Damian's head rang out as he slowly opened his eyes. His vision was a wavy blur, and his body feeling numb. Not wanting to force himself further on fully waking up, he lies for a while. The once pulsing runes from the pillars and their thrummings were all quiet again, the air unmoving.
During the time where he floated above the carved magic circle, and when energies filled his body from every corner, visions filled his mind. Damian felt himself being split into multiple versions of him, and during those moments he saw everything. From the creation of the entire universe in one massive explosion, and from what appeared to be the end of times.
A great war that cannot be described by mere words as it was unfathomably too large in scale that the entire creation and reality tore itself apart. And during the end times, a massive dragon whose scales are as white and pristine as marble, with wings so large it could even cover many worlds, and obsidian horns that were spiraled with gold on their ridges, it seemed to burn bright—acting as its crown and a symbol of power over the universe.
A dark figure stood across the dragon, where floating heaps of debris wander aimlessly behind him. He had six wings that seemed more like a flowing shadow, with red glowing eyes scattered on them. Soon the figure's head covered in darkness began to reveal his face, a young man with pale skin looked at the primordial dragon with contempt. And when they clashed, reality distorted, shattering into the abyss of non-existence.
Loud, rushing footsteps echoed outside the chamber of the cavern. Followed by a voice that seemed to crack.
"Damian? Damian, where are you?!" the voice cried, it came from a boy not older than Damian.
The footsteps came near, and now the boy shook his shoulders. His tiny hand pinched his cheek—as small as it was, the hand also had a crushing grip behind it.
"...eughh…Ivan?" Damian finally muttered.
Another rush of footsteps followed Ivan inside, and a voice called out. Frantic, and worried. The man knelt beside him, gently brushing his hair with his hand, checking for any signs of harm that may be inflicted upon him.
"Young master, you got us worried back there," Sir Elric said. "What happened to you? How did you find this place?"
Sir Elric looked around the wide chamber that housed the aged magic circle platform and the pillars with runes carved on them.
"I was hiding…" Damian said, his voice was still groggy. "And I found this hiding spot. It seemed like a perfect place to hide, where you'll be spending an hour looking for me."
Damian snickered, a grin formed around his cheeks.
"I have fallen asleep waiting for you to find me."
A lie. If he told the truth about this ritual chamber suddenly giving him terrifying visions and energies stabbing through his body, then all of them are in trouble. Damian did not want either of them to get blamed, scolded, and punished by his lord father.
"Hmm, I could have sworn I heard someone screaming my name…"
"That can't be me," Damian shook his head, "Legends were told around snowy mountains that a Snow Lady would lure humans by copying the voices and even the shape of their loved ones."
Damian rose, raising his arms as he slowly leaned forward his brother.
"And then, she will consume your warmth and energy, like how vampires suck their victim's blood for food." He pinched Ivan's shoulders.
Ivan shivered, his voice shaking.
"What if you're not Damian I'm talking to?" Ivan fretted, "But a Snow Lady who lured my brother inside this cavern and is now using his skin to lure me?!"
The frantic Ivan grabbed his brother's neck, shaking it with brute strength.
"I-Ivan…aakkhhh!" Damian choked on his breath, "Stop! It's me, it's really me! I'm jesting, I swear it."
Sir Elric leaned back on a pillar, who then burst into a fit of giggles.
"He speaks truly, Ivan," The knight said, amused. "A Snow Lady only shows up during blizzards, not on that clear sunny day or else they won't look frightening." He pointed on the hole which the sunlight pierces through inside the chamber.
Ivan pushed his brother, not amused by his brother's playful teasing.
"Dont ever jest like that again." Ivan grumbled, his eyes glaring at his little brother. His tone eventually softened, helping his brother stand and hugging him afterwards.
"But also…I'm glad you're okay, you have guts to be exploring this cavern alone. It looks quite a monument, or a ritual chamber."
"I know," Damian replied. "There are other ruins on the Mistypeak Mountains, so coming across this place isn't uncommon."
After some time, they eventually head back to camp to drink up some warm tea. Sir Elric toasts the bread they brought on a well-heated pan, and combines them with butter and honey. This breakfast will suffice for their morning.
***
It was midday when Lanius and Sir Robin came back from their hunt. They carry deers each on their shoulder, struck with arrows on their necks. This will be their best meal for today and the next one, just before the party leaves the mountains.
Sir Robin cooks the chunks of deer meat his lord had meticulously sliced to pieces. Lanius burned the parts they wouldn't use and buried them.
