The streets of Bryndilyn were shrouded in darkness, a thick layer of fresh snow blanketing the cobblestone paths. These were barely traveled by citizens and foreigners alike—the only sign of life in the lonely city were the abundance of soldiers standing at their posts with longswords, scanning the back alleys for any movement.  People feared to leave their homes and only left to receive their rations every two weeks. Now only foolish nobles or street rats roamed the once vibrant and lively Bryndilyn.  Normal Noirians only walked the streets if they absolutely had to.  Even a slight glance at one of the soldiers would incur a bloodbath. 

In one of the farthest alleys, away from the soldiers’ watchful eyes, sat a group of dirty, malnourished children in tattered jackets and too short of trousers.  They huddled around a small fire made of thin, withered sticks that crackled and stirred restlessly; it was a weak, fluttering flame but nevertheless a source of heat for the shivering kids.  They blew on their hands and rubbed them together as they looked up at the dark sky, snowflakes catching on their eyelashes and matted hair.

“Hey kids.” A low voice called from the shadows.  The children looked up to see a grey cloaked figure emerging from the entry to the alley.  With a rough but slender hand the person pulled back their hood revealing a sharp featured woman with hair as black as a crow’s feathers and eyes grey like a storm cloud . 

“Aria!” They cried, running towards her, crowding around her excitedly.

She grinned and patted their heads fondly.  “Guess what I got for you today?”  She pulled out a basket of freshly baked bread and another full of luscious fruits; these were rare things to attain for the poor in Noir.

The children’s eyes widened and sparkled, the two succulent foods reflecting in their big eyes.  “Where'd ya get this, Aria?” One child asked inquisitively.  He was called Lucas, a fourteen year old boy with a very curious and bright mind.  He was the oldest of the group of kids and their designated leader. 

Aria laughed.  “You know Gregory right? He visited you the other day.  This's a present from him.  Make sure to thank ‘im when you see him.”  She handed the two baskets to the children and waved as she walked back the way she came.  “I'll see you kids later.  Stay safe and if you ever need somewhere to stay, come find me! Remember the catacombs!”

They yelled their goodbyes and retreated back to the fire, enjoying the much needed food the woman had brought.  As Aria left she pulled her hood back up and glanced around furtively before returning to the way she came. 

Underneath the city was catacombs of deceased Noirians from hundreds of years ago that both citizens and soldiers alike were forbidden inside. The group Aria belonged to made this their way of getting through Bryndilyn unnoticed.  It would be suicide to walk the streets nowadays.  She opened up the hatch that led down into the tunnels and climbed through carefully, the stench of decaying flesh and rat feces no longer bothering her after years of use.  Aria was greeted by a narrow, dark opening that seemed to swallow all the light that escaped through the hatch.  The crusty dirt underneath her bandaged feet crunched as she crouched to fit through the small hole.  After a while of walking, the tight passage opened into a large, long room that seemed to stretch for miles.  Against the decaying, stone walls were freshly lit torches, held by black metal grates embedded into the sides by just a hinge.  Rectangular tombs were cut through the crumbling stone, dirty bones lined with teeth marks scattered throughout the dust and muck.  She could hear the scuttling of rats as they ran through and noticed the occasional c***roach and spider crawling up the deteriorating walls.  As she walked through, Aria recounted each man made tunnel that exited to different parts of the city.  She had just came from the eastern part so which was the one that led to the western prefecture again…? She sighed and climbed through one of the tunnels in the eastern wall, hoping it brought her back to where she needed to be.

As she crawled through the tunnel, Aria remembered her days living on the streets of Bryndilyn.  She was a street urchin just like those kids back in the alleyway, but unlike them, no one had ever brought her food. 

She scowled to herself, shaking her head as she emerged back onto the surface of the capital, shutting the hatch behind her and brushing the dust and cobwebs that had gathered on her frayed clothes off.  Thankfully Aria had taken the right path, and she entered a small, low building directly north of the tunnel entrance.  The room was buzzing with anticipation and anxiety when she walked in.  It was a plain but rather large room, with whitewashed walls and a single wooden stand in front of the large crowd that had gathered.  They stood in front of the podium, a nervous tension in the air; the people gathered flinched every time the door opened in fear of soldiers finding this secret meeting.  Aria laughed with amusement at their jumpiness and stood in the back, leaning against the wall with her arms crossed.  Her watchful eyes examined each and every person she saw.  She was always watching out for any spies from the king.

After a few minutes of waiting, a tall man walked into the room, oozing natural charisma and charm.  He was dressed in white clothing that emphasized his dark hair and bright eyes.  With a pleasant smile, the man walked up behind the speaker’s stand and waited for the crowd to quiet down. 

“Thank you for coming today.” He began, exerting his voice so all the people in the room could hear.  It held a powerful, magnetic quality that seemed to attract the attention of all who listened.  “My name is Gregory.  Gregory Worchester. I'm pleased to see that so many people have come to listen! Now, I'm sure you're all here because you dislike the current system we have in this beautiful kingdom of Noir, correct?”

Some people in the crowd nodded and the soft buzz of voices echoed throughout the room.  “But what I ask,” Gregory’s strong voice rang out, “Is what is causing this unrest?”

The voices grew louder and more aggressive at this question.  Aria could hear the faint shouts of “the soldiers,” or “the king.”  Gregory nodded and smiled.  “That's right, the soldiers are definitely to blame, but the true root of this monstrosity is the king! We can't even walk the streets without being seized by some common foot-soldier! We can't even buy food to sustain our families because of this oppression! There are soldiers at every street corner now, and you know why?”

“Why?” The crowd echoed back, excited and riled up by Gregory’s speech.

“Because the king has allowed this oppression.  He's ordered the soldiers to ‘attack anyone who looks suspicious’ and for what? Because he's afraid.  He's afraid that he's going to be overthrown by some low class, poor street rat.  And that's just what's going to happen.  That's what we're going to do! We're going to take down this tyrant and establish a new era of equality and peace! No citizen will have to fear walking the streets of their home and no child will be hungry on the streets! We need to take down this tyrant once and for all!”

The crowd cheered wildly as Gregory began to speak once again.  “So my dear Noirians, please listen to my request.  All those who are tired of this tyranny come forward and prove your loyalty.” He threw the people a casual smile.  “If you’re truly willing to partake in this cause, then meet us in the back.”  With those last words he retreated from the stand, leaving the crowd chattering with excitement, the previous nervousness lost in the mass.  Aria frowned subconsciously and slowly made her way through the dense crowd.  She thrust open the door and stood strongly in front of Gregory who was sprawled in a chair. 

He smiled lazily.  “Well that took you longer than I thought.”

“What was that?” She demanded.

“What was what?” He responded innocently, pretending to be oblivious. 

“That thing you said before, “if you're truly loyal, come to the back.”  What was that?!” She cried angrily.  “You know that there could be spies In the crowd right?!”

Gregory held up a hand to quiet her.  “Calm down Aria. If I go into this distrusting every person that wants to help then I'm never going to get more people.  Don't worry, even if someone does snitch, it'll work out.”

Aria frowned.  “And how do you think that'll work?”

He laughed.  “The king is paranoid now and look how many slip ups he's letting happen.  The other day some of our archers ambushed one of the Royal cavalry units three times! And do you remember how easy it was for you to burn the capital soldiers’ food supply?! Imagine what will happen when he knows there's definitely a rebellion being staged! As long as we lay low and play our cards right, this will work! Aria, you always told me you wanted to liberate Noir! And this is just what we're trying to do!”

Aria sighed and shook her head, settling into the seat next to him.  “I'm not saying I'm against the plan now I just… Don't you think you're being too optimistic? Listen Greg, we grew up together.  You're my brother, so I just don't want anything to happen to you.”

They had grown up in the slums of Bryndilyn together from when they were only 9 years old.  Though they weren't blood related, the experiences they went through together made them closer than any real family.

Aria was always with Gregory when they were younger.  Even then, he was a natural born leader.  She could remember the days of running through the snow covered city, when it was the festive place they once knew.  Bright strings of lanterns hung from stalls of the marketplace like little stars sparkling above them and the streets were crowded with people, their smiles lively and vivacious.  Aria wanted to return to those days, but after a while she had forgotten why she even once loved this dark, lonely country.  They had never given her any mercy even when Noir was still peaceful, so why did she want to save it?  She was torn from her conflicting thoughts by a hand clasping her shoulder.

Gregory grinned and patted her soothingly, as if he knew what she was thinking.  “Don't worry little sister.  I have plans for anything that comes.” 

Aria rolled her eyes and sighed. “Your c***iness both worries me and makes me slightly envious.” She muttered.  “I just hope it won't be your downfall.”

Gregory laughed.  “You're too negative Ari.  Lighten up.”  They were interrupted by a door creaking open slowly.  Its metal bottom, browned with rust and mud, scraped noisily against the hard uneven floor.  Gregory perked up and put on a flashy smile.  Aria snorted.  That was his business smile.

“Welcome!” He cried enthusiastically.  “Come, sit down!”

A group of Noirians entered, their faces young and weary.  They sat down in front of Aria and Gregory carefully, their eyes darting back and forth from the door to Gregory’s face. 

“So,” he began when they all settled down.  “Tell me your names.”

One man with a hawkish hooked nose and a thin smile spoke up.  “I'm Ivan Roth.  I used to be a business owner before this damn king issued all these military men around.”  He narrowed his eyes doubtfully at Gregory and Aria.  “Are you really going to help people or are you just like every other wannabe rebel? They talk big and fall dead like a fly.” He snapped his fingers for extra effect.

