Finally Chapter 2. It's a rather slow chapter, but it was necessary. I didn't want to have such a hard break and "skip" from arriving to meeting up with Ephraim. Besides, time passes slowly for Fado and that is kinda mirrored in the "inaction" of this chapter. And it has some characterisation that I like so all is well. The next chapter, by the way, will be from Ephraim's perspective. I've debated with myself about that because originally I wanted to restrict the perspective to Fado, but I soon noticed that especially in the beginning I had to rely more on other characters. But after the third chapter I want to try to keep the perspective of Fado.

Chapter 2

He couldn't count how often he had thought he was dead. He had thought he was prepared for the end, but during the long hours of feverish pain, he noticed that he was scared of dying.

Fado hadn't been truly awake for a long time now. He knew that time was passing – he heard voices around him, felt himself being moved and noticed the chill that the night brought – but couldn't interact with his surroundings. His eyes seemed to be sewn shut, just as his mouth was. He could do nothing on his own.

Fado was almost used to it by now. It didn't make him panic as badly anymore. He had never liked to be entrapped, but this strange inability to move was not much different from being grounded in his father's private library – dark, stuffy and devoid of distraction from self-reflection.

The only time Fado hated his confinement and when the fear appeared again were the times of heat. Sometimes an unbearable heat would flare up inside him. His blood would turn into lava and his lungs went on strike. No matter how much he gasped for air, it was never enough.

He touched death every time, but for some reason he was always pushed back. There was a force between him and death – a gentle, but strong force, accompanied by a strange whispering sound.

Fado didn't want to return to his body, though; it burnt him and the pain was almost unbearable. He didn't want to be in pain anymore. But the force was pressing against him, pressing against his chest, and then the whispering grew into a hiss.

Suddenly the heat flared up and Fado screamed. Cold fire cut into him. He flailed – or at least tried to, but the force kept him down. Fado caught, gasped, snapped for air. The whispering accelerated and it was a scream. No, that was him. He was screaming. Suddenly the force pressed into his side. Fado tried to hit it, but there was no arm to hit it with.

The cold heat seared his side. Fado cried – he felt the tears against his burning skin – and then there was suddenly nothing anymore. Only darkness.

###

The clearness of his own mind surprised Fado. The darkness had left gently and the burning heat was nothing but a lingering memory.

He inhaled deeply. The air was pleasantly warm – a whiff of wood and ash told him that somewhere was a fire burning. It was not stuffy, though; Fado felt cold air coming from his right side. It was just a gentle breeze so he guessed that it was just a leaky window.

Fado hesitated; he was curious. He wanted to see where he was, but he also was scared. Of what am I supposed to be scared? he thought angrily. Was he already that accustomed to nothingness? His eyelids were heavy, but they obeyed. Blinking lazily, Fado saw for the first time in a long while more than the inside of his mind.

He stared at the ceiling of a low room; the stones were sleek. It didn't seem that this room was used often. There were spider webs in the corners and the foot end of the bed he was lying on was in a rather bad state; the wood was splintered and wet at some places. Fado tried to turn, but his body was almost completely numb.

"Hng." Every muscle in his body screamed in protest, but somehow Fado managed to wriggle into a half-sitting position. Gasping, he rested his head against the stones and squinted ahead. A small fireplace was opposite of him. Otherwise the room was empty. "Hello?" Fado croaked. He grimaced; his tongue felt as if he had been licking clean a cat for an hour. "Hello?" he called again.

Since nobody came, Fado looked around for something to drink. When he looked to his right, something caught his gaze; he paused. His gaze fell to where his arm had been. The last time he had been awake, there was at least a stump left. Now, however, there was nothing. The sleeve of his shirt fell down straight directly at his shoulder. Fado's breathing grew heavy; he leaned over to see better.

There was nothing. His body just stopped there. Fado raised his left hand to feel, just in case he was hallucinating. His hand was shaking.

