After weighing, training, grooming, and feeding the dogs, Nick padded towards the throne hall at the heart of Bigtown Castle to report his progress to the King. He was humming an old tune to himself. Through the high windows, sunlight seeped, raising the temperature but also casting an aura on the pillars. The carvings of the Summer Dragon sitting atop its treasure glistened. 

Nick stopped to take in the curves of the snake-like creature and the hams, apples, and pelts the dragon was guarding. No coins, gems, or gold to see. The essence of Ice was food, not riches.

"Yick," Bear called for him. He panted, then again. "Yick!"

"Yeah, yeah," Nick muttered. 

To Mountain Dog standards, a decent day of summer in Ice was the equivalent of running ten miles through a Scorian desert. Bear would have to endure for a little while longer. Soon he would drink his weight in cold well water and lie down in the cool shades of the keep, but moments of near-perfect sight were rare, and Nick intended to relish every second before his view blurred again.

He turned to the other side of the pillar where two human shapes were crouching next to the serpent, tending to the wounds sustained by chasing out the Winter Bear. In exchange, the humans received the gift of Fire and Air Magic. The teardrop that ended in a wave point and three stripes were rather minimalistic but told the story.

Clicks resounded on the tiles. Bear whined and shuffled backwards as the door to the throne hall swung open.

"Hey there, big boy," said a soft, gentle voice.

"Wrowro," Bear responded. Clover, wife to Prince Shadow.

Blotches of grey and rosy-pink reached to the eager brown-and-white furball. Then, after momentarily feeling light in the head, Nick's focus sharpened on the woman's thin frame and oval face.

She was spoiling the dog with pats. "Patch and Wit have a fresh bowl of water—they'll share it with you. It's a hot day for you dogs, isn't it? We can take off our winter coat, but you can't, can you?"

"They can," Nick said as he approached her. "A few weeks ago, we couldn't go anywhere in the castle without swimming in dog hair."

"That's a gross exaggeration."

"True," Nick admitted. He uttered half a chuckle. Since a sense of humour was lost on Clover, he enjoyed the image of the castle filled to the brim with dog fur for two.

Her cheek and jawline streamlined into a razor-sharp line as she pursed her lips. Despite being a head taller than he was, she seemed petite, frail even, next to Bear. 

The dog's nose was chasing her hand. "Yish Reawr."

"You're smelling the fishcakes, aren't you?" she cooed. She made no effort to dodge Bear licking her hand clean. "Your master carefully plans his visits to the King—knows when there's a snack to fill his belly with."

"It's a skill," Nick said with a grin.

The Ician lady shook her head as Nick crossed paths with her, then he entered the hall flanked by Bear chasing the growing smell of warm dough and fresh fish. With the sunlight beaming onto the straw and clay roof, the room bathed in gold. The tapestries depicted the wars with Silvermark and the birth of Bigtown, with men and women in pelts fighting against ice and snow a constant theme throughout history.

At the back of the room, King River and Prince Torrent sat side-by-side; the King on his throne of animal furs and the dark-haired Crown Prince on an ordinary chair. River, every day looking more a beggar than a King, forked his fingers through his messy grey beard while Torrent, every day looking more like a King, was flipping through the pages on his father's lap. On a side-table laid a pile of sealed scrolls beneath already opened ones.

But while neither had eyes for Nick, the white and patched grey-and-black mountain dogs darted up from their bowl and tiptoed towards the new visitors.

"The report is clear." Prince Torrent tapped the paper. "The glacier is moving towards the east at a pace of three feet per day. If we do nothing, it'll crush Lakefield in approximately nine moons."

"Lakefield has water magicians—are they asking our help or simply stating the fact?" the King asked. He removed the monocle from his eye, his gaze chasing the dogs before landing on Nick.

"Gro," barked Wit. 

Patch backed up the demand to stop by standing in front of Wit, blocking the direct path to the throne.

"I bring news from the kennels," Nick announced.

"Shame," River said in a dead-pan voice. "And here I sit convinced that you came to update me on the number of girls you've shared your bed with."

"Does this number concern you, Sire?"

"It does not." He gesticulated at the dogs. So, Rain's request to deny Fiddler's advances did not come from the King. "Patch, Wit, Let them pass."

While the white Mountain Dog obeyed instantly by returning to the bowl, Torrent had to take a fishcake from the platter. He held the savoury snack in his open hand and said, "Patch, get here." before the grey-and-black giant cleared the way.

Bear's head shifted from the bowl of water to the platter, tongue lolling out as he panted. Nick nudged him into following Wit.

"So how fare the kennels?" River asked.

"I cut the training of the pups short today,"  Nick said, half an eye on Bear sticking his head into the bowl. "Except One, they had no interest in the obstacle course nor in playing the pig-bladder. I dug a small pond where they could frolic and banter until the water became too muddy, then I cooled them down in well water. Five's still barking at anything that moves."

Torrent brushed his hand over Patch's head. "Not so different from his old father. He'll calm down once he receives a master and a name."

"One's endurance and strength are impeccable. Even with the weather being less than ideal, I reckon I'll only need another week  of training before she can be sold."

The King wetted his lips. "I'd rather have Shadow sell all five at once."

"In One's case, I would reconsider that idea, Sire. She'll soon be mature enough to bond to a master. Keep her longer than necessary, and you'll risk that she will be One forever and won't obey the master that buys her."

"Not at this age—the name means nothing yet."

"She's not like any other pup I've seen, Sire."