Gregory chuckled.  “Well so far we've ambushed one of the cavalry units and intercepted the food supplies of the soldiers out in the midlands of Noir.  We’re starting with little things right now and then moving into the big plans later.”

Ivan folded his arms across his chest and scowled.  “I just want Einar out of the throne.  I don't care how it's achieved.”

A woman piped up from the back.  She had mousy brown hair and sat with her shoulders scrunched and her back hunched as if she was in pain.  “I-I am Yuria… I…my family…”

Some of the other people in the room rolled their eyes and sighed loudly.  A muscular man with pale skin glared at her harshly and interrupted her.  “I'm Jovich.  I'm a laborer from Kativ.  Came a couple years ago to find work here, but this military occupation was already in place.”

Aria frowned with disapproval at him.  His rudeness towards the woman made her dislike him even more, but she remained silent.  She couldn't afford to anger someone, especially if Gregory liked them.  She watched Yuria carefully, who was nervously tugging on a string of her hair, and felt a rush of sympathy for the young woman.

A few others introduced themselves rather quickly.  Their names were Ophelia, Marck, and Alec.  Aria didn't find anything too outstanding about them but they seemed like decent people.  She glanced sideways at Gregory who listened to each and every person, as if they were the only two in the room.  His eyes glazed over as if he was daydreaming but they looked completely focused on the other person’s face giving an illusion of rapt attention.  Aria wondered if he was feeling ill; he was usually very attentive.

Once introductions were over Gregory’s eyes finally returned to their bright, cheery countenance and Aria brushed off her previous thoughts.  He smiled. “So tell me what you each can do? What do you specialize in?” Over the next few minutes, they discovered Ivan and Jovich were retired soldiers, Ophelia was a seamstress, and Marck and Alec were blacksmiths. After everyone spoke, Gregory looked towards Yuria pointedly, who had cringed as soon as they made eye contact.  “I-i can't do much…. I-I…”

“That's completely alright!” Gregory said reassuringly, interrupting her mid-sentence.  “We’ll just have to find your hidden talent!” As he turned around, Aria swore she saw a flash of disgust cross his expression before returning to its normal casual demeanor.  He grabbed a piece of paper from his pocket and wrote down the address to one of the rebels’ bases on it.  “Report here.” He instructed. “Tell them you're new recruits Gregory sent.”

They thanked him and left quickly, shuffling out with muffled voices and uneasy expressions.  It became routine for people to peer around doors as they left, in fear of soldiers walking by or of the thieves that roamed around the alleyways.  Gregory sighed after the door had finally shut, running his rough fingers through his unkempt hair.  He turned to Aria bleary-eyed and fatigued as if the ordeal had sucked the life from him.  “So Aria, what'd you think of them?”

Aria shrugged.  “Seemed like ordinary folks.  Nothing too special except those two ex-soldiers.”  She picked at a blackened sore on her hand absentmindedly.  “What were their names again? Jovich and Ivan?” She shook her head in disgust.  “I don't trust soldiers ex or not.  They're all corrupted.”

Gregory laughed.  “You know, not all soldiers are bad Aria.  You just look at them badly because of the ones you've experienced.  I'm sure a lot of them have families that love them and friends that care about them.”

Aria snorted.  “They're all just dogs of Einar, nothing more nothing less! Look at what they're doing now in Bryndilyn!” She glared at Gregory disdainfully.  “I can't believe you of all people would defend those monsters! Don't you remember what they did to us?! They killed Noah!”

Noah was a child they adopted as a brother when they were 10 years old.  He was a sweet, round faced, innocent boy with an energetic nature and an insatiable curiosity.  Whenever he smiled, Aria saw a gaping hole where his two front teeth should have been that held a bit of mischievousness in it.  He always bragged they were knocked out in a fight he had with a soldier.  Of course it was a lie, but it was an innocent joke.  One day when he was talking about his victory, a group of soldiers overheard him, and beat him to death.  Hours later, Aria and Gregory had found his body; the skull cracked open, his jaw crushed to bits and scraps of skin hanging loose from his face, blood oozing from his wounds.  A pool of his own piss and blood surrounded him; he was alive even after all the brutality, only dying an hour after he suffered in his agony.  Aria and Gregory were horrified by the sight of him, but while Gregory grieved over his lost brother, Aria only felt rage. The events happening to Noir now only made Aria’s hatred burn stronger.

Gregory’s eyes misted over with sorrow, remembering the terror and the pain they both felt on that cold night.  Aria could hear the hiss of air escaping through his clenched teeth.  “Didn't we agree we'd never talk about Noah?” He said calmly, his voice grating but soft.  Aria narrowed her eyes slightly at her brother.  “How do you expect to save Noir when you can't even talk about a boy who died ten years ago? You're just a hypocrite!” She seethed. 

Gregory shook his head and smiled a sad smile.  “Aria, please… Not now…”

The girl stared at him angrily for a moment, her grey eyes reflecting his sorrow on their glassy surface, and she hung her head in defeat.  “You're weak Gregory.” She muttered.  “You sympathize too much with the enemy…”

He laughed softly, wrapping his pale arms around her shoulders and sighed.  “Weak? Maybe I am, but I have you don't i, Ari? We're family aren't we?”

She lifted her face for a moment to stare at the broken wooden beams above her that caved inward as if it were about to collapse; to glance at the dirty, ragged curtains that hung limply from the dust covered windows, the layers of dirt crusty and hard; and finally at the young man in front of her.  His deep blue eyes swirled with thousands of emotions Aria still couldn't understand even after years of living with him, and his strong jaw seemed slack and fragile under the dark shadow that had crossed over his face.  She sighed and pushed him away roughly. “Get off of me. You say such embarrassing things.” Aria turned around so he couldn't see that under the faint light of the lantern that hung low from the ceiling, her lips had upturned into a slight smile.

He laughed heartily, clutching his stomach as if she had said something gut-wrenchingly funny.  “You try to act so tough all the time.  I can see you smiling.”

Aria scowled.  “Shut up! I wasn't smiling because of what you said. I don't care what you think.”

“Of course.” Gregory said, grinning widely.  “You know, you haven't changed at all from when we were kids.”

Aria turned back around to give him a sidelong glance.  With a small smile she leaned against the chair back and sighed wistfully.  “We haven't changed, but Noir has changed.  Greg, do you remember that day when it was the sun festival back 8 years ago? The last one Noir had before it all went to hell?”

Gregory’s eyes glazed over with nostalgia, a warm fuzzy feeling passing through him as the influx of memories flooded in.  “It's been so long since I've even heard that term.” He laughed sadly.  “I've forgotten what a sun festival even is…”

Aria snorted and rolled her eyes but sat next to him at the table.  “It's the festival on the day when the sun is at its brightest.” She said, a longing hidden deep within her voice.  “Gregory, do you remember the food? The sweets melted in your mouth when you ate them, and the stews were thick and creamy and perfectly seasoned.  Everyone was allowed to celebrate regardless of class too. We used to fly kites on that day… I remember you had a red kite and I had a green one.”

“I remember that.” Gregory reminisced.  “You fell down while we were kite flying. You tripped over a rock.”

Aria scowled at him.  “Is that really all you remember?”

He smirked.  “Well you always were falling over something.”

“Shut up.” She growled.  “Forget it. Anyway, what are we doing now?” She asked, looking around the room. “Another speech?”

Gregory shook his head.  “Nope, we're going back to the Bryndilyn base and helping those new recruits set up.  Then we're going on another ambush.” He glanced at Aria as if he was gauging her reaction.  “And I've decided… you're going to lead it.”

Sima woke up shivering as a gale of frozen wind rushed through the hole in the roof of the old barn. He sighed as he pulled his sheepskin tightly around him and groaned quietly as he struggled to stand from his bed of snow covered blankets. The barn was still shrouded in darkness, the only light coming from the gaping hole in the roof. Sima could hear the faint snores of the soldiers sleeping and sighed.

His bones crackled as he slowly pushed himself from the ground, each of his frozen joints groaning in unison as he finally managed to stand upright. He trudged over to Leo, who laid on his side in a fetal position, his teeth chattering noisily in his sleep. He gave the young lieutenant a swift kick and looked at the side of the barn underneath the hole, snow piling up it like a tiny mountain. They’ve been trapped in the barn for three days, and were quickly running out of food to eat. Sima was already disobeying the king and not arriving when he was ordered, but now the troop was trapped with no sign of escape. He kicked Leo again and yelled into his ear, “Wake up!”

Leo bolted upright and groaned when he saw the familiar face staring back at him. “Sima…? You bastard, why'd you wake me up?” He slurred hazily.

Sima scowled. “Who's a lieutenant? Who's always chiding me about being a good influence on the men? Maybe if you follow your own advice I wouldn't need to kick you.” He retorted.

Leo sighed rubbing the sleep from his eyes. “Fine, fine you win. I'm up.” He yawned noisily and stretched. He looked up towards the hole in the roof and frowned. “Day 3 huh?” He asked Sima.

“Yeah.” Sima replied wearily. He fiddled with a loose thread hanging from his shirt, knotting it over and over again until it was too short to make another loop. “We're dead. King Einar is not going to like this.”

