The air tasted crisp and sharp as Frolick breathed in, passing over an enormous frost-stricken drawbridge. It creaked under Molly's steps, her elephantine hooves testing the strength of the wooden crossing.

Below the travelers flowed a moat filled with the water as clean as the purest spring. It was so clear that Frolick could make out the minute details of the rocks lining the bottom of the man-made trench. A small stream flowed into the moat, seeping water from the River Tempus, which was situated less than a half-mile away from Hailstone Keep.

So this was Hailstone Keep, huh? Frolick gazed around with wide eyes as he took in the sights. The buildings were surprisingly...normal.

Truth be told, Frolick wasn't exactly sure what he'd expected to see—perhaps he'd expected a skyline with icy spires, buildings made of translucent ice, and walls shimmering with prismatic colors. This place certainly wasn't that, nor anything else that was out-of-the-ordinary. It was quite a bit colder than any place he'd ever been to before. Not that he was an avid traveler by any means.

In spite of that, there was one particular element of Hailstone Keep that Frolick couldn't quite put his finger on. He felt at home here but wasn't sure why. After gazing about for several minutes, he finally decided that it had to be the high-quality presentation of the place.

Every aspect of the city looked as if it was cared for and nurtured to perfection. Not perfection in the artificial sense like mass-produced trinkets. No, this place looked like it was cared for the way his mother cared for their home—with the utmost love and dedication.

The cobblestone path they trodded upon cut through the town along orderly stone pathways. The road looked as if it were laid down by a skilled artisan with no stone out-of-place. The homes were well-groomed and organized without excess rubble. Even the guards of the city wore armor that looked like it was forged with the quality and dedication of his father.

That must be it, Frolick decided.

He recognized why he felt at home. The order and quality of the place reflected the same type of care and high standards that he experienced growing up.

Interesting.

It was odd how he associated that with homeliness, but perhaps he'd always taken his parents' attention for detail for granted. His dad was a Frostmarked, after all. Frost powers worked best when one had an intimate understanding of a thing, usually best achieved by creating high-quality constructions of it. His dad was a highly-skilled craftsman. This attention-to-detail translated into other parts of his life as well.

And his mom, was, well, his mom. She poured herself into raising her children and creating a cheerful atmosphere at home. Frostmarked or not, she gave herself to her work in the home with love and affection, which meant her children were well-taken care of.

"This is quite a remarkable place if I do say so myself," Frolick said. Every inch of the city reminded him of home. It was so ordinary and so livable. "I'm sold. Going to buy a house and raise my kid here."

He still wore a strap that held the sleeping child close to his chest. Every other traveler had tried holding the baby, but the child seemed to only be truly at ease when with Frolick for some reason. So, he acquiesced.

"Finally attached, are you?" Frost said. "He certainly seems to be taking to you."

"Well," Frolick said. "Can't say I won't miss the little fella. But, as I said, he's probably better off with a real home in the end." Frolick drooped his head and took a long look at the sleeping baby.

"Hopefully, we sort everything out soon enough," Frost said.

"Hey, where are we going anyway?" Frolick asked, peering down from on top of Molly.

Quartus walked calmly, chatting with a few of the guards who were escorting the group. They seemed to reverence Quartus and take his instructions.

In the meantime, bystanders gawked. Frolick wasn't sure if they were looking at him or Molly and the muskoxen. Surely they'll have seen plenty of animals up north? But then again, it may be the smell. By now, Frolick had learned to ignore it.

Frost tilted his head. "Quartus is arranging us to have lodgings for the evening."

"Oh, nice," Frolick said. "Hope I can get me a free meal with that. Don't get me wrong, love wild game, but a nice pot of hot stew every once in a while is not a bad thing."

"He said we're going to a place called the Woolly Rhino Inn," Frost said.

"Hope he knows we don't have any money," Frolick said. "Not sure if they would even take Capscatian crookles, but I ain't got any if they do."

"He offered to pay," Frost said, grinning.

"Well, even better," Frolick said, grinning. "Mighty generous of him. Hope he's rich because I will be feasting like a king."

Frost rolled his eyes.

...

