Sunlight reflected off the snowy plains of the horizon. Magus stood atop the walls and watched its glint, mesmerized by both the beauty and mystique of its nature.

A whole month has passed since the castle went into uproar. Duke Viktor Anworth of Jaetia passed away not even a full day after his own son. Since the funeral of them both took place at the same time only nobles and some of the servants could spot the unusual timing. For the commoners it was merely a ruined occasion because their planned week-long festival of Vita’s eve – the new year – turned into a two-week mourning of their overlord instead.

While for the simpleminded the fact that their Lord has died didn’t mean a lot, for those that had noble blood, or were particularly rich, it meant everything. After all, today was the coronation of Margareth Anworth, the soon-to-be Duchess of Jaetia. She was a world-class beauty and, most importantly, an unmarried Lady to whom immense power will be officially granted this day.

About two weeks ago, right as the mourning ended and the banners got taken down, an envoy of the King Gauthier Boffrand of Saunier came. He was here to approve the contents of the letter and to convey condolences from the royal family. Of course when he found out that the Duke was already dead he hurried to return to the capital only to come back here two days ago with a legitimizing letter, congratulatory message and an invitation to the royal palace. This was unexpected and quite a bother, thus no answer was given yet. The envoy remained as he waited for the answer, which Magus already had passed over to Iphis.

While she definitely wasn’t a Duchess yet, she, with her overwhelming charisma and grace, managed to preserve the full loyalty and authority of Viktor’s former subordinates. The undead wasn’t sure whether she relied on her inhuman nature to put a leash on them, but whatever the case was it worked and that’s all that mattered. Magus was sure that this was the reason why the King approved of everything with ease. After all, by the time the envoy first came she already had all the power at hand.

This power Magus hogged like a glutton. First he ordered for various laws to be forcefully passed. Everything from meagre things like banning hunting, gathering and trespassing in the lands around Sommet to change of crucial crime law. The former’s reasoning was the looming goblin threat, at least on paper, while the latter wasn’t anything more than amendments to punishments.

Magus grinned under his new mask, one of steel, not silver or wood, as he looked down upon the miniscule housing and the ants in between. He was ruling them from the shadows while ‘Lady Margareth’ did nothing but bask in luxury. While one might feel overwhelmed by sudden influx of power, Magus was in fact content. This was his goal after all.

He could’ve become the heir without problem, but being in the limelight was disadvantageous in many ways. People would get suspicious, if not outright interested, of what lied under the mask. He could already see all the interactions he would be forced into. For a ruler to wear one was shameful if not outright rude, especially in presence of other nobility or even the King. And it wasn’t like he could shoot someone down if asked. A noble had to keep their name unsullied if they wanted to utilize the full extent of their privileges. Overall, it was better to have a scapegoat just in case and avoid all that hassle. More so for an undead whose face brought only terror and trauma.

His gaze moved away from the horizon and the city towards the movement near the castle gates. When his non-existent eyes settled, horns began blowing one after another in welcome of the convoy of carriages that stretched from the main gates of the city right up to the keep. Noble, shining warriors marched in a neat manner along those carriages, their armour seemingly lighting the path forwards. Every peasant jumped out of their way, intimidated by colourful decorations adorning their helms and hardened faces of the few veteran killers that had their visors open.

Having been recalled from Troe, all of them were here just to re-pledge their allegiance to their new Lord, and perhaps see if the rumours of her beauty were true or not. From the many warriors only knights, generals and other distinguished people were invited, thus many of the city’s taverns were packed full with soldiers of the lower ranks that had nothing to do up here in the castle.

Magus hurried down the stairs and into the courtyard. Most of the servants have gotten used to his sight and didn’t pay him too much attention anymore, focusing on their own tasks. The guests were different though. Although many of them already heard about the ‘Court Mage of Jaetia’, they still openly gawked at him, his demeanour, way of walking and clothing. The influential were evaluating while the mighty kept daring one another to go and talk to him. But no one did and in the end Magus simply crossed the courtyard and entered the keep.

Confidently, he walked through the hallways without stop, and peasants bowed to him, opened doors or moved out of his way. He was in complete control and couldn’t help but snicker at the experience and sight of grovelling humans. This was how it should’ve been right off the start.

After a long set of corridors and thin pathways he eventually reached a wooden stairway. He walked, if not ran, up, skipping a step or two from time to time, and without further ado opened the door that led into the study.

The sight of Iphis met his eyes.