"Ah, finally, some good venison," Sir Elric savored the meat.
Damian wasn't particularly a heavy eater, but a good venison after days of troll hunting and traveling through the mountains was mouth-watering. He ate until his belly was satisfied. Sitting on the same log as him, Ivan used tender venison as filling for his sliced bread.
As they happily ate their meal, Sir Elric raised his hand.
"If I may ask, my lord," Sir Elric said. "How long did it take you to master all swordsmanship styles and reach the Northernblade Conqueror rank?"
Lanius finishes his drink before answering.
"A long time," he said, bluntly. "If you really are determined in attaining the highest rank, you'll need decades of practice, hundreds or even thousands of battles fought, and unbreakable grit. But if I'm being honest? You will only be able to attain the rank of Northernblade Emperor once you reach the same age as me."
A quiet pause hung in the chill air for a while. Sir Elric had a look on his face that he might've misunderstood.
"...decades," The knight looked at Lanius, studying his face. "But you don't look very old?"
What? Damian stopped chewing venison, perplexed by a simple comment. He doesn't know how old Father is?
Even Ivan stopped for a moment. Sir Robin didn't bother but focused on cooking venison.
"Does this mean you're fifty, my lord?" Sir Elric said.
Lanius shook his head slightly.
"Seventy? Eighty?"
Lanius shook his head once more.
"You cannot possibly be older than ninety?"
"Next year, lad," Lanius said, chewing the freshly cooked venison from the cooking pot.
Eighty-nine, Lanius was only old in terms of age. His outward appearance not being older than thirty due to his Arcaedian blood slowing his aging.
Sir Elric cleared his throat before speaking up.
"My grandfather said something before he passed away last year. At the Redfort castle, he challenged you to single combat, and unfortunately, he lost. But it was the best fight he ever had in his long life. I thought he was merely mistaken because his memory was clouded by age."
"Lord Edmund was arrogant back then," Lanius replied, "You? Not so much, but you have inherited his hunger for battle and desire to become stronger. I was seventeen, and he was twenty five when we fought."
"Then, even if I don't manage to become Northernblade Emperor, I'll still train as hard as I can to reach my full potential!" Sir Elric grinned hard, clenching his fist tightly.
"Mhm," Lanius hummed, "Of course you will. If you keep holding on to your fighting spirit, you could become a Northernblade Emperor before your hair starts to grey."
Sir Robin finished cooking venison strips. He went to check on Snow Drifter's saddlebag, his face scrunched and twitched. He yanked the bag out from his mount and threw it towards Sir Elric.
"You spilled the black powder on my saddlebag," Sir Robin huffed, "Now go clean it, you red-haired buffoon."
He stomped his feet on the snow, now headed to his tent.
Sir Elric looked at the Vermilion brothers, silently asking them who snitched. In truth, neither of them said anything about the saddlebag. Both brothers shrugged as they chewed on tender venison.
With no other choice, Sir Elric rose to his feet, but not before Lanius stopped him by grabbing his wrist.
"Where were you going?"
"I…I'll apologize to my Senior Knight, my lord."
"Without cleaning your mess first?"
With a soft sigh escaping his lips, Sir Elric sat on the log with the saddlebag on both hands.
"Right…my lord."
***
The party left the foot of the mountains; the peaks had gone quieter. They passed over groups of men walking alongside two wagons with six horses pulling heavy cargos. Two heads. Gigantic and grotesque. One of the troll chieftain's tusks were shattered, and the other, its face caved in and grounded like beef.
Onlookers saw Lanius and his knights, they waved their hands and cheered for them. Hailed as heroes, and many will sing songs of them slaying the powerful Ice Troll tribes.
The townsfolk paraded the heads around Orstun, showing how the threat of Ice Trolls was now over.
Mayor Campbell called his servants and attendants for a celebration. Tables had been set on the town square, foods and drinks prepared; pigs spitroasted on fire, and ale was free for today's gathering.
On one corner, men at arms gathered around Sir Elric who was boasting his skill and ferocity in combat when he fought the Ice Trolls and sliced them to pieces. He pulled his sword from its scabbard and flipped it in the air, demonstrating the sellswords Advanced-tier Northernblade techniques.
Meanwhile, dwarves had gathered around Sir Robin, who was showing them his revolver. They were unfamiliar with its mechanism, but their eyes were already assessing the firearm. Dwarves had produced firearms before, but they were heavy and bulky; firesticks acted more as handheld explosives to deliver nasty blows to your enemies. There were firearms like the Etherite powered hand cannons but the knight worked better with black powder guns.
