When they reached the town, masses of people were crowding the road. Kristoff pulled over to the side of Oaken's cabin, leaning the sled up against one of the walls and untying Sven, before the three of them proceeded into the throng. Anna thought it was too many people for the forty-or-so houses that comprised the town proper, but she guessed that a good many of them were visitors from nearby, like her. Kristoff said that there were plenty of people that lived well outside the town, on farms and in secluded cottages, though they were all beholden to the same Lord Mayor.

Not me, Anna thought. I owe nothing to the Lord Mayor.

In the center of town was a large cleared section that Kristoff called the town center. Here, merchants had set up some stalls, and were shouting over the din of the crowd the prices and varieties of their wares. One merchant with a long mustache was selling smelly oils in glass bottles, and another merchant with a scar on his face was selling sinister-looking weapons with curved blades. There wasn't much business at the moment, as most of the people in the crowd weren't there to buy things. No, they were there for the same reason Anna was: to see the Royal Family.

Her group passed through the town square, dodging people as they went, and reached the one merchant they were looking for. Behind a too-small stall, perched on a too-small chair, Oaken squatted and hawked his odds and ends.

Odds and ends they were, too: ropes, carrots, boots, fur hats, pickaxes, bags of beans, leather wallets, wool gloves, a wind-up clock, ink bottles, jars of pickled herring, jars of lutefisk, wooden bowls, long balls of yarn, rolls of twine, fishing rods. Anna had never even imagined wanting most of the things Oaken was selling, and yet, people seemed interested. A line of people snaked around his stall, inspecting his things – but never touching. Oaken slapped the wrists of anyone who got too handy with his goods.

He was in the middle of a civil negotiation with a customer when Anna and Kristoff approached.

"No, no, that won't do. Supply and demand are a big problem here," he said to a red-faced customer who was offering a bag of coin.

It didn't work: the would-be customer sulked off, and Oaken's attention was drawn to Anna and Kristoff.

"Hoo-hoo!" he greeted them. "Are you two ready?" His eyes twinkled, and for the moment all thoughts of the Wise Troll's retribution flitted from Anna's mind.

For a time they sat next to Oaken's stall while he continued to bargain and barter with comers and goers. Anna kept standing on her tiptoes, looking around, trying to find the slightest thing that would indicate the arrival of visiting royalty.

When Anders showed up, he announced that the royal procession wouldn't be coming through until about noon, so they had time to kill. Oaken had Kristoff run to his cabin and back to fetch some trinkets for the stand, which Kristoff did, grumbling. Anna, meanwhile, decided she might as well go look around.

The town square was situated at the base of the small hill upon which sat the Lord Mayor's black timber house. Anna shuddered when she saw it, remembering the horrible encounter with Edward and, before that, his wretched son. She walked off in the opposite direction, towards Astrid's house.

She found Astrid's house as it usually was: quiet, and hemmed in by fat evergreens. She went around back and saw that Astrid wasn't in the clearing. Frowning, she went back to the front door and knocked three times.

Half a minute later, Astrid answered the door, yawning. Her hair was unkempt and not yet tied up in its typical two braids, and she wore a long cherry gown that touched her feet. Anna had never seen Astrid wear anything "feminine" before: most of the women in town wore dresses or skirts, but not Astrid, being as she was more partial to trousers. Anna didn't really understand trousers, anyway, because all the trolls wore skirts. She fiddled at the material of the leggings she was wearing.

"What?" mumbled Astrid as she rubbed the sleep from her eyes. Anna stifled a giggle.

"I just wanted to say hi," said Anna. "And I wanted to thank you for the outfit."

Astrid looked at her through squinted eyes. "It looks good on you. Come in, I'll fix you some tea."

Anna entered Astrid's home. It was smaller than Oaken's by just a little bit. The main room had a fireplace and a few chairs, and a low, flat, untidy bed sat in the corner. A small stack of logs sat next to the hearth, where coals were sparkling faintly, and the room was well-lit by half-a-dozen windows spaced throughout. One door in the back led to a cramped pantry chock-full of jarredfoodstuffs. A table in the corner was stacked with brown wooden plates and cups, and a single, out-of-place, pink porcelain teapot.

Anna's favorite thing about Astrid's house was not the furniture, nor the logs nor the cups, nor the way the morning sunlight lit up the front room without glaring. Rather, she found herself drawn to something that hung over the fireplace on two wooden pegs: a short sword, made of folded steel, with a hilt made of polished red wood. The handle was covered with tough, untanned leather, and the pommel was a small wooden sphere inlaid with a glimmering red stone. The crossguard was made of elaborately carved wood with the ends tapered and curved towards the blade; etched in the center was the detail of a single broad leaf. Anna hadn't asked about the sword, but one time Astrid caught her staring at it and explained, with a faint smile, that it was a gift, and her favorite sword.

Astrid stirred up the coals in the fireplace and added a log. It started to smolder, and Astrid poured half a bucket of tepid water into a reddish-gray tea kettle and set it over the fire to boil. She walked to the other side of the room, where a piece of curved glass hung on the wall. She began brushing down her hair with brusque efficiency. "Have a seat," she urged Anna, not unpolitely.

Anna sat down in a chair by the quickening blaze, and watched the tea kettle as flames licked up around it. She wondered if she should broach the subject of Astrid's pledge to the Lord Mayor.

Astrid finished brushing her hair and walked over to the fire, her strong fingers moving nimbly as they tied two braids, one on either side of her face. Under the crook of her arm she carried two wooden cups and the pink porcelain teapot. After she finished her braids, she set the cups and teapot down on the small wooden table gingerly, and then she sat herself down heavily in a chair on the other side of the fire.

