Cold seeped into every stone of the small fort that sat in the gap between two snow-capped mountains. The sun arrived late this time of year, which brought only an incremental increase in light, and no warmth. A blizzard had arrived from the north in the hours before dawn and the northern outpost was not worth the magical expense of protecting it from the weather. So instead the inhabitants built large fires in the hearths, and wore thick fur cloaks at all times.

  In a small office at the heart of the fort, one such fire burned bright, and yet the room retained a certain chill. As though the cold had taken root too deeply to ever be dislodged by ordinary flames. Behind a rough desk sat a man who looked to be in his mid-40s and the source of the room’s ever-present chill if the (whispered) rumors were to be believed. Despite the worn look of his green cloak and the faded leather of his armor, his appearance was clean. He had dark hair showing its first hints of gray, trimmed short, with a chevron mustache to match.

  The quill in his hand moved steadily from one side of the parchment to the other and there was a tired slump in his shoulders, yet his eyes were bright and alert. The scratching of the quill didn’t so much as pause when the door to his office burst open, the wood colliding heavily with the stone wall as two men stepped in.

  He glanced up and took in their appearances, his mouth forming a sour line. The red lining of their cloaks told him all he needed to know.

  “What can I do for the Capital on this fine morning?” He asked, his tone bored as his eyes turned back to the paper in front of him.

  “Commander Burke,” one of the young mages said, his tone full of poorly repressed scorn as he held out a green trimmed envelope. “I have orders from Councilor Yarick.”

  Burke didn’t try to conceal his scoff as he reached across his desk, taking the proffered envelope in hand.

  “From Julian you mean.” Burke was no fool. Yarick, the Councilor who was meant to represent Burke’s Order, was little more than a puppet. A yes man for the other Councilor’s agenda.

  “That’s High Councilor Julian now.” the young man growled at him through clenched teeth, not even trying to deny it.

  “Ah yes,” Burke said, his tone dismissive, “I remember receiving a message about that promotion he gave himself.” His bright blue eyes scanned the paper in his hand, and the crease in his brow deepened with every line. For the first time since the two had arrived, he looked at them properly.

  “The Rebirth Points in the city have shut down?” He clarified, and for a moment the messenger forgot to be disdainful of him.

  “Yes, two days ago we stopped receiving new arrivals. After that some reports funneled in from other outposts of freshly reborn mages turning up in the wilderness.”

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  A deep sense of unease slithered its way into Burke’s stomach and became a ball of ever-shifting coils.

  “Your orders,” one of them began, “are to-”

  “I can read, boy.” Burke interrupted, waving a dismissive hand and he saw the youth flush red all the way to the roots of his hair, but he didn’t lash out. Julian might rule Academy City in all but name, but Burke's outpost was very far from the Capital.

  “If Julian wants me to search the whole damned north, I’m going to need more Wardens.” He told them matter-of-factly. This far-flung fort received only the dregs of the Order. Those not quite inconvenient enough to kill, but too much so to keep at better postings. Burke himself was one of those.

  “High Councilor Julian, does not take orders from the likes of you.” The young man drew himself to his full height, the crimson lined cloak of the Order of Judges framing him in a way he surely thought was impressive. He sought to tower over the old Warden as he delivered his rebuke, but froze, his eyes going wide.

  The room grew dark and cold as Burke stood, seeming to rise far beyond the height of a normal man. Runes thick with power crawled across his skin, pulling light from the air around him and turning him into a giant silhouette.

  The two young officials shrank away with fear in their eyes. The energy radiating from him pressed down on them, and it was everything they could do not to fall to the floor, cowering in fear. They had not expected to find a gold ranked mage here, at the ass-end of nowhere.

  Burke wasn’t one for theatrical displays of power. If anything, he preferred to be underestimated, but they were puffed up and arrogant. Only fear would see his message properly carried back. Julian was a fool if he thought they could sweep the mountains and valleys in this part of the world with a few dozen bronze rank dregs.

  “Tell Julian,” Burke said, his voice full of quiet menace, “I need more men.” Then, as if it had never happened at all. He was a normal-sized man again. The runes gone from his skin, and the office well lit and as warm as it ever was.

  The one out front gulped visibly, then steeled himself, trying to regain some of his haughty composure and failing.

  “I- I’ll see to it that your request is d-delivered.” He stammered as he turned away, clearly eager to be gone.

  “Gentlemen,” his tone cordial, with a smile that did nothing to melt the ice in his eyes. “Get the door on your way out if you would please.” Without waiting to see if they listened, he resumed his seat. Studying the letter once more.

  The two men in red cloaks looked at one another, and then one of them grabbed the door and pulled it gently closed as they exited the office.

  Burke had already forgotten they existed as he scanned over the letter once more. It was Yarick’s unsteady hand, but all throughout he could see Julian’s pompous attitude. It seemed that even after all these years, the Councilor who represented the Order of Judges had never forgotten him. Burke sighed as he tossed the paper away.

  Old habits die hard it seemed, even in the face of an unprecedented crisis. Julian couldn’t let their past be past. So Burke would do what the Councilor would not, and started drafting up orders for his men.

   Not that he held out much hope for any reborn mage unlucky enough to be dumped out north of The Gap. If they found anyone, which was a big if, they’d likely be frozen corpses under the snow. Once he had finished Commander Burke leaned back in his chair, hands clasped over his stomach and stared at the far wall without really seeing it.

  “Well shit.”