The sky above was still wrapped in a heavy black cloak, stars retreating slowly behind thick banks of clouds. Winter had its claws in everything: rooftops, fences, the crooked paths before Viktor’s eyes, all blanketed in a fresh layer of snow. The air bit at his skin, and his every breath curled into mist before vanishing into the cold.

  Not the best weather for a morning jog, obviously. Then again, if he backed down every time life threw a little discomfort his way, he would never get anything done. Winter wasn’t going anywhere anytime soon, so he might as well make peace with it. If he waited for sunshine and gentle breezes, months would pass, and any motivation he had to toughen up this body would go with them.

  So he ran. Every day. Before the sun crawled over the horizon, before Daelin stirred from its sleep.

  He could have jogged during the day, of course, when the temperature was a little more forgiving and the frostbite a little less of a threat. But then the streets would be full of people. The town wasn’t exactly bustling, not yet, but obstacles were obstacles, and running while dodging them was not the type of training he had in mind when he started this. Besides, by midday the snow would turn to slush, transforming the roads into a muddy mess. Jogging through that? No, thank you. He had no intention of dirtying his clothes, especially when he was the one who had to do the laundry.

  His boots crunched against the snow as he sprinted down the slope, passing a dying tree before emerging onto the main road beyond. Ah, the good old Imperial Road, still stubbornly holding its place despite three hundred years of neglect. He turned right, heading north, toward what used to be the heart of the town. As expected, the place was quiet. Either side of the road was nothing but trees, and here and there, street lanterns flickered weakly, their oil nearly spent after the long night. He saw not a soul until he reached the caravan station.

  This spot was where Daelin had drawn its first breath, back when it was little more than an outpost in the middle of nowhere. Well, not quite nowhere. The location had been carefully picked, set at the crossing of two Imperial Roads: one stretching east from the capital, the other a ring looping around it. The caravan station had been the very first building, and when the outpost grew into a proper town, it had become its heart. But as Daelin kept expanding toward the river over the years, the station was left stranded on the far side, while a new center took shape in the east.

  His legs were about to give in by the time he reached the intersection, so he staggered to a stop, his chest heaving as he tried to get his breath under control.

  How the hell did Orion pull this off every day? Viktor thought.

  He hadn’t run far. This was a small town, after all, so the distance from his house to here was hardly worth bragging about. Nevertheless, this body was already on the verge of falling apart. Well, it was never athletic to begin with, which was exactly why he had started this damn routine in the first place. He was going to push himself to the limit, that was the plan. But... a short break wouldn’t hurt.

  So he stood, mouth hanging open and legs wobbling, staring down the roads.

  From here, if he continued north, he would eventually reach the Adventurer’s Guild. Left would take him to the most miserable part of the town, where Rhea and Alycia were holed up, while right led to Daelin’s attempt at sophistication, the fanciest stretch it could muster. There stood the Mayor’s Office, home of the ever-napping, ever-drooling Marcellus. The Emberwood Inn, preferred lodging for people with coin to spare. The blonde’s soon-to-be shop, which might one day explode spectacularly. And beyond all that, past the last buildings, the town would give way to the farmland, then the bridge, the ruins, and finally, his old castle.

  Rennald and other rich folk had their estates on the east side, of course, pretty houses with proper roofs and windows that didn’t rattle. Still, the caravan station was the Overseer’s seat of power, so for generations, his family had been constantly funneling funds into its upgrades as the town grew. The complex became grander and grander, and thoroughly out of place among the dilapidated structures surrounding it, like a golden crown resting on a rusty throne.

  Viktor’s gaze swept over the courtyard where a handful of workers had already dragged themselves from bed and gone about their morning routines. Beyond them rose the imposing walls of the main office building—Yvonne’s new assignment, as per his instruction. According to Orloth’s report, the woman had infiltrated the caravan station without any problem, and word was, everyone there already loved her, just like when she worked at the inn. A professional spy, indeed, who could easily blend in anywhere she wanted. She hadn’t brought back any juicy information yet, but that was fine. This was a long-term investment, so he didn’t need her to actually do anything at the moment. As long as he could keep her busy, that was enough for now.

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  After a few minutes of catching his breath, he set off again. West was a hard pass; he had seen enough of Daelin’s ugly buildings, so there was no need to subject his eyeballs to any further abuse. No point going north either, as he would be there at noon anyway. East, then. Time to enjoy the prettier side of this town.

