Nick looked up to the woman staring over the deck of the ship.

               Her head blocked the sun. The rays passed around her, casting a halo-like aura around her face and accentuating her features.

               A striking chin below a soft nose and ears. Wavy hair with braids in a mix of green and blue, reflecting the color of her eyes. In summary, a face which embodied the Northlander feminine ideal. Hardiness mingled with beauty.

               Her eyes looked upon him with boredom and bemusement. Like those of a cat watching a caged bird.

               Which caused him to redouble his attempts to break free. However, no matter how hard he tried, he couldn’t free his arms or legs. All while the cold of the ice entrapments sapped his strength.

               “A little mouse scurrying about while the giant fights.” Her eyes drifted to the air-engines he had just sabotaged. Its maintenance flap was exposed, revealing darkened rings of quartz starved of energy. “Huh. Clever. I take it this was the plan all along?”

               Nick didn’t reply. His mind raced. How did he get caught? All the cannon ports were closed, and there were no windows along where he worked. The sabotage of the engine didn’t leave a sound, or at least one which could be heard through the firestorm and the ongoing battle.

               He struggled once more against the bindings.

               “Ooh, Defiance. The spirit of Tryr absent the strength. Admirable albeit futile.” She raised her finger and Nick felt himself rise, the ice below propelling himself upwards. “I cannot allow you to finish your task. As much as I’d like to see the boor taught a lesson, I have no intention of being stranded on this westward land.”

               The ice pushed him up until he was eye-level with the deck of the ship.

               The deck was cluttered with junk. Barrels full of food. Open crates of ruby and topaz gempellets scattered about. Muskets and other bladed weapons set hanging against the walls and wooden planks. Grime and stains coated the floor. The odor creeped up his nose, and he could smell both vomit from stale drink.

               A strong urge rose to gag when the vile scent vanished as the woman stepped in front of him. Mint replaced the odor, and the air became noticeably cooler and thinner. Like breathing above the clouds.

               She wore a wool robe with fur lining the edge of her neck. It flopped over her bosom and down to the floor. Golden lines trimmed and laced along it in a pattern, which immediately told Nick she was no mere Northlander. Her figure was comely, yet also carried a ruggedness present in all of her kind.

               All in the meantime he continued to resist, twisting his limbs to see if he could slip through the ice. In the midst of his strain, something blue flickered in his vision. The same odd symbols he saw when he touched the aether-musket.

               ΛᄂΣЯƬ: MΛIП ЦПIƬ ΣПΣЯGY ᄂΣVΣᄂƧ FΛᄂᄂIПG BΣᄂӨЩ DΣƧIGПΛƬΣD ЯΛƬΣ

               “Try all you want,” said the woman. “You aren’t escaping.”

               Steps teetered up from an opening to the lower deck.

               “Well sister,” said a voice. “What have you fished up?”

               Two women appeared side by side, dressed in plated battle-armor and wearing helmets with miniature wings clipped to the sides. Both had a spear and buckler strapped to their backs and small swords tied to their belts. Their faces were identical, edged angles all along the jaw in near perfect unity to the Northlander stereotype. The only distinguishing feature was the varying blue war-paint streaked along their cheeks and jaws.

               “Someone I caught behind the vessel.” The robed woman raised a hand to gesture them forward. “I told you it was but a distraction.”

               Nick blinked furiously, the odd blue symbols refusing to disappear. He stopped struggling as it was evident even if he did manage to slip free, he wasn’t going to escape. He was trapped.

               He refused to let frustration become visible on his face. He refused to verbalize it. He was all too aware that his life was in this woman’s hands.

                So long as he lived, there was always a chance.

               The two newcomers strode to his sides, their heads peeking closer at him. These two smelled strongly of mountain herbs.

               “One of the winged folk?” said one of them. “Where are its wings?”

               The other swept a hand across his hair.

               “Black hair as well. I wonder which blessing he has been gifted?”

               “Perhaps of Fiun.” The other snickered. “Earth fits his mold. He certainly looks the part to till the fields.”

               “Black means he has none,” said the robed woman. “Born without a blessing from any of the Gods.”

               The two women flinched back, like Nick had a contagious disease which could be spread to them.

               “None?” said one of the women. “A wonder how this one survived for so long among the creatures of the Miklagrd?”

               Creatures of Miklagard. He recalled it being used in a Northlander poem to refer to the monsters of the old continent. Miklagard literally their word for great city. The capital of the First Civilization.

