In a small, relatively peaceful domain in the northern reaches of the continent of Hesperia, bunched and huddled against the unscalable peaks of the Spine, a mountain range that stretched from ocean to ocean, east to west, wedged next to the only known pass through the impenetrable mountains lay the self-styled Duchy of Nauders.

In times long past, times barely remembered, Nauders was a strong nation, stretching its influence down what they called "The Great Mother River", founding the cities of Tannit, Begierde, and finally the coastal city of Einsamkeit. As political reach and influence waned, the cities of Tannit, Begierde, and Einsamkeit were eventually left to their own devices.

Nauders was not a nation that was founded on expansion, it was founded as a guard against whatever might slip through the pass from the forbidding reaches of the arboreal north and into the rest of the world. Monstrous Ice Spiders, the freakishly misshapen Voormis, other horrors too deadly, too dangerous to whisper their names aloud, and of course, the half-mad army of the Northern Avalanche.

The people of Nauders itself didn't think of themselves as belonging to a nation. They were part of the land, and the land was a part of them. But through countless centuries, those born to the White House, those born with milk-white skin, colorless hair, and eyes like sapphires or rubies provided comfort to the dying, healing to the sick, advice to the confused, guidance to those who were lost.

They weren't leaders in a traditional sense, but when the Anglish Empire marched into their lands and demanded to speak to whoever was in charge, The White House was suddenly offered up. Lines on a map were drawn up, agreements and accords were signed, borders agreed upon, and quite suddenly Nauders became a 'Duchy', and whomever held the authority of the White House sat on a throne (something they made mockery of quite often) and was burdened with the title of 'Duke' or 'Duchess'.

Every year, the peoples of Nauders took up their weapons and marched to Timwaite pass in grim vigil against the half-giants of the Northern Avalanche. It was both tradition and necessity that drove them to do it, though no effort had ever been made to solidify any sort of hold on the northern edge of the Spine. The North was forbidden, though no one could quite explain why. Only one had slipped through Timwaite Pass and travelled to the north and returned, and he was named both Betrayer and Liberator; for it was he who revealed the false gods for what they were.

Thus was the shape of the history of Nauders. Now, for the first time, Nauders seemed on the brink of something it hadn’t come to grasp, yet: civil war.

*****

“Da-Daveth,” Aldric panted up at him, face covered in sweat. The sky was green, and ash floated on the air like snow. An errant sword had grazed the side of his head, a flap of skin dangled obscenely as blood sheeted down the side of Aldric’s head. “Get them out,” he panted, faint from blood loss. “Please, you have to promise me that you’ll get them all out-” he choked and spat blood all over the half-giant.

Blasphemies to horrid to look at screeched and taunted them, just beyond range of the archers.

*****

He snapped awake as he bolted from his cot, his hand was already around their throat, with the other he slapped their weapon away; he’d already lifted them up off the ground with his phenomenal strength, all he had to do was squeeze-

Even distorted by his massive hands, even in the dim light of the early morning, he recognized the face of his elven scout, Audra. Ice cascaded down his spine in shock, his hands flew open and Audra hit the ground coughing and retching.

“Fucking-” Daveth began, but he couldn’t gather his thoughts. The nightmare, the horrible feeling that Aldric might’ve died in his arms, begging and pleading for him to lead the Seventh Seal back-

Back where?

And then Audra, back after being gone for so long, sneaking into his tent-

Daveth stared at his hands.

“Home. He wanted me to get them home.” Daveth said dully, and scrubbed his face. Fucking nightmares, again. “Let dreams stay in the realm of dreams.” He repeated to himself in his mother’s language, over and over again, like a mantra.

“What’s that you’re saying, Commander?” Audra peered up at him quizzically while rubbing her throat.

He blinked, and focused his attention on the elven woman in front of him.

“Audra.” He finally acknowledged. He looked at his hands again, and then back to her. “You probably shouldn’t-” He stopped, and lowered his hands. “Where the fuck have you been?”

