The next morning, Anthos was the second to wake, rising after Begryn, and came down the two flights of stairs. He vaguely recalled a strange dream involving Ertai, but couldn't grasp the details. Downstairs, he saw Kalen sitting and having breakfast with the elf and the baby. Sunlight pouring through the window hinted at the beautiful winter day outside, the kind unique to the Trabarioth region.

  The knight was in his restored formal attire. His white mantle was spotless, with the shield of the Order of Reidos embroidered in blue. The chainmail he wore underneath was noticeably bright and polished, while his long, blond hair was neatly trimmed. He had also completely shaved off his scruffy traveler's beard. This sharp appearance contrasted with Begryn, whose black clothing, detailed with violet, looked quite worn and frayed in several places. Her purple hair was tied up and combed, but patches of dirt-matted strands were still visible. Her face, however, was clean, highlighting the blue tattoos around her eyes.

  "Anthos... good morning. Come, share breakfast with us," the knight said. "What happened to your face? Did you cut yourself while you were sleeping?"

  "I don't think so..." The guide shook his head and touched his cheekbone, where a faint line of dry blood could be seen.

  The paladin merely shrugged. Begryn, though, scrutinized the wound, sensing that something was amiss. Perhaps this wasn't the time to raise more concerns, but she knew that dark forces could operate in dreams and manifest in reality. Her natural suspicion and years of experience with the dark arts meant she couldn't even trust nightmares.

  "In any case. We have goat cheese, cow cheese, toast, milk, tea, oatmeal, and some sausages... some wine if you want to clear your throat. There's also strawberry jam and... what do you call this thing...? Well, join us."

  "Good morning," he replied and took a seat next to the elf. Drako looked at him with his sharp, reptilian eyes, as if possessed by a demon, but then smiled.

  "Well, here's your payment. You delivered more than expected, and we are grateful," Kalen finally said, taking a sip of his tea and handing him a leather pouch full of gold crowns.

  "You were a very valuable help, and we know we wouldn't have succeeded without you," Begryn added.

  The guide glanced from one to the other without saying a word.

  "What are you planning to do now?" the knight asked. "You've kept your word, you've completed your job. You owe us nothing... there is no contract binding you to us anymore. You know a major attack from Faradax and his army is coming, and you know they are hitting us with everything they have. No one will judge you if you leave, for we know you are not a coward. We know you, Anthos."

  "What we also want you to know is that we would greatly appreciate your help in this fight..." the elf added.

  "Either way, the three hundred crowns are yours regardless..."

  He took a sip of his tea and stared at Kalen, then swept his gaze over Begryn.

  "Are you joking? Do you really think that, having gotten this far, I don't intend to see this through to the end?" He began to speak. "My job was to bring you to Trabarioth, and I accomplished that, it's true. But you're wrong about one thing, Sir Kalen. There's something that binds me to you, and that something is friendship. Because after everything we've been through, everything we've done, everything we've lived... how could I not consider you my friends? It's been many years since I felt this way about other people," He paused for a few seconds and looked at Drako. "Even with this strange little whippersnapper."

  The paladin smiled without saying a word. The elf placed a hand on the guide's shoulder while holding the baby with the other. "It's good to hear those words, Anthos, for you are a friend to us, too. And it will be an honor to fight beside you again."

  "What did I miss?" Galfrido said, appearing from the stairs, still with sleep in his eyes. "I hope you left me some breakfast."

  "Of course, but don't take too long. Queen Audarin wishes to meet you in person. All of you," the knight said.

  They finished breakfast and prepared to go see the Queen. They left the enormous inn and began walking up the main street, ascending the hill. In the distance, they glimpsed the enormous Skycold Castle, built upon the mountains, peering over the citadel and the highest neighborhoods, like a massive, eternal sentinel controlling the mountainous horizon itself—imposing, endless…

  The movement of people at this hour was immense, and clearly, many were preparing for the imminent combat. The news hadn't taken long to arrive, and they figured the few survivors from Rivero and Epsilia must have escaped heading north, toward the Frozen City.

  "Queen Audarin the Immortal is not your typical... noble," the paladin began to comment as they moved through the crowd, which was becoming more frantic as they neared the central square. A woman with small children stumbled past a group of guards, who hastily pushed them aside. Two men were dragging a cart full of provisions toward what appeared to be a stable. A baby was crying for its mother, who caught up and took it into her arms to return to her husband. The whole "calm before the storm" concept was not applying here. At least, that's what Anthos thought.

  "What do you mean she's not your typical noble?" Galfrido asked.

  "Let's just say she has more guts than many tough men I know. She's participated in several battles and always led her army from the front. She has often been severely wounded and yet never once failed to be on the frontline. That makes her a queen dearly loved by her army... but somewhat unstable politically."