Frost and Frolick sat across from one another at a table in the corner of the Woolly Rhino Inn. Their hair and skin were still moist from their warm baths. It had taken over an hour of scrubbing to remove the scent of the muskoxen, and even still, they weren't quite sure if it was completely gone given that they had grown so accustomed to it.

A fire flickered in the hearth, heating the entire dining room on the first floor of the building. The child slept soundly in a wooden infant rocker provided by the inn owner's wife, whose own children were fully grown.

Frost sipped hot stew from a metal spoon. The soup contained caribou meat mixed with carrots, mushrooms, and potatoes boiled in a salty broth. It sizzled in his mouth. The meal was so delicious that he had a hard time keeping himself from slopping it down like a madman. But what were a few stray slurps? It had been a long time since he'd had a meal like this. Salmon and bear were good and all, but then again, so was home-cooked stew.

"I can see you two are hungry as wolves," the serving woman said, carrying two cups of hot cider to accompany their meal.

"This is good stew," Frost said, scarfing down the food. "Sorry, it's just been a long journey for us."

"Oh, I don't mind," the woman said. "We get mostly rough types from up north visiting our inn. Trappers from the bush looking to trade their wares in Hailstone. But your accent is foreign," the woman said. "Capscatian?"

"Right you are," Frolick said, grinning as he grasped the hot mug of cider between his hands. It was warm to the touch.

"Don't get many visitors from that far away," the woman said. She looked to be in her early twenties with jet black hair and a curved, plump frame. "I'm Garika, pleased to meet you. My parents own this inn. That's a sweet child you have there. May I ask where his mom is?"

"She, unfortunately, didn't make it," Frost said, lowering his eyes. "The Flintlock are ruthless."

"Oh," Garika said, her voice turning somber. "Sorry to hear that. I heard there were many deaths. Word travels fast in this establishment."

"We're just watching him until we can find his relatives," Frolick said. He slowly sipped the sugary liquid. The drink was scalding hot.

"Well," Garika said, her eyes fluttering. She brushed her hands nervously against her plain apron. "That's awfully sweet of you."

"Child only sleeps when he's with my brother," Frost said, shrugging. "So we're watching him for now."

"If there's anything I can do, let me know," Garika said, nodding. "The Woolly Rhino is lucky to have such esteemed guests."

"Esteemed?" Frolick said. "I mean, of course, yes, we are very distinguished visitors from Capscatia, we are." He puffed up his chest as he spoke.

"I mean," Garika said. "I also came to give you this." She removed a rolled-up scroll from her pocket. It was closed shut by a frost seal. The seal was stamped with a snowflake emblem. It was a six-sided star with geometric patterns along each vertex.

Frost's eyes lit up as he took the scroll. Removing the seal, he began to unfurl the paper. The parchment crinkled in his hands as he flattened it out.

"It's the king's seal," Garika said, whispering. She covered her mouth with her hands as she spoke.

Frolick's jaw dropped. "The king? Of Hailstone Keep. I mean, of course, yes. The king is finally seeking us out. It's about time."

Garika nodded. "I'm curious as to what it says?"

"It's a royal summons," Frost said, perusing the note. "We are asked to pay a visit to the Royal Throne Room of Hailstone Keep at noon tomorrow."

"Wow," Frolick said. "That sounds like quite an honor. For two fellows who ain't got a dime to their name no less. I mean, oh, never mind." He shook his head, no longer able to keep up the ruse.

Garika's eyes widened. "The king himself wants to see you both. Who are you? What business are you on here?"

"We're nobodies," Frolick said. "Well, my brother here has got frost powers and all but, you know, that's a dime a dozen in these parts."

"Frolick," Frost said, pointing at the bottom of the scroll. "That can't be right."

"What can't be?" Garika said, peering over their shoulders.

The bottom was stamped again with the royal seal and signed in an elegant cursive script.

In your debt,

King Quartus

Frolick nearly jumped out of his seat, knocking over the mug of cider. The ceramic mug stayed intact, but the hot liquid began pooling on the wooden floor of the inn.

"Oh, don't worry," Garika said. "I'll clean it up." She rushed to the back of the inn to retrieve towels.

Frost and Frolick looked at each other with wide eyes.

"I think I finally understand," Frost said. "Why Quartus could frost form an entire city."

Frolick scratched his head. "I reckon only a king would have built one before."