Silent Pact

The cold nipped at Talissa's nose as she traversed through a rippling blizzard, each leather boot crunching and dragging through fresh layers of snow. The wind whipped about her in violent gusts, and her feet numbed under the encasing of her boots and an extra thick pair of socks.

She sniffled, a sudden yearning for the warmer Leonard country. Her fluffy muffler of premium wool choked her instead of conserving much-needed heat in the bitterness of Lottian winters.

While she hauled forward, a low emanation of golden light peeked from beneath her gloves. The trickle of mana upturned and smoothed the disturbed white blankets left in her determined path. There was only a little more ground to cover before she'd reach her destination.

Her foot slipped, and she lurched forward. The mortification flashed in her face. "N-no!"

This weather cannot kill me.

And yet, the white abyss swallowed her whole. Her tears froze on her face as she tore herself from the snow and stood unmoving.

Iverson better have left a bowl of his famous mutton stew or her mood may remain as stiff as her body and as chilly as the frigid weather.

At last, she heaved herself towards the barracks, scanning her surroundings for potential adversaries. With a careful lift of an inconspicuous trapdoor, she squeezed her aching body down the entrance to the basement.

"So you're back," rumbled a deep voice.

Talissa looked up at the bulky man hovering over her, a sheet of snow sliding from her hood. She couldn't react. His visage swirled in her warped vision—a tall nose slightly lopsided and a round head swaying to and fro.

When his dark expression finally came into focus, he gripped her by the shoulder and yanked her in. The trapdoor swung shut with a slam. "You dared to go out at this time!"

"I know, I know. You don't have to tell me." Talissa waved him off, another lump of snow crumpling off her body.

Dahl's eyebrows furrowed and he covered his face in disbelief. "So, how did it go?" A hearty chuckle filled the room. "You really came back in a Lottian-level blizzard. I can't believe it. You're lucky you returned when everyone else is sleeping. It'll be hard for anyone to hear us talk when the wind is so loud."

She teetered towards a nearby stool and plopped down with a long groan. 

"It wasn't troubling." The woman tore off her suffocating muffler and gloves. "I raided a prison while I was gone too."

Dahl eyed her incredulously.

The relief filled her toes as she toasted them by the hearth. "Oh!" Her eyes lit upon memory. As if unsheathing a majestic sword, she drew out two horribly crumpled bags. "I brought some preserved fruit. They're from southern Wittensen—high quality."

"Wittensen?" Dahl gasped as Talissa shook the bags of sour treats. "You went all the way there?"

"No, of course not. I'm not crazy."

"You just came back in a blizzard!"

"What about it?"

The big man was beyond flustered. "You made me so worried when you said you were going to sneak out earlier, and you actually did it! What insane things did you Al-Bell soldiers do in Leonard?"

"Win," Talissa answered. "Don't think too much on it. I'm fine..."

There was a rustling of fabric and a gentle clink. Within seconds, a mouth-watering savory aroma wafted through the room. As soon as Talissa freed her hands of the fruit, a hot bowl was shoved into her palms. The deliverer sprinkled a final touch of crushed saltines over the steaming liquid.

"Thank you, Iverson." She cradled the stew with endless gratification. The cavernous sensation in her stomach wore her away the entire journey back to the barracks.

He bobbed his crown of mocha hair as if to tell her 'no problem.' The lanky soldier of the Lottian Common Army didn't have much to say, but his remarkable talents in cooking spoke volumes. He was always swarmed with friends despite having never spoken to them.

Talissa scooped a softened root into her mouth, letting the simple broth fill her with ease. Color graced her cheeks and returned feeling to every fiber of her being.

It was especially a miracle how Iverson managed to conjure such a delectable meal in hardy environments like this.

Dahl seated himself on a stool, his grand figure and the small stool drastically disproportionate. Meanwhile, Iverson huddled by the hearth and rubbed his hands together. The atmosphere seemed to grow heavy as the silence loomed. She couldn't help but feel there was something amiss.

"In a week," Dahl began, "we'll be having a special guest at our encampment. The generals seem to be very agitated and occupied today. Whoever they are, they're not just anybody."

"What about them?" Talissa shrugged. "If we don't know who it is, there's nothing to be so concerned about."

"But I've never seen the upper ranks so disturbed by the news of this person. You know how they are."

Stern...unemotional...strict.... She couldn't deny it was strange.

Iverson's typically unaffected composure wavered, a frown forming. Talissa put down her bowl and folded her hands.

If even Iverson is concerned, then it must be serious.

"There are rumors that some nobles will be settling in before then," Dahl added.

Talissa's eyebrows quirked up. "Nobles? At our military encampment? This is much too far east for them to leisurely visit."

"Precisely. Something is going on, and they're not telling us anything."

At this statement, the odd trio all glanced at each other. The possibility of conflict was always there from the beginning of their enlistment. No words were spoken, but everything fell into place.

They drew closer to the hearth as the chills began to creep on them.

They knew a dramatic change could alter the course of their lives as soldiers at any moment. There, by the hearth, a silent pact would be signed and locked away, forever in the back of their minds.

If anything happens, they'd stick together. They'd push through it.

There wouldn't be a single doubt.