Dear Marzia, sorella mia

My grammar is improving thanks to your books! But much more important, we've arrived in Alba. Sadly, we left a trail that the Waterbenders might follow: Arnaud is quite sensitive to waves... I do not think bathing in the North Sea will be a good idea for a while.

It rains a lot in Alba. They say it's the tears of the dead. When it's not raining, we see the Northern Lights. Yes, they are real! I went out to stare at the beautiful lights in the sky but the soldiers here are scared. They say the Spirits in the lights are eyes for the Northmen. This place seems to have messed with their heads. Many soldiers left on the same ship that we arrived. They looked twice their age somehow.

Don't worry about my welfare, though: I've been training a lot with a certain legendary man whose name I can't mention. Haven't seen any Northmen yet, but I think I'm way more than ready to kick some "waterbending ass", as Arnaud would say. But there's something here that bugs me. Back home, people felt safer when we were around. Here, when they see a Firebender, they hide. Why are they so scared of us?

It's been a season without you and sometimes I look at the Northern Lights and giggle at them. Poor glowing lights! 

Little do they know that they got nothing on your smile.

Verano de Sforza, Burg of Londinium, Kingdom of Alba.

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"De Sforza, who are you writing to?" Asked Count Otto as he pulled weapons from the grass.

"Home." Replied Verano as he sat down by the edge of a cliff and watched the waves storm between his legs. 

"I don't think the King's messengers deliver there." Smirked the Count.

"By the Middle Sea? The lands of the Sforza?"

"Not talking about that home, kiddo. Talking about your real home," he smirked and narrowed his eyes at the kamaritan necklace. Verano's real mother had given him that jewel when he was a baby. "Or you gonna fool me that Livia of Sforza somehow gave birth to a desert kid like you?"

"What you talking about?" Grunted Verano staring at the man. "I know I'm adopted, but I've never felt like the Castello was not my home."

"You're not just adopted, Verano. You're not like some kid whose Firebending parent got killed while defending her home and Livia took you in. No way. You're the kid whose dad slaughtered that parent and set their house on fire. And worst of all, you seem proud of it."

"I won't feel neither pride, nor shame for anything that I haven't do--"

"Then follow some good advice," Count Otto pulled Verano's necklace and glared at the boy like a predator. "Keep this crap where I can't see it. The people here," he glanced at the symbol of a cross scribed in a shield on his chest (the symbol of the Penitent Faith). "They are dumb and scared of death. When things start going badly, and they will--" He hid Verano's necklace beneath the boy's coat of mail. "They'll look for things to blame for their misfortune. And you'll be an easy guess."

Count Otto wore his helmet and walked away from the cliff.

"I know folks never follow good advice, especially when it's free..." The man continued. His arrogant smile did not decline an inch. "So when you end up with the holy flame under your tied legs, don't say you haven't been warned."

Verano snorted and pulled his necklace out of hiding, obviously rejecting the Count's suggestions. Yet the boy frowned at the words marking the jewel. He wondered what horrors were those words carved on the necklace that they would bring doom to his comrades. He did not even imagine that his real name hid beneath his sights.

"Hey, the Count looked mad," remarked Arnaud Jr sitting down by Verano's side and throwing a slice of bread at him. "Someone tried to use his bald head as a mirror again?"

"What do you think this is, Arnaud?" Verano showed him the necklace.

"An awkward conversation starter." He crunched his food.

"I'm being serious."

"Okay, one moment..." Arnaud swallowed the bread. "So," he shoved the grains off his face. "Father Seneca told me it was some eastern magic amulet. But being Father Seneca, he just makes up whatever he doesn't know. Uncle Mario said it was a lie. And it was our Uncle himself that called Seneca to tutor us, so..." He chuckled. "Mother refused to talk about it and dad just asked you to hide this all the time. Marzia, however, had some theories..."

"And she never told me?" Verano's eyes widened. "Why?"

"She did not want to make you upset or feel like you don’t belong. Some of the theories were quite interesting..."

"Then tell me."