  "And her relationship with Count Dromak Valderan?" the elf asked.

  "The best. He was the one who trained her when she was young, willingly becoming her master-at-arms."

  "Looks like the son of a bitch thinks long-term," Anthos muttered under his breath.

  As they were passing through the central square, they saw it was packed with people. Apparently, a public execution was about to take place. There was an enormous wooden stage in the center, on which stood a vertical wooden plaque, carved with the face of the god Leiorus. Five members of the Order of the Executioners stood behind the day's two accused. They knew the Order of the Executioners had been formed many years ago by a mad knight, obsessed with justice. In that era, they served as captors, judges, and executioners. Today, they were merely executioners, but with the peculiarity that here, in the Frozen City, it was considered an honorable profession, and so its members did not wear hoods to conceal their identity, as in other regions.

  The first of the accused had his hand amputated by the sword, in a dry, clean, and quick strike. The man screamed in pain and was escorted off the platform by two other executioners. The next accused was not so lucky. His head rolled off the stage and onto the ground, to the observers' gasps of astonishment.

  “Well, I guess he didn’t get that for being a good man,” Galfrido said indifferently as the head rolled away.

  This story originates from a different website. Ensure the author gets the support they deserve by reading it there.

  "I hope both men received a fair trial, as the law dictates," Kalen added.

  "The law in this city is a little harsher, my friend," Anthos replied. "You should know that. Another consequence of having a warrior queen: Audarin the Immortal."

  "Despite having a huge battle looming, the people still rejoice in the blood spilled on the execution stage," Begryn thought, frowning. "Do they not imagine the bloodshed that is coming? Do they still believe their city can be eternally impregnable? Obviously, they think so." Once again, the elf thought that humans had no salvation from themselves. Evil was imprinted on their souls and was an intrinsic part of their most basic nature.

  However, turning her gaze, she saw Kalen advancing through the crowd, smiling and trying to be kind to everyone. Because of this single image, she regained her faith. “Because of men like him, they still have hope,” she told herself. Her thoughts were interrupted when the paladin noticed the woman was looking at him and returned her gaze.

  They arrived at the gates of Skycold Castle. From there, they could see the entire city, and that was only the base of the colossal structure. Waiting for them at the entrance was a courtier dressed in silk garments, mostly yellowish in color with purple details, long red hair, and emerald green eyes.

  "Good morning, my lords," he said with a clear Trabarioth accent. "My name is Lord Oreigon, and I am the castle steward. Please accompany me. The Queen is waiting for you in the Silver Hall."

  Nodding their heads, they entered. "What kind of idiot calls himself 'Lord'?" thought Galfrido, who entered last.

  They were amazed by the sheer imposing nature of the structure, knowing they had only crossed the first gate of the inner wall. The gardens were beautiful, filled with white and red flowers, and featured a cobbled path that ascended and led to an even more ornate door.

  Upon entering, they crossed the main anteroom where receptions and other minor protocol matters were held. The floor was made of black and white mosaics, and on the vaulted ceiling was a massive, realistic painting of a knight piercing a fire demon with his spear.

  "That is Sir Sharmuna Macdragor," Kalen told Galfrido, seeing him absorbed by the display of art. "He is considered the first knight of Dorlan. He was the one who organized the expedition south to expel the deformed creatures that had come from Páramo and invaded our lands. He is also the founder of the Order of Dragma, the dragon hunters. He fought the battles against those winged beasts like no other... But that must have been over a thousand years ago."

  "Twelve hundred," Begryn added. The three men turned their heads, gaping, looking at her in surprise. "Wait, I'm not that old. But Sharmuna's story was told by my grandmother. In my village, they knew him as Ishkandar, 'the bearer of light and darkness.' I will tell you the story someday."

  "My lords, please accompany me," the steward said, who, judging by his sidelong glances, was not comfortable guiding a couple of commoners alongside a knight. He led them through a series of corridors decorated with paintings and flags on the sides, then up marble-lined stairs, and finally to a kind of enormous hall, with a silver door at the far end. A red carpet began in the center of the hall and continued toward the entrance.

  The steward moved ahead and opened the massive silver door for them.

  Upon entering, they saw an even larger hall, with three enormous marble columns on each side, creating a long corridor leading toward a set of stairs made of the same material, which ascended to a massive wooden and silver throne. Along the walls between the columns, they saw huge, multicolored stained-glass windows that gave the room a strange sense of warmth.

  There were several nobles in the hall, talking and gesturing pedantically, as well as a few knights from the Orders of Damaroth and Bidernia. They were standing near the columns and the throne, but respectfully avoided stepping on the carpet. Everyone froze when they saw the newcomers enter.

  "Welcome!" the Queen exclaimed from the far end of the hallway.