The touch sent needles through his body. The skin under his empty sleeve was hot and raw. Fado flinched but kept pressing his hand onto his shoulder. "No," he whispered. "No, no, no." Involuntarily, his fingers clenched – a whimper escaped him.

The shaking of his hand grew and infected the rest of his body. Fado blinked quickly, his gaze blurring. He shook his head. "No, no, no." He felt around, searching desperately – where was his arm!

"Your Majesty?" The sudden voice barely penetrated Fado's mind. Only slowly he looked up. He recognized Karl; there was another person with him, but Fado paid them no mind.

"Karl? My arm." Fado looked up at him; his voice was weak.

"Please calm down, Your Majesty. Everything is alright." Fado shook his head and clutched at his shoulder. Another wave of pain flooded through him. "Your Majesty, please lie down. You are still feverish. Lady Milena, the medicine." Fado was still shaking his head when the person next to Karl pressed a cup against his lips. Gruffly, Fado yanked his head away from the stinking liquid.

"No! My arm, Karl. Where is it?"

"Your Majesty, the fever is confusing you. Please drink the medicine."

"I'm not confused. I want to know where my sword arm is!" His shaking grew with the volume of his voice. "I need my sword arm!" Before he could rant more, the other person pushed the cup half into his mouth. Taken by surprise, Fado gulped the thick liquid down. "Karl!" he roared in anger before he was silenced by the next gulp.

"I'm sorry, Your Majesty, but this is for your sake." Fado tried to push the cup back again, but it disappeared before he could raise his still existing hand. His gaze grew dizzy and the urge to punch Karl filled his head, but sleep overpowered him and darkness conquered him.

The next time he awoke, his mouth felt even worse. His lips were glued to each other and it actually hurt when he finally managed to open them.

"My lord?" a woman said and leaned over to him. Blinking quickly because the daylight was blinding him, Fado squinted upwards. An older woman with bleached-out orange hair smiled down at him. The corners of her eyes were covered with wrinkles. "How are you feeling?"

"Water." Fado was surprised that she seemingly understood his mumbling for she stood up and fetched a cup from the windowsill. The water was freezing cold, but Fado still downed it in one go.

"Let me see…" The woman pushed Fado's sweaty hair out of his eyes and felt his forehead and cheeks. "Your fever has gone down." Her smile grew a bit. "Can you listen?" Fado crunched up his forehead in confusion, but nodded. "I'm Milena. My husband and I are the guards of Lochmol. We've been living here for almost forty years. Our daughter still lives with us while our son has left several years ago. Lord Augustin brought you here almost two weeks ago." More confusion entered Fado's face. "We did our best to nurse you back to health, but your right arm was causing a strong fever. It was already rotting."

"Rotting?" Fado eyes widened.

"Yes, my lord," Milena said with a sweet smile, "it was rotting. We decided that you only had a chance to live if we amputate the arm." Fado squeezed his eyes shut and clenched his teeth. "I believe the herbs we used to sedate you when you woke up during the procedure caused your fit yesterday."

Fado swallowed hard. The pain hadn't been a dream or hallucination. "I see." Maybe Milena had heard the strain in his words because she petted his thigh for a second and then walked to the door and called for someone. Fado was still dazed by the things he just heard and he spent the short time until someone new entered the room staring at his right shoulder.

"Your Majesty," Karl exclaimed when he entered, and saluted. Fado's expression seemed to be distressing because Karl immediately became concerned. "Are you feeling alright?" Karl asked while hastening over and sitting down on the chair Milena had occupied earlier. Fado nodded numbly.

"Yes, I think so." Karl sat, back ramrod straight, and watched Fado very closely. Fado meanwhile tried to gather his thoughts; it was true that his mind was not as messy as yesterday, but he was still so slow. Finally he could formulate the thought that had danced in front of his nose for the longest time.