If not for the long hair the undead could’ve mistaken her for a man as she was dressed unlike any noble woman he’s seen. A pure white tunic with a dark, leather waistcoat covered her top, though somewhat modified to suit her own taste and exhibit her womanly charm. She sat behind a table and Magus couldn’t see, but he imagined that no skirt covered her bottom.

Two undead guards lingered in the dark corners of the room where old stains from bookshelves remained. Magus only glanced at their shiny armour, generously gifted by the keep’s armoury, and focused on the two humans here. An old one stood by her side – Mannie, undead remembered his name – who was the chamberlain of House Anworth. The other was a human knight facing her.

“… then see to it,” said Iphis, not amazed by the sudden guest.

“Yes, my Lady.”

As the knight turned to leave, Magus noted the unusual determination in his deformed face, bringing back memories of their first encounter.

“Sir Pasco,” spoke Iphis again, stopping the knight midway through the door. “Do not let me down.”

“Yes, my Lady.”

There was a quiet pause as the door closed. Iphis looked up at Magus.

“What is it?” She rolled her eyes as she asked.

“Here to talk.”

Perhaps she anticipated this answer because when he finished her hand had already completed signing the documents and passing them over to Mannie. Her eyes rose to stare at the steel mask as the old human bound the papers together. He then bowed three times and turned to leave.

When Magus tried to read his face he realized how much practice he still needed – there was no way that the old man felt fear at this moment.

As soon as the door closed again, Iphis sighed in exhaustion and reclined in the soft chair.

“I need time off…”

“There’s nothing like that for a Duchess,” he sat down in front of her. “How are the preparations?”

“So-so.” The chair rocked backwards as she rested her legs on top of the table. Sure enough there was no skirt as breeches covered her legs. Thick leather shoes hid the view of her face, which Magus used to practice his reading skills. “Even with the quarries working overtime it will take five years at best.”

“That’s annoying,” he swatted her legs to the side.

She frowned and continued, “We will also need to hire talented masons and the like. It might empty our coffers.”

About three weeks ago Magus decided to move his temporary base closer so that he could continue with his experiments, but a problem soon arose – where would he move exactly? While the city was indeed big and had plenty of abandoned estate, such as the slums or the pauper district, there was no way to guarantee secrecy. If an experiment was to go wrong somehow, and, just as an example, a horde of undead escaped, or worse the guinea pigs got loose, it would be a catastrophe. Of course they could shift blame on someone else, but the fact that everything would be lost remained the same. Naturally, in the same way they couldn’t station guards or patrols as humans weren’t trusty to keep their mouths shut to begin with.

The conclusion he reached was Sommet. First, it was a deserted, ruined village where no one lived and no trade routes crossed. Second, it was close to the Pit, where Magus planned to eventually move to as well. Finally, there was plenty of space to build and expand if needed.

As per orders, a couple of warehouses were already built there and dozens of guards were stationed to guard it. That’s where Magus moved all of the materials, among other things, and even though it was a little away from Froset, it caused no problem for him to move back and forth as long as he used an undead horse. Because guards roamed that area now he wasn’t as free to do whatever, but in the worst case scenario information was gathered about them so that they could be easily silenced.

“Why do you want a castle there, anyway? It’s so expensive I doubt it’ll leave a positive impact for the region.”

Castles took time, resources, people, money and so on and so forth. Building them was worthwhile, if the location begged for it. Just the presence of such a fortification would make any wannabe criminals think twice and the solidness of stone walls intimidated even the strongest armies. Building one in the northern tundra was unheard of.

“We’ll need to find a master builder, though I already found a few candidates. Just so you know, a wooden one would take way less time, perhaps as fast as a year to be built,” she added.

“Are these your ideas – or that man’s?” He tapped the desk repeatedly. “No need to answer. To put it simply – wood rots. This base will be the staging ground for years, decades, to come. I need it to last.”

An undead being like himself had no lifespan and eradicating life was a time consuming task. Building a strong groundwork was critical for the plan’s success, so why not start from the very beginning? At least half of this Iphis should’ve understood, so why did she bother asking?

The undead knew that she was unfit to rule the realm, he was no better at the task as well. For this reason, he left the old man, Mannie, in his position as a chamberlain. He was old, experienced and lived along the previous Duke. There was no one better than him to teach Iphis all of the basics. A weak scapegoat wouldn’t work after all.