She was wearing her typical confident smirk again. "So, wild girl, what's up?" She still called Anna "wild girl," even though everyone else – including Kristoff – had long since dropped that moniker for her.

"Today the royal procession is passing through town," said Anna. "I… disobeyed my family and snuck out of the troll village."

Astrid waved a hand in a dismissive gesture. "They're always mad at you at first, but they'll get over it."

Anna hesitated. "Three trolls helped me sneak out." Astrid raised an eyebrow. "Loot – that's the name of one of the trolls who helped me – he said that my place was here. That I should follow my heart." Anna wondered if she looked as uncertain as she felt.

Astrid sighed and sat back in her seat, her mouth a straight line. "Nobody can tell you if you made the right decision, kiddo. Only you can answer that." Her eyes glinted. "So, what do you think?"

Anna didn't know what she felt or thought. So she just said, "I wanted to see the Royal Family."

Astrid's smirk returned. "Well, you'll have that, at least."

Anna felt a little better now. Talking to Astrid always made her feel better.

The tea kettle started whining, so Astrid picked it up with a cloth mitt and poured the boiling water into the teapot, where the tea began to steep. She set the tea kettle down beside the fire, which was now crackling away merrily.

Astrid had just finished pouring tea into the two wooden cups, when Anna took hers and asked in what she hoped was a casual tone: "So, Kristoff told me you're a sworn warrior."

The sworn warrior paused for a beat, her wooden cup of tea halfway to her mouth. "Ah," she said. "Yes, that is true."

"Sworn to serve the Lord Mayor Edward Burrows," Anna continued.

Astrid nodded in confirmation, taking a sip of tea.

Anna fidgeted. "Why?" she managed.

Astrid set her cup down on the table, her face drawn into a tired expression. Suddenly Anna felt a little guilty at bringing it up. There was probably a good reason why Astrid hadn't told Anna or made mention of it before.

The corner of Astrid's mouth lifted into a half-hearted smile. "Honor and duty," she said in a low voice.

This did not satisfy Anna. "You said yourself that Eddy- that Lord Edward is a- I just don't understand. You called him a sour buffoon!" Anna sputtered.

Astrid laughed lightly. "A woman's got to make a living somehow, Anna. I'm the equal of any ten fighters that this little town has, and any twenty brigands that might seek to do it harm. Gods forbid, if any trouble came through…" She shook her head. "As long as I'm a sworn warrior, I can help protect the town, and the people I care about." One hand was now worrying at one of her braids, and for a second her eyes glazed over. "The people I care about… are worth taking orders from a buffoon for." She smiled, and comprehension dawned over Anna.

"Oh – you're protecting Anders… and his husband, and Kristoff, and Martin, and the butter-lady, and Jack the woodcutter," said Anna.

"Yes, that's it," said Astrid, though her gaze had grown more distant. She closed her eyes and chuckled. "Plus it means I can get away with a lot of bad decisions." Astrid paused. She looked at Anna's hair, then she said "We have really got to do something about your hair."

"What's wrong with my hair?" Anna said testily. Astrid just laughed and stood up, moving first over to the table where she had left her hairbrush, and then back over to Anna, where she began brushing it down.

"Ow – that hurts!" said Anna as Astrid brushed her hair with hard, sure strokes, but she didn't pull away. A silence settled over them, but it was one without tension. Anna closed her eyes and let Astrid brush. She kind of liked it.

They talked for the rest of the morning about more pleasant subjects, Anna pleased to find Astrid's dignity intact. Anna was growing more accustomed to her new clothes – they were comfortable. The leggings still felt a bit clingy, but she was determined to just suck it up.

Midday came, and Astrid said "If you want to see that Royal Family of yours, you'd better get going."

Anna was confused. "Aren't you coming to see the royal procession, too?"

"Nah," said Astrid.

"But why not?"

"Not really my thing," said Astrid.

Anna frowned. "Oh, come on. It'll be fun!"

Astrid looked at Anna with an expression that Anna couldn't quite read. It was a fond, almost sad kind of look. It disappeared quickly when Astrid smirked. "All right, fine," she huffed, her voice overflowing with melodramatic exasperation. "But you owe me one."

"No, I don't," Anna countered. "I'm doing you a favor."

Astrid chuckled at that, and the two of them left the cabin together.

Anna noticed that whenever Astrid left the house, she didn't go unarmed. Unarmored, sure: Anna never saw Astrid bedecked in full leather armor, much less metal mail. She apparently had no need. She had her thick leather gloves, her red tunic and furs, and a hand-and-a-half sword slung across her back, and that was that. Anna hadn't known for certain what kind of trouble Astrid anticipated, but now that she knew Astrid was a sworn warrior, it made sense that she would be ready to keep the peace. Of course, small boys tormenting smaller boys didn't seem to require the use of much weaponry to stop.

Then again, maybe the threat of such was a weapon in itself.

Anna also noticed that Astrid never used the steel short sword that hung over her fireplace. Maybe it was too special to use for rote work? Or, more likely, maybe it was too short to intimidate people with – the sword Astrid was now carrying was much more menacing. Anna usually practiced with long sticks, and the steel short sword was a hand shorter than those sticks. Astrid always said the most important thing in sword fighting was reach, and that was why the best swordsmen were good archers. Anna had laughed at that, but Astrid looked serious.

"Why not teach me archery, then?" Anna had asked.