Sima and Leo looked at the mass of sleeping cavalrymen, and made a silent agreement. Sima trudged over to the middle of the group, and cleared his throat loudly. “Wake up men!” He boomed, his voice echoing through the cold barn, the walls vibrating with its strength. The men woke up restlessly, but nevertheless quickly. Sima was satisfied with their speed, until he noticed two men not moving near the back of the barn. He strode over, preparing himself to give them a proper reprimanding and swallowing the nervous feeling bubbling from his stomach, when he noticed their faces. One man was Forrest, the one who was shot the other day, and the other was Hurst, a young carpenter from Yeshik, a western city in Noir. Underneath the thin blankets that had a light layer of snow covering them, their faces were a pallid chalky white, their skin peeling and cracked, blotches of blue and purple bruising the dry surface. Their lips were a shade of pale blue, and dark thin veins stood out in stark contrast against their deathly white skin. He lifted up one of the men’s frigid hands and pressed two fingers to his wrist, feeling for a heartbeat. He was answered with cold silence.

The cavalrymen behind him stood silently at attention, their bodies trembling with each gust of winter air. Sima stood up abruptly, and turned around sharply, his face rigid and pained. He walked over to Leo stiffly. It felt as though thousands of critters were crawling all over his body. He couldn't help but to notice his own hand; it was so translucent from the cold that he could see his veins, just like he did on the two bodies.

“What happened Sima?” Leo whispered, seeing his expression.

Sima closed his eyes tightly and shook his head sorrowfully. “Both dead. God Leo, they froze to death!”

Leo looked down realizing why Sima was so upset. The death of two of their men was terrible, but it also made them realize what could happen if they were trapped any longer. Though they faced death on a continual basis, it was at the threat of other humans, not nature, and sometimes nature was more frightening than anything else.

Sima turned to look at the cavalrymen who had all taken in the sight of the two corpses. He could see their panic and their terror, worn so obviously on their expressions. “We're finding a way out of here.” He assured them, his voice sounding shaky and weak to himself. “Search around this place and see if you can find any way to get out. Report back to me if you find something.”

He heard the murmurs of “yes captain,” as the men split into uneven clusters and slowly started to search the barn. Sima turned to Leo, resignation stamped on his face. “I'm too young, too immature. I'm supposed to be some prodigy, and look what happened…” He muttered.

Leo sighed. “Here we go again. You're just pitying yourself. Now I'm thinking I should have gotten the captain position seeing you act like this.”

As he was about to retort, Sima’s keen eyes caught onto something shining in the snow. The storm outside had finally settled down, but the snow was still too high to push the doors open and the horses were beginning to grow restless. He walked over to the farthest south end of the barn and started digging from the snow with his bare hands. The coldness of the snow bit into his tough skin, his hands turning a raw red as he dug deeper and deeper, throwing any excess behind him. Finally he emerged with two medium rectangular sized pieces of hard sheet metal. A flash of inspiration hit Sima and he began to hit the middle of each sheet with his sheathed sword. The clang of metal against metal attracted the attention of the other soldiers and they crowded around Sima curiously, wondering what their captain was doing. After a good amount of time passed, there was a deep, wide indent in each of the metal sheets, making it look like an oversized bowl.

“What are you doing captain?” One of the soldiers asked. He was a round faced youth with straw colored hair and big blue eyes. His face was smooth of any stubble and chubby like a baby’s face. Sima recognized him rather quickly. His name was Odin Fimbulvetr, the son of a nobleman from Bryndilyn.

“Making a shovel.” Sima replied. “Though there's no handle, we'll have to make due with what we have.” He handed one of the shovels to a muscular looking man with a long brown beard and bushy eyebrows. Fine lines of age framed his mouth and ran across his forehead. “Jurgen,” Sima called to the man. “Follow me. Lieutenant Tursogk, see if you can find another way out while we try something.”

He led the man away from the others to below where the hole was in the roof. Rays of light from the outside shone into the dark barn, the gray sky peeking in through the gap. He stomped on the mountain of snow that had piled next to the hole, and nodded. “This snow is frozen. We should be able to climb it and get through that hole.”

Jurgen shifted nervously. “Um, captain… Are you sure this will work?”

Sima shook his head and smiled. “Of course not. But it's better than sitting around, waiting to freeze to death right?” He dug the end of the metal shovel into the snow and used it as a support for climbing. Jurgen softly sighed and followed the young captain.

As Sima hiked up the miniature snow mountain, his foot slipped, crumbles of frozen snow falling into Jurgen climbing below. He grabbed onto the metal shovel that was wedged deeply into the snow desperately, and pulled himself up, his eyes tearing as cold air blew directly into his face. Finally they reached the top and threw the shovels through the hole, jumping out with them. They landed in the frigid blanket of white that had accumulated as high as their knees, their faces numb from the icy sting. Jurgen jumped up and looked at Sima with glee. “Captain Reine, we did it!” He exclaimed.

Sima got up slowly and smiled. “We did, but that's not the end of it. We still need to dig that out.” He said pointing to the mass of snow piled against the barn door.

Jurgen’s eyes widened but he swallowed back his words of complaint and followed the captain. Sima grasped the edge of the hard metal, digging into the snow, the scrape of the metal against the solid snow grating to his ears. Sima bent his legs as he struggled to lift up the mass of snow he picked up. Even in the cold, he felt sweat drip from his forehead with each and every load he shoveled.

Jurgen laughed, beads of perspiration lining his own forehead. “Captain… This was a good idea on your part.”

“Thanks,” Sima replied. he wanted to ask Jurgen some questions and get to know him better, but the nervousness in the pit of his stomach held him back. He always hated to admit it, but he was painfully shy when it came to strangers. The only reason he was able to lead a group of soldiers was because he thought of it as a job; and even then he still wasn't the best at it.

He sighed and dropped the notion of getting to know some of his men, just as Jurgen began to speak. “Captain, I've never really heard much about you. How did you get into the military? You don't seem like you were drafted.”

Sima glanced at him, a flash of surprise in his eyes. He felt a surge of relief rush through him and chuckled out of anxiousness. “I… I come from a military family. You know the Reine family right?”

Jurgen nodded as he wiped his forehead with the tail of his shirt. “Yeah I've heard of the Reine family. You're one of the genius sons then right?”

Sima shifted uncomfortably at the mention of the word ‘genius.’ Jurgen didn't say it sarcastically or mockingly, but still the sour taste of bile rose up his throat. “I guess you could say it like that.” He said carefully. “Anyway, I was sent to the Noirian Military Academy by my father and ended up here. How about you?”

Jurgen frowned, stopping his action abruptly. “I'm a poor shoemaker from Ucaav all the way east of here. I was called to the cavalry unit under the order of the king. I didn't want to go to war, captain. I have a family, two daughters, back home, but punishment is death for not answering the call.” He examined Sima in his peripheral vision and laughed. “But what am I talking about? You look no older than 18 and here I am, an old man talking to a kid about my children…” His expression turned serious and he frowned in thought. “This might not be the thing to ask a superior, but what do you think of the king’s rule, captain?”

Sima paused, his arms sore from the mix of cold and physical labor. “I… I don't think I should answer that.” He said rigidly.

Jurgen smiled wryly and returned to shoveling. “I didn't expect you to. A child of the Reine family is only loyal to the king in the end, huh?”

Sima didn't have a response for the man; the silence between them made him feel isolated, and the low whistle of the wind was bleak and empty. He longed to answer that question of Jurgen’s but it was as if there was a lump stuck in his throat. Sima knew the king’s actions and the soldiers actions in the cities were despicable, but what could he do about it? He was just a captain of one of the cavalry units, nothing more. He was nothing that could change the fate of the land. His position was both a blessing and a curse. He felt as if his mouth was sewn together as he tried to fill the heavy silence with conversation. “What are your daughters’ names?” He asked, trying to sound as cheerful as possible.

Jurgen’s face brightened and he began chatting happily about his daughters. Sima learned that their names were Amber and Lailah and that one of them was 9 and one of them was 6. He found it oddly fascinating to see such a big, hairy man gushing over something with such excitement. He smiled hesitantly once Jurgen was done speaking. “You must miss them so much…” He looked down guiltily. “I'm sorry that you had to leave them for the army.”

Jurgen chuckled. “Why are you apologizing captain? You aren't the one that issued the draft. In fact, I feel worse for you.”

Sima glanced up at the bearded man in confusion. “Why?”

“Because it was your fate to have to fight in a war since you're from a military family.” Jurgen replied unguardedly. “At least I was able to live my life according to my own decisions before I had to come here.”

Sims was stunned by his words and froze. Jurgen realized what he had said and looked at Sima nervously. “Sorry!” He apologized quickly. “I-I didn't mean that in a bad way! It was just my silly opinion! Did that offend you?!”

Sima contemplated Jurgen's words, ignoring the man's many apologies. His own decisions? Did his life really seem that way to other people? Was Sima really not living life by his own accord? He frowned, deep in thought.

“I've chosen to pursue this path.” Sima responded. He tried to speak with resoluteness, but instead his voice sounded frail and uncertain. He felt a numbness run through his head and sighed, running his fingers through his hair. Jurgen didn't even know him well, so how would he know what his life was like? He forced out a light laugh. “You didn't offend me. I'm glad I got to know you a little more actually.”

Jurgen exhaled in relief. “Oh that's good. Don't listen to me, Im always talking nonsense. I'm glad I talked more to you too captain.” He paused and laughed lightly. “The other men always said you were useless and antisocial, but you're not like that at all!”