"How am I supposed to wield a sword now?" Fado did mean the question serious so he was taken aback by the uncharacteristically broad smile on Karl's face.

"I believe you are over the worst."

###

Fado was staring out of the window. In the last hour, the wind had picked up again and pushed the snow from the stone into the air and eventually against Fado's window. Apart from looking around the room and out of the window there wasn't much he could do. He wasn't allowed to walk around (he had tried, of course, with not so pleasant consequences for him), there was barely any entertainment in form of books (despite normally not being an avid reader, he had finished the small stock of books the fort had in not much more than a week) and he rarely got visitors. He didn't know if Karl kept the others from meeting him or if they were too shy to talk to him.

Talking to the king of your home country probably sounds easier than it is, Fado thought with a sigh and squeezed his eyes shut, massaging them with his fingers. The day was bright and would stay that way for a long time – the sun had risen just a few hours ago and Fado already wished it would sink already.

"This is worse than death," he grumbled under his breath and shifted in his bed. His back and behind were hurting from lying all the time. Never, in his whole life, had he been lying around so long that his back grew sore. Fado was so embarrassed by it that he had told nobody about it. He'd rather suffer than admit this. Fado sneered at the thought of ever voicing it.

His gaze returned to the window and the dancing snow. He quickly fell into a strange trance – those snowflakes were just hypnotising. It was a thoughtless trance, which was a rare treat; normally the memory of his duel with Vigarde would repeat itself over and over in his mind. Somewhere in there had to be the answers to all his questions; why and could he have done anything to prevent it?

He was so stuck in his mind that the knock on the door startled him more than was necessary. "Yes?" he called confused and pushed himself upright, which he habitually still tried to do with both arms. Cold anger worsened his mood even more.

"Good morning, sir," Linnéa said as she entered with a smile.

"Good day," he answered through gritted teeth. Linnéa faltered for a second before striding over confidently. Fado smacked the crankiness out of his mind and smiled apologetic. "I remember you, but I cannot recall your name."

"I'm Néa."

"Néa?" He frowned in confusion. "Wasn't it something with 'L'?"

"Why, yes, it is." Linnéa shrugged with an askew smile. "But at home everybody called me Néa and I like it better. I told Karl to call me Néa but he insists on Linnéa." She sighed good-natured. "And Iustus and Lajos follow his example, even though I told them." Fado chuckled.

"Well, maybe they'll follow my example if I call you Néa." She beamed at him.

"I'd be much grateful." Fado found that his mood considerably brightened. Linnéa looked around the room. "So, I was sent to check your fire, but it looks good. But I'll add another coal, just to be safe." She walked over and knelt in front of the fire place; from his position on the bed Fado could only see the back of her head. "Oh, and I was supposed to ask if you want to eat."

"Solid food?" Fado saw Linnéa shake with laughter.

"I believe so."

"Good," Fado sighed with relief. "The 'soup' from the last few days was horrible."

Linnéa stood up and patted her dirty hands against her pants. "Don't worry, sir, we got the same food. We suffered with you." Fado couldn't help but grin. He liked this woman.

"Will you sit with me after you told them?" Fado asked and nodded to the chair next to his bed. "It's very tiring to be alone all day." Linnéa nodded and smiled warmly.

Almost happy, Fado waited for her to return. When she did come, she first walked back to the fire place and picked something up. It was a small handkerchief, which she pressed against the scar on her lip as she sat down. Fado's forehead creased with confusion, but he didn't get the chance to ask; Linnéa had already noticed.

"My scar pinches when it's so cold and dry." She carefully dabbed the cloth first against her chin, then against her lower lip. "It hurts when I talk."

Fado nodded slowly. "May I ask where you acquired it?" He threw her a careful glance – he knew how embarrassing it could be to talk about the origin of certain scars. She dropped her gaze and behind the cloth Fado could spy a reserved smile – it was embarrassing.

