As dusk began to fall, the water darkened, the sky above streaked with faint, rippling auroras. The Ghostly Sea shimmered under the twilight, reflecting eerie green and violet hues. At last, a dark silhouette appeared ahead, larger than the icebergs that had been navigating around—what had to be the Northern Promontory. Ryak pointed to the cliffs, where a narrow path wound toward a sheltered cave entrance. They docked the umiak, dragging it onto the ice-slick shore, and made their way up the rugged trail.
The cave was cold but fortified, with stones arranged to block out the wind. Inside, they huddled around a small fire, the flames casting long shadows against the walls.
As Justin looked out over the icy waters, he could barely make out the outline of Nithral Island, a dark mass against the starlit sky. At least from this distance, there was no sign of the Vault or its dangers.
Kargan set up the party's ward and they ate a warm meal. Such was the strain of their journey that they immediately fell asleep, with Ryak volunteering for the first watch.
Tomorrow, they would cross the last stretch. Justin was far too tired to care about it, at least for now.
He just wanted to get it over and done with so they can make their way back south, far from the Baron's reach.