“Wait...what'd you say?!” Sima demanded, not believing what he had heard. It was one thing to talk behind his back, but Sima never expected someone to outright tell him their criticisms.

Jurgen’s eyes flitted back and forth spastically. “I-I didn't say a thing!”

Sima scowled, feeling his temper surge. “Useless and antisocial?” He said slowly, trying to restrain himself from saying anything unnecessary.

Jurgen laughed awkwardly. “I-it's just that you don't really talk with us much and…”

Sima exhaled slowly, and closed his eyes. Once he was calm he finally looked at Jurgen. “Don't worry about it. I know I'm not the best leader. I'm trying to be as rational I can with every decision I make.”

“Captain Reine, there's nothing wrong with the way you lead us.” Juergen said earnestly. “In fact, the way I look at it is that they're just envious of you.”

Sima glanced at him in surprise. Light flurries began to fall softly, the wind gently blowing them to the east. “Envious? Why?” He asked, bewilderment evident in his voice.

“Well, you just came out of the military academy right?” Jurgen questioned.

Sima nodded. A faint thump sounded behind him from the snowbank under the hole in the roof.
Jurgen smiled. “Right after graduating, you were already placed as captain of a cavalry unit. Do you know how many men would kill for that position? And you're a figure of authority. As long as there's someone in charge, there'll always be someone for the common folks to hate no matter how many good or bad things they do.”

Sima picked up another load of snow and laughed. “You sound like my father when you say things like that.” Those were familiar words to him. His father always stressed the importance of knowing how others think.

Jurgen chuckled. “Probably because I'm so old. Too old for the military at least.” He paused for a second and looked up at the pale gray sky wistfully. The entire sky seemed as if it was painted with shades of white and grey, so dull and so endless; as if it was an infinite abyss that swallowed in all who came near. “About what you said before…” Jurgen sighed. “I do miss my family, so, so much…”

Sima, too, glanced at the sky and watched the swirling of gray. The horizon seemed to blend in with the white, the tall mountains in the distance covered with a coat of snow. He thought about his father, a rush of irrational fear spiraling through his body. How angry he'd be when Sima returned home! Disobeying orders was unforgivable in the Reine house, especially if they were directly from the king himself.

THe two men were broken from their trance by a low voice. Two men with dark hair and tired eyes came forth and bowed to Sima. “Ramuhin and Kjellhild reporting, sir.”

Sima glanced at them and wiped his sweaty brow, smiling politely. “You've come to trade off with us?”

They nodded stiffly. “Yes captain.”

Sima turned to Jurgen and gestured for him to follow, returning back for a rest.

*****

After a few hours, the small group of cavalrymen were back on the trail. It would take at least another day and a half to get to the capital without any breaks from riding. Sima glanced back at the soldiers, and couldn't help but to remember what Jurgen had before. It still bothered him; it was an annoying feeling as if there was something in his chest crawling around restlessly. Ever since Sima was young, his life has revolved around the military and the King. According to Reine tradition, they lived solely to serve royalty. Sima frowned. It was only customary. Traditions were meant to be followed and it was an honor to live for one’s country, so why did he feel so odd? He shook his head and banished the thoughts from his mind. He needed to focus on more important things at hand.

Raising his bright eyes towards the sky, Sima noticed a dark shadow circling through the trees, as if it was searching for something. He squinted his eyes and gasped. It was a dark grey messenger bird with the emblem of the royal family on it. Sima lifted two fingers to his mouth and whistled a short, shrill melody that all Noirian messenger birds were taught. The bird swooped down and perched on Sima’s shoulder holding out its wiry leg that had a small parchment attached to it.

Leo rode up next to him and frowned. “More orders?” He asked with a hint of annoyance.

Sima shrugged and unfurled the paper.

To the captain of the 3rd Reconnaissance Unit of the Royal Cavalry,

We have word of secret meetings being held in Bryndilyn and supposed rebel bases organized. Whereabouts of exact location is currently unknown but there is a high possibility of an organized rebellion beginning to be staged. Report back to Bryndilyn immediately. There will be no more pardons this time.

Regards,
Crown Prince Thorfinn

Sima crumpled up the paper angrily, the elegant handwriting distorting with each squeeze of his fist. “Report back to Bryndilyn immediately. Orders directly from the crown prince himself.” Sima muttered.

“How do they expect us to get there so quickly?” Leo cried indignantly. “They're not the ones riding through Noir in the dead winter!”

Sima sighed shaking his head with resignation. “Let’s just go Leo. We need to follow orders especially a direct one.”

“No!” Leo fumed. “I'm tired of these ridiculous orders. If they have a problem with us then they should be out here doing it themselves! Two of our men died because of them hurrying us so much!”

“If you say it like that Leo, then it's really my fault.” Sima said, his face ashen. “I could've disobeyed. Maybe if I had us find shelter earlier, they would've been alive right now.”

The lieutenant turned to his friend apologetically. “You know I didn't mean it like that…”

Sima chuckled sourly. “I know.” He turned to examine the soldiers. Though it was freezing, the men seemed more awake and focused compared to before. Their eyes were bright with clarity and they rode more resolutely and confidently. The horses seemed to have trouble stepping through the snow, but Sima knew they would hold through. The cavalry received some of the finest horses in all of Noir.

“Pick up the pace!” Sima ordered. “We've received orders to return to Bryndilyn as quickly as possible, no exceptions!”

He could sense the slight shift of mood behind him, and the restless movement of limbs. Sima knew that rushing the journey could spawn more negative outcomes, but no matter how much he wanted to ignore orders, he just couldn't. It was how he was raised.

He sighed, swallowing the guilt that had rushed through his body, making him shiver. He really was a sorry excuse for a captain after all.

Aria knelt behind a crumbling, stone wall cautiously, peeking over the jagged top to look out into the distance for any hint of light. She was fully enrobed in black, a black cloth tied over her nose and mouth so that only her eyes were uncovered. Silently, she stalked through the wilted brush, fifteen other people following stead, bows in hand. She frowned and gestured for her companions to be quiet, the rustling of the dead leaves noisy and distracting to her keen ears.

Aria narrowed her eyes as she saw a faint outline of light approach from the outskirts of the capital gate and readied the signal to fire. They were instructed to attack any troops entering Bryndilyn; not to kill, but to scare. She saw a horse mounted group of about 80 men riding through, the tall red plumes of their silver helmets waving in the dim light of the lanterns they carried. Aria raised her hand and swung forward, a precise and swift movement as if she was cutting the air, and raised her bow. The flexible wood creaked as she pulled back the drawstring and vibrated as she fired an arrow at full force. The arrows clanged against the heavy armor the men wore, harmlessly bouncing off of them, but she could still see the panic it had caused.

Aria squinted. They must be the decorative cavalry unit by the red on their helmets. The decorative cavalry were mostly comprised of nobles who were too cowardly to actually go to war. They paraded around Noir like poised peacocks fluffing their tails and looking pretty, but running at the first sign of actual duty. She wondered why the King would be calling such a useless unit back to the Bryndilyn military base. Her head snapped up as she heard the officer in charge order the men to check the bushes. Though they were decorative, the soldiers still carried sabres and could easily trample one of the rebels underneath their horses. She looked at her surroundings quickly for anywhere to hide, and saw a lake not too far from where they were positioned.

Aria pointed at the lake to the rest of the archers and crouched over, cautiously but hurriedly running towards it. The water was dark and murky; opaque enough that in the night, the soldiers were unlikely to see them. She walked into the water as carefully as she could and took a deep breath before plunging down into the depths of the lake. Some of her group had climbed high into the trees while the others had followed her to the lake just as the cavalry had gotten close. Aria could see the glittering reflection of their lights dancing on the surface of the water, and felt her body pulsing with adrenaline. She could hear her heart beat like a drum, and hoped the noise from the soldiers’ horses and the barrier of the water masked their presence.

A few minutes passed of them searching the area before they finally retreated. Aria pushed herself up from the bottom of the lake up and desperately gasped for breath as she resurfaced. She could hear the pants of her companions and sighed in relief. It seemed the mission had succeeded, but there was still the question of why the king ordered a unit like the decorative cavalry to Bryndilyn.

*************

Back at the Bryndilyn base, a line of people stood a distance before a group of targets, bows drawn back, readying to fire. Aria walked through the line, carefully examining their position and sighed, adjusting an elbow every now and then. “Fire!” She ordered, her strong voice triumphing over the howl of the wind from outside. A burst of hopefulness flashed through her body as she watched them lift their bows and pull back their drawstrings with confidence.

The slew of arrows flew forward weakly, missing the targets completely. Some seemed to die in the middle of the firing and dropped from the bow in front of their feet. She shook her head in annoyance and grabbed a bow from the nearest person, raising it precisely, her form as strong and still as a statue.

“Watch and learn.” She said to the group, a hint of frustration evident in her voice. Pulling back the arrow and the drawstring, she explained to them how the index finger should be right under the chin and how the string should be touching the nose and lips.

“To correctly use a bow, you need to look down the arrow and aim.” She instructed. “When you're ready to fire relax your grip on the string and let your fingers slowly slide back. Don't move after you've fired.” Aria slowly released the string and let the arrow fly from her fingers, feeling its rough feathers slide across her skin. The arrow cut through the air with its speed and pierced right in the center of the target, the tail vibrating from the force of impact. “There.” She said proudly, holding her position. “See how I'm keeping my stance? Remember not to move so fast afterwards until you're proficient enough with the bow.”