"Nothing dramatic or exciting, I fear." She threw him an amused look. "There's a small gorge near Durant, where I come from. And I mean really small. A tall adult could stand in it and still be able to peek over the edge. But for children it's a huge canyon." Linnéa chuckled. "We were playing there often and one time, after a rain day, I believe, my friends and I were careless. I slipped on the stone and fell down head first. The stones were rough at the top – the creek was shallow and only smoothed the stones at the ground – and my face, well…" She looked away for a second; Fado grimaced in sympathy. "I have a second scar, even," Linnéa said and turned her head, smoothing up her short hair. "At the back of my head."

Fado leaned forward. There was indeed a long, thin scar from her ear down to her neck. It was completely covered when Linnéa let go of her hair. "Well, now we have something in common, haven't we," Linnéa continued, smiling. Her comment confused Fado for a moment and he seemed to show it since Linnéa pointed to his left cheek. Startled, his hand shot upwards and traced the still pinkish scar from his cheek to his ear.

"Yes." He forced a smile on his face. "I always forget it. I supposed I should be grateful that it doesn't particularly hurt." His voice trailed off at the end and forced himself not to look at his arm. It still shocked him every time that there was nothing. That a part of him was missing even though it felt like it was still there. He still tried to scratch his (by now covered with beard) chin with his right, to grab for his fork or spoon with his right and to wipe the sleep from his eyes with his right.

Linnéa concentrated on dabbing her lower lip when Fado fell silent and frowned at his lap. She threw concerned looks at him the whole time, but didn't dare to disturb him. Eventually she put away the cloth, folded her hands in her lap and turned to the king. He slowly looked up; his frown had turned into a scowl.

"You have two children, haven't you?" The question seemed to startle Fado so much that he forgot to scowl.

"Yes," he said slowly.

"I have just one daughter," Linnéa said with sad smile. "She's in Carcino by now, I hope. I've sent her to her aunt, my husband's sister. Her husband is a smithy."

"What's her name?" Fado asked quietly. While Linnéa's question had brought up a topic he didn't really want to think about, it was still better than silence.

"Melanie." Linnéa's gaze fell to her lap. "She's a really bright child. Very smart. She's good with numbers. Maybe she could even find work in Carcino as an assistant of a merchant."

Fado nodded slowly. "My daughter, Eirika, is also good at counting. Well, not just good with numbers but… she's very talented." A memory of his little girl bouncing next to him and counting every paper page he put down as he sorted his documents into stacks sprung to mind – yearning for his family pressed against his throat for a moment. He smiled at Linnéa.

"There's no other answer for a parent, is there?" Linnéa asked, laughing.

"I always try to be as honest as possible. I would never ascribe skills to them that they don't have." Suddenly he smirked. "They're already amazing enough without any boasting." Linnéa laughed heartily. "Do you have any more family?" Linnéa's smile weakened and thinned out. Fado's face fell – only now he noticed that that was a very insensitive question. "I'm–"

"My husband is dead, I think," she said quietly. "We both joined Karl, you know." Fado's mouth snapped shut and he listened intently. "My husband's sister was visiting us when the news came. We panicked and sent her and Melanie away. We wanted her to be safe." Fado saw tears gathering in Linnéa's eyes; he averted his gaze.

"I'm very sorry for your loss. You're both very brave. Thank you for fighting for Renais."

Linnéa shook her head. "We weren't brave and we didn't fight for Renais. We just wanted to keep Grado from finding her. We just wanted to hold them up for a while."

"It doesn't matter why you took up your weapons." Linnéa tilted her head so she could meet his gaze. "You fought to protect someone you care about and for that you need courage." Her lower lip trembled and she ripped her gaze away; her eyes were swimming with tears by now. Fado smiled sympathetically at her and would've taken her hand if he could've reached her with his left hand. "Your daughter is surely very proud of you."

