LAUCAN

Her Navei song came out cold and distant, and her dress fluttered in the wind when she left him to crawl up the split staircases of frosty marble. He stood alone on the lift dias, in the shadow of the largest crystal chandelier dripping blue light from the candelabras. Numbness drained the ice in his soul when he tried to move his arms, but needles tugged on his flesh and he stood there in the glittering silence. The weight of the crown dug into his brow, but he brushed strands of white out of his face before smoothing out his feathers to resolve all his problems Father and his forebears left him in one fell swoop. To find the truth in the curse over their land; how it connected to the fall of Irimount — what lay deep within Yuven Traye's memories and Adara Sazaka's magick. He kept his heart in his chest at the Traye prince's ruthless refrain of movements to finish him as the Traye Loyalists assassinated Father. Until the 'barbaric' King Reyn jumped into the fray with a melodic grace full of certainty and an unwillingness to back down, as Hanekan's were known to do. Barbarians. Laucan frowned at the older lord's views, and he bit on his tongue for echoing them.

I do this so you can see the sun, sister. I do this so you don't have to dream about what Yoko—Ser Yokonei told you that day. You can experience it for yourself. It's so wonderful, beautiful — ruined only by the crimson monsters plaguing the other lands, but at least they have the sun and not what we've been trapped with for thousands of turns. He found the strength to ascend the steps to put the plan Blackwall suggested into motion. The first step was payment for the Ice Shards to compel them to finish the contract Father started. Out of the cistern to the icehearts, he set his shoulders straight and tried not to cower in his sister's shadow anymore. If he was to be king, he had to continue walking the steps of his coronation, a never ending spiral into the heavens where wyverns resided. Around the corner, he stopped by a Sentinel when they brought themselves to attention at his approach. Cold. "Retrieve Keeper Blackwall from the library and tell him to meet me at the carriages. He will know what we are to do today."

"As you command, Your Winged Grace." They hit the shaft of their glave against the marble before following their rigid steps to obey his orders.

But I don't have wings. Laucan fixed the symbolic ribbon tied around his chest to droop across his back, fashioned into fabric ones. Servants worked to set up the main foyer of the palace for the festival and the upcoming massive ball, and he shuddered at the thought of being too close to people. It drained him more than the icehearts, but the palace never failed to sparkle along with the pearl streamers outside that his people decorated their houses and tall roof trellis. He passed one window, where on the streets below kids bounced along in glee, throwing snow at each other, only to be barked at by an older adult from inside a house, causing them to stop and their feathers to fizz out in alarm.

He turned his back on the view of the grand city to head into the royal wing of the palace and took a different route from his room, to the royal vaults. Sentinels stood at their posts and acknowledged him with stiff postures, glaives at the ready to spear any daring thief — though one would find it difficult to get into the vault without the magick of his bloodline. He stopped at a giant, painted wall where wyverns danced and found joy in the sunlight above the clouds, diving deeper into the rainbow fires of the night. He raised his hand through the endlessness of the flow. He drew two fingers upwards, to create the first point of time. Ice-touched gold spun with his movements, quickening along the hands of his glyph. Every second drew closer to perfecting the circle, sending whispers of mist at each click to open the flow. It pulsed when it reached the highest point, and it curdled with ringing bells to signal days and nights unseen. He stepped through the energised opening it created, into the frozen stacks of the vault. Hidden in the annals of the palace, the truth of their strength — left only to their blood. Through the carved stacks, he checked the closest ones for any crystal marks, to check on what they gained through taxes, and the numbers spiralled in his head, with the cycle of the aristocracy funnelling back into them.

I don't want to use these... I was using them to make sure supplies got to the outer villages getting buried. He headed to the back of the room, where bigger boxes from Father's time sat with scrolls along the racks. If I can find the contact... I might be able to figure out if Father paid them off, and what it might take for them to get Traye and Sazaka here. Laucan unfurled the scrolls. Some of them had information of set taxes, with the dates obscured through inky age. Others, notable deaths of lords. He found the contract hidden underneath a pile of people requesting succour from the crown that Father discarded. Laucan frowned at his curved signature and the signature of the head Ice Shard underneath it. But what did he have them do last...?

Father outlined what he wanted the Ice Shards to do, but not any specifics to use. Addendums swirled into the margins and brought further payment and almost left the vault empty. I'm going to finish this. He studied the hastily scrawled margin, unlike Father's neat, cold handwriting, it trembled with terror. A single name, and a crossed out direction, a death mark. Father wanted someone dead, and promptly. He studied the lines for the name, and icicles grew along his throat when he deciphered his father's spooked handwriting.