               “There are no monsters here,” said Nick. “Miklagard’s creatures don’t reside this far away.”

               “So, the mouse speaks after all,” said the robed woman.

               “Bah,” said one of the twins. “If this is an example of their people, it explains why the resistance was so poor.”

               “Now, now.” The robed woman gestured for the two to give Nick some breathing space. “Gudra. Bodil. Give the Vislander some room.”

               She kneeled down, looking at Nick with eye-level. Her eyes would have entranced lesser men, but not Nick.

               “I am Livia Askel. Lady Askel is my proper title and I am to be referred to as such. These two are my sisters and shield-maidens. Gudra and Bodil. I believe hospitality obliges you to introduce yourself as well Vislander.”

               Nick hardly found his current conditions hospitable. These people came and murdered with no abandon and hardly deserved any kindness in return. Let alone a simple greeting.

               However, such action would net him more harm than good.

               “Nicholas,” he said, avoiding the shortened version of his name. A privilege he would not grant these heathen invaders.

               “Nicholas. Our myths regale your kind as great warriors. Winged and empowered by the blessing of Sil, Queen of the Skies. I have seen a few before the battle began, but their performance was to put it lightly… less than impressive.”

               “Perhaps if we fought with steel,” said Gudra. “I still don’t believe the peddler’s weapons should have been used. Arne should have done everything the old way.”

               “Sorry to disappoint you,” said Nick, wincing from the creeping frost threatening to overtake his arms and legs. “However, if you would like to see some real warriors however. I suggest you stay for a bit.”

               “As much as it would be entertaining to do so,” said Lady Askel. “That ultimately would be up to the boor.”

               Her face glanced back, right as an explosion of noise rippled past as the raiders unsuccessfully tried to break through the dome. Nick could see the tip of it, which gave him a measure of relief. At least Cedric, Felix, and the captives here would make it out.

               “It appears that there are still those who are worthy among your people.”

               Lady Askel and her sisters stood up, stepping toward the other side of the boat to the direction of the battle. Nick felt the ice rise then push him forward. His limbs still frozen in place.

               Right as he got a full view of the battle below, a large chunk of the dome gave away.

               As the rock fell, all that was left behind was the juggernaut, standing atop the open hole to the mining tunnels. The Bracers and Berserks surrounded him.

               “The old man quite surprised me at first,” said Lady Askel. “Walking so confidently onto the field. Even more so when he took on the form before us.”

               One of the Berserks made the first move, running at Cedric with a battlecry.

               “There goes Oleg.” Gudra stepped forward, propping her chin with an arm on the edge of the deck. “Thinks every enemy can be beaten if you hit it hard enough. I think all that mead he drank turned his head to mush.”

               “And what would be the cause of that sister?” Bodil mimicked her sister’s stance to look at the battle below. “Last I remember you said you wouldn’t bed a man unless he could strike harder than you.”

               “Perhaps.” Gudra shrugged as Oleg was struck in the face. He was sent tumbling through the field and smashed into the wall.

               “Ouch,” said Bodil. “Can’t imagine that will do any favors to his head.”

               “Idiot,” said Gudra. “And not just him but the whole lot of them. If they just observed they would see the pattern in its move. The opening after its first strike is almost always a feint, and they fall right for it.”

               “Well, Arne left them here for a reason,” said Bodil.

               “The crooked ones appear to be faring better.” said Lady Askel.

               “Only because they herd together like sheep. Individual weaklings,” said Gudra. “A true warrior wouldn’t have to rely on others.”

               Bodil scoffed. “Not sure you can say that after the witch’s consort knocked you out silly.”

               “Shut up sister.”

               Nick watched as the fighting progressed. Cedric did his best to wave off the assaulting foes. All throughout the juggernaut’s flickering eyes looked about.

               Cedric’s eyes finally drew up to the deck. To him.

               Nick looked back at him and shook his head.

               “Don’t come after me,” he thought. “Just leave.”

               The green pinpricks which formed the juggernaut’s eyes however said otherwise. Cedric started moving in the direction of the ship.

               “The old man appears to coming after us,” said Bodil as she started drawing her sword. Blue light shone off her wrist.

               “Fantastic.” Gudra did the same. Green light flickering. “I haven’t had fun in some time.”

               A flurry of explosions rocked Cedric away. The red-haired Bracer yelled at her lackeys to reload faster.

               “Huh,” Bodil released the grip on her sword. “I’ll be honest, the peddler’s weapons pack a far stronger punch than I expected.”