The group silently nodded and returned back to their training. Under her instructions, they used their bows with more accuracy; some even hit the edge of the target. Aria smiled secretly to herself as she watched her pupils slowly, but surely improve. Teaching archery reminded her of her papa. He once had spoken the words she said a long time ago. Her face crumpled as memories she had tried so hard to repress threatened to spill out. She desperately needed to think about something else. The decorative cavalry, she reminded herself. Talk to Gregory.

As she was about to search for him, Aria felt a hesitant tap on her shoulder and turned around to see a mousy woman with dark eyes and a long face. Her thin eyebrows were angled in such a way that she always appeared to be surprised. “U-um, Miss Aria do you remember me?” She asked, her voice quivering.

Aria squinted to get a better look at the woman and shook her head. “Sorry, I don't remember ever seeing you.”

The woman hunched over awkwardly and chuckled nervously. “O-oh… That's okay. I was at Master Gregory’s speech the other day… My name is Y-yuria.”

Aria narrowed her eyes as the memories flooded back into her. She snapped her fingers and nodded. “Yes, now I remember. What do you need?”

“I um, Master Gregory put me into the armory staff… I-i’d like to be placed in the archery division.”

Aria frowned. How could a timid, weak looking girl who couldn't even make a full sentence without stuttering use a bow?! She snorted disdainfully. “Alright sure. Let's see what you got.”

With a deep breath, Yuria held up the bow, her hands shaking with nervousness. Aria chuckled, but couldn't help but notice that the girl’s posture was excellent; much better than the others she was teaching before at least. As she was about to say, “The armory is just as important as the archers are,” Yuria fired an arrow, hitting the target directly in the center.

Aria’s mouth seemed to unhinge with shock. “Wh-what?!” She cried in disbelief. “How…. Do it again! Beginner’s luck!” How did she hit bullseye with those shaky hands?!

Yuria glanced at her timidly and raised the bow once again. Aria couldn't believe her eyes when it hit the target the second time. She narrowed her eyes doubtfully at the girl. “How are you so good at archery?”

“U-um,” Yuria stammered. “I was raised in Ucaav. My father was a hunter, s-so he taught me how to shoot.”

Aria smiled. “Well you certainly gave me a surprise. Who would've thought with your hands shaking so much that you could actually hit something?”

Yuria flinched at Aria’s mocking tone and lowered her head. “S-so can I transfer?”

Giving the girl a sidelong glance, Aria stroked her chin thoughtfully. She remembered the sympathy she felt for Yuria the day Gregory had given the speech, but now she understood the people’s annoyance with her. Her stuttering did get frustrating after awhile.

She shrugged indifferently. “Sure I guess. Why not? I mean what harm could you do?”

Yuria eyes widened and she jumped forward, clasping Aria’s calloused hands happily. “Oh t-thank you! Thank you Miss Aria!”

Aria snorted. “Just don't cause me any trouble.”

Yuria nodded. “O-of course!”

“Well go practice with the others then. I'll be back after I talk to Gregory.”

The girl nodded and ran to take her place in the line of archers. Though she was a bit annoying, Aria found something oddly endearing about her. Maybe it was her timid nature that made Yuria so different from the others.

Aria saw the familiar tall profile of Gregory from the corner of her eye and called out to him. Another man, with a pale, gaunt face stood with him; they stood closely, as if they were sharing a secret only they knew. His skin was sunken around his cheekbones giving him an almost sinister look and his eyes glimmered with a strange light. They flitted back and forth as if he was suspicious of everyone around him. Just by looking at the man, Aria didn't trust him. She approached him cautiously, her eyes narrowed threateningly.

“Who's this Greg?” She asked, glaring at the man.

Gregory smiled cheerfully. “Oh Ari! I'm glad you're here! I was just going to introduce you two. This is Balzer! He's one of the guys just recruited. He used to work under the king as an advisor!”

Aria gave her brother a look of disbelief. He actually looked as though he trusted Balzer! How could he be sure that he wasn't actually a spy or that he would betray them?!

She plastered a smile onto her lips and outstretched her hand. “I'm Aria, Gregory's sister.”

The man smiled at her, his lips curving into a thin arc. He took her hand and shook it, his palm dry and clammy. “I'm Balzer. Balzer Sutin.”

“Well Balzer, would you mind leaving for a minute? I need to talk to my brother.” Aria said, still sending out silent threats through her glare.

He chuckled. “Of course.” He nodded to Gregory and slithered away, his footsteps almost inaudible.

As soon as Aria was sure Balzer was out of earshot, she whirled on Gregory angrily. “Are you serious right now?” She snarled. “How could you trust someone as suspicious as that?!”

Gregory laughed. “Balzer seems fine to me. You should talk to him! He has some really great ideas, and he's really smart!”

“Another reason not to trust him.” She growled. “That type of intelligence is the sneaky, plotting type. Trust me, Greg. You know I'm a good judge of character. That guy will turn on us in a heartbeat!”

“But,” he protested. “He shares a lot of our ideals. I think he's truly into our cause!”

Aria grasped his shoulders and stared at him, her gray eyes piercing into his. “Did you ever think that maybe, just maybe, he could be lying?!” She said sarcastically.

Gregory frowned. “Enough. I've decided to trust him. If I'm wrong than you can brag to me all you want but I'm sure he's telling the truth.”

She sighed, rubbing her forehead in exasperation. Her brother was far too trusting. As a leader, he needed to doubt things a bit more. “What if it causes something irreversible to happen?” She cried. “Then we might not even be around to brag or argue!”

“I'm not talking about this anymore Aria. Drop it.” Gregory said, his voice sharp, leaving no room for argument. “Now what did you need to talk to me about? Other than your issues with Balzer.”

Aria shook her head. Once Gregory had his mind set on something there was no way she could change it. He was so stubborn. Even when he was a child, he was just as recklessly hard-headed. “The king called back the decorative cavalry.” She said. “It seemed as if they were rushed to return.”

Gregory grinned. “I've heard word the King's planning some big celebration for his birthday here in Bryndilyn. They're probably here for that. Actually I heard all the military units were being called back to Bryndilyn for this celebration.”

Aria smirked. “And how will our lovely King Einar celebrate when the citizens are too afraid to even leave their homes?”

“Of course he's going to issue a city-wide military order to drag all the people out to watch.” Gregory replied. “Anyway, I need you to go find out the details of this thing. This is the perfect time to set all the plans into motion.”

Aria frowned. “Why have you been sending me out so much lately? Don't you have others for this type of stuff?”

Gregory shrugged. “You're our best archer and the best information gatherer I have. And I trust you the most. Anyway go to the city Golat. It's about a half a day from here. The king and his crew are visiting an old friend there now I hear. The people there live pretty normally because the city's under the rule of the second prince, Tyrkn. The king gave it to him for his twentieth birthday or something. I'm surprised the King’s letting him have complete rule.”

Aria sighed, running her fingers through her long black hair. “Fine, fine. I'll get packed up then.” As she was about to go prepare, Gregory grabbed her arm.

“Ari?” He called, looking at her seriously.

“Yeah?”

“Be safe.”

She smiled, patting his hand soothingly. “Don't worry.”

“Captain!” A soldier cried joyously. “We've made it to Bryndilyn!”

Sima raised his weary eyes to see the outline of the city in the distance, a smile of relief blooming on his face. Leo patted his shoulder spiritedly. “Good job, captain.”

The large stone walls of the capital came into view, its foreboding iron gates slowly creaking as the front guards signaled the gatekeepers to open the path for the cavalry. The journey was long and tiring, and the empty city streets were a sight for sore eyes compared to the endless fields of snow that the soldiers had faced for weeks. Though they had rushed to return, it actually felt longer than it would have if they rode at a normal pace. Another storm had hit while they were traveling, but thankfully it wasn't nearly as harsh or strong as the one they rode in before. Though it was tedious and straining, the troop pushed through the ordeal and made it back in just a day.

Sima couldn't wait to return to his warm bed and see his mother and his siblings once more. He daydreamed happily about their reunion when he suddenly remembered how furious his father would be because of his disregard of orders. He sighed as they rode through the dark, lonely streets to the large castle in the distance. The royal palace loomed over the city, casting a dark shadow on the buildings and the houses, shrouding everything in an eternal twilight. Sima sighed as they finally arrived in the front courtyard. Snow layered the ground unevenly, coating the spindly, willowy branches of the wilted trees that lined the path into the main foyer of the palace. A greeter dressed in deep blue welcomed them, and bowed respectfully to Sima.

“Captain Reine, correct?” He asked.

Sima nodded. “Right.”

“The king has decreed the soldiers of the 3rd Reconnaissance unit can return home until further notice. Captain Reine and Lieutenant Tursogk have been called for an audience with the royal family.” The greeter turned on his heel abruptly and retreated deeper into the castle.

Sima and Leo exchanged uneasy looks and followed the man carefully. The hallways of the palace were composed of grey marble, portraits of the kings of Noir hanging from the walls, framed in gold. It was so silent that Sima could hear the clicking of his armored footsteps echoing through the long halls. It was as if the place was completely empty.

Leo elbowed Sima and shot him a quick look. 'Be on guard.' The young captain nodded in acknowledgement and composed himself as they walked deeper and deeper into the lifeless castle. The walls felt as if they would close in on him, and the eyes of the kings, still and unmoving on their canvases, felt as if they were following his every move.