“Out there.” Audra jerked a thumb over her shoulder. “Here and there. Mostly there, but now I’m here.” She offered, and then gave him a lopsided smile. “You should know that. After all, you sent me out there.”

“Fucking-” he started, but she held up her hand in a forestalling gesture.

“I’ve got the maps you wanted, Commander. Also some very interesting things.”

Daveth blew out a breath and entertained the thought of finding out just exactly how far he could throw the elven woman.

“Why didn’t you knock? Why didn’t you do something to wake me up before-”

She looked up at him silently, wordlessly.

Daveth let out another breath, and sat down on the desk that had come with the tent. The wood groaned under his weight, but he ignored it.

“So talk. Tell me what you know.”

Audra rolled to her feet and picked up her satchel from where it’d flown across the tent.

“First, the maps.” She offered him some rolls of parchment. He slipped off the desk and spread them out. She’d done a fantastic job. The place she’d been sent to map was riddled with caves. There were several that appeared large enough to contain entire villages. Three were marked with several symbols, one of which he recognized.

“The Carrion Crows.” He muttered.

“Yep. That’s one of three groups that’re holed up there.” Audra offered. “Can you tell the others?”

He shook his head. “No clue.” He eyed her warily. “Would you tell me if you knew?” He asked curiously, and she grinned at him.

“I would if you apologized. Think you nearly broke my neck.” She offered, and Daveth shrugged uneasily.

“I’m not certain you don’t deserve it. You could have knocked.” He offered defensively.

Audra eyed him contemplatively. “Fair. I could have knocked.” She reached into her satchel and pulled out a scrap of green cloth and tossed it at him. He caught it, and spread it out. Stitched in black thread was a two-headed snake.

“They call themselves ‘The Fangs of the Serpent’.” explained. “They’re a reputable company out of Tannit.”

Daveth rolled his eyes cynically at that. “By that definition so are the Carrion Crows.” He muttered, but he scrutinized the badge anyway. Something tugged at his mind but he couldn’t place it, and the harder he chased whatever thread of memory tugged at him from the emblem, the more it meant nothing to him.

“They’ve done work for Blackwall, Toledo, Philippa, and Angland.” She offered. “They’re only second to the Radiant Sons.”

“How many?” He asked.

“A thousand, give or take.” She offered, and Daveth crumpled the badge in his fist.

“And the other?” He asked.

She shrugged. “They didn’t give a name or a sigil I could find.” She replied. “But we should tell the Captain.”

Daveth nodded. “Let’s go tell the Captain.”

He helped her to her feet, at which point she asked him, “What’re ‘granaries’?”

“You’ve seen granaries before in Andersnacht. Big round things that hold grain after the harvest. Why?”

“Oh, okay.” She nodded thoughtfully. “I heard some guy talking about them, is all. I’m from a mountain town, you know. We don’t have those sorts of things.”

Daveth nodded in understanding as they moved across the camp to Aldric’s tent.

*****

Aldric eyed the badge speculatively, his face inscrutable. He opened his mouth to speak, spotted Audra behind Daveth, and closed his mouth.

“Audra, I want you to haul out the archery butts and have everyone drill at one hundred meters for the next hour.” Aldric ordered. “Afterward, I’ll want to talk to you more about what you saw.” He waved the badge at her for emphasis.

Audra looked from Daveth to Aldric and back as if she wanted to raise a protest, but nodded, popped off a snappy salute and left.

“What is it?” Daveth asked after Audra was gone.

Aldric tossed the scrap of green cloth on his table.

“You ever think about what you’d like to do when this is all over?” Aldric asked.

“What kind of question is that?” Daveth asked, baffled. “Either I’ll die in one of your hare-brained schemes or I’ll-” He stopped, suddenly unable to answer.

“I’m forty years old, Daveth. I’ve been at this mercenary business since I was twenty-five. I can’t do this forever.” Aldric replied.