'Ikarun Traye.'

Laucan wracked his brain, and he winced at the memory of Ser Yokonei's brother storming the palace in timeless rage between their families. His words against his father rocked in his mind.

'Give me back my baby brother, you wingless snake!' Ikarun screeched through space and time, with Father defenseless and the Sentinels unable to stop the raging crown prince of the enemy. Laucan hid when Hayvala wrapped a shawl around him to protect him from what came next, but he found himself drawn closer to space, and held out his hands of time as Ikarun drove his icesteel sword downwards. It pierced the focal point, and he protected Father from the fury of family. Pride stretched through his heart at his ability. Until the Traye prince eyed him with piercing greys, and a glimmer of realisation filled his contorted expression.

He scowled back at Father, then pushed off his glyph to shatter it in one step. He swung his icesteel blade through the mist and glared up at the king. Laucan dug deeper into Hayvala's protective arms when she buried her face in the top of his head and whispered out her grief for what she and the crown prince of the Traye's lost. Ikarun Traye eyed him once more with a flick of his long grey feathers.

One Sentinel approached to skewer him.

He turned around with a swatting flourish to send the Sentinel back from the airy slap the crown prince gave, and became nothing but a ghost.

Father raged, snapped, and called for the head of all the Traye's, but Laucan remembered the terror. He put the contract back on the stacks, resolving to tear it to pieces at a later date, when all the problems were solved. And... maybe we can finally end this vicious cycle plaguing us. He grabbed the heavy box from underneath the stacks and opened the runelock. Crystal marks glittered, Father's last savings, but the dead had no use for currency. He ran his finger down the spherical surface of each to check for cracks.

It'll have to do. Laucan left the vault, closing the hands of time behind him to tuck the box in the safety of his arms, walking out into the thin flurry of snow oozing through the barrier he sent power into. Blackwall stood at the carriages, where gryphlings snuffled inside the stables, thrown feed by the stablemasters.

"Your Winged Grace," Blackwall said in old, but clear Navei. "Are you ready?"

"Yes," Laucan said and gave Blackwall the box. "I'll show you to the Ice Shards guild hall. It's by the eastern gate to the frozen wastes." Hayvala's words plagued him, and he whispered, "We'll walk there. It's best not to draw attention in the eastern quarter. I know a back route that will take us around most of the crowded streets." Where... Ser Yokonei spirited us away when the mob attacked... If he hadn't, would Hayvala and I...? And then Father killed him, even though he could've left us to them... was Father wrong? Was he wrong to kill Yokonei Traye? Was the domino effect worth it?

He remembered crying and clinging onto the knight born of their enemy. The blur of the terrifying memory as Hayvala tried to coo him into rest, and Yokonei held him close with a warm smile.

'It's okay, Your Highness.'

I wonder if he hated us.

"I can manage being discreet, Your Grace," Blackwall said and broke him out of his thoughts. "If you have concerns, I can hide your aura without difficulty."

Laucan checked around the palace grounds, then led Blackwall to the eastern bridge into the city proper, but stopped to unwrap his wings from around his middle. He fashioned it around his head and wrapped it into a scarf to protect him from the elements. "Let's go."

Blackwall drew up his black fur hood with a nod. Over the bridge and into the grey streets with long metal railings protecting balconies to houses, the further they got, the smaller the houses became until they stacked on top of each other, with catwalks bridging the gaps over the streets and into storefronts. Laucan avoided the crowds until the massive wall keeping out the spreading wastes came into view, and the huge gatehouse with two layers of metal gates to prevent people from entering or leaving without the command of the Blizzard Sentinels.

The Iceshard guildhouse hugged a small section of the wall, with several stories climbing upwards with staircases. White light shone behind their curtains, and Blackwall tipped his head at him. "Is this it, Your Grace?"

"Yes." Laucan approached the double doors to slam the knockers into the wood.

It opened at the sound.

One Iceshard sat at a table, toying with an icesteel dagger with their fingertips, shielded with their grey uniform woven with black ember hems to keep themselves warm on their jobs. Laucan held his breath when they turned, then examined him. Blackwall stood beside him, raising an eyebrow at them. They left the table and headed for them.

"We weren't expecting visitors, who are you?"

Laucan undid his hasty scarf, and the Ice Shard widened their eyes, but then narrowed them. "Last time we had a king in here we lost a few good men for what he offered."

