“Saints.” It’s hard not to feel bad for the man. Goes a long way to explaining his attitude. I haven’t forgiven him but my anger toward him has subsided. A little.

The next portrait is a big change from the rest as it shows a handsome man with bronze skin and dark brown eyes. His hair is wavier compared to the other men of the James family, cut short on the sides and combed backwards on top. Four gold hoops hang from his ears as he smiles for the artist.

“Before you ask, he has a different mother. Kalise of the Broken Wing Tribe. A fighter from the south.” She sighs. “Barbarian, really.”

“Like our elf?”

She snorts. “No. Kierra is…she has…” Her fingers make interesting gestures as she attempts to describe my wife. Or rather, describe her without complimenting her and admitting that she’s attracted to her, heh. “Kalise is a rude, nasty brute. Father married her because she’s a master caster. It’s…kind of an unspoken tradition. One wife for status, one for power, one for pleasure.”

I gape at her. “Are you telling me it’s normal for every duke to have three wives?” I knew there had to be some kind of compensation for staying in this cold wasteland.

Alana quirks her lips. “Didn’t you ever wonder why I never got upset about you pursuing multiple women? Sleeping with them right in front of me.”

“I just thought, well…” It’s very obvious that it excites her.

Her face colors as she clears her throat. “Yes, well, that too. Anyway! Father married Kalise for strong heirs. That’s their first son, Easton. He died the year after Eren. They say he pushed too deep into the Peaks, trying to prove himself. I think…I think I talked to him once, when Father introduced me to my siblings for the first time. He called me a replacement.”

Oof. He doesn’t sound like a charming man but that means the duke lost two sons, one right after the other.

“Beside him is their second son, Deverou.” Another handsome man, though his looks are somewhat ruined by his father’s strong nose. “He died two years after Easton.”

Saints bless this family, three?

“Beside him is Zachariah, or Zach.” Next to the third dead son is a young man with broad shoulders, cropped dark hair, and hard gray eyes. In his portrait, he stands tall, one hand holding the end of a war hammer, the head resting on the ground, a large white fur draped over his shoulders.

“Water affinity, much loved in Victory, even over fire. Excellent fighter and commander but not one for the more mundane aspects of ruling despite being the apparent heir. Luckily, he has competent men under him who can help with the administrative aspects of managing the fort.”

I let out a sigh of relief. A part of me was dreading she would announce he had died as well. I still don’t like the duke of the north but my anger toward him has been thoroughly quashed under the weight of his loss. If he has no emotions, it’s because grief has viciously ripped them from his chest.

“Beside him is Thanazen, named after our grandfather, Thanaren, as he shared the same dual affinities of fire and water.”

My gut tightens. There it is again, the past tense. Don’t tell me…

“Loads of potential but Thanazen wasn’t…” She sighs. “If he were born anywhere else, I don’t think he would have ever learned to swing a sword. As it was, he had lots of expectations on his shoulders. He had a cooler head than Zach, so some favored him as the heir, but this is Victory where your worth is proportional to how much enemy blood you spill. He could do nothing without proving himself beyond those mountains.”

Four. The duke has lost four sons. And his younger sister, now that I think about it. Not to mention all the friends and subordinates he must have buried. If he was born with an ounce of compassion, rather than fault him for being cold, I suppose I should applaud him for not going mad.

Or…perhaps this is the norm. He and his family can keep going because they expect nothing else. Maybe those three wives aren’t an indulgence of dukes long past but a necessity to ensure there are enough heirs that one lives long enough to succeed the family.

Also, I am no longer surprised that the James are unquestioned here. Most times, the nobles send the peasants they govern to do the dangerous and dirty things. It is a rare thing to find a noble clearing out monster nests, dungeons, or hunting down bandits. They are in positions of leadership but rarely raise their hands.

This family has suffered the same losses as any other. Mayhap more. I don’t think it would be an exaggeration to say the north has been watered with their blood.

Next to the dead brother is another bronze skinned man, though his face is obscured by a dark hood. Unlike his brothers before him, his weapons are quite subtle, two daggers tied to his belt. While the others are painted in heroic poses, his portrait is gloomy and dark. As if the artist wants the copious amount of shadows in the room to swallow the man whole.

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Alana has a complicated look on her face as she moves her pointing finger to him. “That is Khan, the youngest son of Kalise.”

“Why is he so…”

She winces. “Brother Khan has an…interesting idea of how to conquer the Peaks. Rather than pushing into the area with pure strength, he thinks we need to put more resources into scouting.”

“A sound idea, I think.”

“Oh, it sounds good on paper. The problem is that it can’t be done. Large scouting parties will be ambushed. Small groups may go unnoticed for a while but once they are noticed, they’re doomed. Scouts don’t return from the north. Rather than waste the time and resources, better to train another soldier to stand in the shield line so the campaign can push deeper.”