“So... what, you going to retire? Pull a ‘lord’ Ulric and set yourself up with an estate and plop out a litter?” Daveth derided.

“It’s not such a bad life, having an estate. A family.” Aldric muttered to himself, and picked up the sigil on the scrap of cloth. “You remember what this is, right?”

“It’s a two-headed snake.” Daveth replied, and shrugged. “I don’t recognize the sigil.”

“You’re an idiot, then.” Aldric remarked shortly. “One of the first things I warned you about after I made you my commander.” He levered himself up from the table. “Brandy?”

“Fine.” Daveth waved his hand, and Aldric chuckled and poured a tot for the both of them. He handed Daveth his cup and toasted the sigil. “I said, ‘look out for a two-headed snake on a field of green’.” Aldric took a swallow of brandy. “Asshole cost me my estates, but I got even.” Aldric explained abruptly. “He’s just as fucked as we are, forced to wander the dirt looking for fights that nobody else wants.”

“He an asshole?” Daveth asked, eyeing Aldric carefully.

“As much of an asshole as you or I.” Aldric replied, his eyes never leaving the sigil. A hungry sort of look eclipsed his features.

“So we’ll do for him.” Daveth offered, and Aldric laughed nastily.

“By al the old Gods and Goddesses I certainly fucking hope so.” He tore his eyes away from the badge. “I’ve heard from little ‘Thea how you like to torment her. I want that to stop. She’s one of the client’s family. Business is business.”

Daveth frowned at Aldric. “This is bullshit, you know. Flying their colors, letting their troops mix with ours.” He paused. “They’re not even real fighters. They’re a jumped up militia. I don’t have to put up with this bullshit-”

“Yes you do.” Aldric confided. “You’ll fly their colors, you’ll sing and dance for them if the job requires it. We took their coin.”

“That doesn’t mean-” Daveth argued, but Aldric waved his hand.

“Stop. First warning, you’re being insubordinate. You wanna take a flogging as well?” Aldric warned.

“Aldric, I’m saying they’re being unreasonable.” Daverth switched tracks smoothly. “We’ve taken their coin, but that doesn’t mean we have to give up our-”

“For now it does.” Aldric interrupted him again. “In order to do our job we need the whole of the Seventh Seal in the cities. If that means dressing our men in their uniforms and flying their colors, then so be it. You seem to think that we’re autonomous.”

“...I don’t know what that means.” Daveth reluctantly admitted. Aldric choked back a snort.

“You seem to think that we get to do what we want,” Aldric stated by way of explanation, “and that’s actually wrong.”

“No, we pretty much get to do-” Daveth argued, and Aldric barked a nasty laugh and combed his beard with his fingertips.

“No self-respecting city or country will let a band of mercenaries into their borders. Mercenaries are criminals, thieves, murderers, rapists, and monsters.”

“The Seventh Seal isn’t-”

“I recruited you from the gallows, Daveth. What were they going to hang you for?” Aldric asked rhetorically, and Daveth bit his lip. He’d beaten two men to death and destroyed three houses. It didn’t matter that it was in self-defense, or that he’d been in the grips of one of his infamous black rages; a crime was a crime.

“We park on the edge of a city and we sell our skills. Sometimes that means we have to put up with things we don’t like. That’s the price.”

He glanced over at Daveth. “We’ve got our plates full, it seems. Someone wants to start a civil war in Nauders, there are Carrion Crows raiding inside of Nauders’ border, and someone had the utter gall to recruit the Fangs of the Serpent. Things are looking better and better.” His sarcasm and frustration were palpable. “But don’t go fucking with Dorothea, Daveth. Her family is our client. Protect her, watch out for her, listen to her. You don’t have to bow and scrape for her, but,” he paused and chuckled, “no more buckets. Got it?”

Daveth nodded.

“Good. I had to do a lot of negotiating to get the Duchess to allow the full might of the Seventh Seal into Nauders. Part of that means wearing their uniforms, flying their colors. Part of that means we have to deal with chaperones. But that also means we should be able to dig a little deeper. Did Morden find out anything with the guy you had him tail?” He asked, suddenly switching topics.