Though it seems that this plan backfired already. Is he too fit for this job or is it her that’s a genius? Too strong of a scapegoat won’t work…

He would need resources for the future, thus the realm must prosper so that he could use those fruits down the road. A castle was a valid investment, but…

With power comes contest…

“I see… But why the tundra?”

“Because that’s where I want it.” There was no need to tell her about the Pit. “How are the preparations for the coronation going?”

She sighed even louder than before.

“I’m so exhausted from all of this, it’s as if my head’s about to explode. . . The preparations are going smoothly. Many nobles and the like have gathered today, even those that were recalled from Troe.”

“Good, good. Use this chance to get on their good side.”

***

Midday bells rang throughout the city. Their chimes recalled people from their work and urged to look towards the grey keep that overlooked their tiny selves. Many didn’t think too much about the sight, but the thought of what was to come still managed to sprang up in some. They have not seen their new Lordess, much like the previous rulers before her. They did not know the true circumstances of her rising or the wickedness of the man in red. They only knew that she was a woman, a fact many scoffed at. It was unusual for women to rule. Men simply were too proud to follow them, even peasants. Soldiers in particular were rather hostile to the idea and couldn’t stop fantasizing about things even twisted people would find disturbing.

A dark rider strode through the street, ignoring ‘cock this’ and ‘cock that’ which came from the mouths of drunk idiots. While he as well did not like a woman’s reign, it was far better than a bloody squabble between the local lords for power. Jaetia was his liege’s, may God bless his soul, life’s work. He basically grew up serving the man and in turn put a decent amount of sweat of his own into the land. Not by farming, that was for churls, but by fighting, killing and dealing justice. He didn’t want it all to go to waste.

His horse whimpered and turned towards the keep. A week of running thoroughly exhausted the poor animal.

I should visit Sir Horm for maintenance. They know how to treat these animals with respect. Peasants can never compare to them.

When he reached the gates of the castle walls a young squire greeted him.

“Sir Sehne! Welcome back,” he bowed and put his arm on his chest.

“I’m back. Eager as always?”

Julius dismounted his horse and shook the hand of the kid.

“Yes, sir!”

“Anything new happened while I was gone?”

I guess there wouldn’t be.

“Ah, yes it has. The coronation ceremony was announced just as you left. It’s later today… As I figured, Sir did not know.”

This was surprising. Let alone him not knowing, the fact that the coronation will be held so soon was almost unheard of. Typically, it would take months, if not years, of silent reign after accession, only then would the heir hold an official ceremony. Naturally there were exceptions to this, but the current circumstances didn’t beg for such haste.

“That’s… surprising. I suppose I got back as good time as any.”

A black sheath was strapped to his horse - the reason he left in the first place. If he had failed to make it in time, Julius would not be able to bear the shame of failing the one and final task of Viktor Anworth, his dear friend and Lord.

“I shall hurry then, Benedek, – I hope you’re fine if I address you as such – but before that, how’s Sir Pasco?”

“He is as grumpy as ever, Sir. Though I suppose anyone would be after what he went through.”

“Mhm. Indeed,” Julius nodded. “Nonetheless, I’d rather die scarred than a coward. Keep your wits about you, Benedek.”

“You too, Sir. May the Goddess bless you.”

Julius passed the reigns to the young squire and hurried off towards the ever-so more daunting keep, sheath in hand.

As soon as he entered the main hall, the usual stench of food and ale met his sensitive nose. Knights of all backgrounds talked and drank, some even danced or excitedly re-enacted various encounters on the battlefield. They felt relaxed and happy to have finally found respite after long-winded marching throughout winter. Their sheer number showed the might of Jaetia, forcing a smile to form on his face.

Julius only glanced at the few of the most distinguished knights, not wanting to openly gawk or stop for pleasantries. But before he could even walk past the first table, a hand landed on his shoulder.

“Sehne, how rude. Not even a hello?”

Julius turned around and instantly recognized the man before him. It was Addenoid Dagett, the ‘Blade of Jaetia’, an exceptional knight and a master fencer.

“Ah, Sir Dagett. It has been a while, hasn’t it?”

“Indeed it has. Honestly, what bad timing this is – ah, don’t look at me like that. We should be mourning, yes, but the bloodlust of battle is still in my head! I’ve waited for so long only to be recalled back here again…”

“I know what you mean.”

In truth he didn’t. Julius was never fond of fighting, nor war, but didn’t want to waste time on discussion with a man who lived for that kind of thing.

“But it’s not like they have exceptional warriors that could challenge you.”

