In the heart of a frozen, silent fortress, a man sat upon a throne carved from a single, massive glacier. He was the Ice King. His skin was pale, almost translucent, and his long, white hair fell like a frozen waterfall over broad, armored shoulders. His eyes were a piercing, glacial blue, but they were closed now, his brow furrowed in deep, troubled concentration.
A single bead of sweat trickled down his temple, an impossible thing in the frigid throne room.
"Hmm... hmm... Huhh…"
He was mumbling, a sound of pure, frustrated confusion.
Beside the throne, a figure capered silently. He was dressed in the motley silks and bells of a classic Jester, his face painted in a permanent, playful smile that didn't reach his sharp, intelligent eyes. He watched his king for a moment before tilting his head.
"What troubles you, my King?" the Jester asked, his voice a light, musical chime.
The Ice King's eyes snapped open, the glacial blue now sharp with worry. "The calls," he said, his voice a low rumble. "I'm not getting any more calls from the future. The line is dead. I don't know what's going to happen after the fight."
The Jester's smiling face adopted a look of mock concern. "Ohhh, I see, and the adventurers... they are coming, aren't they?"
The Ice King nodded, picking up a piece of parchment that was covered in his own neat, precise script. "I've written down everything the future told me, it was all accurate. Ayaka, the witch hero, would break free from your control and escape. An expedition would be formed to come after us. I've already sent our forces to the Glacier's Teeth, because the future told me that's where the heroes will go."
He looked up from the paper, his eyes distant. "The last thing I was told was that the hero, Arthur, will fight and stab the elf. And that's it. For days now, the future has been silent."
The Jester tilted his head, his painted smile unmoving. "But isn't your power to speak to your future self? Why not just call ahead and ask?"
The Ice King let out a long, frustrated sigh, the sound like glaciers grinding together. "That's not how it works…" he said, his voice a low rumble of annoyance. "…I can't talk to the future. The future can only talk to the past."
He gestured to himself. "And I am the past. The present. My future self sends me information, but I can't send anything back. The line is one-way only."
The Jester's painted smile widened. "So, my King, what should we do now that you are blind to the future?"
The Ice King looked down at the parchment in his hand. "We follow the last instructions I was given. The future told me three women would confront you first. You will defeat them with ease. Then, the elf will appear."
He paused, a flicker of something unreadable in his eyes. "The vision showed Arthur with his sword raised, about to strike her down. And after that... nothing. The information stops."
"So, four people are coming?" the Jester chimed.
"It was supposed to be like that, yes," the Ice King confirmed.
"And what of me? Did the future say if I kill the three women?"
The Ice King didn't reply.
The tense silence was saved by the grand doors of the throne room swinging open. Three figures entered, moving with a unsettling grace.
At the lead was Arthur, the Hero party leader. The cold, lifeless air of the throne room stirred his blond hair, but the movement brought no life to his expression. His blue eyes that used to be known for their warmth, were now empty.
Not far behind him was Gideon, the Paladin of Light. He was a mountain of a man, his heavy, ornate plate mail so polished it seemed to glow. A massive warhammer was strapped to his back, but his hands hung limp at his sides, his face a blank mask of servitude.
Following them was Silvia, the Ranger of the Silent Wood. Lithe and poised, she moved with a hunter's grace, a longbow of yew wood slung over her shoulder.
All three of them, the hope of the kingdom, were puppets. They walked to the foot of the throne and knelt in perfect unison.
"My King," Arthur said, his voice flat and devoid of all emotion. "The expedition party has arrived at the Glacier's Teeth, just as you foretold."
The Jester capered gleefully around the three kneeling heroes, his painted smile seeming to widen as he looked at them. He clapped his hands together with a soft, mocking sound.
"Oh, just look at you!" he chimed, his voice a song of pure, saccharine praise. "So perfect. So obedient. The Radiant Blade, the Paladin of Light, the Ranger of the Silent Wood... all kneeling so beautifully."
With every word of praise, a faint, almost invisible shimmer of dark energy seemed to tighten around the heroes' minds, strengthening the Jester's control.
They didn't react, their faces remaining utterly blank, their vacant eyes fixed on the floor.
"You've done so well," the Jester continued, circling them like a shark. "You followed your orders perfectly. You are the very picture of loyalty." He let out a soft, musical giggle. "My very favorite puppets."
The Jester's cloying praise faded into the cold silence of the throne room. The Ice King, satisfied with the Jester's work, rose from his throne, his presence filling the vast chamber with a quiet, immense power.
He looked down at the three kneeling heroes, his expression one of grave, regal authority.
"Rise, my champions," he said, his voice a low rumble that seemed to shake the very ice of the fortress.
Arthur, Gideon, and Silvia stood in perfect, silent unison.
"The time of our great trial is at hand," the Ice King announced, his voice echoing in the hall. "The outsiders are at our doorstep. They will be here soon. You are to remain here, within the fortress, and prepare for their arrival."
He began to pace before them, his words a slow, hypnotic cadence. "These invaders... they do not understand the north. They come with their fire and their steel, seeking to exploit our lands and subjugate our people. They call us monsters, but it is they who will bring chaos and destruction."
He stopped and looked at his three puppets, his glacial blue eyes filled with a false, paternal concern. "But you... you are the true protectors of this kingdom. You will stand with me, and together, we will defend the people of the north from the harm these outsiders wish to bring."
***
The carriage rumbled on, a steady, monotonous rhythm. I lay on the floor with my eyes closed, trying to process the variables. The mission was to go north to confront a "King" who controlled ice, had defeated the kingdom's official Hero party, and had a subordinate who could control minds with his voice. And my team was a collection of powerful, volatile individuals I barely knew.
"Are you nervous or something?" a quiet voice said from beside me. "I can sense it from your sweat."
I opened one eye to see Riko looking down at me, her expression analytical.
"You sound like a pervert," I said flatly.
From across the carriage, Kerina and Lila both glanced over for a second before pointedly looking away.
Riko was unfazed. "I'm sensitive to temperature. My own body is full of ice. It makes me acutely aware of the heat and auras of those around me."
That clicked. "So that's why you wear the coat, even when it's hot."
"She can't handle warm places," Kerina interjected without looking up from her sword.
Riko nodded. "She's right. The coat keeps my cold in and the outside heat out."
So, she's a walking refrigerator, I thought. An idea, practical and immediate, formed in my mind. I sat up, rummaged in my satchel, and pulled out my glass bottle of lukewarm water. I handed it to her.
She looked at the bottle, then at me, completely confused. "What?"
"Cool this for me inside your coat. I want something cold to drink."
Riko stared at the bottle in her hand, then back at Hayato, her face a mask of pure, logical confusion. "You want me to... use my body to cool your water?"
"It's the most efficient application of your abilities at this moment," Hayato replied, as if he were discussing a business proposal. "My water is warm. You are cold. It's a simple thermodynamic exchange."
Kerina, who had been silently sharpening her sword, looked up and just shook her head with a disbelieving smirk. Lila just stared, her eyes wide, having long since given up on trying to understand the strange man who was now her temporary employer.
Riko let out a long, frustrated sigh. She looked at the bottle, then at Hayato's completely serious, expectant face. The sheer absurdity of the request was too much to argue with.
"Unbelievable," she muttered. She snatched the bottle from his hand and, with a look of profound annoyance, slipped it into a large inner pocket of her heavy white coat.
To Be Continued.