The hulking figure moved, ice cracking and splintering, countless shards scattering onto the floor. A red glare burnt out from inside its helm, tinting the ice to appear bloodstained in the light. Stathis kept her blade extended, looking for any weakness -the armour was ancient, but well-made, even without the magic clearly reinforcing it. A low moan came from within the armour as it stood to its full height, height scraping the ceiling of the subterranean chamber, gauntleted fingers flexing, sending another tinkling shower of icicles to the ground.

The thing spoke, voice slow and halting. ‘I awaken, to find myself threatened by some stripling Knight of the Sun? Would you throw your life away so easily? I have little desire to claim another life, and my blood was sated with conquest centuries ago. Return upstairs, back to the pleasures of the sunlit lands, and leave me to my memories, if you would be so kind.’

This close, even above the usual background doom of Janaxia’s presence, she could feel the thing, a heavy, leaden coldness in the world, threatening to draw everything into an everlasting icy embrace. She drew back, making some space between them, hoping the creature, the animated remnants of the Icereaver, would be slow.

Then she struck, her blade glowing golden, striking towards the breastplate. Would it have some central essence or a heart, some central weakness she could exploit? With supernatural speed, it countered, gauntlet moving to defend, gripping the blade. Ice started to form on the sword, the light fracturing as rime spread down the blade. She tugged, trying to pull it from his hand, as its other hand started to trace a sigil into the air, light suspending itself in the air.

‘Stathis! What do you think you’re doing!’ A side door opened, admitted Janaxia, wearing a heavy fur coat, puffs of breath wisping through a muffler.

The sigil stopped growing, light still burning but the spell incomplete, as Stathis’ gaze flicked between them. The armour had no expression to read, but Janaxia looked mildly irritated. The ice stopped spreading down her sword, but didn’t retreat.

Janaxia approached, a steaming cup of tea in hand. ‘Oh, do stop being silly, the pair of you. Really, Stathis, don’t be so rude. This is his house, after all. And you, Grandfather, really should know better.’

The giant gauntlet moved away, spell-sigil blinking out, as Stathis slowly withdrew her blade, powerless in the face of Janaxia’s glaring indignation.

‘Now that you’re both done being silly, shall we sit? I’ve just made some tea, and I found some elven sweets, from the Pentathion dynasty, which I’m sure will be most pleasant.’

She led them into a side chamber, set out for afternoon tea, with a wrought iron table, covered in slick, black ice, a delicate china plate set with orange wafers, a hot pot of tea melting a tiny puddle in the ice, surrounded by two chairs and a throne.

‘Grandfather, this is Stathis, of the House of Iristari, my adventuring companion. Stathis, this is my ancestor, Lord Ultremar, the Black Ice Ravager, Slayer of Seyroon Silverscale, Conqueror of the fallen Desandor, master of the Crimson Lash…’

The titles went on for quite some time, the crimson light within the visor dimming and brightening sporadically, as though nodding off. Finally Janaxia was done, and poured tea for Stathis. Stathis took a sip, hesitantly, then a bigger gulp, glad of the warmth. And the flavour was different, something almost fruity mingling with the more usual taste.

‘Good morning, young Stathis.’ The figure inclined its head slightly, as though bowing. ‘A pleasure to meet you. Janaxia has told me much of your adventures together – it sounds as though you have been having a grand old time! That affair with the medusa, ah, that takes me back. How is the tea? Sadly, a pleasure I can no longer indulge in, but Janaxia tells me it has aged well.’

‘It’s nice, yes. Thank you.’ Stathis’ mind went blank as she tried to work out how to continue the conversation, silence stretching until the armour spoke again.

‘I hear there’s been some excitement recently. Janaxia tells me of some affair with demons attacking, and that Galondwyn the Heartstealer was involved?’

‘Yes, she was raising a cult.’

The armour somehow managed to sigh. ‘Ah, a cult. A bunch of lunatics in robes, with nothing better to do of an evening than sit in a circle and mumble at each other. Still, at least they’re normally easy to infiltrate, you simply need to find a robe and mumble a bit, and always remember to stab the person in the fanciest robe, and their chief advisor as well. Just to stop them popping up a few years later, you understand. You wouldn’t believe the number of advisors, viziers, seneschals and chancellors I went through – something about a fancy hat and spending all day in an office seems to drive people to madness and treachery. After a while, I simply had them retire after a year, it was easier. With a generous pension, of course.’

I was just speaking of the angelic warrior that appeared to fight with Galondwyn

Janaxia spoke out loud. ‘I’m told that Carissia is out hunting the remnants of the cult. Although it’s something of a shame that she is so busy. I was looking forward to spending some time with her. You really should invite her over, Stathis.’

‘Ah, this would be the elder Iristari, and also your sister? Calpurnia has told me of her.’ He groaned. ‘While I appreciate news from the wider world, I do wish she was less of a tiresome bore. I daresay she complained, at quite some length? She seems to do little else, at least when she talks to me. But you were telling me of the final battle, as you were defeating a Lithmara? An impressive feat, I have to say, especially for a wizard, due to their resistance to many magical attacks.’

‘I had help, of course, Parth’s aid was instrumental. But as we were defeating that beast, Galondwyn fought a warrior of the heavens, bearing a weapon of divine power. They fought the beast down in the skies over the town, before going to ground nearby. Carissia informs us that Galondwyn’s essence was destroyed, not just her form but her very essence destroyed. And Stathis and Semari were found nearby, surrounded by the Heartless. Some aid at the castle would have been appreciated, but I suppose you had to support the divine warrior, to prevent them from being swamped by numbers.’