"They could severely alter the way you see the world and how you feel as a person, she said..."

"Then go on! You want me to die carrying some damned thing on my neck when I don't even know what it is?"

"Okay, her theory was..." Arnaud frowned upon the waves. "Her theory was..."

"Go on..."

"Nah, not telling you." He pulled an entire loathe of bread from his vests and swallowed.

"Arnaud..." Verano grunted. His fists clenched. "You have no idea how it is to live without a past, do you?"

"Why you care?" Arnaud recoiled as he arched his left arm around his brother. "She had many theories, alright? But you wanna know the theory that is right? I'm gonna tell you: you are Verano de Sforza and I, dad, mom, Uncle Mario and Marzia are your family. And the duchy is your home. I'd just throw this stupid thing off the cliff and go on with my life. We love you, big bro! Even dad hates you in a special way."

Verano chuckled as if Arnaud held the keys to his laughter and could crack a smile whenever he wanted. The doubts about his past became lighter in his mind.

"Now let's get outta here," Arnaud stood up. "Some Northmen ships were in the mist this morning. I don't want some Northmen betting which one will enslave this pretty body--"

"There has been a change of plans, Verano and Arnaud." Said Johann Martell who approached on a horse. "You'll be going north today..." He threw a letter towards the boys. "You'll protect King William of Alba as he goes north near the Wall of Siegfrieda to the burial of an old friend."

"A burial..." Faltered Verano noticing the royal seal of urgency on the letter. "And you're not coming, master?"

"Later. Even if I weren't, I'm sure you could handle any trouble. Yet there is one condition..."

"What is it?"

"King William demanded that you bring your Zigana friend"

"Wait, Candorra?" Arnaud laughed. "You're kidding, right? Generally, people ask us to keep her away. And I get why! So the legendary Johann Martel also has a sense of humor, that just makes him be—“

"You see me laughing, Prince-Heir De Sforza?"

"Oh, crap. He really wants to meet Candorra, doesn’t he?" Arnaud covered his eyes with both hands. "Damn it!"

"What's the problem?" Asked Verano.

"Let's just say she's gotten into..." He frowned at his bread-filled bag. "Trouble."

Johann Martel sighed:

"It doesn't matter. I want her in the bridge of Eastham in two hours to meet King William. No excuses." Ordered the man as his horse rushed away.

“Why do I always mess up?” Groaned Arnaud.

Verano noticed his brother filled a bag with months of bread. He rose his voice:

"Wait, where did you get all these?" He frowned. A suspicion weighed in his mind. "Candorra? Tell me it wasn’t."

Arnaud replied with a grin: 

"Candorra."

They ran towards Londinium as if the earth burned. Crosses, tombstones and epitaphs dotted the landscape as frequently as trees and hills. They were the fallen of more than 50 years of battle for Alba. Yet nothing in the scenery justified their sacrifice: the grass was barely green, storm clouds painted the sky and the rocky beaches were gelid.

"Okay, I think she went to the one baker of the burg... Argh..." Gasped Arnaud as they reached Londinium. "Hopefully no one has executed her yet."

"Execution?" Recoiled Verano. "I left you guys alone for one hour!"

"I know, I know..." Arnaud faltered. "It's that Giovanni wanted to present his weapon projects to the King and he left me alone with her. I am only human, okay? She started bothering me and I got desperate!"

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"What did you tell her to do?"

Arnaud closed his eyes and pointed at a destroyed bakery. A tower of bread stood by the side of the ruined building. The commoners ran and pillaged the food before returning to their homes. Candorra stood above the bread holding her harp like a bow and arrow.

"Yes, no more oppression!" She spoke. "Today is the day we steal from the rich and give to the poor! Say Robindorra gave it to you!"

"My bread, no!" Cried the baker. "She destroyed everything!"

"Shut up, greedy bastard!"

Verano yelled:

"Candorra, stop!" He climbed the mountain of bread and held her.

“I’m doing justice, Verano! Don’t embarrass me while I do justice!”