"I don't know archery," Astrid replied. "Besides, it takes a lot more work to become a middling archer than it takes to become a decent swordsman. Even so, without a shield, an archer will drop you before you can take one step."

"When will I learn how to use a shield?"

"In good time."

They got to the town center when it was a good deal more crowded than earlier that morning. Astrid shouldered her way through the mass of people with Anna trailing close behind, and they found the others standing around Oaken's stall.

They exchanged greetings, and Anders looked amused. "I thought this wasn't your kind of thing, dear sister," said Anders. Astrid merely grunted in reply.

Since she hadn't had the opportunity to sleep the night before, Anna was beginning to feel a little weary. She mentally remonstrated herself as the tiredness soaked her bones: Of course, because you shouldn't even be here today.

But this was a once in a lifetime chance. She knew that. She just had to keep her eyes open, focus on being awake. The tea helped a little, but she still wanted to just take a nap.

She was also feeling a little hungry. She spied Kristoff munching on a long, orange carrot.

"Share," she commanded.

Kristoff looked at her with a raised eyebrow. "This is reindeer food," he said.

"Is that so?" she said. "Sven?"

Sven had already taken his cue. He snatched the carrot out of Kristoff's hands, and a short struggle ensued. Kristoff won back the carrot, but he was now eyeing Sven suspiciously.

"Traitor," he snarled, and broke off half the carrot and tossed it to Anna.

Anna ate her half with gusto, and winked at Sven.

Just then, a loud, blaring noise split the air, and Anna jumped. Daaa, dun-da-daaa, it shrieked. The sound had too much clarity to be from nature, and in fact it sounded almost musical. Anna looked around for the source of the noise, but found nothing. Anders noticed her consternation and smiled.

"A trumpet," he said. "That blast was to announce the arrival of royalty."

Anna's eyes widened in understanding. "Is it time, then?" she asked.

Now they were all looking, and in the distant part of the square, coming down a cobbled section of road that went off into the south direction, Anna could spy several large poles with pointed ends and pieces of colored fabric flying from them. The fabric at points was triangular and rectangular, and there were all kinds of different colors: purples and magentas and yellows and oranges and greens and blues. The tallest pole was showing off a large, rectangular flag, upon which was emblazoned a six-pointed white snowflake on a field of ice blue.

Kristoff beat her to the question. "What's that symbol?" he asked.

Anders said, "That's the sigil of the Royal Family."

As the procession neared, flags and pennants fluttering and people cheering, Anna realized with a sinking feeling that she was not tall enough to see over the crowd of people. They stood too near together for her to get through them, either. A moment of panic set in, before she thought…

She scrambled up onto Oaken's stand, now ignored by the shoppers of a minute ago in favor of the new attraction. Oaken didn't protest, which she considered a small victory. I've crossed enough adults today already, she thought.

At first, she didn't know what she was looking at. At the head of the procession she saw several serious-looking men armed and armored heavily, riding along on prim, well-groomed horses. She had seen horses in the stables before, Kristoff had shown them to her, but these horses stood out. They were tall, and strong, and had soft, clean manes and shiny coats.

At the very front of the procession was a man in silver armor with a white cape slung over his shoulders. The cape was embroidered with silver and on his breastplate the fashion of a silver hawk was carved, mid-dive. Over his shoulder, the silvery hilt of a great sword peeked out. The man had long, white hair and a white beard, and looked old, wrinkles all over his face. He had a smile on his face, and his hazel eyes were beaming at all the onlookers. On his left rode a man in full steel plate armor and a steel helmet with a narrow eye slit and wings on the ears. He was otherwise unadorned except for a shield on his back with the six-pointed snowflake painted on it, and a long sword in a scabbard on his left side.

Kristoff had got up on Oaken's stall too, and Oaken was standing on the other side of him. Anders came over to Anna and began explaining who was who. Anna looked for Astrid, but she seemed to have disappeared. But before Anna could inquire, Anders started talking.

"That's the Lord Protector Erik Ulfton," said Anders, indicating the silver man. "And one of his Royal Guardsmen," indicating the man in steel plate.

"What's a Lord Protector do?" asked Anna.

"The Lord Protector is the head of the Royal Family's bodyguard," said Anders. "His job is to ensure that the Royal Family remains safe at all times."

Anna thought of Astrid and how she had taken up her vows in order to protect people. "I bet he must really like the Royal Family, then," said Anna.

"He might," said Anders dryly. "Though there have certainly been some Lord Protectors who resented their charges."

Anna frowned at that. "That seems… dangerous," she said.

"Indeed," said Anders. "But it is few enough monarchs that put all their faith in just one person. Look, there's the marshal, Ser Tore Seastone."

Riding along behind Lord Erik was a man dressed much less spectacularly, wearing a forest green cloak and dull gray chainmail. His cloak bore the symbol of a blue-gray octagonal rock, and he wore thick dark leather armor with the same symbol and two thick brown gloves. His hair was a dark salt-and-pepper, and his beard was shaggy and unkempt. His green eyes scanned the crowd with a suspicious gaze. On either side of him rode two helmeted men with spears and hard leather doublets.

"What's the marshal do?" asked Anna.

"He is the master-of-arms, and manages the knights and levies of the kingdom," said Anders. "In a different way, he is also responsible for protecting the Royal Family. And the whole kingdom, at that. You might say you can't have one without the other." He smiled humorlessly.

Anna didn't quite follow what he meant by that, but before she could chase it up, Kristoff made a noise of astonishment. The crowd began to cheer. Following Kristoff's gaze, Anna looked – and saw.

