They had left the storm behind and resumed until nightfall. After a brief burial ceremony that Yarrow, the direwolf's name that Reith settled on, barely authorised, and following a couple of bite wounds that quickly regenerated, the party continued until daybreak, where across open ground an ostensibly impervious fortification dug in between the mountains emerged.

Ancient stone walls risen to protect against the atrocious ahead and guard towers that lined the run of it. Weathered, neglected banners that displayed a roaring lion were located here and there above grated windows that looked too tiny for archery. In the centre of all loomed a gate, reinforced by eerie metal. Black as sin it glimmered in the shadow, almost as if alive. Beyond the walls rose a single column that dwarfed all else, shouldering the sky.

Seconds after setting foot upon the snowfield, the sound of winding horns reverberated throughout the valley, scattering birds and curious animals alike. Seemingly caught off-guard, men dressed in heavy clothing of black and white, one after another, emerged at the battlement, shabby-looking bows in hand. Each man enjoyed the same symbol found on the banner embroidered to their chest along with a hood and scarf which veiled their features.

Yarrow growled threateningly as tens of nicked arrows pointed towards them. Unless the bows were supplied with enigmatic magic, a feat that he doubted since no one exhibited symptoms of magyk, Reith was confident in surviving any barrage they loosed at him. In his time travelling, he had experimented a little and reasoned that he couldn't die from simplistic physical attacks. Though if practical, he would like to avoid testing that theory.

A man whose clothing was of better quality and cut than the rest made an appearance above the gate. Doubtless, he carried authority among the guardsmen and was the first to talk.

"Stand your ground or endure the Empire's wrath!" A single arrow was loosed and lodged into the snow a few metres from the pair. Truly a better presentation than his last encounter with mankind. At least they granted him the opportunity to reason with them. So Reith halted and stroked Yarrow to follow suit.

"You're intelligent, though I suspected as much from your strange pet. Good. Now, do you understand me? Who are you, and state your business with the Empire?"

Reith remained silent as he weighed how to respond. He wished to introduce himself as humble, but the image of subjecting himself to humans provoked him. It should be the humans who kneel and petition for survival, not him. Since when had he started to view humankind with such distaste? Was that the aftermath of recent events or the repercussion of occupying an inhuman vessel?

By the time the officer had become annoyed, Reith replied. "I am Reith, a wanderer," he said. As for his business, even he had yet to ascertain that. What was his purpose by arriving here? True, information was imperative for survival, especially now that he had experienced first-hand what abomination existed in the world, but what about beyond that? For the first time in the past week, Reith reflected on how to return to his universe, presuming that they were separate ones.

"Good, you speak our language. Then I must request you to forget Mont Bastion and return, for monsters have no affairs in the Empire of Man," the officer said and sketched an apologetic bow.

Reith furrowed. "I don't believe you realise, captain. If I turn, the wood-men should swarm me. You must allow me passage as I have nowhere else to go."

That invoked some laughs among the officer and his men. "The gods have your wood-men. No, I have got my orders. Not that I would permit freaks like you to roam behind the Walls."

Reith rested his hand on the dagger deftly concealed underneath the cloak and put the other hand on the direwolf's head, who snarled at the guards. She hated the men more than himself, it seemed.

"I guess luck never was my strong suit. Very well, as you wish." Reith sighed and stepped forward into the range of the guards, crusted snow crunching beneath his boots, the wind far too calm for what was about to occur. He really wanted no bloodshed, but everyone he'd bumped into despised him for mindless reasons.

The commander raised an arm, "Archers, dra—"

"—Cease, halt, don't loose, you wretched fools!" From one of the towers a tall, brawny man stormed, with arms flailing like a madman. He snuck a glance at Reith, nodded to his puzzlement, and struck the commander at the back of his head. "Stand down!"

The commander failed to comprehend what had just transpired, but when he realised he shuddered and glared with loathing at the newcomer. "Have you gone mad, Lord Gawain!"

Reith had paused to observe the discord that left him as confused as the guards along the battlement who'd lowered their bow at the command. It was clear that incidents like these weren't frequent atop the fortification.

"As should I ask you, Lord Lycheres. Has the cold robbed you of standard procedure? Look again but with true vision."

Though vexed, Lycheres mumbled and spun around, his black eyes flicking into a winter-blue, then widened while his legs buckled from underneath. Far from a lordly demeanour. Gawain seemed satisfied as he signalled to some men out of view.

Slowly the gate rolled up into the wall to reveal a lengthy corridor with murder holes scattered about. Two plumply-dressed swordsmen leapt out yet halted at the sight of the guests' striking appearance, particularly the wild direwolf at his side.

"Escort the undead and his pet to my quarters with haste. And my lord, please arise. You are embarrassing our honour.