"Where did you find this firearm, Sir?" A dwarf with a horned helm asked, he had black hair and a braided beard.
"South," Sir Robin replied, spinning the cylinder of his revolver, "From a dead mercenary on a battlefield."
"May I see what it fires?"
Sir Robin grabbed a bullet from his pocket.
"I see," The dwarf said, "So this piece of lead is enough to kill an Ice Troll?"
"Only if you hit them on vital parts, the head specifically."
To the table where Lanius sat with the mayor, a group of dwarves approached him. They were miners, judging by their helmets with headlamps attached on them, smudges of coal on their skin, and others on the back leaning on their pickaxes. The foreman introduced himself to be Eobard, from the clan Silvergane.
"Greetings, Lord Lanius," Eobard said, "I have heard of the news that the threat of Ice Troll clans have been finally resolved, by your very hands even more impressive."
"Mhm, and what business might you have with me?"
"I was hoping that me and my fellow dwarven denizens the permission to carry mining operations on Mistypeak Mountains,"
"That wouldn't be a good idea," Lanius objected, "Mistypeak Mountains are prone to High Storms, my party was only fortunate enough we didn't have to face one during our troll hunting."
Eobard scratches his rough and unkempt beard.
"We will only be operating at the foot of the mountains. Besides, we dare not risk our lives traversing the peaks themselves for some volatile magic crystals," Eobard replied, "Etherium maybe more valuable than any other gems in Terra, but silver is used for daily utilities, gold for making coin, and iron for the very tools and weapons we use."
"How can you know there are precious ores at the foot?"
Eobard broke into a fit of laughs and guffaws, pounding his shoulder answering:
"Trust in our guts, my lord."
Dwarves had always been experts on mining. Once they had been kings of the mountains, they had built their reputation by being stronger and tougher than most men, the minds of a tinkerer, and infamous for taking lifelong grudges.
Scattered on every corner of the known world without a king, they work for every lord, king, and emperor to have their knowledge and muscle be used for various works. Whether it was mining, inventing, and the party's vanguard, dwarves are all special kinds of people.
"Very well," Lanius said, "I'll have the Duke's say in this matter, to grant Eobard of the Silvergane clan the official permission for the mining operations at the foot of the Mistypeaks. Once I traveled to the capital to my lord father and thus speak to him, I can assure you that I will deliver the paper with the Vermilion's seal on it."
Eobard bowed to Lanius, and the dwarves behind him did the same.
"Thank you, my lord," Eobard said with gratitude, "Aisdelian will benefit from the minerals of the mountains we could mine."
Eobard left with his men eventually, after getting a few drinks of this day's free ale. The town continued to become lively as the festivity went on. Children gathered on a space of the town's square, watching Damian form an ice statue of himself striking a pose with a wand at its right hand pointing upwards. A gleaming smile formed around his cheeks as the children clapped their hands and gave him compliments and praises.
A sharp crack caught Damian's ears alert. His ice statue slowly crumbled from head to toe, and as the bits of ice fell on the cobblestones, a boy with auburn hair blinked his eyes in a slow manner.
"Oops," Ivan said casually as if it's natural for him to destroy things. "I was just testing its durability."
Damian pressed both hands deeply in his face, suppressing a growl. It took an hour to make the ice statue of himself that painted him as the rising prodigy aiming to be the pinnacle of magical expertise, and his fool of a brother made it seem to shatter it.
"You idiot!" Damian shouted, "What did you do that for?!"
"It was just a single flick I did," Ivan said, "to test the ice statue's hardness. I didn't intend to break it. I swear."
Perhaps Ivan wanted to have an ice statue of himself painting him as the strong northern warrior, with his sword raised proudly. Still, the statue he had molded now slowly melted on the cobblestones, and he had used all of his time and focus to even make another statue for today.
Without another word, he stomped his feet out from the square, away from the crowd of children who had patiently witnessed the process of his first masterpiece. Did not intend to break it huh? Damian thought ponderously, as if you never knew how strong you were…
The celebration ended, and a day after, the party headed back home. Another four days of traveling in the vast expanse of snow, the one thing Aisdel never ran out of for seven or eight months. Once they've reached the Vermilion mansion, Lanius told his sons to take a long rest; he wanted them tested again for sparring tomorrow.
Both of them had unlocked their mana reinforcement, and had varying effects on them. Damian's senses were heightened and was able to evade his brother's attacks with smooth precision and flow. Ivan on the other hand, became faster, stronger, and was able to emanate an air of pressure towards Damian. Their father wished to see them fight again.