Linnéa hiccuped, though it could also have been a laugh, and shook her head. "Oh no, she would say we were stupid. War is for soldiers, not for a butcher and his wife."

"Then your courage is even greater." A sob escaped Linnéa. "Soldiers know the battlefield, you did not. I find your actions highly admirable." Linnéa was silently crying now and shook her head.

"You only want to make me feel better," she argued as she wiped her eyes.

"I'm perfectly serious." Linnéa shook her head again, laughing and sobbing simultaneously.

"Thank you," she eventually whispered and smiled at him. "I cannot tell you how much hope I had lost since my husband's death – I know he is dead, even though I didn't see it happen. We were separated. I tried to continue. To protect Melanie, but it was… so hard. Thank you for letting me talk." Fado returned her smile; a part of him wanted to talk about his worries as well, but there was a mental wall that that part couldn't jump over. "May I hug you?" she suddenly asked. A grin was her answer. Her eyes were still wet as she sat on the edge of the bed and pulled Fado in a strong embrace. It was awkward to return it with just one arm – it seemed so incomplete – but was also soothing. It was not just a hug to calm her, no – in that moment Fado noticed how much he had needed body contact as well. Suddenly, he didn't feel as lonely anymore. Involuntarily, he clutched at Linnéa and now his eyes were watering as well.

In that moment he noticed how much he was missing his twins and how much he wanted to half-strangle them with a big hug.

"Thank you, sir," Linnéa said when she pulled back. Fado almost stopped her – he didn't have enough yet – but he controlled himself and just offered a thin smile. Linnéa took a long look at him, then stroked his shoulders – shoulder and nothingness – and stood up. "I'm sure your children are safe." His mouth twitched and he nodded. He avoided her gaze for he noticed that his control was waning – she stood there for a moment awkwardly.

They were saved by a knock on the door. "I liked our little conversation," Linnéa said, trying to look upbeat. Fado nodded without looking up. "Next time we'll talk about something happier, though." Fado couldn't help but chuckle. He nodded.

"Gladly."

###

Several weeks passed in which Fado still had to fight against his fever, which randomly flared up, and boredom – nothing else really happened. No Augustinian troops had arrived in the meantime. They had held a short mourning ceremony for the dead soldiers on the first day of the second month since their arrival.

Since the first week, Karl had sent Lajos, Raphaela, Linnéa and Iustus – always in a pair of two – off down the path towards Grado almost every day; Fort Lochmol had two entryways, the eastern one from Renais and one from the west. The path leading to Grado was exceptionally small and ended in wilderness in the middle of nowhere. Since the building of the Fort 400 years ago, nobody from Grado had ever got lost in this region and found the entrance – or at least no-one had been stupid enough to climb up the path. Halfway down this path was a small wooden gate from where one had an excellent view over the wilderness and could detect any movements early. Karl ordered them to watch any activity on the plains, lest Grado had somehow found out about this hideout and would come to see if anybody was here.

"Watch out!" Lajos called back as he slipped on a loose stone. Linnéa rolled her eyes and stepped over the debris. "Good that you're alright," he added sheepishly and focused on the path ahead.

Linnéa ignored him. After another handful of sharp turns the wooden gate finally appeared in front of them. "Looks worse than ever," Linnéa mumbled.

"Then let me go first and see if it is safe, Lady Linnéa." Lajos quickly walked over to the not particularly trustworthy looking ladder. Linnéa crossed her arms and glared at his back. Gingerly, Lajos pulled himself onto the small platform atop of the gate.

"It seems safe enough for me," he called down. He blinked confused at the expression on Linnéa's face, but didn't comment on it.

"Well, do you see anything?" Lajos quickly scanned the horizon.

"No." He squinted hard. Linnéa shifted her weight to one foot and waited amused. Suddenly Lajos seemed to remember something and felt around his pockets. "Lady Linnéa, would you be so kind and give me the looking-glass?" Chuckling lowly, Linnéa pulled the weathered telescope from her pocket and threw it up. Lajos caught it easily and scanned the horizon again. He faltered when he looked to the northwest.

