The night was unbearably cold, resulting in slick streets and frozen canals. The floating city of Vindis, however, was not a stranger to such conditions. Commotions from all over sounded out, echoing into the night—brawls, shouts, crashes—all of it nearly unbearable.
After months of experiencing countless nights like this, James wasn’t sure how anyone got a wink of sleep here. He peered out the window of his room, watching as the dark city was still lit by distant torches and the glow of the distant marketplace. Even during graveyard hours, people still roamed about.
“Don’t these people have anything better to do?” he muttered.
He was currently in the Raven Keep, as was the rest of the crew he came here with. They all slept in some of the reconstructed rooms, while he stayed in the master room—the same one that had once belonged to Markov before James had taken it.
It still felt unreal that he owned the building, as he had once been taken here by the thieves themselves not too long ago. He had also nearly died the same day, Markov’s men nearly executing them all.
“Crazy times, eh?” he muttered more to himself.
‘Quite a place. Much nicer looking than the past places you’ve had to stay at,’ Faust commented. ‘Cozy, I might add.’
James looked around the room. The bed was cleanly set with thick red blankets and fluffy pillows that seemed almost too luxurious for his taste. The nightstand nearby had a lit candle on it, and there was a study desk right across from it.
“Almost too cozy,” James admitted. He was more or less used to the discomfort of thin cots and bumpy beds. To sleep on a mattress that didn’t poke at him and arch his back was a foreign feeling. Yet even with his exhaustion and the softness of his bed, sleep eluded him.
‘You’re nervous for tomorrow,’ Faust said.
“Of course I am,” James said. “If I can’t get this alliance to work, then we’re on our own against the orcs.”
‘You’re lucky. We’ll get through it just fine.’
“That’s not what I’m worried about,” James revealed. “I’m worried about the cost of winning.”
It wasn’t the prospect of dying that scared him. No, it was the fear of losing everyone he cared for. To have them ‘sacrificed’ for a fate he had no control over. Just because it favored him.
“Why does it care for me?” James muttered. “Why does fate think I’m special? Am I destined for something? Something so important that it has to threaten the people I care for? Just so I can live?”
It frustrated him. He didn’t feel favored. He felt cursed. Like he was forced into these situations for no reason other than to torment him.
‘Maybe we’ll find out soon,’ Faust said. ‘I’m sure there is a reason. There is always a logical answer.’
James frowned at that but didn’t say anything. He looked out the window once more, his eyes examining the silhouette of brick buildings and wooden structures. As he began to consider trying to sleep once more, a knock came from his door.
James turned to the sound, his brow furrowing. He looked at the metered candle, its mark signifying that it was late. A little past midnight, actually.
“Who knocks?” he called out a command.
“S-Sir,” a nervous voice called out. “Someone requests you at the keep’s hearth room.”
“Request?” James asked. He raised an eyebrow. “Tell them I’m asleep. That I have an important meeting tomorrow.”
There was an air of silence after that. For a moment, James thought it to be done with.
“Sir,” the guard spoke again, surprising him. “This is someone you might not want to turn down.”
“Who is it?” James stood from the window, his brow furrowing.
‘I swear if it’s Nora…’
“It is the Redyr Clan’s Frue, my Jarl. Margaret Redyr herself.”
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When James arrived at the hearth room, he half-expected to find a thief or even Markov himself playing some prank on him. Instead, he was taken aback by the sight of a lone woman standing by the fireplace. She was clearly elderly, judging by the braided gray hair that rested on her shoulder, but James could’ve been fooled into thinking otherwise. Her face lacked wrinkles, the crow’s feet at her eyes faint, and the laugh lines on her cheeks almost unnoticeable.
She wore a dark burgundy cape that was swept back to reveal a modest dress. The end of her sleeves and dress skirt were embroidered in silver, and the cloth was a mix of light blue and green. Upon closer inspection, he could see intricate designs woven in the dress, the light of the flames making them stand out.
Frue Margaret wore a dark wooden crown on her head, its points embroidered by silver filigrees. Silver necklaces with greenish gems accompanied her neck, the air shimmering around them. They were enchanted.
“Frue Margaret?” James asked, almost ashamed that he had come here in less than subpar clothing. He wore a dark green tunic with sleeves and loose breeches that he had clearly tied up in a hurry.
Margaret turned around with a slight smile, her hands clasped in front of her. “I am glad to see that you’re still awake. However, you should’ve taken the extra time to dress better.”