Daveth shook his head. “The guy went home, ate a meal with his family, and went to bed. Morden riffled through the man’s things when he was away, and there wasn’t anything that linked him to anything. The guy’s a potato farmer.”

Aldric pointed at Daveth. “Why would a potato farmer just arbitrarily start speaking about decrees and edicts? He probably can’t even read.”

“Thought of that, too.” Daveth offered. “I thought he was bought and paid for, but nobody’s seen fit to scoop him up. Nobody’s made contact with him at all.”

“Dead end.” Aldric mused. “Someone to be used and discarded. I imagine there’ll be more of those in every city. I’d like to catch one of those dead ends closer to one of the main cities. I’m betting-” He paused, and then sighed. “I’m hoping that someone closer to one of the main cities will be able to tell us something. I want you out patrolling with Dorothea again. See if you can’t catch one of these assholes alive and reel them in. Hopefully someone with more wits about them than a potato farmer.”

His gaze flicked to Daveth. “What happened with our spud-chucker?”

Daveth snorted. “Got kicked in the chest by one of his mules and broke a rib. He’s out of it.”

“It wasn’t Morden, right?” Aldric asked.

“Nope.” Daveth answered immediately. Aldric nodded. “Send in Audra on your way out. I want to have a look at the maps she drew us.”

*****

“Where to today?” Dorothea asked, falling in beside Daveth.

“I think I want to ride out and have a look at Timwaite Pass.” Daveth replied, waving down a soldier and passing an order murmured in a low voice. The officer nodded and headed off in a different direction than he was originally heading.

“I don’t think that would be such a good idea, Commander.” Dorothea warned, her voice heating.

“Tell me why not.” Daveth challenged.

She gave him a bewildered look. “Because we hunt giants there. The fortress that guards the pass likely has no idea you’re in the city by special dispensation.”

“Special what?” Daveth asked, as the soldier returned, leading the biggest horse Dorothea had ever seen. Daveth swung into the saddle with ease. “Well? You coming? Someone’s got to send warning to that fortress.”

“I should let them cut you down, Hymir-kin.” She spat vehemently.

“I’ve no clue the fuck that is.” Daveth replied. “Is that an insult?”

She rolled her eyes. “You really don’t know?”

He shook his head. “Nope. Don’t know.”

He waited while she retrieved her horse, and they headed out.

“Hymir are the real giants. They live in the Forbidden North alongside all sorts of other blasphemies. The Northern Avalanche were birthed from the union of Hymir and humans.” She invested the last with disgust and revulsion. Daveth briefly recalled Ferris, the wolf-woman that was fucking a wolf, and shuddered. He could understand that sort of revulsion.

“All Half-giants are all spawned from the Hymir.” She remarked, cutting her eyes towards Daveth accusingly.

Daveth clenched his massive fists until his knuckles popped as he tried to rein in the dull fury that started to burn within him.

His mother had been an unassuming woman, surprisingly erudite and educated, despite being a mere barmaid, and his father had likewise been a perfectly ordinary clerk in the mayor’s manor of the town Daveth had lived in. To call him a monstrosity invoked his fury.

“One warning, and one warning only:” Daveth stated warningly, loudly enough that the other soldiers in the camp stopped what they were doing to take notice, “You insult my parentage one more time, and I swear by the Nameless Stone that I will beat you to death with your own horse.”

His glare was hot and savage, and Dorothea flinched away from it, but Daveth forced his horse against hers and lifted her partway out of her saddle with one massive fist. “Word one drops from your lips and you die, and Void take the consequences. I will make a pile of your family’s corpses to get to you.” He let her go, dropping her into her saddle.

“Now.” He began, trying force his tone into something civil, “I would like to see the Timwaite Pass that’s often spoke of all sorts of legends up and down the Merchant cities. I don’t have to go into the pass, I just want to see it with my own eyes.” He took a breath. “Can that be arranged?”