               “Why?” said Nick. “Why are you here? For what reason have you done this to us?”

               The three women looked at Nick then back at each other.

               “Reason?” said Gudra. “Must the gull give a reason to the fish when it snatches it from the seas? Does man require reason when it hunts the deer for its flesh?”

               “Yet the greatest glory resides in a battle among equals, and may a curse fall on those who prey upon the weak,” said Nick. The surprise was visible on the woman’s face. Nobody would expect anyone to know the old Northlander writ. Especially out here. “This. What you are doing now, is hardly the former.”

               Lady Askel scoffed. “Clever. Learned as well.”

               “Absent the old scriptures, there are still plenty of reasons to come,” said Bodil. “Your kind are rich in the essence of the Gods, and if today is but an example, there are plenty more reasons to continue coming.”

               “That and Arne’s promise.” Gudra wagged her eyebrows at Lady Askel, who only rolled her eyes.

               “And the suffering?” said Nick. “The death and destruction?”

               “Not exactly our problem,” said Gudra. “Tell me do all your men whine in such a nagging fashion? Makes me wonder what your women see in you.”

               Nick was about to tell the heathen to sod off but was greeted with a sharp headache.

               ΛᄂΣЯƬ: MΛIП ЦПIƬ ЯΣΛᄃΉIПG ᄃЯIƬIᄃΛᄂ ᄂΣVΣᄂƧ.

               Another flash, another flurry of that blue screen and the unintelligible symbols. His words caught in his tongue.

               “Guh-urghh,” he said.

               “What? Sister did your ice freeze his tongue as well?”

               “Oh…” Lady Askel interrupted. “It appears the boor and his entourage have arrived…” 

               Everyone’s attention turned to the edge of the training field, even Nick who was wincing from the spasms of pain within his forehead.

               A procession of raiders, hauling chests of mana bars stolen from the repository. There had to be at least a couple hundred of them. Bracers, Berserks, and even a few Innatum. All armed to the teeth. It was no wonder they were able to overwhelm the town so quickly.

               Three figures stood at the front. Two were the Lycan and the Vampyr.

               The Lycan bellowed a howl and went on all fours, preparing to charge toward Cedric. The Vampyr on the other hand stood with the poise of an aristocrat while the red-blue pietersite orb floated by her side. She flicked a strand of blue hair away from her cheek, and opened her palm. Blood swerved out of the orb, wisping around her in a ring.

               The two however stopped as the third figure between them, swung out his arms to block their path. One hand gripped a black handle.

               He was a Northlander, evident from his armor and size. His hair hung down to his neck, and he stood at least a head taller than his already enormous brethren. Static flickered out his shoulders. Slowly at first, and faster until it turned into a steady stream of electricity which leaped toward the black handle.

               Thunder drummed. Nick squinted away, as light flared as bright as the morning sun.

               When the noise and light died down, it revealed an axeblade crinkling yellow. A spirit weapon just like Eric’s.

               “Looks like Arne is planning on taking this one for himself,” said Bodil. “Does it not excite your blood sister, to bask in the presence of such strength and vigor?”

               “It would…” said Lady Askel. “It would be more appealing if he didn’t flit with less than suitable figures.”

               The Bracers and Berserks fighting Cedric backed off as the man stepped across the field. In the blink of an eye, he was running.

               Cedric swept his arm forward to meet this new contender.

               The Northlander deftly vaulted over the incoming attack unlike the rest who jumped wide and left themselves vulnerable. Cedric stepped back, unable to retaliate and trying to gain distance to do so. However, this new opponent was faster than the others. By the time Cedric raised his foot, the Northlander was right next to him. His axe sheared through the juggernaut’s knee-cap. A blast of yellow and green light followed, alongside shards of shattered stone.

               “Called it on the joints.” Gudrun sighed wistfully. “Of course Arne would figure it out.”

               Cedric fell backwards. While the rocks began to reform his shattered leg, the Northlander leapt upwards. The edge of his blade slammed into the juggernaut’s chin.

               The rock head burst in a shower of green light and shards of stone, exposing Cedric’s face. Sweat dripped down the old man’s brows. His breaths haggard. He had been fighting for some time, while the Northlander looked fresh.   

               Even still, Cedric looked like he had strength left in him. His eyes regained focus, and he leapt backwards. He shrunk in the air as his excess bulk moved to reform the lost leg.

               He skidded on the ground, facing the Northlander at a now equal height.