"I just want to talk to the master," Laucan said.

Their grey eyes rolled before indicating the split staircase. Lamps of white flames spread an eerie glow along the wood floors as the Ice Shard took them to the second landing, then to a round doorway. "Master," the Ice Shard said. "We've got esteemed company."

"Let them in."

The Ice Shard opened the door for them, then walked down a different corridor. Laucan swallowed fear and approached the man sitting behind a curved desk, a quill in his hands. His long, silver feathers flicked as he raised his head. "You must be King Laucan, my name is Mazril. I welcome you to our humble abode, Your Winged Grace," he said with a bow, and the wheat-spun waves fell forwards. "What can I do for you? Is this about the contract your late father made?"

Laucan eyed Blackwall, then took the box from him. "Yes, and no. I want you to hunt a couple for me."

"Hunt?" the master of the Ice Shards asked.

"I want two people found," he set forth the terms.

"It starts with two names, Your Grace." Master Mazril took out a new scroll to dot his quill in the inkwell. "Name them, and I shall name my price."

"Adara Sazaka—" Laucan waited for him to write her name on the scroll, then said, "And Yuven Traye."

The scratching of parchment stopped.

"The last time a king had my people hunt down a Traye, I lost five good Shards for one life. We might've learned from the experience, but I'm upping the price for a prince," Master Mazril said. "You mentioned wanting this Traye alive? Do you know how difficult it is to capture one? Killing one expended much more than your father gave us. Can you pay that price?"

"I know," Laucan forced out, and opened up the box of crystal marks. "Is this enough?"

Master Mazril rifled through the box, and took out a spherical mark to roll it across his palm. "Maybe for the one, but not for a captured Traye," he said.

Blackwall released a soft scoff. He rifled through his pockets to toss a golden locket. "Consider it an expenditure from the Keepers of Pyon. We need them alive, but I shall not doubt you will meet the same resistance with some additions. The other, Adara Sazaka, is an Anima."

"An Anima?" Master Mazril scrunched his nose. "Really? You mean those supposedly extinct magickae who almost ended the world thousands of turns ago?"

"Yes, the very same, but if you're afraid of the challenge, you won't just be getting what His Grace offers, I will come with you to personally assist and as a sort of... safety net. I believe my abilities as an Aurus might be able to curb the power of both, but do remember I cannot break Auric Law. I will be depending on you and yours to be able to do your jobs as effectively as I've heard you're capable of," Blackwall interjected with unyielding power.

Master Mazril took in a hissing breath of caution through his nose then examined the locket with his long fingers. "You'll do, Keeper," he grumbled and tossed the locket into the box. "I accept this price, but I need a direction and what they look like."

"I came prepared," Blackwall said and smiled at Laucan. "I borrowed your court artist for a little while." He took out two furled pictures from his cloak to flatten them against the desk, near likenesses to Yuven Traye and Adara Sazaka as he remembered them at the Summit. "The Elder Convocation made mention that Yuven Traye and Adara Sazaka were to head to Sivaport after the King's Summit. If I am to guess how long it's been since, they'll be closing in on it. We are under a little bit of a time constraint, your people will not be able to infiltrate Euros once they're on the boat."

"Storm Wardens," Master Mazril muttered. "Of course."

"Yes, Yuven Traye is a Storm Warden, and he won't be alone, but we only need Yuven Traye and Adara Sazaka captured. Anything else is secondary to that sole objective, and I'm sure you want this done quick and efficiently, that dallying will only make it much harder on your people." Blackwall took the reins from him, and Laucan bit down on his weakness. "I will be creating a portal somewhere close to Sivaport. It will be much easier to get into the city under the cover of night."

"Can a Keeper hold their own? I was led to believe most of you were bookkeepers," Master Mazril said with a scoff.

"I can take care of myself, but your concern is noted," Keeper Blackwall said with a smile.

Master Mazril huffed and wrote down on the contact scroll. "I'll send my best against a Traye, Your Winged Grace."

Laucan nodded at him. "Alive, Master Mazril," he repeated.

"Captured alive, of course," Master Mazril said and twisted the contract scroll to him. "You know what you have to do. Keeper, we leave as soon as possible." He motioned at Keeper Blackwall, who bowed deep.

For the sun he wanted Hayvala to see, for the sun hidden behind the blizzard's core, Laucan wrote down his name in the margin and set the Ice Shards loose on his problems.