BEFORE
"You will not be welcome here again if you don't fulfill your mission of honor. "
He said that if necessary, you should rethink this phrase repeatedly , until a new wave of motivation gives your body a boost to continue. It worked the first three times , and you've never been the type of child who gets tired easily. But you were doing a path of ten kilometers uphill.
"You received a good training, you can do this. We are superior to them ."
I'll do it , I need to, it's the thought that holds firm in your mind. All the bones of your body seem worn, you had two days of tiring journey, only two rest stops. The small villages you stopped by had a concentrated and old people, the feeling of xenophobia was present with the approach of strangers, and you knew you were "too Western" to be there. Apparently, Americans were one of the few nations known amongst that small portion of the population, and even if you were not native to any country in Earthrealm, they still confused you with them.
"Go back to your land, wherever it is"
It's been two days, but you lost the count of how many times you have heard this phrase. Cautious that discrimination could reach extreme levels, you slept with one eye open during the few hours you were able to rest.
But finally, away from civilization, you feel for the first time that the sacrifice paid off as you see yourself closer to the amount of white cliffs, fully covered by extensive portions of snow. You were already in Arctika. However, being there implies a new challenge: how to get to the palace soon enough, and safely.
The sight of the path left you physically in your limits. The small black dots between the vastness looked like pines, and noting that the same temperate vegetation started just a few meters from where you are, you decide to enter the forest, and through it, perhaps, reach the temple.
With luck, you would also find a lake or river that wasn't frozen to serve yourself with more fresh water. Your little steel tank, filled for the last time on Xiao, had only a little of its initial amount, and you were feeling thirsty for a long time.
While crossing the paths full of snow, you think that only a miracle would make you survive this. You are in uncharted territory, needs to accomplish a nearly impossible challenge and return alive to achieve honor and respect in your clan. Your greatest consolation was knowing that death in battle was a worthy way to be remembered. A little smile enlightens your face as you remember that, regardless of the fate of this mission, you will have your honor.
Moving forward on your way , the boots weigh as they are covered in snow to the ankle. Your feet sinks at every step, and costs even more energy to complete the ascent. Moreover , the path was not frizzy and firm as you thought it would be , you were clinging to the wet branches of pine trees in order to keep safe before the difficulties and a heavy snowfall which spread dry leaves and snowflakes in the broad wind. At least the scenery is wonderful, you think by looking at your right side, analyzing the distant horizon. The snow-covered canyons make the set fully white, the sky, though, remains cloudy, gray. There is a minimum trace of sun.
Crac
A crunchy noise sounds around you, and the branch on which you are supported releases of the trunk. Your body collapses down the mountain, a thin scream erupts from your throat due to the unexpected and abrupt moment. All the way you traveled for hours vanishes in seconds. Your hands move desperately searching for something to hold on, but there's nothing but snow and smooth trunks.
"Fuck!" You grunt, as snow enters your mouth and the sudden fall hurts your skin. Random thoughts and feelings of death fulfill your thoughts, your head hits heavily a hard trunk and you scream again reacting to the pain, until your fall suddenly stops over something hard.
Your shaky hands touch the soil beneath your body, and you feel the cold seep through the thick fabric that covers your hands in gloves. "For the gods..." The phrase comes out your dry mouth as other suspect noises sound just below you. It's not solid ground, is ice. You're on a frozen lake, and few things worse than this could happen to you now.
Inspiring through the nose and exhaling through your mouth, you spend some time lying on the ice, breathing gentle, yet deep.
Something in your head itches, but you do not allow yourself to move a muscle due to the unstable ground. You do a quick mental count and slowly sits, keeping the weight in your own body, without fully supporting in the frozen surface below it. It is a large lake, the location, harsh, does not seem to be home for a single living soul. You come to the conclusion that you will die before even set feet in the Palace.
Holding your breath, you support your arms to the ice by applying force on them enough to be crouching. Another sharp noise cause you goosebumps, and you close your eyes, certain that falling with closed eyes will feel better. However, the ground beneath your feet remains somewhat firm, and you decide to get up slowly until you get in upright posture.
A quick thanks echoes through your mind over and over again when you realize you are standing. Looking around, your eyes pick up the nearest bank northeast, and you decide to take a step to the right. Your nightmare becomes real when a crack appears next to your left foot. It continues to advance, gaining size and thickness, resembling webs, and every new girder makes your heart speeds up more strongly.
Maybe if ... you take one more step towards snow and run, would get faster in the margin and be, therefore, safe.
Before you can do so, the ground beneath opens and you collapse, unable to hold on the edges. Your body is swallowed up by the arctic lake and you cringe, mortified by the absurd cold that affects your body. Being dragged to the bottom, you get rid of the backpack and the container in which you brought water, so as everything that can provide even more weight, only reserving the dagger with which you will fulfill your mission.
At a time of spiritual weakness, your head repeats that resist may not be the best choice, and you think to give up and sink, however, in an uncontrollable survival impulse, you move your arms and legs, swimming to the surface. Exhausted, your hands grip the ice border, thinking you would never make it out there without using boost and, consequently, applying weight on something already unstable. A cry fueled by despair brakes out the place, you know it's useless, but need to express your anxiety somehow. The relentless cold makes the tips of your fingers get purple, and you can't gather enough strength to climb.
Thinking about Kano, you feel sorry. He doesn't show much empathy, but still, you didn't want to fail in a specific mission. "I'm sorry, master." You imagine his face as you whisper, and feeling ready enough, you take one last breath before allowing your body to sink, but something hits your head.
A male voice sounds a few meters away. But you can't understand what he says, because the language does not sound familiar at all. Probably Chinese.
Feeling the heavy damp object over your head, you touch it before clinging hard to it. It was a thick hemp rope. The man exclaims something else, and you assume he's rushing. You curse, thinking about the very few standard phrases you know in mandarin. "Wǒ búhuì shuō zhōngwén!"* You scream, assuming that the pronunciation is not correct, but expects him to comprehend. Your eyes seek for your savior, and you see a plump low figure with long hair on the shore, covered by thick robes. "Hold the rope tightly, I'm going to pull you to the edge" He shouts, with a severe accent. You wrap your wrist in circles around the rope, and lifts your left arm as hard as you can to show him you're ready. The man starts to pull you out, and it takes a while until he succeeds.
Pulling a childish and thin body makes the situation a lot easier for him.
As you sit on the snow, your chin trembles, the teeth grind against each other so strongly that the man can hear it, what makes him wrap your shoulders with one of his robes. "You're just a child..." his eyes are full of trance as he analyses your figure, now hardly standing on your feet. "How do you entered in Arctika? What are you doing here?"
You exhale and stare at him, even though you're trying to hide as much as possible of your face "Thank you so much, Sir." You whisper, truly grateful.
"What are you doing in these lands?"
"Thanks," You insist, returning to make your way towards the Temple at the top of the mountain. You feel his look on your back, and you know that he remains curious about your identity, but all you do is cover your head with the wet hood and sniffles, observing all the extensive path ahead yourself.
A flame of hope springs inside of you again. You will be able to fulfill your mission. The unbearable cold, the physical and mental fatigue, as much as the lack of your personal stuff are not enough to frustrate you of your supreme goal.
To kill the Grandmaster of the Lin Kuei.
*I can't speak chinese.