Ignar Emberfare

The Palace Entrance

Toni stumbled through the grand archway of the palace, his breath heavy with the sour tang of cheap ale. Right behind him, Marc waddled in, wiping sweat from his thick neck and groaning like a man who hadn't run a full sprint in twenty years.

They nearly crashed straight into Oliver.

“Oliver! Where's the Chief? We need the Chief!” Toni slurred, pointing a trembling, uncoordinated finger toward the inner chambers.

Oliver stepped back, his nose wrinkling in immediate disgust as he adjusted his robes.

“Keep your voice down. And what are you doing away from the eastern gates? You both smell like a tavern floor.”

“The river, Oliver,” Marc wheezed, resting his heavy hands on his knees as he caught his breath. “The water source. It’s frozen solid.”

Oliver stared at them, his expression hardening into disbelief.

“That is preposterous. Look outside, man. It is the peak of spring. The temperatures aren't cold enough to freeze a puddle, let alone a flowing river. Go back to your posts and sleep it off.”

“No, no, we saw it!” Marc insisted, waving his arms lazily. “I swear it on my mother's grave. Some parts of it, at least. Big chunks of ice blocking the flow. But... it looked like it was already starting to melt when we ran off.”

Oliver rubbed his temples.

None of this made any sense.

A flowing river didn't just flash-freeze in the middle of spring unless...

“Did anyone pass through the gates recently? Any visitors?”

Toni squinted at the ceiling, tapping his chin.

“Mmhb...”

Marc scratched his stomach, staring blankly into space.

“Mmhmm...”

They both stood in silent, strained contemplation for a long, painful moment.

“Oh! Oh, yeah!” Toni suddenly snapped his fingers, nearly losing his balance. “Yeah, we saw someone. Two girls. Travelling together. One had bright red hair, the other had pitch-black hair. Looked about fifteen, give or take a year.”

“Aye, that's right,” Marc chimed in, nodding slowly. “They had those badges on 'em. C and B-class mages, if my eyes didn't deceive me.”

Oliver’s face went pale.

“Little girls that use magic might not be strange in the outside world, but here?”

He gripped Toni's shoulder tightly, his voice dropping to a harsh whisper.

“They must be dangerous. Please, find them. Find them now before they reach the village centre!”

Marc and Toni offered a sloppy, uncoordinated salute before shuffling back out the doors.

Behind a heavy velvet pillar nearby, Giulia pressed her back against the stone, her eyes wide.

She had heard every single word.

---

The Outskirts of the Village

A mile away, the sound of dripping water echoed quietly as the unnatural ice continued to melt into the river.

Zelda pulled her cloak tighter around her shoulders, her eyes scanning the distant, towering structure of the palace.

“Now that we are here,” she murmured, her voice tight with focus, “we will need a plan that will get us closer to him. Hopefully, those guys will be with him.”

She gripped the hilt of her weapon, her knuckles turning white.

“I will not leave until I fight him again.”

Sigrid didn't look back at her. Her gaze remained fixed entirely on the horizon, her expression as cold and unchanging as ever.

“The Palace,” Sigrid said flatly, pointing a gloved hand toward the snow-capped peaks in the distance. “It's up north.”

Without waiting for a reply, Sigrid turned and began walking.

Zelda fell into step beside her, their shadows lengthening as they headed straight toward the heart of the village.

They walked in silence.

Then—

Grrrrr...

Zelda stopped.

Sigrid stopped too.

Zelda slowly looked down at her stomach.

Sigrid looked at her.

“I'm hungry,” Zelda admitted.

Neither said anything.

They simply turned their heads, scanning the street for somewhere to eat.

Eventually, they found a small food stall tucked between two weathered buildings. An old man sat behind the counter, serving simple snacks to the few people passing by.

Zelda and Sigrid approached.

The old man looked them over.

His eyes lingered on the swords at their sides.

“Visitors?”

Zelda nodded.

“Yes. We're travelling through.”

The old man gave a quiet grunt.

“I knew it. People from here don't walk around carrying swords like those.”

Zelda glanced down at her borrowed blade.

“We're only here for a few days. We'll leave as soon as possible once we've finished what we came here to do.”

The old man shrugged.

“I don't care what you've come here to do.”

He pointed toward them with the hand holding his cooking utensil.

“Where are you from?”

Zelda answered.

Sigrid answered.

Before the old man could say anything else, the rumble of wheels echoed through the street.

A chariot came rolling through the village, surrounded by a group of men.

Several villagers turned to watch.

“That’s Ignar Emberfare, right?” one stranger asked.

“This squad? These guys are the Eagle's Flames. And the man there with the black coat is Lionel of the Mist,” another replied.

“C’mon. Even I know that,” a third man said.