“Sorry,” James apologized with a slight bow. “I didn’t want to keep you waiting.”
“Do not apologize,” Margaret said sternly, her face hardening. “Jarls do not apologize. They accept responsibilities, sure. But they do not apologize.”
James blinked but did not say anything.
“I had heard that you were a… messy man, but I did not expect you to be so barbaric,” Margaret sighed as she looked around the room. The bookcases were still scattered, and the ceiling was half burnt. "Yorn wasn’t much better, but at least he showed the traits of a true ruler.”
“You knew Yorn?” James asked suddenly. “Yorn Halvorson?”
“Of course,” Margaret said with a nod. “He and my husband fought together during the Outsider Wars. They were also the ones who forged the contract that formed the Valenfrost Alliance.”
“Husband, the previous Jarl?” James inquired.
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“Yes,” Margaret confirmed. She raised her hand to show the silver ring that wrapped around her finger. “Jarl Nikolai Redyr. My late husband.”
“I see,” James muttered. He had heard about Redyr’s Jarl and how he had passed on years ago. Margaret had taken over his position, naming herself Frue, the female equivalent of Jarl.
“May I ask why you want to meet with me?” James asked. He glanced around, almost nervous. He wasn’t sure if there was an ulterior motive to the visit.
“That’s the question I want to ask,” Margaret said. “You’re the one who called for a meeting with me, did you not? Back when you told off poor Thaddius.”
James cringed at that. He had forgotten about his talk with the ill gnome.
‘Then again, I didn’t mean a meeting in the sense that she would come to me.’ James thought.
“Sorry, I—” He cut off when he saw the Frue’s expression change to annoyance. He backtracked.
“I had expected some sort of letter or message in response to the request,” James said slowly. He saw what looked to be mild acceptance in Margaret’s eyes. It reminded him of his teachers in middle school, back when he had to redo answers on the whiteboard after getting them horribly wrong the first time. They, too, gave off the same look after he gave them a subpar answer. It was the universal symbol of ‘Good Enough, I suppose.’
“I do not send messages,” Margaret said. “At least, not written ones. I give signs, declarations, and warnings. Thaddius brought a warning. A warning of war.”
“The Lumen Kingdom,” James muttered. “I already went through this with him. Retaliation isn’t ideal. Neither is peace negotiations.”
Margaret furrowed her brow at that. “You cannot have both, Jarl Holter. You can either choose to declare war or meet with them to prevent it. There is no middle ground.”
“They’re not going leave Valenfrost alone,” James argued. “As much as I hate to admit it, peace talks aren’t going to work. They want my head already, and killing their apostle didn’t make things better.”
“So you call for war,” Margaret said, almost accusingly.
“I’m not doing that either!” James said in an outburst. “Do you honestly believe I want to start a conflict like the Outsider Wars?”
“No,” the Frue said with a shake of her head. “But I know that you cannot avoid starting it if you choose to ignore the Lumen Kingdom. The Vindis conflict is more than enough reason for them to invade.”
“But they haven’t invaded,” James pointed out. “There’s a chance that they’ll leave it all alone. That we’re more trouble than it’s worth.”
Margaret frowned at that, her brow furrowing. Her expression softened, and her voice came out in a whisper. “You really are from another world, are you? I had found it almost difficult to believe, especially with how similar you were to him…”
James blinked. He noted the way she said ‘him.’ “What are you…?”
“James Holter,” Margaret said softly. “You know nothing of our history and culture. You learn and read our history, but you do not understand it. You have little knowledge of how Azura works. How the hearts of men call for violence and glory. The tensions between the Lumen Kingdom and Valenfrost’s clans have gone on for centuries. War might have broken out between the two before, but even that was short-lived. In reality, the Lumen Kingdom has always looked for an excuse to take over the islands. What you did at Vindis, commendable as it was, only gave them a reason to do what they had wanted for decades.”
James stared at the Frue, who looked at him with an expression he guessed was pity. In some way, he couldn’t help but feel helpless at her silent judgment. He was a foreigner. An outsider who had no business going around making bold claims and changes. To her and the rest of the world, he must have seemed like a naive dolt.
Still, he had no plans of giving in to the cycle of violence. To continue what had ravaged the world these past centuries.
‘No. That’s not why I refrain from it. There’s a much more selfish reason.’
“I can’t declare war,” he said softly. “I’ll lose.”