"I'll risk it. Starting tomorrow, you alternate her trainer every hour. Never the same face on the same day." He threw a fishcake into his mouth, then handed the platter to Torrent. Munching, the King asked, "How's four doing?"

"She's lost weight compared to a few days ago." Nick's eyes were on the small sacks of dough as Torrent passed the platter to him. "Problematic, yes, but not dramatic. Opal is a young mother. I propose I put Merry, Opal, and Four in a separate kennel for a few days. Perhaps Merry can show Opal how to take care of a weaker pup."

"And who will take care of the other pups?" The King asked.

"I will."

Nick used the brief silence to grab a fishcake. Inches from eating, Bear came begging for some, his muzzle dripping wet. He gave the piece to his dog, then took another for himself.  Such a balanced delight of butter and salt. A rare feast in the otherwise bland Ician cuisine.

The two men were talking among themselves. River was urging his son to find a letter in the pile and hand it to him. 

As Torrent was searching, the King looked Nick in the eyes. "This life as my Kennel Master suits you, doesn't it?"

"Yes, Sire. Getting out of bed is still the hardest part of the day, but once I'm with the animals, I feel blessed."

"You enjoy frolicking with my daughters and granddaughters as much as you enjoy the dogs."

"I do," he added, "In different ways, but yes."

A letter moved from Torrent's hands to River's. The King squeezed the monocle back in his eye. "A raven brought word from my sister in the south. Prince Sebastian is to be wed to Princess Jhara."

"A second Princess of Scoria—he could do worse, I guess. It'll be a good deal for The Greenlands, in all aspects—economical, political, technological too."

River didn't react to his comment. "Crystal also reminded me of your betrothal. She seemed particularly displeased that her daughter's letters remained unanswered."

Unopened too. Nick shuffled in his spot, already guessing what would happen next. The Queen of The Greenlands was calling her prodigal ward home. Officially, to join in the celebrations for Seb's wedding, but also to bind him to the promises of the past.

"I'll pack my bags then," Nick said.

River and Torrent exchanged a confused look, then the King said, "You're jumping to conclusions. I did not give you such orders."

"No, but your sister did."

"She's not the King of Ice."

It didn't matter. Nick exhaled slowly, resisting the urge to sigh. "Then what does the King of Ice want, Sire?"

"What every man occupying this seat wants—see their country and citizens flourish." He paused before adding, "In peace, away from the wars of the world."

Nick snorted a chuckle he couldn't hide. "So it is because you fear ramifications that you wish for me to return to a future that is no longer mine."

"Well, my brother has always disliked your presence here in Bigtown. It's not particularly Ician..."

"... neither was his claim to the Silver Seat," Nick reminded the King. "Also, I've been here five summers. Why would King Storm take actions now?"

"Because the Bastard Prince's birthday has come to pass. He's sixteen now," Torrent explained.

"But I'm of no importance to either Fox or Storm. I have neither developed the skills to be Seb's General nor maintained the desire to be Lana's husband. I'm nobody."

"So you claim." Torrent narrowed his eyes, cocking his head. "I'd say the fear of ramifications lies with you. You're too afraid to enter unknown waters."

"I know the waters that flow through The Greenlands—they're not for me. Not anymore."

"There's a tale," River interrupted the conversation. He took off his monocle. "of a bear pacing at the edge of the stream, telling himself that he shouldn't be here, for the current is too wild and the fish too quick. He tried catching a salmon once before when he was but a cub. The current was indeed wild, and the slimy fish slipped through his tiny paws. Not wanting to relive the failure, or worse, risking that the water drags him under, he returns to his burrow and spends the rest of summer eating roots and berries."

"But while his friends grow in strength and develop a thick fur, he stays thin and hungry. When the frost covers the land, he's unable to sleep. Shivering and with an empty belly rumbling, he dies, alone and regretting that he never tried to catch the fish," Nick finished the story. "But I'm not in that situation. I don't need the salmon; the salmon is no longer what I want. At the end of the day, I raid the kitchen and sleep near the fire. A happy, content Bear with a full stomach."

"Reawr?" Bear asked.

"Not you," Nick hushed him.

"The animal who invades a home is killed," Torrent argued.

"Not if he's a pet."

"So, you are my pet," River mocked him.

Nick thought about that for a while. "You could consider that, Sire. Mountain Dogs aid each other as well as their master. Let me remain your Kennel Master. It's how I can best serve you."

"Training puppies instead of men."

"The dogs won't ever complain about me being unfit to lead them. They won't spread rumours about my time in Ice and my connection to magicians. A Mountain Dog is loyal, if not to the pack, then to its master. Humans only care about themselves."

"That's a pessimistic view on life," Torrent remarked.

"It's realistic. And with me on a politically unimportant post, Ice can remain Ice. You won't need to fear your brother's troops marching north, pillaging Bigtown, and demanding you to hand me over."

"Very well," River concluded. "We break off your engagement to Lady Alana and let it be known all across the Five Kingdoms that you severed your ties to the Greenlander royal family."

"I'll write the letter to Aunt Crystal," Torrent said to River.

"Could you wait?" Nick stopped the Ician Crown Prince. "I should be the one to inform Lana. I'll write to her, and General George too. They should know it's my decision and my decision alone."

They granted him that honour. He had a day to write the letters and send the raven south. In seventy-two hours, Torrent would send four more ravens to inform King Storm, Queen Crystal, King Siga, and Queen Rainah that the ward to the Ician crown had ended his engagement to Princess Alana of The Greenlands. It was as political as he and the Icians would get.

For self-preservation. For survival. For themselves.