The ushers, tensed and vigilant, hurried with quick steps and brought Reith and Yarrow through the declined fortress. Fallen stone lay dispersed across the open training range, with worn buildings of ancient wood that encircled the courtyard to house their quarters, armoury, cookery, and stables. They continued past and onto one of the taller towers.

The swordsmen stopped just outside the entrance. "Just past this door, my..." His thoughts trailed off as he sought for the appropriate word.

"Lord," Reith blurted, almost subconsciously. Surprised at himself, he inspected the guardsman.

"Then just past this door, my lord." Muffled in a scarf with the hood pulled down over his head, he proved difficult to scrutinise and exhibited no emotions. And yet the man reeked of anxiety.

"Come on, Yarrow. This Gawain seems like a good man, don't you think."

The hide of an exotic animal welcomed the pair as they entered. The eyes were scooped and antlers severed, but the long beak of a cream white revealed it as a bird-creature. Wings that caught Reith in length stretched across the floor all the way up to the crackling hearth.

"A magnificent work, wouldn't you agree?"

Lord Gawain entered from behind. "Caught back in my time with the Drekars." Reith stayed silent as the man continued his ramble. "Told me I was a lunatic, they did. Maybe I was. They hunt in packs and feast usually on dragonlings, but will not shy away from a lump of meat like old me." He guffawed and settled down cosily on the chair by the fire. Two mugs and a wineskin had tactfully been placed on opposite ends of the table, and Gawain gladly helped himself to what resembled red wine.

Reith examined the interior. It was remarkably barren for a high-ranked officer. A trestle table, a dozen simple chairs, a working desk, and a bookshelf adjacent to it. There was another door, likely to the lord's living quarters. It should be challenging to ambush under Yarrow's watch, yet it never hurt to pay some attention to the small possibilities.

"Care for a drink?"

"I am willing to try," Reith said. After the encounter with Ilsa and her companions, curiosity had gripped him, and he tried the roasted hare-looking animal, only to have discovered that it was without taste. The lack of taste buds rendered the wine unsavoury, so Reith put down the mug dissatisfied. Some alcohol would've been appreciated.

"Not to your taste? My apologies, I didn't expect a being like yourself at my table any more than the next man."

Reith sat down, the chair croaking and groaning under his weight. "About that," he said, having reached a quick decision. "Do you know what I am?"

Gawain's spirited smile froze under his grizzled beard. His blue eyes walked over Reith, like a lion stalking its prey, then he sighed and scuffed his bridge. "Would that I could. You carry the body of the undead, the fangs of beast-men, and claws that I have never seen. An all-powerful beast-man that went wild in the Cursed Land and frosted, that's my best guess."

"Frosted? Someone I met before mentioned the very same."

Gawain glanced briefly at Yarrow, lounging by the fire. "No man has ever ventured beyond the Milky Mountains. It is small wonder that they call the endless north the Cursed Land as anyone who perishes beyond these walls, are affected by the evil that the northern winds command. They arise as undead, usually devoid of intelligence, though never have I seen one so strong with magyk like yourself. Only these are the frosted."

Reith analysed what that implied; he was a frosted, or at least in their eyes. The question that remained on his mind was what about the sarcophagus? Unquestionably, it had been built centuries ago with the decay and negligence the area presented. It prompted that his past self, or rather the original master, was prominent or infamous enough to receive burial in something so luxurious. But why inside the Cursed Land? Another enigma which greatly disturbed him was whether the other undead were people like him or actual mindless monsters.

"Or so the legends have it," Gawain continued. "I am more concerned about an arrangement between the two of us." Under the watchful stare of Yarrow, he walked to the edge of the desk and fetched a quill, ink, and parchment.

"An arrangement? And exactly what would this involve?"

Gawain returned to his seat. "This would not perchance be your first time encountering men? I suspected as much. Your eyes convey the disdain for us, typical among they who believe humans feeble and foolish."

Reith revealed his astonishment. The man in front of him must have a talent in reading people since his feelings appeared to him like an open book. A dangerous opponent in negotiations.

"But I blame you not, especially with men like Derik Lycheres in power. However, not all of us are boneheaded like him. The rest are sly and more deceptive than the vilest species. And greedy beyond all else. You see, a creature like you, unknown to mankind, would be valued like gold dust. They would hunt you until you fled past the walls, or died trying."

Gawain managed a weak smile as Reith narrowed his eyes, exasperated by how he underestimated him, a person devoid of magyk. With the flick of his finger, he could with ease pulverise the man's head and massacre anyone in the garrison. However, Reith recognised the logic that this wasn't necessarily an accurate representation of what the Empire they belonged to could offer. The leadership would have to be laughable to deploy their elite forces at the edge of the world.

"What makes you confident that any humans could best me in combat? You seem awfully convinced for an impotent man without magyk. Perhaps the consequences of imperial propaganda?"

