As I waited outside the deliberation chamber, I couldn’t help but feel irritated. Snow pelted fiercely from the sky, clumping up on my hat and shoulders and forcing me to clear it off every few minutes. The wind was a brisk knife, even bringing a tinge of chill to my own fingers, while forcing the rest of the castle into gloves and coats even inside. This specific chamber, however, was built on an exterior portion of the keep free to the elements. Weather worn bricks older than Silst made up glassless windows and columns holding up the weight of the mountain, though past their reaches I could see a depth of white snow and mist. It smelled only of wind and precipitation to me, and I could hear little else but the chimes of distant bells and the crackling of ice from the closest fountain. 

 

I waved off another worried servant, assuring them that yes, I was fine somehow, and that no, they didn’t need to lead me back to the keep. This one, a man bundled in coats like an arctic traveller, only nodded and left without another complaint, hurrying to find the nearest hearth to melt. He probably didn’t truly believe I needed help at this point, though it was polite to ask. 

 

I shoved my hands into my coat pockets as I watched him go, wondering when I’d gain complete immunity to the cold.

 

Over the course of the last few weeks my ability to control magic had steadily increased up to the heights of the first band, and with it my reputation among the servants. It was considered outrageously fast by the standards of this world, almost stupendously so, I was told. Of course, I couldn’t find much pride in the accomplishment given that I’d done most of the work on Earth, but it was still nice to hear that I really was getting somewhere. And, unfortunately, Amelia had ended up being at the very least a decent teacher, even if I did want to rip her tongue out every other day. We’d worked to test dozens and dozens of spells for any different effects, eventually coming to an easy method to determine at a glance whenever a spell was likely to work or not depending on its inputs and outputs. Given that work, I had memorised an additional five spells that could work with my element. Or rather, five spells that had the potential to be useful in combat. There had turned out to be a lot of rather useless spells that I’d picked up as well.

 

But that still hadn’t translated to complete immunity. Though it was only in the far subzero temperatures that I could feel cold, I had learned that this plateau knew days like that like a fond old friend.

 

[Jesus Christ], I was cold.

 

What was it, negative thirty? With wind? No wonder they’d talked about a goddamn firewood stockpile! It was a wonder anyone lived up here at all! I’d sloughed off blizzards, for God’s sake! And yet still here we were, not even at the height of winter, and both memories and the servants told me to expect worse. It certainly cut any wandering questions about why we didn’t march in the winter, even with magic heating our soldiers. The winter would literally bury them alive.

 

The snow swirled in fantastic patterns outside, and I tried to focus on divining some meaning from them. It was times like this that I wished watches had been invented so that I could yell at Andril when he came out of whatever inane meeting he’d been leading. The bell tower didn’t quite cut through the wind, but it had to have been an hour already, right? Surely. Positively.

 

Another gust of wind blew up into the hallway, and I suppressed a shiver.

 

Scratch that, I was freezing. Did I really have cold resistance?

 

I glanced at the door again, and upon finding it resolutely shut I reached for my wand. I had a proper spear-staff now, one Amelia commissioned from one of the pole-turners in town, but it was way too bothersome to carry around every moment of the day. And I’d look like a proper loon if I walked around the keep frightening couriers and maids with a spear like that. 

 

Not to mention, it was rather heavy.

 

So instead, I left that in my room and carried around a small wand. It wasn’t nearly as good as the staff for proper thaumaturgy, of course. It didn’t boost spells as much or reduce the feedback at all like the staff did. But Amelia had chosen one she had thought I would like, and had unfortunately been right on the money.

 

It was roughly the same diameter the entire length, and was polished smooth with a dull lacquer. Soft blue glyphs were carved up one side of its white wood, and the handle had a small band of silver to keep my hand from sliding up. The whole thing was just under eight inches long, but it fit nicely into the small leather sheath I’d gotten with it, allowing me to draw it smoothly from where it sat on the inside of my left arm. It was a beautiful work of carpentry and glyphwork, the only mark I could muster against it being that it came as a gift from one so unlike it. On the outside, at least.

 

“Vie.” I muttered.

 

There was a sizzle and crack as if I’d snapped an icicle in half, and almost immediately I could see half a dozen small birds struggle forth from invisible cracks in the air. Each one was short and round like a finch, though they were made entirely of blue ice. They chirped brightly as they pulled themselves free, balancing bizarrely on nothing but air for a brief second before they threw themselves into flight. They flew in circles around the hallway, heedless of the heavy winds before they came back to me to swirl about like delighted fairies. They were only three inches long at the largest, but I could see the happiness in their eyes as they beheld their new world. I smiled at them, and they chirped back.