"What is it?" Linnéa called up to him, placing her fists on her hip.

"I… can see something." He licked his lips nervously. "But I cannot identify them. It seems like an army."

"An army?"

"Yes, it's coming from up north."

"It could be Frelia, couldn't it?"

"… Yes. But if Grado has reached Frelia and if they won–" He cut himself off. Linnéa crossed her arms again, shivering as a gust of cold air raced down through the stone-enclosed path.

"We'll wait and if it's truly Grado, I'll alert Karl." Lajos nodded and raised the telescope to his eye. Linnéa huddled into a small fold in the stone to hide from the wind and together they waited.

Several hours passed and Linnéa was walking around by now, swinging her arms, to drive away the cold from her body. Lajos shivered strongly, but still kept stubbornly staring at the shadows at the horizon.

"L-lady Linné-éa," he said through chattering teeth. "I see a flag."

"Really?" she called up.

"I-It's the Renaitian flag."

"What?" Linnéa stopped dead in her tracks and stared up at him. Lajos nodded.

"I know. B-but it's clearly the flag of Renais." He looked down to her; his lips were bluish and his face white.

"Alright, come down here, boy, and I go up and tell Karl."

"No, I have to watch them."

Linnéa put on a parental look of disapproval. "You'll come down now. I don't want to find a frozen body when I come back."

Lajos hesitated. "Very well, ma'am." He almost fell from the ladder due to his stiff legs and arms. Linnéa pulled his cloak around him tightly when he finally stood in front of her.

"I'll be back in a few hours." She waited for him to give her a sign of understanding and then hastened through the stone up to the fort.

###

"What?" Karl stared at her with wide eyes.

"Lajos was absolutely sure." Karl wrinkled his forehead and shook his head. Turning away, he walked over to the dirty window overlooking the tiny courtyard in front of the fort; actually, it could barely call itself a courtyard. It was less than three horse-lengths broad and one horse-length deep.

"This is impossible," Karl mumbled and scratched his jaw, starting to pace in front of the window. Linnéa stood by the door, completely forgot by him. "Only Prince Ephraim or Princess Eirika could display the Renaitian flag. Frelia would gain nothing by displaying it. But Princess Eirika would never lead an army. King Fado ordered her to stay safe. She's not as bad as the rest of her family." Karl came to an abrupt stop and scowled at himself. "Regardless…" he said very pointedly, " Prince Ephraim went missing, but he could still be alive."

Contemplating, he rubbed his upper lip and stared out of the window; snow had started to gently float downwards after the earlier storm had finally died down. He remained deadly silent for a long time. Linnéa shifted, crossed her arms to warm her hands in her armpits and waited impatiently.

"Sir?"

Karl didn't react at first. Then he suddenly turned on his heels and strode towards the door. "Lady Linnéa, fetch a meal for yourself and Lajos, and keep taps on the moving army."

"Alright."

Since the fort was tiny, it took Karl only a few steps to arrive at Fado's room. He knocked loudly, waited for a second and then entered. "Your Majesty."

Fado was sitting upright in his bed, a thick book on his lap, and reading intently. He waved to Karl without looking up; the gesture was bordering on being dismissive. "My King, we have to discuss the news I have just received." Fado looked a tad miffed at the intrusion, but set the book aside.

"Alright, what is it?"

"Your Majesty, Lady Linnéa has just reported that an army journeys from Frelia towards Grado. Sir Lajos claims to have seen the Renaitian flag at the head." Fado looked sceptical. "Sir Lajos is a trustworthy scout."

Relief wanted to tug at Fado's frozen expression of doubt, but he smacked it backwards. For once he didn't want to hope too much. "Then Ephraim is alive?" His voice was tight, he noticed.

"I believe so, but we have no proof at the moment. I plan to take Sir Lajos with me and inspect the army."