“Perhaps, perhaps, but you never know until you see for yourself. And even then, there’s that one – Telesh, I think is his name?”

“Ah, the Scarlet Mane. He’s an adventurer though, surely they wouldn’t rely on such petty tricks? Well, their princess is an adventurer too so I doubt she’d not get involved.”

Elaine Laurel, the third princess of Cortona. Everyone knew her, and if not, then at least have heard of the gallant title ‘Mythril Princess’. Many say she is the strongest adventurer on the continent.

“What, have you not heard?”

Julius shook his head. What was he on about?

“The catastrophe dragon that razed Granum – she failed to slay it.”

The dragon’s name – people simply called it The Red – torched throughout the human world like an avalanche, so it was impossible for a constable of a neighbouring country to not have heard of it. Though it seems some of the facts missed even his keen ears.

“It seems I was too preoccupied with the oncoming campaign, mind sharing what’s on your mind?”

“I don’t know if this information is at all credible, but apparently that woman – and her thousand adventurer army – were scraped clean off the world.”

Julius faltered in face of these casual words which should’ve bore an enormous weight if they were true.

“Is… Is that even possible?”

“Of course not,” he laughed.

Julius found it hard to understand what was so funny about this dire plight of humanity. Adventurers weren’t shackled to countries, which meant that it wasn’t the Great Duchy of Cortona that has lost a thousand of them, but the whole continent.

Addenoid continued as Julius worried about the consequences that were to come.

“That’s why some stragglers began showing up. Amputees, burn victims, madmen, and the like. And then, when all hope was lost for them, she showed up, in no better condition. She’s rallying for an another ‘crusade’ or whatever. I guess you can imagine how good that’s going with our army at their neck, but nevertheless her numbers are increasing as we speak.”

Julius has heard of other countries preparing for the inevitable, for the time when the beast is sated and decides to move on to new lands. Some of them began employing, others forcing, mages into the army – an approach that was as scary as waking a yet another dragon. Funding a force of disposable pawns and deranged people might as well be within the interest of these countries.

Whilst he also has thought of such a method to strengthen the army, it was an impossibility. The Court Mage – Magus – might as well be the only mage in the whole of Jaetia for all he knew. They were that rare, especially in places where magical beasts were uncommon and the climate felt unbearable.

In his eyes struggle was meaningless, but he could understand their panic. Even his heart quickened a few beats during this conversation and he didn’t even see the beast.

Still, the thought of clashing with armies that had access to magic in the future worried him greatly. There had to be a solution to this.

Maybe we should hire adventurers to teach us more about magic and the like? Perhaps even he could teach magic to selected few? But the guilds might get furious… though we’re too far in the north for them to care, right? Ah, this is really bad.

“You alright?” Asked Addenoid. The man was more perceptive than you’d think.

“I’m fine, I’m fine… I’d personally dread the sight of a dragon, though you’d probably love the challenge.”

The fencer chuckled for a moment and then spoke with a straight face.

“Of course not. I’m but a human. Such work is for dragon hunters alone, and perhaps those of unimaginable might.”

Julius felt a smidgen of dejection in the word ‘human’, but that was to be expected. Beastmen, ogres, trolls – there was a vast range of species that outperformed humankind. Be it in magic or raw power, they were in the lead from the moment they were born.

Of course humans have gems of their own, such as heroes, knights of unbreakable will or the Archmages of history. Never-ending stories surround these individuals and people are proud of them centuries after their deaths. But then again, they are so rare you’d have better odds at finding a dragon in some random cave than such genius in a village.

The inhuman warriors of Asculum sprung to his mind as he thought about it.

Indeed, we cannot compare. We are dead last.

“…right, dragon hunters. I haven’t heard from them at all, what are they up to?”

Addenoid simply shrugged as he sipped on ale.

“Since they’re specialists, there must be a trick to it. I wonder how they even deal with the-”

“They cut their heads off in their sleep,” suddenly spoke a voice Julius dreaded more than anything else.

“Feysal…”

“That’s Sir for you.”

He gripped his sword in open hostility, but the grin on his face seemingly spoke of friendliness. Julius wasn’t sure if it was lack of manners or if the man actually hated him. He hoped it was the former, but considering his barbaric nature it might’ve been both.

“While I’d love to mingle among you great warriors I have unfinished business. We’ll meet again, I hope.”

Julius turned around and left straight for his Mistress as laughing and booing echoed behind his back.