They approached a grandiosely decorated door depicting a battle painted with dull hues of blues, greys and reds. Soldiers on wild black horses rode through a barren field, raising their bloody swords in mid-strike. The muzzles of the horses gurgled with foam as they trampled enemy soldiers beneath their hooves. “The battle of Arianrhod.” Sima murmured, his expression appraising. “The bloodiest battle Noir’s ever had.”

The greeter chuckled. "The battle that made the Reine family famous too. Your ancestors fought bravely. And here you are following in their footsteps!”

Sima felt a knot build up in the pit of his stomach and laughed hesitantly. “Right. Here I am…”

That was the battle his father always talked about, always looked up to. Sima’s ancestor fought in that battle—no, that massacre. It was 2000 Noirians to 800 soldiers of Pathos, a relatively peaceful kingdom to the south. The Noirians killed mercilessly; raiding the cities, wiping out anyone in sight. The city of Arianrhod suffered the most. The whole town was decimated in just a day under Noirian soldiers’ seizure. The citizens’ corpses lined the streets, blood staining the sides of the buildings. Ever since then, Noir has had a treaty with them. In exchange for half their resources every year, Noir wouldn't attack again.

The doors opened to a large room, the ceiling painted sky blue, a sun painted in the middle. Three black thrones stood tall against the northern wall, the tallest of the three seating a rotund man with shiny, cherubic cheeks and a head full of curly, greying hair. He was wearing a dark fur overcoat with black spots and a huge ruffled collar around his neck. His multiple chins oozed over the top of the ruffles, reminding Sima of slime. He cringed at the sudden word that came into his mind. Dandy. The collar he wore was what dandies wore. On the lower thrones, sat two proud looking men in well crafted tunics.

“Welcome. You must be Captain Reine and Lieutenant Tursogk.” The man exclaimed, giggling like a village girl. His voice sounded moist and sticky, as if there was something gooey in his throat. Sima could hear his hoarse, ragged breaths in between each word he spoke.

The two soldiers bowed, their eyes meeting with disbelief as they lowered their heads. He was King Einar. He was the man the Reines swore total allegiance to. Sima could feel his head start to hurt again as he thought of it more.

“What was your mission again?” He chortled, grasping his jiggling belly. “I seemed to have forgotten!”

The young man to his right frowned. He had dark hair and cold green eyes that could freeze even the strongest with just a single glance. “Father, they were sent to check on the border!” He said with exasperation.

The king laughed. “Oh thank you Thorfinn! Yes, yes, the border. Did you see anything suspicious? Anything at all?”

Sima straightened and nodded. “Yes your majesty, we've been ambushed three times on our way back to Bryndilyn by unknown archers. This was in the middle of a snowstorm.”

“Could it be the rebels?!” The other prince, Prince Tyrkn, asked, his eyes sparkling with interest as he stared at Sima intently. He had a sharp, angular face; his atmosphere was amiable compared to his brother’s.

Sima shifted uncomfortably. “I believe so. The archers were on foot. If there is a rebellion, they have a base all the way out near the border of Noir.”

Tyrkn grinned and turned to his father with excitement. “Father, this must be an organized rebellion! What will you do?”

“Tyrkn,” Thorfinn murmured, his voice holding a slight warning. “Let's talk about this later.”

The young prince’s eyes widened as he quickly glanced at the king. Leaning back onto his throne, an ominous smile grew on his face.

King Einar sighed, ignoring the two men. “Oh rebellions are so boring, let's not talk about that. You've done well so far captain. The Reine family once again proves its superiority.” He grinned, emphasizing his ruddy cheeks even more. “I remember when your father was in the same place as you! You both swore allegiance to the country in that very position.” He observed Sima, a small smirk playing on his lips. “He must be very proud.”

Sima gulped down the lump growing in his throat as he tried to force a polite smile. “Yes…” He said, chuckling nervously. “I suppose he is…”

The king glanced at Thorfinn and turned back to Sima. “I just have one problem, captain. You did not obey my orders.”

Sima paled at the king’s words, a cold sweat suddenly dripping down his forehead. “Yes sir, I apologize. We were in the middle of a terrible storm and we needed to stop for some shelter. After the storm ended, we had to clear the snow which caused even more delay.” He and Leo bowed stiffly.

“Is that right Lieutenant Tursogk?” Prince Thorfinn demanded, glaring at Leo.

Leo’s eye twitched. Sima could tell his friend was annoyed by the question. He prayed Leo would for once control his mouth.

“Yes your majesty.” He said through gritted teeth. “The Reconaissance unit lost two of our men due to the storm. If we hadn't stopped for shelter, we would've lost more.”

The king sat back and clasped his hands together, his expression that of deep thought. “This won't happen again, correct?” Thorfinn ordered.

Sima and Leo bowed. “Of course.” The young captain responded. “This was a fault on my part.”

“I've already notified your father on this...mistake.” The king said. His face brightened. “Anyway! I'm having a huge celebration here in Bryndilyn for my 40th birthday. Captain Reine, Lieutenant Tursogk, I want you two to be in my group of personal guards.”

Sima and Leo bowed hesitantly. “Of course your majesty.”

The king sat back contentedly. “Good, good. You're both dismissed for now. The celebration is on the second cycle on the full moon. Report here the day before.”

The two men once again bowed and turned to follow the greeter out. Sima could hear the voices of the three royals arguing as the doors firmly shut with a resolute click.

They were escorted back to their horses in the front of the palace, where the group of soldiers had once stood. The other men had returned to the military base or went home if they lived in Bryndilyn. It was surprising that the king allowed the troops to leave. He was usually very strict about little things like that.

With a deep sigh, Sima turned to Leo as they rode out the palace gates. “You going back home?” He asked.

Leo laughed. “Maybe. My family's all the way in Golat.” His eyes brightened and he turned to give Sima a teasing grin. “Why don't you come with me to Golat after you visit home? You always said you didn't want to stay for long! There's nothing to do in this dead city anyway!” He wiggled his eyebrows suggestively. “And the girls there are pretty good. I could introduce you to some beauties.”

Sima frowned. “My father would probably be against that idea. He'll say I have to study or train or something.”

Leo slapped him on the back, causing Sima to lurch forward on his horse. “Come on, you're eighteen! A grown man! You're still letting your father push you around?!”

“You don't know my father like I do Leo.” Sima said, shaking his head.

“He likes me.” His friend claimed confidently. “I'll go talk to him since you're too much of a coward to.” He grinned. “I'm not leaving until he says yes. Oh and the king? Truly unnerving.”

Sima scowled, glancing around to make sure nobody heard them. “Quiet!” He snarled. “There's soldiers on every corner! Do you want to die?!”

Leo snorted. “Who cares about those idiots. But you agree right? Not what I expected.”

Sima paused and sighed. “Yeah.” He responded, lowering his voice. “And what's even more frightening is that he's known for his violent, brutal methods. And now I see him and he acts like a fool and dresses like a dandy.”

Leo snickered. “A very powerful dandy though.”

Sima grinned and pointed to a large gated enclosure. “There's the Reine House."

*************

The Reine house was small compared to the luxury of the royal palace, but it was still finely built and made of strong, sturdy stone. It was laid out like a military base with an armory, barracks, and training fields. To the west was a separate building for the servants and the kitchen; to the east was the head of the house’s quarters and the library. Leo looked around in awe as they rode in through the front iron gates. “Wow Sima,” he said, choking back laughter. “You weren't kidding when you said your family was a military family!”

Sima narrowed his eyes at his friend. “You didn't believe me? What a good friend you are.” He replied sarcastically.

“It's not that I didn't believe you, it's just….” Leo began. “It's just I didn't think it was that serious.” He looked around, leaning forward on his toes. “So where's your father? Let me talk to him.”

“Wait you meant that?!” Sima cried.

“Yeah. I'm not letting my best friend sit at home when he could finally be having fun for once in his life!”

Sima’s lips upturned into a brilliant smile. In some way or another, Leo was always looking after him. He felt as if he had all the luck in the world to have such a good friend by his side.

“He's probably in his office.” Sima told him, gesturing towards the right. “I'll bring you there.”

They walked through a training field covered in snow, practice swords and bows hung from one of the walls of the building. Practice dummies made from thick pieces of wood and straw stood in the snow, firmly wedged deep in the earth. Pine trees grew in clusters around the Reine land, their green needles covered with bits of sparkling frost and snow. Finally, Sima and Leo arrived at a plain looking stone house, with a red tapestry hanging from the front.

“This is his study.” Sima said. “My father's kind of difficult. Are you sure you want to deal with him?”

Leo waved him off. “You know me. Even if I get in trouble, I can talk my way around anything.”

Sima laughed. It was true. When they were still in the military academy, Leo always knew how to chat up the instructors. Even if what he was saying was complete lies, he talked confidently enough to make them believe him. Sima couldn't help but feel envious of his friend’s natural charisma.

Leo waved at Sima as he opened the door to the study. “Wish me luck!” He mouthed as he shut the door.

Sima sighed and looked up towards the darkening sky, smiling as the memories of their first meeting rushed through him. It was the first year of the academy. He could almost feel the fear he had felt as he packed his things and said goodbye to his family. It was frightening for Sima, being thrust into a whole different environment and having to live up to the standards of the genius Reine family. Each day he was there, Sima felt more and more pressure on him to succeed by both the instructors and his father.

He laughed as he remembered the first thing Leo had said to him: “Hey are you that Reine kid everyone's been talking about?” He looked him over and snorted. “Huh I was expecting better.” Sima thought his self-confidence was nauseating when they had first met, but after awhile, he became fond of him. From then on they became the best of friends and vowed to support each other no matter the circumstance.