Riding behind the marshal, a squat man in a green coat held the banner bearing the royal standard. And he preceded two beautiful horses, upon which sat two beautiful people – a man and a woman – smiling calmly at the adoring crowd.

The man was of an average height, and sat well on the horse, his back straight as an arrow. He wore a dark navy blue doublet with silver buttons, and breeches as white as snow. Slung casually over one shoulder was a maroon cloak clasped with a golden pin fashioned in the shape of a cross patteé, embossed in the center of which was the six-pointed snowflake. He had sandy blond hair that was well-combed, unlike Kristoff's, and a brownish pencil mustache dusted his upper lip. His eyes were pale blue and serene.

The woman was half-a-head shorter than the man, but also sat proudly in her saddle. She wore a conservative burgundy riding habit that matched her dark auburn hair, and a violet bodice faintly trimmed with silver. At the base of her neck sat a small sapphire brooch that glittered and caught the sunlight, much like her eyes. She had a heart-shaped face and wore a look of quiet optimism, her neatly groomed hair kept in check by a silver tiara studded with a single small diamond.

Though the man wore no crown, which Anna was told was normal, she knew him for the King of Arendelle at once; the woman was no doubt his Queen, the ultimate sovereigns of the kingdom entire. They were so comely, so wonderful, so radiant in their glory, that Anna wanted to shout their praises until she turned hoarse. Long live the King! Long live the Queen! The words came up from within her, roiling in her stomach like a stampede of angry butterflies. They had almost escaped her lips, when something else stole her attention.

Riding behind the King and Queen, on a horse as beautiful as either of theirs', sat a young woman doing her very best to match her parents' contented expressions. She sat awkwardly on the horse, too far back in the saddle, almost hunched over. She wore a simple azure blue riding habit and a matching jacket, both trimmed with navy silk. Her pale hands clutched the reins on the horse tightly, and it was clear to Anna that she was uncomfortable. Nonetheless, her face was calm as still water, her blue eyes betraying not a hint of discomfort, her lips pressed into a thin line, closed and unmoving. Her straw blonde hair was fixed into a single large braid that hung loosely behind her, and she wore a simple unadorned black velvet hairband on her head. Not a strand of hair was out of place.

That must be the princess, Anna thought. She looks older than me. Then she remembered the princess was thirteen.

Anna was staring, now, struck by the princess's nervous impassivity. She did a good job hiding it, but she was not at ease riding, and her knuckles were white with the stress of holding the reins, while her stony eyes were darting around the crowd. Anna didn't know what could be wrong. The crowd was cheering – they adored her and her parents. She was surrounded by tough-looking warriors, some of whom had to be knights, Anna realized, and she…

She was looking directly at her.

The eye contact lasted, in truth, for less than a second. The princess's gaze found Anna's and froze. A pebble dropped into the still water. Emotion rippled across the princess's face. Her eyes widened the tiniest bit, her lips parted, her jaw slacked. Just then, Anna felt a stiff cold breeze, and saw it rummage across the crowd, upsetting hats and hair.

The princess's head snapped away suddenly, and she was staring dead ahead at the space between her parents, her jaw locked. She was no longer looking around at the crowd. The small hairs on Anna's neck stood up, and a chill ran down her spine, even as the wind died and the warm summer stillness resettled.

"…the Royal Family," Anders finished explaining. "Princess Elsa is the only child of the King and Queen, and heiress to the Kingdom."

"Princess Elsa?" repeated Anna. She didn't mean it as a question. She only wanted to say the words. For some reason they seemed impossible, like those words didn't exist, couldn't exist, and what Anders had just said was unutterable nonsense.

"Yes," said Anders. "The girl in the blue dress, there. Elsa's her name."

Anna took a second. "That's a pretty name," she whispered. It was all she could think of to say.

Behind the Royal Family came a stick-thin teenage boy with shaggy brown hair and a doublet that was much too large for him. He also carried a pole with a flag on it, and that flag bore a standard of a black cross patteé, in the center of which was the six-pointed snowflake in white, all on a field of ice blue. Except for the cross with the wide-tips, it looked similar to the royal standard, Anna thought, and a little unnecessary. She recognized the cross from the King's clasp as well.

Kristoff asked again, "So what's that flag for?"

Anders explained again, "That's the flag of the kingdom. The cross represents our strength and valor. Not once since its founding has the kingdom been broken. And we owe that to the Royal Family, whose heraldry you can see there in the center – that snowflake."

"I recognize the snowflake," said Kristoff. "It was just the other part."

"What do you mean when you say the kingdom has never been broken?" asked Anna.

Anders smiled knowingly. "I mean that many outside forces have tried, but not one has been able to shatter Arendelle. They call us the glacier of the north. The most recent attempts, well, let's see…" Anders scratched his perfect chin. "It was before my time, but fifty years ago the Kingdom of the Southern Isles attempted to invade and raid Arendelle. They braved the icy reefs in their longboats and landed just north of the capital city. They slogged through the Toadsmarsh in the bitter cold and expected to find the city warm and ready for plunder. They found it warm, all right – the embers were still glowing." Anders grinned wickedly. "They had to slog back to their boats, where they found Arendelle's army waiting – and their whole fleet burnt and sunk. They surrendered to King Heimdal the Torch shortly after that.

"Then, I was just a boy at the time, but ten-ish years ago, when the current king ascended to the throne, there was a succession crisis with the Duchy of Weselton. That one went about the same way." Anders didn't go on, and turned his head back to observe the procession.