  However, he hadn’t gone more than twenty paces before he came to a halt. There, sprawled by the roadside and half-buried in snow, lay a body.

  Frozen to death, huh?

  Well, not exactly shocking. Daelin was poor, and its streets had their fair share of beggars. So he wouldn’t be too surprised if one got claimed by the frost. The strong lived and the weak died, that was the way of the world.

  Then again, why was this beggar dressed in green?

  As he drew closer, he realized three things about the corpse. First, its hair was as white as the snow that stretched endlessly around it. Second, a flask sat nearby, smelling strongly of alcohol. And third, it snored.

  So he gave the body a kick. “What the hell are you doing here, Lloyd?”

  The white-haired man groaned, his eyelids fluttering open just enough to reveal a pair of clouded, pale eyes. He blinked a few times, before his mouth twisted into a grin.

  “Oh Quinn, fancy meeting you here,” he said. “But why are you in my room? And why is my bed so damn cold?”

  For a moment, Viktor seriously considered giving the drunk another kick.

  “Oh, I’m outside,” Lloyd muttered, still flat on his back, his eyes doing a slow sweep of the snowy street.

  You only just figured that out?

  “I’m surprised you recognized me,” Viktor said flatly. “We met exactly once. Three weeks ago.”

  Lloyd laughed. “You could say the same about yourself.” He lifted the flask and tilted it upside down, but not a single drop came out. A disappointed sigh escaped him as he dropped it back in the snow. “Besides, how could I forget the little hero?”

  “What do you mean?”

  “Oh, come now. Three bandits, one terrified girl, and you, our brave hero. Unless, of course, that warrior woman has lied to us.”

  It seemed that when Brynhildr dropped by the castle to talk to Jeanne about the gorgon contract, she had also mentioned his scuffle in the forest. Damn it, she was supposed to keep her mouth shut. But maybe she assumed Jeanne and Lloyd were already in the know. Well, Jeanne wasn’t a concern. In fact, if she knew he was doing something behind Claire’s back, she would be happy to be his accomplice. This man, on the other hand...

  “I had my doubts at first.” The drunk rambled on. “But that warrior woman is clearly the no-nonsense type. It’s impossible for her to lie with such a straight face. So I believed the story. The others, though...”

  Viktor arched an eyebrow. “The others?”

  “Well, yes. I came to the Guild the other day, checking out its magnificent mess hall. Best booze in town, by the way. But drinking alone was no fun, so I walked to a nearby table to make some friends. We talked about all sorts of stuff, one thing led to another, and before I knew it, I was telling them your heroic tale...”

  Viktor’s jaw twitched. He could already see where this was going.

  “Nobody believed me though,” Lloyd grumbled. “No one except a young woman who happened to pass by. An employee of the Guild, judging by her outfit. Damn fine looking, too. I know, Jeanne is gorgeous, but this lady is not bad at all. Loved the way she braided her hair. But I digress. Anyway, for some reason, she was very interested in the story I told. So she sat right down and asked me to recount your daring escape from the bandits, leaving out not a single little detail.”

  So it’s you.

  Oh well, whatever. Not that it mattered anyway.

  “What brings you to Daelin?” Viktor asked. “Bored with your treasure hunting in the ruins?”

  “It’s winter, Quinn. A half-collapsed castle is not exactly an ideal place to live. I need to get somewhere warmer.”

  “What’s the point of coming here if you ended up sleeping on the street anyway?”

  “I do have a place to stay,” Lloyd replied, a little too proudly. “The best inn in town, even. What was the name again? Ember... something.”

  “The Emberwood Inn.”

  “That’s the one!” Lloyd grinned. “I was heading back there, but I got lost.”

  How the hell could someone get lost in a town the size of a nostril? But, well, the guy was drunk.

  “Do you know how to get there?” Lloyd asked, suddenly giving him an almost sheepish look.

  Of course Viktor knew. But why should he help him? They were basically strangers, and the only one conversation they had ever had was far from pleasant. All the nonsense the drunkard rambled on about Celestia had made him want to throw him out a window. Were it not for the unmistakable green of his clothes, he would have assumed the man was a lunatic, not a member of the Emerald Order.

  Wait.

  He had questions he needed to ask Lucian, didn’t he? About the Druidesses, about the Brotherhood. But the boy mage was not the only one who could provide him with answers.

  So Viktor stretched out a hand toward the man lying in the snow.

  “I’ll take you there.”