The door to the study slammed open, causing Sima to jump out of his trance. Leo trudged out, his face dark and his expression pained.

“What's wrong?” Sima asked anxiously.

Leo smiled weakly. “Well good news is, he's allowing you to go. Bad news is the whole family's in there and there's about to be a war in there.”

Sima paled. “What?!” He exclaimed. Rushing into the office, he expected to hear the shouts of his family, but instead he was greeted with dead silence.

The room was lined with stacks of books and papers. A cluttered desk was situated in the middle of the storm of documents and maps that were scattered around. Bookshelves reached high to the ceiling; there were so many books, it could be considered a small library. A haughty looking man with slicked back golden hair and intelligent blue eyes sat at the desk, a pair of spectacles sitting on his sharp nose. Swollen bags sagged under his eyes and stress lines framed his face from years of hard work. Five other people crowded into the cramped room. Sima’s expression grew more and more contorted as he counted each person there. Why was his mother, all of his brothers, and his uncle there?!

He swallowed the panic that had risen up his throat and smiled. “H-hello, how are you all?” He asked as calmly as he could.

His father’s lips curved into a deep scowl. “Sima. I'm disappointed in you.”

With those four words it was if Sima’s world was about to fall apart. He felt his knees buckle and his forehead break out with perspiration. He lowered his eyes and clasped his hands together tightly. It would be been better if he had just yelled at him or hit him! Sima had never heard those words uttered by his father before. He didn't know just how much it would affect him.

Sima’s mother stood up from her seat angrily. “Stop it Henry. He's still just a boy! Do you expect him to be perfect in everything?! This was his first time leading his own troops!”

Henry frowned. “And he disappointed me. Sit down Talia. Now tell me Sima, do you know what the purpose of the Reine family is, why the Reine family exists?”

Sima replied robotically. His father had made him memorize the answer a long time ago. “To serve the king and the country with our lives.”

Henry’s eyes softened, but the damning words “you disappointed me” still plagued Sima. “So,” Henry seethed. “Why did you disobey?”

Sima closed his eyes, trying to steady the chaotic feeling that had risen in his chest. His vision was already beginning to blur and he heaved, each breath as if he was gasping for air. “I…” He began. “There was a storm, and… I'm responsible for their lives. I needed to disobey! There was no way they could've survived if we kept on riding!”

His father narrowed his eyes, and slammed his fist on his desk. The books slid from the tabletop, creating a loud bang as they hit the wooden floor. “What have I taught you?” He roared. “Sacrifices must be made! We have sworn complete obedience! And you! You have disgraced me! Do you know how ashamed I was when the King told me of your disobedience?!” He sneered at Sima, his fists clenched so tightly, a vein popped in his arm.

Sima’s uncle, Avin, patted Henry’s shoulder. “Control your temper.”

Henry settled back into his seat and closed his eyes, a vein visibly pulsing on his forehead. Hours seemed to pass before he finally spoke again. “You're lucky that you have your mother and brothers supporting you. I wanted to disown you.”

Sima flinched and lowered his head. He felt his eyes begin to water. Disown? Over disobeying one order?! It was cruel, it was irrational but it was just like his father. It was something he'd do without a second glance. Sima knew he wasn't lying. He was used to this strict adherence to the rules that his father pushed for so much.

“But,” Henry’s voice rang out. “I will give you a second chance.”

Sima looked up, a ray of hope finally gracing him. Henry never cut anyone any mercy and was especially hard on his children. This was indeed a lucky day for Sima.

“The king notified me that we will be attacking Pathos soon.” He stared at Sima, his eyes like little knives cutting through him. “You are going to fight in that war. If you come back alive and show me you can obey, I'll pardon you.”

Sima trembled as the words spoken sunk into his tense mind. Go to war? Against Pathos?! His arms were numb, his face was moist with sweat and his ears rang with the echoes of Henry’s domineering voice. War? He felt his lips mold into a stiff smile and gingerly move. “Of course father.” Sima heard himself say as the world around him seemed to melt into one big colorless blob. It was as if he was suddenly submerged underwater.

“Good.” Sima heard his father say faintly in the background. “Enjoy your trip to Golat, Sima. It's my last gift to you as your father.”

Aria sat atop a skinny horse holding the reins gingerly. She tightened her grip on the horse’s bony sides with her legs and sighed before giving it a slight kick, signaling it to move. The dreary, snow covered landscape in front of her made her feel uneasy. Aria shook her head and wanted to laugh at her fear. The journey to Golat was only half a day, so what could go wrong?

She shivered in her lightweight cloak as a gust of frigid wind swirled around her, blowing her hood from her head. Aria wished she had warm furs and shoes to wear, but she was still too poor to even afford a cup of ale. She raised her eyes to look at the grey sky above her, and sighed. It was the same sky she saw every single day, but for some reason this sky felt so lonely and so ominous. It unnerved her. Being alone in the desolate plains of Noir made her feel vulnerable, as much as she refused to admit it.

The wind picked up as she struggled to pull the hood back over her head. Her eyes began to water from the bitter cold, blurring her surroundings into shapeless white. Aria hated this feeling of not being able to see what was happening around her. Suddenly in the distance, a shrill noise sounded. She whipped around. A voice? She wondered as she pulled the horse to a stop, reaching for her bow.

“Miss Aria!” A female voice called over howl of the wind. “Miss Aria!”

Two outlines approached from the distance, their faces unclear because of the heavy snowfall. “Who's there?!” Aria shouted in alarm, reaching into her quiver and pulling out two arrows.

The figures came closer and closer as Aria fumbled to set up her bow. “If you come any closer,” she yelled hoarsely. “I'll shoot!”

“Wait!” The voice called again. “It's Yuria and Jovich! From the Bryndilyn base!”

Aria lowered her bow and squinted through the dense snow. She rode forward cautiously and saw two familiar faces. “What are you two doing out here?!” She demanded. “Who told you to follow me?!”

Jovich sighed in annoyance, his angular face flushed from the frigid air. “Gregory wanted us to come with you to make sure you made it safely to Golat.”

Aria narrowed her eyes and scowled. “I don't need an escort. Does he think I can't even go to a neighboring city without help?!”

Yuria rode closer to her, her lips raw from the cold. “M-miss Aria, Gregory said this was also to test us. He said you would instruct us in what we're supposed to do when we're at Golat.”

Aria grunted in frustration and shook her head. “He's always trying to push new recruits onto me!” She turned to examine Yuria and Jovich. Yuria was a thin as a twig, but Jovich, he could help in the mission. He was built like a workhorse, muscular and tall. She clicked her tongue in resentment as she remembered he used to be a soldier.

“You!” She snarled, pointing at the burly man with contempt. “Get over here. You're not going to leave my sight.”

Jovich scowled. “You think I'm going to do something?”

She laughed contemptuously. “Well you can never be too sure.”

Jovich edged his horse forward in anger. “Hey, watch yourself. I noticed you had a problem with me ever since the first day you saw me!”

“Very observant of you.” Aria retorted sarcastically. “So tell me, why did you join the rebellion in the first place?”

“I don't really think that's any of your business.” He growled.

Yuria edged in nervously between them. “U-um, Miss Aria, Jovich has been a v-very responsible member so far. F-forgive me for saying this, b-but he hasn't done anything to be untrustworthy.”

“See,” Jovich said triumphantly, urging his horse into a moderate gallop. “Even mousy over here vouches for me.”

Aria’s face darkened. “I have my reasons for disliking you.”

“And what's that?” He asked sarcastically.

“You're a soldier. That's all I need to know to figure you out.”

Yuria and Jovich’s eyes immediately widened in shock. “What?!” Jovich sputtered. “Are you kidding me?! That's why you dislike me?!”

“M-miss Aria,” Yuria stammered. “My brother’s friend is a soldier. H-he isn't bad.”

Aria scowled and squinted, her line of sight obscured by the heavy snow. “I said I have my reasons! If you have a problem than go back to Bryndilyn and cry to Gregory.”

“Well what's your reasons?” Jovich demanded. “I can understand why you don't like the soldiers in Bryndilyn, but plenty of other Noirian cities don't have this type of rule.”

Aria bit her lip hard, the salty taste of blood sharp in her mouth. “I was a street rat in Bryndilyn, still am too. A kid I was really close to was killed just by looking at one of those bastards funny. I saw his bloody body. I saw maggots crawling around his corpse!” She choked on her words as she felt tears well in her eyes. “And my parents… They killed them too…Are those reasons enough for you?!”

A heavy silence hung in the air as Aria’s sobs were carried away by the whistling wind. She wiped her eyes clumsily, ashamed of herself for showing her companions the emotions she tried to hold back for so long.

Jovich cleared his throat awkwardly and glanced at Aria’s faint outline through the dense snow. “T-that still doesn't give you the right to judge everyone like that.” He said haughtily. Looking back at the girl, he sighed as he watched the barely noticeable shake of her body. “Look, I'm sorry about your parents and your friend.”

Yuria rode over to Aria and patted her on the shoulder gently. “I-I've lost my parents to soldiers too, so I know what it feels like.”

Aria sat straighter and blinked the tears from her eyes quickly. She stared out into the white fields ahead of them, her lip still trembling as she desperately tried to clear her mind.