Anna didn't know that Anders knew so much about kings and kingdoms; in fact, now that she thought of it, he had some stories of his own to tell. Oaken had always told rather fantastic stories, but something about Anders's stories, by comparison, seemed more tangible. Like they were things that actually did happen, and here was the proof, marching in front of her. And what she heard about war was usually more spectacular than mucking around in swamps and surrendering when your boats were burnt and sunk.

The procession continued on after that, with armored men in finely-adorned breastplates, lords in fine silk robes, and ladies in elegant dresses, many of them kept company by some more plainly-dressed attendants. Anders pointed out the knights and lords for the ones who wore a symbol of some kind, and described the great houses of the kingdom with exquisite detail.

The knights, Anna noticed, came in all kinds of varieties. It boggled her mind a little: some were handsome, some were ugly; some were tall, some short; some well-muscled, others fat; some with long hair, some with no hair; some with beards, some without, some smiling, others scowling. No two wore similar armor, either. One was so completely bedecked in steel plate that Anna was convinced he couldn't see anything out of his tiny vertical eyeslits. Others, like Astrid, seemed to wear only the bare minimum for armor. Fewer still wore the kinds of shining armor you heard about in stories.

Many of the knights had a young boy, perhaps the princess' age, maybe a little older or younger, attending them. They were, more often than not, laden down with shields and swords, and some of them held short flags bearing the knight's standard. Anders explained them for squires, or knight-hopefuls, who would serve a knight until they were themselves knighted. This piqued Anna's interest, but, to her dismay, not one of the squires seemed to be a little girl.

A great deal more wore no signs or symbols, and attended no lords or knights. "Freeriders," said Anders. "They attach themselves to processions like this to move around the kingdom more safely." Anna estimated the procession, in total, numbered at least a hundred. That's almost as many people as live in the town proper, she thought. In fact, it might be more. Anna had never seen so many people before, all said, and she wondered if the Royal Family had taken their whole city with them.

Some wagons came at points along the procession, too, led by horses with woolly legs or big black cows, and the wagons were laden with barrels and crates and bags. "Provisions," Oaken said, perking up. "Fodder for trading, ja."

The procession made its way to the end of the town center, and coiled around the base of the Lord Mayor's hill. Anna noticed that Lord Edward was standing there, at the top of the hill, his face sour as usual. On his right, he was flanked by his son, Brendan, and three shabby-looking men armed with spears and axes. On his left, he was flanked by some more soldiers, including, to Anna's dismay, Astrid.

That makes sense, thought Anna. Of course the Lord Mayor is going to welcome the royal procession accompanied by his family and sworn warriors. But come to think of it, as far as family went, only Brendan was there. Unless one of those soldiers was Lord Edward's partner? But no – they were all standing too far away. They almost seemed out of place next to the Lord Mayor and the son who was his spitting image. Anna wondered if Brendan only had one parent. Still more than me, she thought bitterly – and yet, his family was smaller. She almost pitied him for that.

As the Royal Family approached the hill, the Lord Mayor descended the steps going up the hill to meet them at the bottom. He began moving his mouth, and she realized that they were talking – and she couldn't hear a word. She hopped down off of Oaken's stall and wormed her way into the crowd, shoving and sidling her way past in an effort to get closer to the hill. Behind her, she heard Anders call, "Anna!" but she was already on her way.

She emerged from the crowd at the edge of the procession, even as still more freeriders and knights were continuing onwards into the open field behind the Lord Mayor's hill. She looked and saw Lord Edward and his son and guards kneeling down before the Royal Family, who one-by-one dismounted gracefully to greet the Lord Mayor. The princess, her face impassive once more, was helped down from her horse by the skinny youth who had been holding the kingdom's flag.

As Lord Edward and his men (and Astrid) bowed, he said, "Your Grace. You honor us with your presence." His tone was so humble, almost groveling, that Anna could scarcely believe this to be the same man who had sneered at her all those months ago.

The King smiled warmly as Lord Edward rose out of his bow, and clasped the Lord Mayor's outstretched hand with both of his own. "Cousin, it is good to see you," the King said. He turned to regard Brendan. "This is your son, I take it?"

"That he is, Your Grace," said Lord Edward. "Once my nephew, 'till I adopted him." Without missing a beat. "Assuredly of my blood, as you can see from the hair."

Adopted? Yet another word Anna didn't know. She sighed. Human families…

Brendan bowed again, perhaps a little stiffly. "Your Majesty."

The King chuckled. "He has the manner of a Burrows, that is for sure. Gets it from his uncle. I am sure you have met my daughter?"

Princess Elsa stepped forward when mentioned, and Lord Edward and Brendan both bowed their heads to her. "My lady," they said in unison. Brendan stepped forward, and hesitated. "You are truly as radiant as the singers say, Princess Elsa," he said. She held out her hand to him, and he knelt and kissed it tenderly. The look she gave the lordling was calm, a careful, neutral smile pressed into her face.

Anna frowned. "No, Princess, he's a big jerk!" she wanted to shout, but she saw Astrid and held her tongue. This was not a situation that would suffer stupid decisions, she reflected bluntly.

The various lords and sovereigns continued greeting each other, the Marshal and Lord Protector also making their introductions – though from the looks of it, they were already familiar with Lord Edward. At length, the most important of them – the Royal Family, the Lord Protector, the Marshal, the Lord Mayor, his son, some of the Royal Guardsmen, and a few of the Lord Mayor's men – all climbed the steps of the hill and entered the black timber longhouse. The remainder of the procession moved around to the back of the hill, where tents were being set up.