"You are not!” He reprimanded her. “It takes a lot of sacrifice and time from this man's life to make bread.” He glanced at the crying baker. “If you just steal it, who'll even bother making it? Everyone will just starve!"

"But Arnaud said..."

"Forget whatever Arnaud told you. He can't even keep his bed in order."

"Hey, I tried!" Protested Arnaud. "Once!"

Verano rolled his eyes:

"My point is," he faltered. "Just forget all of this happened and apologize to the baker, okay?"

"Okay." She frowned morose. "Wait, I know what will work,” she rose her harp. “I'll play him a cheerful song!"

"It's better than nothing." Remarked Verano facing the crowd who did not listen to a word that they spoke. "Now, please, give back the bread in the name of respect for this man's trade and--"

Nobody listened to him. Arnaud chuckled:

"You really thought that was gonna work, bro?"

"It was worth trying..." Sighed Verano as he rose his fist and a blaze sprung into the sky. The commoners of Alba recoiled with the sight of the flame. “Listen to me—“

"Run! He'll kill us!" Yelled a man. “Run!”

“Drop the bread! Drop it and go!” Shouted a mother pulling her child’s arm and running away from the bakery.

People ran to every hole that they could find. All windows and doors of the burg closed. Verano frowned morosely:

"This was not how people reacted back home."

"Back there we were their protectors," explained Arnaud. "Here I think we are the invaders."

"It's true." Verano glanced at the eyes of terrorized children glaring at him through the breaches of windows. He smiled at them and they retreated into the darkness. “Not what I expected when I joined Heinrich’s campaign, though.”

A touch warmed his shoulder.

"T-Thank you, thank you for helping me, sir." Said the baker bowing before Verano.

"I'm sorry for all the trouble." Verano bowed back. "I know a friend who's great with buildings and he will fix your Candorra problem, I’m sure."

Arnaud rose his voice:

"If it's not asking too much from your saviors, can you serve us something to drink? All that bread, I mean-" He coughed. "All that danger made me thirsty."

“Arnaud!” Grunted Verano.

“What?”

“There’s no problem, no problem!” Insisted the baker. “Come with me!”

They sat down in the baker's home and drank warm water. Debris littered the ground as if Candorra’s wind had turned his home upside down.

"Wait," faltered Verano. "What's this?" He found the image of a deer's skull amidst the destruction. “Isn’t this an idol of spirit worship?”

"W-W-Where did you see this?" The man pulled the idol away.

"Hey, it's there too!" Commented Arnaud kicking a brick off the ground and noticing more image. "It's everywhere."

"Oh, no, it was supposed to be hidden. The explosion must have exposed it all. This is a horrible day!" Cursed the baker. "Please, I’ll give you anything for you to do not tell the Inquisitors! What do you want?”

Arnaud's eyes shined.

"First of all, I want a two-months supply of--"

"Do all people hide image of the Spirits of the Deep in their homes?" Asked Verano.

"Most, sir," the man faltered. "Traditions don't die with laws. We all have family who died in the sea and the older ones remember the days when the Northmen ruled these lands. It's in our blood and that’s not easy to change. All we can do is to hide it."

"I know what you mean…" Verano frowned at his necklace. “But hey," he smiled at the baker. "Maybe bread is too hard to make. Have you ever thought about, I don't know..." He smiled. "Growing cabbages? They just seem to fit you more."

"C-Cabbages?" The baker's eyes shined as if he looked into a bright treasure. "Of course! They are tasty and easy to grow! I would not even need this stupid guild training! I love cabbages!”

“They are great with tomatoes.” Remarked Candorra.

“Yes! Cabbages are great with it all! And my cabbages will be just something else! How could I be so dumb?”

The sound of armored steps crawled into the room. Count Otto's loud voice echoed from the outside:

"What's going on in there?"

Verano pummeled the idols of the Spirits of the Deep. Fire sprung off his fists and consumed the imagery.

"Nothing," he replied as Count Otto entered the ruins. "There was an accident with the furnace. We had to stop and help."