 

Both Amelia and I had been quite surprised when we’d discovered that this spell had worked, and I’d almost smashed them after quick suspicions that they might be some kind of demon. And, rather, that’s what we still thought they were. The same sort of demon that Izavelo was, or the various ‘benign’ things that travelled in the isolated places of the world. That was the conclusion we’d come up with eventually, though we hadn’t put forward a lot of time to study it. More brainpower was devoted to answering the question as to why a spell that was supposed to ‘produce cracks that spilled forth fire’ instead gave me cheerful little ice birds instead. To us it had seemed like that the spell was instead some kind of portal to some other realm and the cold one was not nearly as violent, but that had been a truly disturbing thought for Amelia. After all, if ‘demons’ could live on the other side, what exactly stopped the fire version from letting out some horrible creature instead? Perhaps, maybe, such magic was how demons were summoned in the first place, for such knowledge was definitely not well known in academic or imperial libraries. And though I struggled to understand how one could create a spell to pierce different worlds, I knew firsthand how possible it was.

 

For now, however, I had cute ice birds, and that was good enough for me.

 

I played around with the birds for a while, trying to focus on something other than the chill. They weren’t the same creatures each time, but they did seem to all have the same temperament and patience that allowed them to quickly pick up on things. Before long, I had them spinning on command, twirling around my head as I whistled a song I’d heard from Breale.

 

The door opened suddenly then, scattering my birds into the storm as Andril strode out. He took only a brief glance towards me and sighed, signalling for me to follow.

 

He was bundled up much the same as the others were, with fur-wrapped boots, a thick winter long-coat, and a scarf over all that. He drew the cloak’s hood in as he left the chamber, grimacing as the wind stabbed into him. As I caught up to him, I could see the barest flicker of sparks as he magically warmed his skin.

 

“So-”

 

“I hope you’re not summoning spirits into my castle.” He interrupted. “The men whisper about things like that.”

 

“Your castle?” I raised an eyebrow. “And no, I was actually-”

 

“As prince, everything in Verol is naturally mine in some way or fashion. And I wonder how you’ve adapted so quickly to the cold…” Andril continued. “Did you not feel it so much even before you became a mage? Or are the rumours true that you’ve been learning magic for long before you asked me that first time?”

 

“Eh, I can’t say I’ve minded the cold…”

 

I struggled to keep pace with him as he walked, though he made it look as though his stride was more from the cold than wanting to keep away. He glanced into the clouds as we walked, as though he were looking for much the same things as I had.

 

“Those men from Summark are due to arrive soon, aren’t they? Hasn’t it been three weeks now? A month?” Andril clicked his tongue. “Time sure flies when you’re… well I won’t say ‘having fun’, but it certainly moves when one keeps his feet to the cobbles.”

 

“If you’re feeling bored, there are other places you could be walking.” I said quickly. “Like maybe Fangpeak! Might as well get two things done at once, right?”

 

For a second it looked as though he wanted to roll his eyes, but he affixed his gaze back to the front before he could do so.

 

“I wouldn’t know about that, Fangpeak is such a dead place this time of year. Not to mention the orthungs might keep me rather less bored than I’d like.”

 

“Sir…” I said, only to immediately feel disgusted with myself. “I mean, Andril, please. Why are you so against sending someone to Fangpeak? Do you not need the help? And Amelia’s says you complain often of how they waffle on the fence. Wouldn’t an actual diplomat send them over the edge to our side?”

 

This time, he really did roll his eyes.

 

“Saphry, you’ve asked this a dozen times, and each time I’ve said no. Do you think my opinion is going to change if you keep on like a persistent pup? Even now, when I try to be polite about it…”

 

“When you try to avoid the question, you mean.” I corrected.

 

“Is that not a polite refusal?” He shook his head. “How long were you waiting out there anyway? And how did you even know the meeting was here? And did nobody clear you away? I’m not sure how I’d announce that our new Lmenli mage froze to death outside my door.”

 

“Please, I’m not even cold.” I lied. “And I have my methods.”

 

“You probably just wrung it out of Nathanial.” Andril said dryly.

 

“It was hardly an interrogation.”

 

We walked for a while in silence as I thought about my game plan.

 

I’d been asking him on and off for almost two weeks now, but I’d made little to no progress thus far. The problem was that Fangpeak, while geographically important, didn’t have any resources in the way of manpower or industry, and Andril knew it. Even worse, the ‘Fangpeak plan’ Gideon had talked about was only championed by one or two of Duke Belvan’s vassals, and not even by the influential ones. That had left me with little to argue with, and no one to really argue it too. And even if I was able to convince him to send some smaller diplomat team, I definitely wasn’t the first one in line to go. 

 

No, Andril was convinced that Fangpeak would pledge for him as soon as the snow melted, and he was dead set on taking the straightest path to the capital.

 

As we walked, I felt a small weight appear on my shoulder as one of the birds returned, and I gave it a small grin in response. It was one of the larger ones, almost the size of my palm, and it had some glasslike angles to its ice. Its feathers weren’t defined as much as a real bird would be, which made it almost look like a toy or perhaps a work of art.

 

“Andril.”

 

The prince made a face at first, one that said ‘Just let me get inside, alright?’, but it softened as he caught sight of the bird. He leaned over to inspect it, a curious look about him.

 

“Lady Allarv has told me of it, but I didn’t quite believe her about them being made of ice.” He said. “Remarkable. Is it a familiar? I’ve heard of such things among the eastern peoples.”