One who did not enter the longhouse was Astrid, who stood around looking bored at the foot of the steps. Another guard who hadn't entered was standing next to her, and Anna noticed he had a wide, square jaw and mouse-colored hair, and looked a lot older than Astrid. Slung over his back was an enormous hammer, and he wore a pleased expression. Seeing most of the procession had moved on, Anna approached Astrid.

Astrid noticed her and spoke first. "Hey, wild girl," she said, smiling slightly. "Did you enjoy the show?"

Before Anna could respond, the other guard cut in. "Wild girl?" he echoed. He looked at Anna. "You're the wild girl?"

"Uhm," said Anna, unsure of how to respond. "That's what they call me." She smiled feebly.

The man knelt before her. "I owe you, wild girl. My name is Armin, and that was my son you rescued from… from the Lord Mayor's son. He's a craven – my son, I mean – but I love him still."

Anna looked at Astrid. She was frowning, and in general being unhelpful. She looked back at the kneeling man.

"I… don't mention it," she managed. "I was only trying to help."

He looked up at her and nodded once, content. "It was a knightly thing you did. I will repay you for this, I promise."

Anna was flabbergasted, but fortunately spared the need to say anything more when Astrid spoke. "Don't go calling her a knight, now, Armin," she said. "I need her humble if I'm going to teach her anything."

Armin stood up with a dry chuckle. "What are you teaching her, pray, Astrid? Sword fighting?" he said, a wry smile on his face.

"Yes," said Astrid.

Armin's smile vanished. "Gods. You teaching her," he shook his head. "Soon enough we'll have two Astrids, and I thought one was bad enough."

Her teacher just laughed heartily at that, but Anna didn't think it was very funny. There are worse things one could become than Astrid, she thought. Like Lord Edward, for one thing.

So Anna simply said, "Astrid's a good teacher."

"Oh, I'm sure," said Armin. "I believe she could even teach my son a thing or two."

Anna's lip curled. She didn't like the disdainful way this man spoke about his son, like he was someone to be ashamed of.

After a brief moment, Armin spoke again. "So, what's your name, wild girl?"

"Anna," said Anna.

"Anna," repeated Armin. "That's a pretty name. My father's mother was named Anna." He smiled genially at her, but something about hearing she shared a name with his grandmother rankled her. Not that she minded him, or his grandmother, whom Anna was sure was a lovely person – but Anna was her name. A snowflake's name.

Well… maybe not. Maybe Anna was a common name, she thought dully. Maybe a lot of people are named Anna. Her heart sank. She felt a little less special now. Anna! Why couldn't my parents give me a unique name? Like Elsa?

Or did my parents even name me? She realized she didn't know why she was called Anna. She thought about asking the Wise Troll, and that just reminded her how much trouble she was like to be in when she went home. Her heart sank even further.

She was spared the shame of looking low when Astrid spoke up again. "Anna, how about a lesson this afternoon? I'm stuck on guard duty right now, but before long there'll be some of those well-dressed knights falling all over for the honor to stand guard in sight of the King."

Armin nodded. "Aye, that's true enough. The King has hundreds of knights, all jockeying for his favor and attention." He grinned impishly. "Makes you more appreciate being one of only six."

"Only six what?" asked Anna.

"Lord Edward's six sworn warriors," said Armin. "It's a small town, after all, and mostly farmers at that."

The full meaning of what Armin said hit her. "Hundreds of knights?" she repeated, thinking of the town and its population of dozens.

Armin nodded. "The city is very large, and the kingdom much larger still," he said. "This town is small, but near the mountains and ice floes. Only reason the Royal Family bothered to come is it's the last warm spot before the North Mountain. I bet half the procession turns back tomorrow, and the other half will set camp at the mountain's base and wait for the Royal Family's return."

"They ascend the mountain alone?" asked Anna.

"Aye. Crazy, eh?" chuckled Armin.

"It sounds like fun, actually," said Anna.

"Oh, nothing fun about ghosts, Anna," Armin said in a superior tone. Anna thought about arguing, but changed her mind.

Instead, she said "I'd better go find Kristoff and Anders, I ran off without telling them." Armin waved good-bye, and Astrid said "See you later, wild girl."

Anna made her way back through the crowd, now milling about and, at points, dispersing. But the bulk of the crowd remained, and were finding other ways to entertain themselves. Some people, dressed in brightly-colored clothes, were capering about and tossing items into the air, while others jeered and laughed at them. One man was sitting on a log, his fingers flicking a round wooden cudgel with strings drawn taut over a hollow in the side. There was a peculiar, slow melody coming from the thing, and the man was singing:

Far up north in the land of glaciers,

Icy snows and pitch-black fissures,

Where steel cracks and men's teeth chatter,

Came Weasel-town men as soft as batter.

Anna wanted to stay and hear more, but her stomach started to growl. All she had eaten that morning was half of Kristoff's carrot, and Anders was sure to have some cheese or bread to lunch with. She stifled a yawn and realized she was still tired, too, and recalled with a pang that Astrid had invited her to train that afternoon.

She found Anders and Kristoff in the middle of a discussion, standing next to Oaken's stall. Oaken was busy bargaining with some traders, and paid none of them any mind, his face fixed into the demeanor of the friendly, easy-to-hoodwink trader that he used when doing business.

"…well, Ser Tore Seastone wasn't a 'Ser' at the time," Anna caught Anders saying as she walked up to them. "He was squire to Lord Wideriver."

"Hey," said Anna. "What are you two talking about?"