“Then…”

“Except Khan is an exception. He has a water affinity but his real affinity is for sneaking. The man can stand right beside you and you wouldn’t know. It’s eerie. Luckily, that also applies to monsters. He is the only man who has gone beyond the Peaks alone multiple times and come back to tell the tale. Saints, he spends most of his time there. He only returns for a few days to rest and restock.”

“Sounds like an incredible person.” Not someone who deserves the obvious disfavor shown by the portrait.

“Remember, your worth is directly proportional to the amount of enemy blood spilled. A scout is not a fighter. He refuses to participate directly in any of the campaigns. Some see his work as cowardice, running away from combat. It doesn’t help that he renounced his right to inherit. He is the only son beside Zach but has made it clear that even if his brother dies, he won’t be the next duke. He also loudly declared his refusal to father any sons.”

I grimace. Victory may seem like a different world but some things are universal. The only thing a noble house cares about more than power is its heirs. “I’m guessing that didn’t go over well with your father.”

“If it were anyone else, Khan would have been declared a coward and driven from Victory. Maybe even executed. But Father is a rational man. Khan’s maps are important. However, he can’t show favor to a coward. So…” She gestures toward the portrait.

“…is your brother here?” I very much want to talk to the man with the most extensive maps of the Bleak Peaks.

“No. We’d have to be incredibly lucky to run into Khan.” She sighs heavily as her eyes move to the last portrait. I purse my lips as I take in the beautiful woman with a heart-shaped face, big blue eyes, charming smile, and long, glossy black hair. If she’s half as beautiful as the artist has portrayed her, I’m sure she’s set the hearts in this cold land aflame. Interestingly, she is the first person I’ve seen painted without a scrap of armor on. Instead, she wears a lovely blue gown that matches her eyes wonderfully. However, there is a bow leaning against the legs of her chair.

Normally, I’d be very interested in meeting such a woman but from her narrowed eyes and tense jaw, my future saint does not like whoever this is. Not at all.

“Finally, the last of the ‘official’ children. The beautiful rose blooming in the frost of the north. The balm to every wounded warrior’s heart. The oh so lovable Yulianna James, my only sister.”

There’s so much repressed scorn in her tone that I’m scared to ask for details but Alana needs no prompting.

“As I spent the first twelve years of my life as a servant, she was the duke’s only daughter for a long time. No talent for gritty combat. Far too soft and fragile. But that’s okay. She’s just so wonderful and pretty, there’s no need for her to wield a sword like everyone else. There are plenty of knights willing to fight for her honor. All she need do is stay home and be lavished upon.”

I’m really hesitant to dive into this obvious pit of snakes but I’m curious. “And your father has no problem with that?”

She hisses. “There is more than one way for a daughter to do her duty. She did one campaign, the bare minimum to be accepted as a member of this family, and got her war wounds. Right after, she retired from active duty and married the Northern Devil. They’ve already had their first son.”

“Ah.”

“…I’ve deviated from the reason I brought you here.”

“It’s fine. Good to have the background on my in-laws.”

The frown from talking about her sister eases. “My father’s older sister was permanently crippled and his younger sister died. Half of his children are also dead. What I mean to say is, the north is dangerous, even for the James family.

“A bannerman or woman in this case, is the most trusted companion of a knight, or any fighter who chooses to name one. They fight alongside the knight and, should the knight fall, the bannerman carries out their last will. Returns their body, if able, and takes care of any unfinished business the knight may have had, including caring for their families.

“It is especially significant for members of important families. That is because, to carry out their duty, the bannerman is given control of all the fallen knight’s assets. They can’t claim a single crown for themselves but their words are final, an extension of the fallen knight’s will.”

I suck in a sharp breath. There are…so many ways that can be exploited.

“While they are carrying out the fallen knight’s will, the bannerman’s actions are the actions of the knight they are representing. Their good deeds or bad deeds reflect on that knight or that knight’s family.”

Saints. “Not that it would ever happen but are you telling me that if you were to…” I have to force the word out. “If you were to die, as your bannerwoman, I could march into Victory with a claim on everything you own and use it as I see fit with the authority of a James?”

She nodded. “That’s exactly what I’m telling you. Which doesn’t mean much for someone like me but Zach’s bannerman? Khan’s? My father’s? Yes, it’s a very important position. There are going to be a lot of eyes on you, Lou. Everything you do and say will reflect on me and, to a lesser extent, the whole of the James family.”

Her blue eyes freeze me in place. Never have I seen her so serious. “Which is why I want you to be exactly who you are. I’m here to impress them. You? You’re here to utterly crush them. Embarrass them. Make them…” She lets out a sharp breath. “Make them feel as small as they made me feel.”

I recover from my temporary stasis with a shiver going down my spine. Under the stern eyes of her ancestors, I gently grab Alana’s chin, tilting her face up and laying a quick kiss on her lips. Heh. There were a few times in our burgeoning relationship where I wondered if my…nature would turn her away. In the end, that nature is what she wants, in more than one way.

“Anything for you, sweetie.”