She nodded once, not trusting herself to speak.

*****

For all its stories history, Timwaite Pass was surprisingly disappointing; A simple cleft between two massive, glacier-topped peaks. The southern opening was guarded with ancient fortresses carved into the mountainsides themselves. Everything was draped in a white curtain of snow. The peaks themselves were massive, majestic things, but the pass itself was ordinary.

“I sort of thought that it would be... bigger.” He mused thoughtfully. He gestured at the fortresses. “I bet that between the two of them you could hit just about anything that passed between them.”

Dorothea nodded at that. “We keep a year-round vigil of course, but it’s important to watch over the pass in the wintertime. The things that live beyond are especially active in the wintertime.”

Daveth nodded. “I wonder why winter, specifically.” He murmured.

“The things beyond the Pass worship the Void, Commander. They embrace the Long Night as the inevitability of all things. Winter is their herald.”

Daveth glanced around himself with a frown, and then looked up at a small cliffside.

“...give me a moment.” He ordered, and urged his horse up the steep slope, his massive horse kicking down a shower of scree and small stones as he scaled the short cliff.

There was a tickle at the edge of Daveth’s consciousness, a sense of being watched. Daveth let out a bitterly petulant sigh, and dismounted, giving Growler an affectionate pat.

He eyed his surroundings carefully, noting the lichen-covered rocks, the few thin stands of trees here and there, the remnants of a light but freezing snowfall the night before tucked in the cracks and crevices of the stones where the autumn sun never quite reached.

Without understanding what he was doing or why, he approached a collection of boulders and as he did, he just knew what was waiting for him.

“Eleven.” He stated flatly, unimpressed and unsurprised.

One of the boulders crumbled away, tiny pebbles cascading in a small avalanche around her tiny feet. She wore the same grayish tattered tunic, had the same wild eyes, but at least this time she wasn’t wearing antlers.

She looked up at him, an inscrutable expression on her face, and then greeted him the same way she always had.

“So now a year has passed since you wandered upon my road. Thus without malice or harm you must pay the toll; a story must be told.”

Daveth gave her a put-upon look. “It’s been less than a year.” he observed, and she nodded.

“Even if the words themselves have no meaning, the form itself does.” she replied.

Daveth frowned at her cryptic reply. “What do you want, Eleven?” He asked, a note of frustration in his voice.

She took a few dancing steps towards him, her tattered dress fluttering in the crisp air of the Nauders highlands.

“The same as always. A story. You have one, don’t you?”

Still, Daveth settled his feet and folded his arms across his chest stubbornly. “Why?” He asked, and she laughed. Her laugh was a little too exuberant, a little too savage, as if whatever lurked beneath the surface of her wild beauty hadn’t quite figured out how to act like a person.

“Because you’re interesting to me, Daveth.” She replied, and then adopted his pose, arms folded across her chest, a look of surly petulance on her face.

Daveth sighed, and told her about the bad death of Jonan.

“That was not the way a warrior of his caliber should have passed.” She replied in consolation when he was finished. Strangely, he believed condolences were genuine.

Daveth agreed. “He should have died a warrior’s death.” he replied.

“In a way, he did.” She muttered. “He protected you to the end, did he not?” She offered.

His mouth twisted at that. What were his last words? Find the others. If they hadn’t acted as quickly as they did the whole of the Seventh Seal would have become a walking seedbed for those horrific creatures. To the end, Jonan had done his best to protect those around him.

“Still, his protector was the Fox, and she’s ever been a fickle one.” Eleven complained, and shrugged her shoulders.

“Fox? What?” Daveth asked, baffled.

Eleven shook her head. “It’s not for me to interfere.” She replied easily.

A long moment of silence passed between them.

“Well?”’ Daveth interrupted the thin whistle of the winds that scaled down from the Spine.

“Hmm?” Eleven asked, looking up at him.