"Hey," said Kristoff, turning on her. "Where'd you run off to? You missed the end of the procession. There were jugglers and dancers!"

"I wanted to see Lord Edward greet the King," she replied. It wasn't exactly a lie, but she had really been more interested in seeing the princess again.

Kristoff seemed to accept that, though. "Ah, well, too bad," he said. "Anders is talking about the Weasel-town War."

"That's not what it's called," said Anders, his usual perfect smile disrupted ever so slightly. Kristoff was the best at damaging Anders' calm, even if it only ever yielded minor annoyance, and Anders could usually pay him back in spades.

"Whatever," said Kristoff.

"So what happened?" asked Anna, concealing a laugh. "In the, um, Weasel-town War?"

"That's not what it's called," reiterated Anders. "It's named the Weselton-Arendelle War of Succession."

"That's a lousy name for anything," said Kristoff.

"It is what it is," said Anders, a little testily. "Anyway, the war started when the current king ascended to the throne. Well, the Duke of Weselton claimed that the throne should be his, claiming regency for his nephew, the soi-disant King's half-cousin once removed." Anna's head reeled at these strange terms, and made a mental note to ask about "half-cousin," and "once removed" – in addition to "adopted."

Anders went on. "It's not the first time someone tried to claim the throne on spurious grounds, except the King's grandparents only sired one healthy child – as all of the Arendelle Royal Family have ever done – and that was the King's mother. But such questions are rarely decided by laws and books, and the new King was young and ascended the throne when his mother, the ruling Queen, took ill and died rather suddenly. He had scarcely time to be crowned when the Duke claimed the throne and marched his army across the border of Arendelle, to the east.

"The Duke's army was split into two parts: the first part was his personal levy, one thousand armored knights and five thousand men-at-arms. A modest number, but nothing to threaten Arendelle with. The main strength came from the second half of his army, a band of Coronese mercenaries ten thousand strong, all afoot, all eager to prove themselves. They were led by the feared Friedrich von Aanhaal, a man said to sleep on a bed of the swords of his enemies. They were bought and paid for by the Duke's personal wealth, for although he was stingy, he was more greedy still, and the thought of a throne won with a penstroke and another man's sweat and blood no doubt tantalized him.

"The Duke's plan was simple: Friedrich's host would move in first and besiege the capital from the east, and the Duke would wheel around the north and besiege it from there. The Duke reasoned that the King could never summon his levies in time, and the war would be won in a swift stroke.

"The King realized the Duke's plan when the mercenaries reached the city, but the Duke was days behind, lagging because of his lack of experience in leading an army to battle. The King had never fought in battle before, and knew little of strategy, so he summoned his mother's most trusted commander – Lord Wideriver. He said to move quickly, and gather every man ahorse in the county. The advance must be stopped if we have any chance of gathering our strength, said the King. The Lord Wideriver said, I do not know how, but it will be done, my King, or I shall not return.

"Lord Wideriver sallied forth, squired by the young Tore of Seastone, a dolorous youth of fifteen-years, and lowborn, the son of fishermen, but skilled at arms; he gathered all men with horse in the city and the county. A sad number, not even fifty score in total, but they sat armored and unarmored upon horses of better and worse quality. They were more suited to driving oxen rather than lances, but Lord Wideriver spoke to them and said:

"'I have been asked by the King, our King, your King, to do the impossible today. The enemy bear down upon us without so much as a declaration of war. He seeks to usurp the throne and break the line of Arendelle. He has brought southerners with him to bolster his numbers. Half of his strength there is ten thousand, and we are one thousand together. But they are green, and dream of oranges and warm beaches. They should not have come to the land of glaciers.'

"Lord Wideriver led his men east of the city, where Friedrich's host awaited. They were ten thousand, truly, all with pikes, and separated into five blocks of two thousand each, with Friedrich standing proud behind the center block. A formidable force, it must be said, but an old lesson of war is that there are some things a trained knight can do that a hundred men afoot cannot. But what Lord Wideriver might have done that day, there's no telling, for the mercenaries rose the colors of parley, and Lord Wideriver rode forth, his squire at his side, to meet them. When they were within spitting distance, one of Friedrich's men nocked an arrow and it struck true, piercing Lord Wideriver's neck. He had only time to mouth to his squire 'Go,' when he slumped and fell from his horse. Tore of Seastone quickly galloped back to the waiting thousand, the jeers of the mercenaries hitting his back, the arrows mercifully falling short.

"The knights and other horsemen were all now nervous, and none said a word, though fear was in their eyes. We must turn back, shouted one knight, and a few echoed him. Fearing all was lost, the squire roared at them. He said that it was now or never, and who must raise the colors of parley only to kill is a deceitful worm that will fold in battle like a house of cards. And so he lifted his lance, and said to them: 'We punch the center. Charge, and do not falter, or we have already lost.'

"Tore of Seastone led the charge, and his one thousand knights formed a spearhead, pointed directly at the center of the formation. They charged at blinding speed, shouting as they rode, while the defending mercenaries lined up to receive them. The center group was as a porcupine, their pikes like spines, but still Tore's men charged forward, undaunted, screaming.

"They smashed into the center group and drove hard, men screeching as they were trampled and stabbed, and the center group wavered, broke, and scattered. Still Tore charged forward, directly at Friedrich and his guard. It is said that Friedrich and his scarred, gaunt, sneering face was filled with terror in his final moments, when Tore's lance took him and separated head from body.