Jovich ran his hand through his hair uncomfortably. “Listen, I'm not the best guy I know. I'm kind of pig-headed and I eat like a slob…” He glanced sideways at Aria to see her reaction. “But if you're going to hate me, I'd rather you hate me because of me rather than because of some predisposition you have towards soldiers. I was a soldier a long time ago, and though I have killed and I have fought, it was only to fulfill my duty to the country. I've never hurt citizens like what's happening now in Bryndilyn.”

Aria remained silent, but the words Jovich spoke were running through her head. She couldn't help but mill on his words, and couldn't help but to see the faults in her judgement. But Aria didn't want to face the obvious flawed bias she carried, she didn't want to acknowledge her injustice towards Jovich.

Finally, she raised her eyes to look at the man through the snow. “I,” she began reluctantly. “I accept you… But I don't trust you. That's the best I can do right now.”

Jovich smiled. “That's enough.”

The outline of the city came into view as they rode forward. The lights of Golat pierced through the dense storm, the bright illumination cutting through the grey. Yuria sighed in relief and turned to look at her two companions. “W-we made it!” She cried.

In the dim glow of their lanterns, Aria’s eyes met Jovich’s. An unspoken feeling of comradery flashed between the two before they quickly turned away to the grand gates of Golat.

Sima gritted his teeth in frustration as he trudged out of his father’s study, a heaviness seeming to press down onto his chest. He felt suffocated, as if someone had strangled him to the point of death. Leo glanced at him concernedly as Sima jumped back onto his horse and followed stead, silence enveloping the two men.

Thoughts ran through Sima’s head as the muffled clop of the horses’ hooves echoed in his ears. The last words his father said to him was “Enjoy your trip to Golat Sima. It's my last gift to you as your father.” Those words carried an ultimatum, and it unnerved Sima. He glanced over his shoulder to the shrinking Reine residence in the distance and bit his lip unconsciously. Whipping back around, surprising Leo, he kicked the side of his horse, forcing it into a fast gallop. He had to get away from there. He couldn't control himself; Sima hated his cowardly, submissive side that seemed to always run away from his father.

“Sima!” Leo called, racing after him, their horses neck and neck with each other. “Sima! What happened?! Slow down!”

Sima glared at him. “It's nothing. Don't worry about it.” He urged the horse even faster to escape his friend’s searching eyes.

Leo reached over and pulled the reigns hard, the horse skidding to a stop. “Now tell me. What happened?” He demanded, his dark eyes serious.

“I…” Sima began. “I got into a fight with my family.”

“Well I could've guessed that already.” Leo snorted. “It must've been a bad one for you to react like this.”

Sima sighed and shook his head sadly. “He was angry at me for not arriving on time when the king wanted me to. It's disobeying orders, and he's crazy about that.” Sima stared directly into Leo’s eyes. “He said he wanted to disown me.”

Leo’s eyes widened in shock. “A-are you kidding me?!” He cried. “That's not normal! No matter how strict a man can be, he wouldn't disown his own son because of one order!”

“Well it did happen. He said the only way to regain my position would be to fight in the upcoming war with Pathos.” Sima looked down at his hands, marked by countless scars and callouses from years of training. He couldn't even remember how his body looked before he was sent into the military academy.

“We're going to war with Pathos?!” Leo cried, a hint of fear laced into his usual confident countenance. “Why? We've had a treaty with them for years after the last war!”

Sima’s face darkened as he noticed the suspicious eye of a soldier trained on them. He nudged the horse forward again and they soon approached the capital’s gates. “We can't talk about this here.” He muttered, his eyes flitting back and forth cautiously.

Leo nodded as they rode to the guard in charge of the gate patrol, smiling dubiously. The dark haired man walked towards them and examined them suspiciously.

“You're part of the cavalry?” He asked, squinting at their black armor.

Sima frowned and pointed at the golden emblem on his chest plate. “I'm the captain of the 3rd Reconnaissance Unit.”

The guard smiled in amusement. “Alright calm down captain." The man said mockingly. "There's no need to get so angry. I'm just doing my job.” He narrowed his eyes at Leo, a small smirk playing on his thin lips. “And who's he?”

Sima cleared his throat in annoyance. “If he's with me, why do you need to ask?”

“I need to know who comes in and out of the gate captain.”

Sima gritted his teeth. It infuriated him whenever the guard said the word captain. It was as if he was making fun of him. “He's the lieutenant of the same unit. He has a badge right there showing his rank. Now let us through.” He couldn't believe a common guard would keep on questioning them even after they showed their identity.

The guard grinned, showing his yellowing, crooked teeth. “Sorry but no can do. Prince Thorfinn just instructed I can't let any group of more than one person out of the city.”

“What kind of ridiculous order is that?” Sima heard Leo say behind him.

The guard ignored him and eyed the bag at Sima’s waist with the crest of the Reine family, a laurel tree, on it. “Is that the Reine crest?” He asked, his eyes sparkling with greed.

Sima instinctively wanted to hide his bag away but instead crossed his arms. “Yes it is. Now let us through.”

The man examined his well kept hair and his noble demeanor. His lips curled into a wide smile. “Oh I know who you are now…” He leered. “You're the youngest son of the Reine family!”

“Yes I am. Are you going to let us through now?” Sima said impatiently.

“Of course Captain Reine, but before you do… Could you spare a coin for a poor man like me?” The guard said looking up at Sima with bemused eyes.

Leo surged foward angrily. “You should be ashamed to call yourself a royal guard of Noir, begging for money like this!” He sneered. “People like you give us all a bad name!”

The guard chuckled. “Sir I just do what I can to get by.”

“We're your superiors.” Sima growled. “How dare you beg us for money!”

The guard shrugged. “Well I'm afraid I can't let you through then.”

“Are you trying to blackmail us?!” Leo cried incredulously. “We're your superiors!”

“I'm not part of the cavalry division so I have no loyalty to you.” The guard replied.

Sima glared at him, his eyes flashing with fury. It was true. The military laws of Noir stated that a ranking officer of one division had no jurisdiction over another. If one had a problem, they'd have to take it up with the ranking officer of that particular division. Sima couldn't even put this shameless, blackmailing guard in his place. He reached his hand into his bag and pulled out three silver coins. He knew the captain of the guards, Arvid, personally. The man didn't even bother to discipline his men and let them run wild. Sima knew if he went and told him about this incident Arvid would just laugh in his face. The military was strong but so flawed and corrupted. He clenched his fists as he gingerly handed over the coins to the guard.

“Wait a second!” Sima said, taking back the coins before the guard could grab them. “What's your name?”

The guard gave the two men a small smile. “Hjalmar. Hjalmar Byström.”

Sima dropped the coins into the man’s outstretched hand. “Well, we'll remember you. Now open the gates.”

Hjalmar swept into a bow and looked towards the guards standing at the levers that operated the gates, holding up the coins. “Go ahead boys!” He yelled. “We got beer tonight!”

Finally the two men were able to proceed to the open fields of Noir and make their way to Golat. The sky was a light grey, and the air held a frosty chill to it. The ground was covered with a layer of white from the last storm, and the horses’ hooves left distinct imprints in the snow as they rode through. They traveled in silence for a while before Leo turned to Sima.

“That was the most disgusting, shameful thing I've seen.” He stated.

Sima sighed. “I didn't know it was so bad that soldiers of different divisions don't even hold respect for superiors. Even if we weren't his commanding officer, you're still supposed to show respect! Is the cavalry unit the only one that still has any decency?!”

“I've heard that even the cavalry unit is running into problems. Noir is really changing for the worse.” Leo shook his head. “I can't believe that man had the nerve to blackmail us for money.”

“What's even worse is that we have no authority to reprimand him.” Sima replied. “And that scum Arvid won't do anything if I point this incident out.” He looked down at his hands with defeat. “I have no power Leo. I'm called a captain, but it's just a name. Nothing more.”

Leo chuckled. “One day Sima, one day. Anyway what's this about the war?”

Sima glanced at the black, withered trees in the distance. He didn't even know what a blooming tree, with green leaves or soft petals looked like. “Pathos…” He breathed. “I heard Pathos was absolutely beautiful. I heard the land was covered in green grass and flowers bloomed everywhere.”

Leo smiled. “Well we have somewhat nice weather here in Noir during the summer, as short as they are. But we don't have many flowers.”

Looking up at the snowy sky, Sima imagined the warm sun on his face and the blue skies of Pathos. “Let's go one day Leo. I'm tired of this place.”

“Well,” Leo laughed. “You're certainly a dreamer aren't you?” He too glanced at sky and for a second, saw the same illusion Sima did.

“The King wants their land. They're the only kingdom that's resisted Noirian rule for all these years. That's why we're going to war.” Sima said, breaking from his trance.

Leo sighed heavily and turned to his friend with a bright smile. “Well then, it's looks like we'll be back on the war front together.”

“What?” Sima said, his jaw going slack with disbelief. “Leo, you have no reason to go to war! No one has ordered you to go!”

“Sima,” Leo began, a sly smile spreading across his face. “I can't let my best friend go to battle by himself. What kind of man would I be?”

“No! Are you crazy?!” Sima exclaimed. “You can't throw your life away like that!”

Leo patted him on the shoulder. “We said we'd have each other's backs whatever happens. I'm just keeping true to my word.”

Sima stared at his friend with disbelief. During their time at the military academy, the two had promised they'd stay together regardless of the consequences. That was back when they were only twelve years old, and Leo still remembered. Sima felt a warmth spread through him, and his face broke out into a brilliant smile. “That's right.” He agreed slowly. “Whatever happens.”