“‘A coin for a meal, a meal for a coin’.” he prompted. Her eyes lit up.

“Ah! You remembered!” she exclaimed and clapped her hands happily. “I have some things that will suit your tastes perfectly.” She exclaimed, and then produced an ingot of metal from somewhere in her robes and proffered it to him.

He took it, and eyed it with a speculative frown. “Steel?” He asked, and she nodded. “I think it will become very useful to you in the future.”

He gave it a baffled look and tucked it behind his belt. When he turned back to her, she was holding a sword, the likes of which he’d never seen before. It was nearly as long as he was tall, silvery, and the fuller was studded with cabochon sapphires.

“Ancient secrets lurking in the halls of silence. Uninvited vermin, scratching at the walls to gain purchase.” she muttered cryptically, studying the blade with a pensive look. She looked up at him. “I can’t make you choose, but I hope that when you do, you choose well, Daveth.”

As he lifted the blade from her hands he blinked at its weight. He’d anticipated something much heavier for its size. When he looked back, Eleven was gone, her presence gone, as if she’d never been there in the first place.

He heaved a sigh and loosened the pouch he’d received from her and slid the massive sword inside. It disappeared without a trace alongside the myriad of weapons he’d stashed inside.

He moved to remount his horse, and picked up a pair of leather backpacks that, after a careful examination, seemed to be made of the same material as the magical pouch she’d given him months previous, on the Tiba peninsula.

“What do you want from me?” He muttered with exasperated frustration, typing the bags to his horse. He swung into the saddle, and urged his horse down the slope to where Dorothea waited.

*****

“Why did you show up at the palace armed?” Dorothea asked Daveth as they idled through the merchant district of the capital.

Daveth shrugged, lifting his hands to the sky.

“It’s an ancient custom of my people.” Daveth replied loftily. “Outsiders wouldn’t understand.” He offered with a hint of mockery.

“That’s obviously bullshit.” Dorothea replied, to which Daveth replied with a nod.

“Then why?” She asked.

Daveth held out his hands in front of him and contemplated them as they walked. “You fuckers-” He started, and then stopped. “You people hunt giants. I grew up far southwest of here in a no-name logging village that’d take you half a year to get to with a good horse, but it doesn’t matter to you. A giant is a giant, whether it’s from the Northern Avalanche or somewhere else.”

He scratched his beard thoughtfully. “If I had to put a feeling to it, I think I’d say.... An open declaration of war.”

Dorothea looked up at him and scrutinized him carefully.

“A declaration of war, you say?” She said, repeating his words. He nodded.

“That’s more lies, isn’t it?” She asked, and he gave her a lopsided grin in return. It seemed as if she wouldn’t be getting a clear answer out of him today.

“Where I’m from is real enough.” He replied. “It’s a logging village.”

“How did giants get so far south?” Dorothea wondered. “We always repel them at the Pass.”

Daveth shrugged noncommittally. “I don’t fucking know.”

“That’s another lie, isn’t it?” She replied, as Daveth eyed the marketplace.

Suddenly it occurred to her that he wasn’t actually paying attention to her at all. His attention was focused elsewhere.

“What is it?” She asked, glancing around the area. They’d slowly migrated from the marketplace to the merchant’s area, which was filled with warehouses, granaries, and cold-storage facilities for the preservation of meat.

“Don’t know. Something seems off to me, though. Can’t put my finger on it.” Daveth replied curtly. “You live here; what’s wrong with this?” He gestured around.

Dorothea blinked, but scanned the area they were walking through carefully. People were moving wagons full of stock up and down the streets, laborers were hauling sacks of goods into or out of their storage spaces.

“I don’t- what do you expect me to see?” She asked truculently.

He gave her a frustrated look of irritation. “I swear to fuck you’re useless.” He cursed under his breath, and hoped that there were other members of the Seal nearby. There was nothing that stood out immediately like a red flag, and yet there was a feeling, a sense of incipient violence.