"The battle was a rout. Tore's men suffered thirty-seven casualties, yet all of the mercenary army was either killed, captured, or had fled. Tore presented the head of Friedrich to his king, and it's reported Tore said that he wished he had a more suitable gift for the King's coronation.

"When word of the defeat reached the Duke, he made to flee east, back to Weselton. The King had done with raising his levies and gave command of the cavalry to Tore. Hearing of the success of the young fishing squire, the King's men rallied and formed – a host forty thousand strong – and marched into the Duchy of Weselton ahead of the Duke's slow-moving army. One day later, surrounded and in hostile territory, the Duke surrendered.

"Little enough was demanded of the Duchy, which had to pay significant war indemnities – mostly from the Duke's personal wealth – but that's not what's important," said Anders with a slight smile. "That squire, Tore of Seastone, was knighted by His Grace the King, and officially declared Marshal the next day. Ever since then, he has served as the King's man – loyal to the last." Anders rounded on Kristoff. "And that's why the Marshal is 'only' a knight."

Kristoff huffed and rolled his eyes, his voice overflowing with drama: "You ask a simple question…"

Anna, meanwhile, was floored by the story. The sheer scale of it boggled her. Tens of thousands of knights? All fighting people – not monsters or dragons. It was strangely disappointing, but it made sense in a way. If knights are bound to do combat, and different lords – sometimes enemies, too – all had their own knights, it only made sense that they'd have to fight each other, too.

Then again, this Tore of Seastone sounded like a hero too. Sure, he didn't rescue anyone. Actually, he let his knight die. And he didn't kill any vicious beasts. But… he did kind of rescue the kingdom. And he avenged his knight. And he killed a sort of monster. Close enough.

But Weselton had knights too. Were they all evil? If so, didn't that just mock the whole concept? No, likely they weren't evil. They just served their own lord. That's all knights really do, I guess, she thought. She wasn't sure if she wanted to be a knight after all. She sighed. Maybe it was possible to be a hero and protect people without swearing any oaths? Her mind wandered to the Royal Family.

"Hey, Anders?" she said. "Do the Royal Guardsmen ever fight in war?"

Anders thought for a moment. "Very rarely," he said. "Their most important duty is protecting the Royal Family… but they are still beholden to follow their orders, whatever they may be."

"Enough about all that, ja," said Oaken, interrupting them and stepping away from his stall. To Anna's shock, there was a completely new assortment of items there, compared to that morning. "Let's have some lunch. I'm famished!"

Anders broke out a satchel and they all enjoyed a cold lunch of simple fare: goat cheese, soft bread, some cabbage, and, to Anna's surprise and delight, red apples.

"Got these apples for cheap," said Oaken with a snigger. "Man gave me a dozen apples for a ball of yarn. He said it was for his wife, ja, but I don't think his wife told him to make fool trades."

They ate and talked, though Anna was mostly quiet, deep in concentration and still feeling tired. Once she had eaten her fill, and Kristoff and Oaken were talking about their favorite performers in the procession, she rested her back against Oaken's stall and closed her eyes.

When she opened them, the sun had moved further down the sky. It was afternoon, and warm, and Kristoff was teasing Sven with an apple.

"This is no carrot," he lectured Sven. "This is a luxury veggie, so if you want it, you've got to work for it."

Anna stood up with a stretch and looked around. Anders was gone, and Oaken was still haggling with customers. She walked up to Kristoff.

"Hey, Kristoff. I'm going to go see Astrid for a little while," she told him.

Kristoff nodded, but he wasn't really paying attention. He kept talking to Sven. "You see, Sven, red is the color of fanciness, so if you want to eat a red apple, you have to be fancy." Astrid wears red, Anna thought. Kristoff held out the apple and Sven took a slobbery bite. Kristoff clucked. "No, that wasn't very fancy at all."

Anna went to Astrid's house, where she found the front door open. She peeked in and saw Astrid dozing in a chair by the dark fireplace. Anna knocked on the opened door, and Astrid awoke suddenly.

"Oh, Anna," she said groggily.

"Didn't get enough sleep last night?" joked Anna, fully appreciating the irony that Astrid was also tired.

"An annoying little kid woke me up this morning," she grimaced. She rubbed her eyes and beckoned for Anna to come inside.

Anna entered the house and sat in the chair opposite Astrid. "So how was guard duty?"

"Boring," said Astrid dolefully. After a few moments, she said "I don't know if I feel like training today, kiddo."

Anna wasn't bothered by that. "Yeah, me either," she said truthfully.

Astrid smirked. "Maybe I should make you do some drills just for being lazy." Anna stuck her tongue out at her.

They sat in pleasant silence for a little while, until Anna remembered what she had been doing before her little nap. "Oh, yeah. Astrid?" she started. Astrid looked at her. "I was just thinking, because, Anders told us about the War of, um, Weselton, and it seems like knights do a lot of killing and stuff. But not for good or evil, but just because their lord tells them to do it."

Anna paused. Astrid was watching her, but didn't say anything, so Anna continued. "So I was wondering if it was possible to fight evil and protect the innocent without being a knight or- or even a sworn warrior, though I guess that if there was a way, you'd have taken it already, since…"

But Astrid was no longer listening. She had stood up and was walking over to her bedroll. She knelt down next to the head of the bed and stuck her hand under the feathery pillow, pulling out from beneath it a small leather-bound book.

She brought the book back over to Anna and handed it to her. Anna looked up at Astrid's face, but it was expressionless – except for the barest hint of a smile. Anna looked back down at the book and read the title aloud:

"The Life and Times of Jeanne d'Arc."