Reith smirked as the man chuckled. With his acquired strength, he promised that no one would be able to mock him and slither away without disciplinary action. On Earth, the commanding officers may have dishonoured and humiliated his battalion with no retaliation despite his brethren's bravery and sacrifices, but the situation had changed since then. Now he controlled the whip and would decide who to lash out on.

"I am not doubting your capacity to decimate my men, Lord Reith. Oh, the guards informed me," he added at Reith's reaction. "For no other reason did I halt the execution. Though it's my oath and honour to shield the families behind the walls, I value my men's lives more. There's no need for inconsiderate slaughter. And forgive my bluntness, but it irks me that you're still discrediting the soldiers of the Empire."

At the same time as Reith opened his mouth to counter, a translucent blast erupted from within the man. A voiceless yet turbulent teardrop of magyk which wrapped around him. While the tender flame couldn't match the taller Reith's wildness, it was significant enough to indicate that a confrontation wouldn't be as smooth as he originally envisioned. Lost for words, Reith refixed the chair as it had tumbled as he arose in hysteria, and relaxed. After a few minor victories in battles and he had already ended up overestimating his strength. Almost replicating what had cremated him in the first place.

"Humans may lack in strength where beasts excel, but our ingenuity to circumvent our disabilities is second to none. Consider this information the beginning of a mutually beneficial alliance." Gawain beamed at Reith's bewildered mind. That despicable man must've relished the play. It was intolerable, and Reith almost succumbed to his bloodlust.

Yarrow leapt onto the table and snarled at Gawain, who toppled over his chair in sudden fright as he reeled against the wall, the agility unfit for a man of his years. The direwolf pursued close on his tail, she growled low and snapped as he reached for his desk, then swiftly retrieved his hand.

"Insignificant banter, my lord. Just ill japes, my lord!"

"Worry not, Lord Gawain," Reith said, his emotions suddenly in check at the sight of the miserable man. "She won't act without my command," he reassured, but what he left unsaid was, Most of the time.

Truth be told, the direwolf had not yet recognised Reith as her master but accompanied merely because of the faint string that bound them together. Not that he complained since he'd rescued her for no other reason than to pay the price of the sin he'd committed with his former hound.

"Yarrow, I believe he's suffered enough." The direwolf cocked her head at the command, then jovially sauntered back to the fireplace as if nothing happened. Reith queried if she would ever become starved or if she could endure without sustenance as an undead like himself. Another thing to look into in the future.

Brushing off invisible specks of dust, Gawain sighed and seated himself at the table, a little further from the hearth this time. He dropped the quill in ink, then formed elegant characters on the parchment, written in a language unknown to Reith. Strangely he noticed himself more at peace knowing that not everything was in English. Almost like proof that this wasn't just a mad fantasy, but a wholly new world. After all, it was uncanny enough that these people communicated in English, but the whole world?

"It's past time you informed me about this arrangement of yours," Reith said, curious about how beneficial an alliance would be. The man had yet to introduce himself and his connections properly.

Gawain continued to write for a couple seconds, then paused and set down the quill. He folded his fingers and said, "You're quite right, my lord. The arrangement in mind is related to your occupancy within the territory of the Empire. You see, it would be a transgression to allow other species but humankind to roam freely in our borders, and that is why I cannot let you past. Nevertheless, this can be bypassed, should you join our house." Gawain did not withdraw as Reith's empty sockets stared long and hard into his cold, blue eyes. Reith was startled... over and over again. Grown exhausted by then too.

Finally, Reith said, "You expect me to accept without knowing you or what entering a house involves? I deemed you smarter than this, lord Gawain."

Gawain chugged the remains in the mug before resuming. "Hear me first, lord. I am Eoren Gawain and a member of house Maryen. Our house deals with matters that others find sensitive, and that is expeditions beyond the safety of the walls."

Even if Reith couldn't understand what that meant, it sounded intriguing, and so he listened intently.

"You're a rational individual, Lord Reith, and I entrust you with the secret that this task was relegated by the Emperor himself. But to speak bluntly, the house is crumbling. It is far from an easy a feat as the Red March and farther beyond are teeming with abominations that transcend your average adventurer. Our forces number less than a thousand now; five hundred in the vanguard company, three hundred scattered throughout the walls, and the rest buried in the turmoil of the Empire. We are left no choice but to contract powerful creatures like yourself, my lord."

An obstinate silence followed as Reith contemplated the options in front of him. Although it was likely that lies had been mingled with the truths, it was a gamble to traverse in unknown territory while the enemies' strength remained a mystery. On the other hand, if he were to join the military, a vast reservoir of new skills to acquire would be imparted to him, along with the knowledge of experienced units! It was a proposal too perfect to be true.

Reith studied the man for any hints of concern. A stern face, eyes locked onto his, and shoulders relaxed. Unlike the swordsmen by the doorway, Gawain emitted a sour smell, one unfamiliar to Reith. Not that he knew many more than courage and fear.

In the end, Reith threw the dice. "I accept your proposition."