 

“Not that I can tell.” I said. “Why don’t you hold it?”

 

I whistled softly and nodded my head towards him, and the bird glanced at his waiting hands. It gave me an apprehensive look, but after another nod it hopped onto his gloves. Andril stared at the thing with a slight smile on his face, one that I hadn’t seen him wear often in recent months.

 

“Some say of the spirits of the forests, of the mountains, that they don’t come from Elys.” Andril said after some time inspecting it. “I’ve never given much credence to those theories. Shifting worlds? It wasn’t possible! Alternate worlds were but the realm of fantasy and children. But this?”

 

I forced down a smile at that. Really, what were the odds that he’d say that to one of the two people who’d transmigrated from another world? Or, I was assuming two, at least. If Fredrick or Auro were transmigrators as well they’d done an awfully great job at hiding it.

 

“Do you think they’d miss their home, if they stayed away enough?” He glanced upwards. “Do they stay permanently?”

 

“I’m not sure.” I admitted. “I think I’ve seen them outside a couple times, but I’ve been summoning them fairly often since I discovered it.”

 

The only downside is that they might end up being some invasive species, or perhaps they actually were demons, but I honestly hadn’t thought that much about it yet. They didn’t look as though they needed food, however, nor were they malicious, so it was probably fine. Though I might end up a little traumatised if when the thaw comes I see dozens of them melting to death outside my window.

 

Without warning, it leapt from his hands and into his hood. Andril immediately stiffened and scrambled to grab it, but it dodged away and seemed to slide down the back of his collar.

 

“By the Star, it’s freezing.” He hissed.

 

I laughed as he struggled rather erratically to extract the bird from his shirt, doubling over in tears as it found the small of his back. He looked very little like the stately prince I’d been arguing with just minutes ago, so much that I couldn’t even remember the nervousness I’d originally built up waiting for him.

 

I leaned against the wall and watched him as I wiped tears from my eyes, only pausing when I caught sight of his face again. Despite the long weeks and the gaunt eyes from lack of sleep, he still somehow managed to present a handsome face, even when scrambling in panic from a sentient ice cube. How had this been the prince that had attacked me, had killed a man in a duel, and now marshalled a quarter of the kingdom to rebellion? I’d somehow managed to see past him in the last few months, not seeing the deep blues of his eyes or the youthful black of his hair. No, this was a guy who should’ve been enjoying his last few years of college, not determining the lives of millions.

 

He narrowed his eyebrows and concentrated on something, and after a second I jumped as his face began to glow soft orange. The bird swiftly jumped back out of his hood, steaming and chirping angrily and hopped back onto my shoulder. 

 

I immediately grabbed the poor thing and whispered a quick spell to cool it down again.

 

“You could’ve killed it!” I cried. “What would you have done if it had simply melted?”

 

“Melt…? Then it would’ve been its own fault.” Andril exclaimed, his prior calm quickly returning to him. “It’ll think twice about doing that again.”

 

“How would you feel if I just burned you alive, huh?” I spat.

 

I glared at him as I cuddled the poor thing. I couldn’t really explain why I felt so protective of the little things, but worry pulsed through me as I listened to its chirps. Was it because I brought it here, into this strange and unknown world? Or was it because the birds reminded me of myself and Gideon? They were enchanted now, yes, but would they truly be happy? Perhaps I was thinking too much into the thought processes of non-sapient birds.

 

“I think I know well enough not to stick my hands down the back of your shirt.” Andril said.

 

Ah, but it was so damn cold I’d bet that-

 

I looked away for a moment, unexpectedly embarrassed at the thought. [Christ], I was devolving at record speeds, wasn’t I?

 

I coughed to recover myself.

 

“I think you owe me for that then.” I said. “For almost melting my bird down your pants, that is.”

 

Andril rolled his eyes.

 

“And might I pre-empt your request? Because I cannot agree with sending you or anyone else to Fangpeak on a simple lady’s fancy.”

 

A strange sense of deja-vu washed over me. Hadn’t I heard almost this exact sentence before? Something about magic? And was that ‘simple’ in relation to ‘lady’ or ‘lady’s fancy’? My level of offence taken depended on that. 

 

“...go on.”

 

“Provide actual reasons why we need Fangpeak to win this.” He held up a finger before I could speak. “I mean actual reasons. Provide evidence. Find something that Fangpeak can give us that we desperately need, or something I can use. If you can find that and convince both me and Lord Belvan, I’ll send you to the Forest of Claws.”

 

The look on his face looked tired, as if he didn’t actually think I could do that, but I just nodded. That was probably the best I was going to get, after all.

 

“I’ll find it.” I said, scrounging up a confident face. “If it can help win this war, I’ll bring it to you.”

 

With a brief flicker of surprise, he turned and strode down the corridor, adjusting his cloak against the wind as he walked. It seemed to me that he was fleeing just as much as I’d wanted to when we met after I killed the demon.

 

The bird squawked from my hands, and I shrugged.

“Really, it kind of was your fault.”