‘Yes, something like that.’ Thankfully, it seemed that Carissia hadn’t spilt her secret. ‘I didn’t know you and Parth managed to kill the Lithmara though. Good job! So, uh, Lord Ultremar? Do you spend all your time down here?’

Stathis! Don’t be rude!

He chuckled. ‘A tiny domain, compared to the lands I once ruled, yes. But my conquering days are long behind me, and I am content to remain here, amongst my memories, to spend my time in dreams of the past, and travelling the astral realms. And, of course, a binding curse was laid upon me long centuries ago, so I cannot leave this place unless the blood of the heavens is shed upon my armour. And, sadly, none of such parentage have come this way of late. But, as I say, I am content. And with Janaxia, I am glad to have found an heir to my name, one who lives up to my own precepts.’

Stathis glance over at Janaxia, who was attempting to nonchalantly nibble on a biscuit while failing to hide a massive grin. Hopefully he was referring to something other than raising an empire of blood and conquest, not that Janaxia seemed likely to want to put in the work that such a task would need.

‘You honour me with your words, grandfather. I merely strive to live up to your sterling example.’ She bowed her head.

‘Don’t let me forget, I have a gift for you. But what of the hearts? Galondwyn must have had quite a stash of them secreted away somewhere.’

Stathis answered, taking another sip of the tea, beginning to see why Janaxia drank quite so much of the stuff. ‘There was a warehouse, over in the merchant’s district. Owned by one of her first victims. Most have been returned to their owners.’ Stathis had been relieved that they hadn’t been dumped here, some room full of crystal hearts, throbbing and pulsing away.

‘It sounds as though the affair was wrapped up most satisfactorily. Congratulations, both of you! If you would like to celebrate in true style, I believe I have a cask of Skellamor brandy somewhere about the place.’ He stood and began rummaging through a chest, various old and likely priceless antiques flashing into view before he returned with a wooden cask, decanting a small amount into each of their teacups. ‘Not the correct way of doing it, but call it the victor’s prerogative, shall we?’ The crimson glare half-dimmed, an unnerving attempt at a wink.

Stathis and Janaxia chinked their teacups together, each sipping the whisky. Stathis gasped, flavour rolling over her tongue and down her throat, warm and soothing, flavour of toasty caramel. ‘Wow, that’s good stuff.’ She took another sip, savouring it this time, letting the taste linger.

‘I won that from Bronwyn Cuille, Queen of the Crimson Spear, in a duel. I was defending the honour of the Semar Goldenhand, after, well, that’s quite another story. But it was at Saint Kalan’s Fall, in the steaming waters at the edge of the drop. For three days we fought, as our armies looked on. Each day, from dawn’s light through to dusk. Must have gotten through almost a dozen suits of armour, and I don’t know how many blades! It was a narrow thing, if she had been just a little quicker, well, then I wouldn’t be here today. But I spared her life, and she gave me a treasure of her clan, a cask of their finest. Apparently it takes a circle of druids almost a century to make a single glass.’

Stathis took another sip, being sure to savour the flavour even longer this time.

‘But I wouldn’t want to bore you with my tales. So, Stathis, why don’t you tell me of your adventures? Janaxia is far too polite and humble.’

Lubricated by the whisky, Stathis began retelling some of their adventures, silent speech from Janaxia as ‘suggestions’ were provided, certain elements getting skipped over. The armour nodded in approval, adding in some comments of his own.

Once the whisky was finished, and the story complete, it was time to leave. They were walked to the entrance hall, the armour every inch the dignified host, handing Janaxia a heavy-looking tome, even wrapped and tied with a ribbon, which she expressed her thanks for.

As they were waved off, Janaxia taking an excessively long time to say her goodbyes, especially for someone that lived in her basement, Misutira came down the stairs, heavy furs in her arms.

There was a long, awkward silence before the armour spoke. ‘Ah, young Misutira! I have been teaching her some slight magics.’

‘Of course, Grandfather. You are an excellent teacher, after all. While I daresay we will be leaving eventually, I do hope that you will be awake for us to talk again before I have to depart.’

They bowed at each other, armour probably too cold to safely embrace, before heading upstairs. As soon as they were out of sight, Janaxia squealed in delight and hugged Stathis. ‘He said he’s proud of me! The Frostreaver, the Slayer of Lorath, the man who broke into the Tomb of Mi-Sa-Ren the Deathless, proud of me!’ She was giddy with happiness, before suddenly realising what she was doing and pulling herself away, coughing and trying to regain some gravitas.

‘I’m happy for you. So, do we need to be worried about Misutira at all?’

‘Well, I suppose she is rather fetching, and he could do with some companionship. He really could find someone other than a servant, but he could do worse; she handled herself well in the recent crisis. But he said he was proud! Of me! Although I suppose I will have to spend some time tutoring Misutira myself, for when Grandfather is slumbering.’

Could she do that? Stathis really didn’t want to get into the whole “fake wizard” thing again, so let it slide. Janaxia seemed far too excited over some praise from an ancient suit of animated armour, but it was nice to see her happy again, even if the horns were a bit disconcerting. The dark bone now bore a number of golden chains and medallions, wrapped close around the spiralling curves, metal clearly chosen to stand out against her black hair, gleaming in the sunlight, matching with her earrings and other jewellery.