James knew that he was in no position to wage such a conflict. Not against a Kingdom that had dominated for decades. Not only that, but he had no desire to risk all he cared for.
“Well, do you really believe that talks with them will work?” Margaret asked. “I have tried diplomacy and even I can see that it has little chance of working out for the best. I fear that war might be coming sooner than expected. Especially now that Yorn is dead.”
“What do I do then?” James asked. “Do I really fight a losing battle? One that can end with all I love burning to the ground?”
Margaret sighed, her gaze moving to the crackling hearth. Her green eyes reflected the light like emeralds as she stared, her breath coming out in a sigh. “I am not asking you to commit a suicide. I am simply here to give you a warning.”
“That no matter what I do, I’ll lose?” James muttered. “That I doomed myself the minute I took Vindis back?”
“In a sense, you could look at it that way,” Margaret said. “But I prefer to see it in another way.”
She turned back to meet his eyes, her expression unreadable as the shadows of the hearth danced around her face.
“You have time to find an answer. Little time, but time nonetheless,” she explained. “The Lumen Kingdom has much to figure out before it declares action. I hear that there is infighting amongst the council and that the King is weighing options. Despite the years that had passed, the Lumen Kingdom’s army still isn’t enough to fully conquer Valenfrost. So, at best, we have two years until they garner the strength needed for an invasion. At worst, well… time would be irrelevant, I think.”
“What do you expect me to do?” James asked.
“What you feel is needed, of course,” Margaret answered curtly. “Gather a force to fight back or perhaps gain an advantage that could assist in bringing peace. Of course, you could always cut tail and run, but I doubt you’re the type of man who would do such a cowardly act.”
James stared at her, unsure of how to respond. Before he could, however, Margaret continued.
“Whatever you do, I hope that it is the right choice. Gods know that I cannot make it.”
With that, she walked past James, heading out of the room. Right as she began to call for her guard, James finally found his voice.
“Why?”
It came out more as an instinct rather than a thought-out response. It worked in catching the Frue’s attention. She turned to him with a look that spelled more intrigue rather than confusion. James stared at her, his hands clenched into fists as he forced himself to speak his mind.
“Why do you think I’m like him?” he asked. “Like Yorn? I know that’s who you’re talking about. Who you mentioned earlier. Why do you think that I can make the choices he made? I’m not important like him. Not even close to strong as he had been. Why? Why am I like him?”
Margaret seemed almost taken aback by the question but the reaction was subdued quickly and a smile appeared on her lips.
“I am getting old for this. A title of Jarl and Frue is not one for the elderly,” she muttered. “I’ve met many of the next generation of clan leaders, most of them not cut out for such work. You, on the other hand, fit almost perfectly into it. Yorn himself wasn’t always the smartest nor the strongest. Yet he had the heart to charge into impossible battles and risk all he could to win.”
James stood in silence for a moment, his frown deepening. “I’m an idiot. A lucky idiot.”
“Luck is always a factor,” Margaret said with a soft laugh. “You think Yorn defeated his father with pure skill? That he managed to take what he could with only tactics? Luck plays into everything. Such is the way fate works.”
James had no words. He could only watch as a couple of her guards showed up. They wore the standard taberd over light gambeson, their clan heraldries sown into the light blue cloth. The silver head of a reindeer. Margaret continued to speak.
“Sometimes, I think Valenfrost is nearing its end,” she said with a tired sigh. “That the days of nomads and independent clans are coming to an end. I tell myself it might be for the best. That it will be united under a single banner. Underneath the banner of one of its clans.”
Margaret brushed a couple strands of stray hair away from her eyes. James could see a bit of sorrow in them. “Even if Yorn is gone, I still believe that one of the Jarls will come to claim his place. To reach higher than he had.”
“A King,” James muttered. He had a feeling of where she was going with this. Still, he acted as if she was talking about other possible suitors. “You believe that one of the Jarls would rise to be a King? Or Queen, I suppose.”
“Jarls and Kings are the same,” Margaret said. “The King of Lumen might hold more than any one Jarl, but I’ve seen Kings that have held less than even Vulpesson itself. No, Valenfrost does not need a King.”
She turned to James, her eyes almost piercing into his. “Valenfrost needs something else. Someone who can keep both Jarls and Kings under their control.”
James took an instinctive step back, his thoughts thinking of one word. Before he could say it, Margaret whispered it to him.
“It needs a Conqueror, Holter.”