               The two charged at each other. Their bodies blurred into a whirl of motion too fast for Nick to follow as they swerved and dodged around each other’s blows. Green and yellow flashed every time axe touched stone.

               However, with each passing second, Cedric grew slower and slower. All while the ferocity of the Northlander’s attacks remained unchanged.

               Nick watched with horror as the Northlander scored a pummeling blow into Cedric’s chest. Lightning sparked and thunder boomed as Cedric was flung back and out his stone armor. The old man rolled across the field, stopping face-up. His eyes met Nick’s, blood dripping down his beard.

               His mouth crinkled up into a sorrowful pained smile. He mouthed a single word.

               “Sorry.”

               Nick felt a tear creep down the corner of his eye as he watched a good man pass away.

               The Northlander walked up to Cedric. By the time he did, life had already faded from his eyes.

               The victor smirked, turning to face his fellow raiders while raising the axe. Hundreds of voices cheered in applause. All why Nick watched from the deck, hanging uselessly from the ice with a single word whispering through his mind.

               Why?

               The procession walked up the wooden planks of the ship. Gudrun and Botel moved, positioning themselves on each side of Lady Askel.

               Nick’s eyes brushed through the band of thieves and heathens. Every now and then he saw one or two adorned with goods taken from the people of Sevola. A hand-made scarf. A new coat. Ancestral weapons. The procession placed the chests in front of them, revealing bars after bars of pure refined mana.

               All of it stolen. All taken with blood.

               He watched the three. The Northlander, the Lycan, and the Vampyr. The ones who were undoubtedly responsible for most of the havoc. The Lycan shrunk to human form, his fur receding to reveal a bearish-looking man.

               His eyes however, bore into the man who killed Cedric. Arne. He would remember that name.

               Arne walked up to them, stretching his arms forth victoriously with a smug smile set on his lips. If Nick could, he very much wanted to punch that face.

               “Livia.” Arne gestured at the loot. “I present to you the spoils of war. Essence of the Gods taken rightfully as tribute. Earned through blood and toil. Our dowry, to the start of our new life together.”

               A dowry. All the horror and devastation. All because he wanted to impress a woman?

               “And I also present to you as tribute, a new flock of servants who will form the bedrock of our new house. Earned by the old ways, blessed with the blood of the winged warriors.”

               Several Berserks brought forth a group of children, tied with aether-cuffs restraining their powers.

               Vlara’s battered face was among them. Her eyes widened as she saw him but before she could say anything, she was dragged away with the others below the deck.

               ΛᄂΣЯƬ: MΛIП ЦПIƬ ΣПΣЯGY ᄂΣVΣᄂƧ FΛᄂᄂIПG BΣᄂӨЩ DΣƧIGПΛƬΣD ЯΛƬΣ

               Nick couldn’t say anything as the spasms and headaches grew with intensity.

               “Does this not appease you my dear love?”

               “It would appease me very much to return home.” Lady Askel sneered, but her gaze flitted to the Lycan and the Vampyr. “We almost weren’t able to, thanks to your underling’s oversight.”

               The Vampyr’s face, as pristine as a painting more than a human, crinkled into irritation.

               Lady Askel pointed to Nick.

               “I found this one working tricks on those flying machines of yours. If I hadn’t caught him in time, I’d daresay we would be stranded here.”

               “Now Livia,” said Arne. “Civoly has a name you know.”

               The Vampyr dipped her head to the red-haired Bracer.

               “Go check on the engines,” she said. The red-haired Bracer nodded and stepped down the planks followed by several others.

               “Now that is hardly a fair judgment,” said the Lycan.

               “Shut up beastling,” said Lady Askel. “I was speaking with my husband-to-be.”

               The Lycan bared his teeth and was about to step forward. Gudra and Botel reached for their swords, and the pack of Bracers and Berserks all shifted to fight. Nick hoped they would fight. It would be a reprieve to watch them hack each other to death.

               “Falkrir no.” Arne stopped the Lycan’s step with a tap to the chest. He then stepped over to Nick, who by now was in severe pain. Both from the headaches and the cold working its way around his limbs.

               The Northlander grabbed his jaw and twisted it to face him.

               “And who would this little runt be?”

               Nick merely glared, saying no words.

               ΛᄂΣЯƬ: MΛIП ЦПIƬ ЯΣΛᄃΉIПG ᄃЯIƬIᄃΛᄂ ᄂΣVΣᄂƧ.

               Another spasm of pain followed, along with a flicker of blue and those odd symbols.