  Finally, they saw her: a middle-aged woman with near-reddish blonde hair and a severe blue gaze. She had a thick neck and the stature of a medium-built man. Her face was lined and nearly ravaged by old combat scars. Her crown was a simple gold band, without much ornamentation—no diamonds, diadems, or any precious stones. She was dressed in a simple bluish gown with silver arabesques. They saw the attendees kneel in reverence when she stood up to receive them. The Queen approached the adventurers with a firm, confident stride, looking more comfortable on her feet than seated on that awkward throne.

  "Please rise," she told them, raising her hands. Her voice was harmonious but possessed a strange firmness, typical of those accustomed to giving orders in complex situations. "I apologize on behalf of our mage, Lord Volrath. He is attending to some matters with his apprentice. You know how mages are... best not to disturb them."

  She spoke in such an informal, familiar way that they found it quite pleasant. It was the first time Anthos, Galfrido, and Begryn had met a noble like her. Kalen had not been wrong.

  "My lady," Kalen said. "These are my travel companions: Galfrido, one of the most valiant warriors I have known and the man I trust most in these lands; Begryn, an infallible archer and healer, a member of the Order of the Sharpshooters; and finally, Anthos, our guide and companion. Without him, we would never have succeeded in our mission."

  "I salute you all with humility and gratitude," she said, giving a slight bow with her eyes closed. Then she looked up and observed little Drako. "So this is the child... So many hardships, so much lamenting, and so much bloodshed for one little creature." She seemed lost in her own thoughts as she spoke without blinking. Then she returned to her usual expression. "My grandfather knew a Dragon Knight... Aldor the Golden. A formidable warrior, extremely powerful. Then, one day, he told me he abandoned us. I suppose that's how it is, but as Volrath says, 'it's better to have him on our side.'"

  Begryn noticed a figure near the throne and beside other nobles that caught her attention. He was a man well into old age, with long, black hair combed back, interrupted by some gray streaks. Two massive wrinkles furrowed his cheeks, descending to the deep dark circles under his deep black eyes. His aquiline nose almost touched his thin lower lip. He was dressed in dark clothes, gray and crimson, with black arabesques. On the ring finger of his right hand, she could see a silver ring with the royal heraldry. He was certainly the royal counselor, Count Dromak Valderan.

  "I thank you on behalf of everyone, my Queen," Kalen responded, bowing. "I would like, if possible, to hand the child over to Lord Volrath as soon as possible. If you have someone who can show me..."

  "I will accompany you, don't worry," the Queen interrupted. "Even less protocol," Anthos thought. "Begryn can come too, since she is carrying the baby. Oreigon!" she shouted, calling the steward.

  The red-haired man appeared and bowed. "Yes, my Queen."

  "Accompany these two adventurers" —Both Galfrido and Anthos noted that she spoke the word not with contempt, but rather admiration— "Take them to the quarters we have prepared. Give them castle passes to move about and access to the royal forge. Also, if they wish, they can tour the garden. They are our guests."

  "But, my Queen," he said, looking around with obvious discomfort and sending a fleeting glance of disdain toward both warriors. "Protocol demands..."

  "Protocol demands whatever I want it to demand, good Oreigon," Queen Audarin narrowed her eyes with obvious anger. Galfrido thought he glimpsed for a second the face she must wear when going into battle—a fierce face devoid of kindness. "I remind you that I am the Queen..."

  "At your command, my Queen. Come, this way. This is very irregular, very improper," the steward muttered under his breath as he escorted them down the corridors.

  "Alright, 'Fussy-pants'," Galfrido said as they advanced down the stone corridors, covered in landscape paintings and tapestries bearing the same flag motif: the flag of Trabarioth. "Can I call you 'Fussy-pants'?"

  "Certainly not!" the steward replied furiously.

  Galfrido couldn't help but laugh, and neither could Anthos.

  "It's just that this guy reminds me of a fellow named Fussy-pants," Galfrido now spoke to Anthos, completely ignoring the poor steward. "That Fussy-pants was such an idiot that one day we sent him to look for basilisk eggs, and you know what he did?" He burst into laughter. "The imbecile actually went looking for them, ha ha ha! He came back that night all scratched up and covered in mud, nervous because he couldn't find them anywhere. What an idiot!"

  "It is here," he said, pointing out their room, trying to maintain his composure but red with the hatred he felt toward the two adventurers, especially Galfrido.

  "Thank you very much, Fussy-pants. Can I ask you for some basilisk eggs?" Galfrido burst into laughter, and the steward retreated, clearly disgusted, taking short steps, but moving very fast.

  Galfrido took it as a joke, but Anthos knew that having enemies of this type was not in their best interest. He was the kind of person who would stab you in the back when it was already too late.