"I see..." He noticed that Verano kept his necklace unhidden. "I heard that King Heinrich and his uncle King William are waiting for you. Why don't you show them your beautiful piece of kamaritan jewelry?" Chuckled the Count. "Might remind our Lord of the man who killed his father and grandfather."

"I'm always grateful for your advice, Count Otto." Remarked Verano standing up and bowing in respect to the baker. "Let's go, Arnaud and Candorra."

 "Take care, De Sforza." The Count smirked with malice. 

Verano, Candorra and Arnaud arrived at a carriage standing by the gates of the castle of Londinium. A scrawny old man looked at plants scattered around the ground through lenses while King Heinrich sat inside the vehicle with Johann Martel by his side.

"The sons of the Marshall are here, your majesty." Announced a soldier.

"Good. Introduce the zigana to my uncle so we can get this done with." Said King Heinrich crossing his arms in the carriage.

Verano, Arnaud and Candorra approached the vehicle.

"W-Where's King William?" Asked Arnaud looking left and right.

A soldier walked by his side and whispered in his ear:

"You see that man looking at the plants with a scope?"

"Yeah,” he chuckled at the old character as he smelled the leaves of the herbs. “What an idiot."

"He's King William of Alba."

"Wait, what? That fool?" Arnaud recoiled and his voice caught the attention of King William. "I mean, honorable natural philosopher with great curiosity about the miracle of life." He bowed down to the man.

"No, no, no, children; no formalities for me!" Exclaimed the King laying his sights on Candorra's fox ears. "I should bow to you! Just look at this thing. A Zigana, yes!" He rose his fists in excitement. "We got a Zigana!" He watched her tail wag and her fox ears tremble. "Very definitely a Zigana."

"Guys," Candorra faltered. "I feel uncomfortable."

"What's your name, oh glorious daughter of man and spirit?" Inquired the King as he painted his pages with notes. He walked around Candorra observing her like a monument. 

"I-I-It's Candorra."

"Candorra, adult female specimen. Intact." He corrected her. "Maybe fertile."

She recoiled:

"Verano, he's calling me things."

"No bad things. You're amazing. Don't bother with what these superstitious ignorant cavemen say--" He pointed at Verano and Arnaud as representation of all Fire Knights. "Being a Zigana is no curse, my lady. It's a blessing for academic studies! Look at you," he pulled her eyelid down. "Stupid monks are scared of dealing with your kind. Fools! You'll look so perfect in my collection. I shall write a thousand books on you!"

King Heinrich glanced at Verano and Arnaud:

"Better leave those two be for a while. He'll be taking notes of her for hours, it seems. Come in and sit down, this armor must be torturing your legs."

"What about the burial?" Inquired Verano.

"He already forgot about it, why should we remember? He's the King, they'll wait for him."

Candorra rose her voice as they entered the vehicle:

"Keep me in sight!" She begged as King William measured her arms. 

 Arnaud sat down in the carriage and rested. He and Verano faced Johann Martel and King Heinrich.

"Thank you," gasped Arnaud as he glanced at the King of Alba outside the wagon. "He's different from what I thought."

"What do you mean?" Asked Heinrich as he ate an apple.

"He's always portrayed as this large, old and wise warrior carrying a shield the size of a man. He's the son of the former Emperor, right? I thought he looked like one."

Heinrich chuckled.

"My uncle never lifted a blade in his entire life." He glanced at William. "He just thinks of himself as a natural philosopher and writes papers studying nature. He’s just a joke."

"Then how come he's the King of Alba?" Faltered Verano glancing at the tombstones dotting the landscape. "Isn't this place the most violent in the entire Empire?"

"Do you think he knows?" Giggled Heinrich. "He's a tool, you dummies. A puppet with no real power. All he needs to do is to stay alive so he votes me Emperor in the Imperial Diet." He threw his apple off the carriage. "So we let him have his meaningless hobbies and live in his sheltered castle. He even thinks the people love him because we pay a couple actors to kiss his feet. Even his papers on natural philosophy are a joke that no cleric takes seriously. Yet we pretends that he's a world-changing philosopher."