Once the brothers were fully rested, they were called to the training yard of their mansion. Lanius and his knights stood at the corner. The flowing cold morning air brushed off their cheeks, both brothers stared intensely at each other.
"Begin." Lanius uttered and his deep voice echoed.
A gust of wind burst from Ivan's body as he powered up his mana reinforcement. The condensed red glow made him seem even more intimidating, his feet that were planted on the snow sunk deeply.
Ivan charged with incredible speed, the way his wooden sword was handled appeared to be pointed directly to Damian's body. A thrust. Ivan only took less than two seconds to close his distance so he could end the fight quickly with a single thrust. But with Damian's reinforcement, he could easily evade the incoming attack.
Damian pivoted to his right, giving him a chance to strike behind his brother's back. His downward slash was parried by Ivan's quick turn and counter. The impact sent rippling vibrations throughout his skin, yet he held his sword tightly to his fists.
The yard soon began to be filled with echoing and clattering of wood on wood. Ivan's relentless pressure proved to be difficult to break; his powerful strikes acted as both offense and defense.
Even as Damian seemed to keep up with his brother's fast and heavy strikes using precise counters and heightened anticipation, there is a clear gap between the two in terms of overall strength and speed. And Damian still can't close this huge gap between them. Unless…
There are no rules in a real battle, anyone is free to utilize everything they have. The environment, the climate, the mind, each of these factors are skill-based, yet they can significantly affect the outcome of a fight.
The snow can blind, a heavy downpour of them could result in a storm causing you to lose sight around the field. A fistful is also enough, even if its effect were temporary and quick, you are given time for quick thinking and strike while your opponent is distracted.
Damian won't use the same trick twice.
"You're too fired up brother," Damian called him out, "Keep that pace and you'll burn out quicker than me."
"Tired already?" Ivan replied, his teeth gritting and the corners of his lips curved to a predatory smirk. "Are you fatigued, little bean?"
"Im only asking you to chill out!" Damian cried aloud, giving his brother a smirk back to him.
Damian began to chant a spell.
"The cold winds of winter gather me, I call upon the biting chill that turns a warrior's fiery spirit into an ice cold memory…"
Ivan halted just as he was about to strike again.
"A spell won't make a difference, but you already knew th–"
"Freeze!"
Damian extended his right arm towards his brother, his body began to feel a massive surge of magic coming out of him.
He caught a glimpse of a blur of black that rushed from where Ivan stood. But soon the black figure disappeared into his eyes as a storm of cold winds rushed out from his hand.
Shaking and rattling violently, his vision blurred as his body vibrated when he casted the ice spell that exploded from his small hand. Even when he took hold of his right arm with his left hand to divert the flashflood of cold winds. His ears rang into white noise even as his spell finally and miraculously broke off.
When he dropped to his knees on the snow, a lady rushed behind to steady him, shaking his shoulders and checking on his chest.
"Damian! Are you hurt? Where is your brother?!"
Catherine cried out.
Mother? Damian thought a whisper.
The sworn knights checked around the abnormal sized ice, checking for Ivan. Damian looked from the corner from where the knight had once stood and found nothing of his father.
Soon his vision became clearer. Abnormal masses of ice with jagged and sharp points trailed from Ivan's position and outside the walls of their mansion. It was as tall as a two storey house. A Freeze spell should only be a size of a person at Intermediate level. But judging by the size of the ice formed by the spell, it is at Master level instead.
Damian shouldn't have done this, not with his current. It was simply an impossible feat even for a magic prodigy at the age of six. Something was wrong…
The mass of ice began to crack. In a split second, debris of ice exploded as they were shattered by a powerful force. The figure in black fur came out of the ice.
"Father…" Damian uttered half a whisper.
Lanius's arms were overextended stiffly, his fists were clenched. Behind him was Ivan, clutching on the hem his cloak, neither shaken nor afraid. Only his jaw dropped from sheer awe and curiosity as he turned around and saw the trail of ice that only ended at the treelines.
Damian stood and ran off for Ivan, but immediately Lanius stepped out from the ice debris to stop him. His hands sprang forward, both a push and pull, the grip was crushing and there was no chance of breaking free.
"What have you done?! You- you!" Lanius cursed under his breath. "Why did you do that?!"
Damian's throat turned raspy, his eyes moistening. He never saw his father express his anger so intense he as well be dead just from looking at his gaze.
"I…I'm sorry…" Damian sniffled, covering his eyes, who's now flooding with tears, "I'm really…sorry…"