"You and Sir Lajos?" Fado asked with raised eyebrows. "Aren't you too old for scout missions?"

"If you aren't too old to challenge the Gradian army on your own, then I am not too old to spy on a probably friendly army."

Fado's mouth twitched into a grin. "Heh, you're right, now. Fine, but you should take someone who knows the area with you."

Karl nodded sharply. "I'll discuss it with Sir Nathan and Lady Milena." He bowed deeply and quickly. "Good reading, Your Majesty."

"Thank you," Fado answered, frowning slightly absentminded, and clumsily pulled the book back into his lap.

###

In a matter of hours everything was ready; the daughter of the fort-keeper couple, Lene, had prepared warmer clothes and Lajos' horse as well as food for the journey. They guessed that the travel down the mountain would at least take two, in the worst case three, days. The path hadn't been used for more than thirty years and was probably in a sorry state.

Karl found the young girl in the stables; she was a quiet girl (at least around her parents), who seemed to be curious about everything and if one let her, she would politely ask about every little thing that had been brought the fort from the outside world. Karl had quickly made it clear that he was not a lexicon, which didn't keep her from staring at him curiously every time she discovered something new in his presence.

"Let's not waste anymore time, Miss Lene," he said with a strict gaze and mounted his shivering horse.

"Alright," she chirped, pulled on her thick gloves and led Lajos' stallion into the cold evening.

During the trip down to the wooden gate, Karl threw several looks at the darkening sky; it was madness to travel through the dangerous mountains in the dark, but they had to act quickly. While an army in general didn't move at a fast pace, it was a hard fact that it would already be difficult to catch up with them.

The path was slippery and at many places ice was covering the stone. The freshly fallen snow, while also giving them some kind of grip, hid the ice and many a times the horses slipped and baulked. The moon was already clearly visible against the sky when Karl and Lene reached to gate.

"Sir Lajos?" Karl called and immediately clenched his teeth after the last syllable had left his mouth. The coldness hurt his teeth.

"Y-yes?" came a weak voice from above. A big shadow suddenly moved on their left – Karl's hand darted to his sword. Linnéa, huddled into her cloak, struggled to her feet. Karl relaxed with an annoyed sigh. Lajos peeked over the edge of the platform.

"We'll meet the army." Lajos nodded and crept towards the ladder.

"Sir?" Linnéa asked and walked closer. "Please let Lajos return to the fort. He's an icicle. I'll go in his stead."

"N-no," Lajos protested, clutching at the ladder. "I-I'm f-fit." Karl wrinkled his forehead and threw a dismissive glance at Linnéa.

"Sir Lajos is an experienced knight. If he–"

"A l-lady shouldn't h-have to travel in this c-cold," Lajos interrupted him; his legs almost gave away when he finally arrived on the ground. Both Linnéa and Karl glared at him. Lajos' eyes widened. Karl turned to Linnéa, forcing his anger from his face and the crankiness out of his cold bones.

"Lady Linnéa, I'd rather take him with me than send him up alone in this state." Linnéa looked him in the eye for a moment, pressing her lips shut. Eventually, she lowered her gaze and nodded.

"Alright." Walking over to Lajos, she unclasped the hook of her second cloak. She threw it over Lajos' shoulders and pulled it tight around him. Just as he opened his mouth to protest, she shot him an admonishing look. "Don't argue with me, son." Then she pulled the cap over his head and finally hurried up the path, giving a short wave over her shoulder before disappearing behind the curve.

"Sir Lajos, do not detain us any longer." The young man nodded and tried to mount his horse. It took him a moment since his legs were still stiff and his arms weak. He was saved from another remark from Karl by Lene pulling the wooden gate open. She smiled warmly at them.

"We can go now." Karl nodded, pulled his scarf over his lips and kicked his horse into motion. Freezing and shivering, they started the long way down the mountains.