“And the Northmen?”

“He doesn’t know they are a threat. We never tell him of casualties.” He glanced at a sapphire ring in the shape of a fish around his uncle’s middle finger. “We’ve been handling everything for years now. The taxes, the naming of counts and barons, the distribution of land, the incidents revolving around spirits, you name it. Alba is ruled from Aarchen and that is not going to change. My uncle just has to sit down and relax in the spectacle that we stage for him.”

"That’s not real life.” Sighed Verano. “What if he rebels someday?"

"What's he gonna do?" Chuckled King Heinrich. "How many soldiers you see the orange mantle of Alba and how many wearing the red of Aachen? Who do you think builds the castles, keeps the commoners afraid, care for the Wall of Siegfrieda and repels the Northmen raids? We, Aarchen, do it for him. And we might turn all our work against my uncle if he tries to rebel. It’s either us or the Northmen."

"This is not right." Frowned Verano clenching his fists on his thigs.

"How can you tell me what is right and wrong, squire?"

"You recruit us saying we are coming here to defend our Penitent brothers, not to keep a King and his people hostage."

"Verano!" Recoiled Arnaud. "He's our sovereign! Can’t talk like that!"

"It's fine," smiled King Heinrich feeling pleasure from Verano's disgust. "Not everyone understands that the ends justify the means."

"What ends?" Inquired Verano.

"So I can kill the sand bastard who wore a necklace just like yours when he murdered my father.”

Verano frowned at his jewel.

"Did you..." He glanced at his master, Johann Martel. "Did you know about all of this?"

King Heinrich laughed:

"Are you kidding? He created this plan with my mother when I was just a child: subtly take over Alba's protections, marry the queen of Badajoz once she reaches the age and then force Litvia to accept me as Emperor of the Holy Flame."

"Is this right," Verano swallowed dry as he faced Johann. "Master?"

"You must understand that our enemies are united. If we are not, we'll fall."

"It all makes sense now..." He frowned. "Dad was right. Yet things are somehow worse than he assumed. Please," Verano opened the gate of the carriage. He noticed that the night had fallen like a soft veil outside. "Permission to leave.”

“Do as you may.” Grinned the King.

Verano left the carriage to catch some air.

"I've always knew," chuckled King Heinrich. "From the moment I saw him for the first time, I knew we were destined to beat horns for our entire lives. Luckily, you're the heir of the Duchy of Sforza," he touched Arnaud's shoulder and calmed the boy. "Verano will just fade into obscurity as anyone with his silly morals does. He’s no one in the Wild Lands. And this is a world for the cruel. It's better if he learns that early in his life."

Verano stood in a balcony and observed the North Sea. A veil of mist engulfed the waters while the full Moon reigned on the sky. He pulled a pen from his vests and addressed another letter to his sister. His pen moved as if his thoughts slid off the feather:

Marzia,

My fears have been confirmed. Although I've had some great adventures, I'm ready to come home. We were never in Alba to defend anyone but King Heinrich of Aarchen’s ambition. When the people looked at us with fear, they did so rightfully.

He says that we are here to protect this place from the Northmen, but who's protecting this land from us? The Northmen will never give up and so our majesty will never run out of excuses to occupy these territories.

I'm ready to fulfill my promise and come back to you. I'll convince Arnaud by tomorrow. We’ll be back and nothing will stop us-

A boulder flew against the balcony. 

"Argh--" Bemoaned Verano as he threw himself on the ground to escape the destruction. The stone mauled the castle like a hammer. "What the hell?” Inquired Verano as he rose his head from the debris. The sound of dozens of bells deafened him.

Yet he distinguished the voice of a soldier yelling at the top of his lungs:

"Northmen! By the thousands! Northmen! Northmen!”

Verano rose from the ground. The sound of thunderous drums guided him to the hole on the wall that the boulder had opened. A shiver crawled down his spine.

The sails of the Northmen's ships were so many that they eclipsed the mist.