               However, he also got a glimpse of symbols along the Vampyr and Lycan’s hands. A circle surrounded a cross. This symbol he knew. Valric had the same, as well as Eric. His eyes widened.

               “You’re Reclaimers.” Nick managed to sputter out.

               “A what?” said Arne. The Lycan and the Vampyr’s heads perked up at the words. Along with several of the Bracers on the ship.

               “You’re Reclaimers,” said Nick. “Active Reclaimers. All of you. What… What are you doing here?”

               “Were Reclaimers,” said the Lycan. “We are quite finished with that nonsense.”

               There was something off about the tattoo. The seal was there, but the edges of it were charred when it should be a bright hue, symbolizing the elements of the users.

               There was only reason why they would be like that. Men and women who abandoned their duties. Leaving before serving their promised time.

               “Oathbreakers,” said Nick. “All of you.”

               “Could someone explain what this runt is saying?” said Arne.

               “Nothing, just an old promise made long ago,” said the Vampyr.

               “Seems like it is also one you failed to uphold,” said Lady Askel. “As I expected of your kind.”

               The two women glared at each other.

               The unease was broken as the red-haired Bracer appeared back from the planks. “One of the engines is ruined, but we’ll still be able to get airborne. However, I’d say it’ll be a slow trip back. Also… several of the prisoners managed to escape.”

               “What?” said Arne. “Where? We have the whole town blocked.”

               “Down some tunnel below. I could send a search party.”

               “No,” said the Vampyr. “We better leave. It’ll only be a matter of time before the Vislandans react. The smoke from the firestorm will catch the attention of their patrols.”

               “As much as it pains me to agree with the witch, she is correct,” said Lady Askel.

               “Pheh,” said the Lycan. “And here I was looking forward to a real challenge. You should have let me taken out that juggernaut Arne. Although, that one was smaller than I envisioned.”

               “Very well then,” said Arne. “Let us make way for our lands. Get the ship ready and moving now.”

               The crowd of raiders began to move, some locking up their captured treasures and taking it below deck while the others did preparatory work to get the airship afloat.

               “Excellent,” said the Lycan. “It is about time I visited my own wife.”

               “Don’t tell me you turned one of the girls,” said the Vampyr. The bear-like man gave her a fanged grin. She rolled her eyes.

               “She’s still malleable,” said the Lycan. “Just needs a bit more training.”

               The two of them disappeared beneath the deck.

               “And what of this one?” said Gudrun, pointing at Nick.

               “I have no need for him anymore.” Lady Askel snapped her fingers and the ice constraining his movement melted. Nick fell to the ground. The side of his face slammed into the deck. He could barely feel his legs, by now they were too weak to hold him up.

               Just like he was too weak to do anything.  

               “Do as you wish with him,” she said before disappearing below deck with her sisters.

               Arne’s boots moved in front of his vision.

               “Well you little runt.” The man kicked his ribs, causing Nick to yelp in pain. Another spasm and another flicker of unintelligible words. “You’ve caused me a great deal of trouble with my betrothed. I would have given you a quick death, but I think your deeds deserve something a bit more prolonged.”

               Two arms heaved him up by the shoulders. He came face to face with Arne. The Northlander’s breath smelled foul, like herb and liquor.

               Nick could barely utter a word, but he narrowed his brows. The rage seething from his eyes. The Northlander scoffed with amusement.

               “Tie him to the bow,” said Arne. “He’ll make a nice ornament for our return journey.”

               He could barely say anything, let alone breathe, as he was dragged across the deck. He turned his head to the side, in the direction of the Earl’s manor. No pegasi, no knights were visible. Nobody was coming to save the day.

               And here he thought he was the hero of a story. Silly him. Stories existed to make up for what was scarce in reality. A reality where the villains won. All too often.  

               Northlander heathens stuck in backwards ways. Traitor Innatum and Bracers. Oathbreakers who turned to user their gifted powers to fulfil their own desires at the expense of others.

               The worst kind of people. No different than the Fallen.

               Maybe it wasn’t a complete loss. Felix, Miri, and Ren made it out. At least he managed that much. But Vlara…

               One promise broken, one promise kept.

               ΛᄂΣЯƬ: MΛIП ЦПIƬ ЯΣΛᄃΉIПG ᄃЯIƬIᄃΛᄂ ᄂΣVΣᄂƧ. ΣПGΛGIПG PЯӨƬΣᄃƬIVΣ PЯӨƬӨᄃӨᄂƧ.

               The last thing he felt before the next spasm caused him to black out was being hefted forward.