The Wyvern General's headquarters is a stone temple that opens to a large portrait of a young King Zephiel holding Princess Guinevere by his side. He is in a blue cloak with gold trimmings while she is a rust-red dress tied into a bow at the back. With the young Princess Guinevere laughing as she hugs her brother, and the now King Zephiel still fiercely protective of her, most members of the Bern government are unaware of the fact that they are only half-siblings. Those privy to the royals' history know that they only share a father, King Desmond the tyrant who once attempted to assassinate Zephiel and his mother, the former queen of Etruria, Hellene.

'You were both young then,' General Murdock looks up at the portrait before inviting Princess Guinevere into his office, 'now, what troubles you?'

'I still think it's unfair that you put Miledy through a trial to regain a role that was rightfully hers,' Princess Guinevere's hands blot sweat against her dress when she sits across a rectangular oak table. She stares straight at General Murdock, undaunted by his battle scars and stern eyes that have seen the worst kinds of injuries and betrayals, 'you must tell me, General Murdock. Why did you suspend her without my knowledge? Did you think my appointment of Miledy was merely an emotional whim, a worthless deal to be voided when you saw fit?'

'Please don't assume contempt on my part, Princess,' General Murdock waves away a reporting soldier at the door, 'but I must disagree with your point about the role being "rightfully hers". Everything is awarded on merit and dependent on consistent performance. If Miledy cannot regain the approval of her peers or complete this mission, she is unfit to be the protector of King Zephiel's sister – you.'

Though dismayed at merely being referred to as King Zephiel's sister, Princess Guinevere remains silent. General Murdock's word is final in the Bern Army. One entitled line from her could mean Miledy risking her life for nothing, 'I understand General Murdock.'

'To be clear, I never doubted Miledy's loyalty or love for her country. But if one insists on stirring chaos, there are consequences. Having good intentions isn't a sufficient excuse. Any kind of senior rank in army must have diplomatic as well as combat skills,' General Murdock taps the corner of the table, 'in any case, Gale and Miledy are ideal candidates for the Ilian mission. I expect that the village chief will receive their aid well.'

'Why do you say that?' Princess Guinevere eyes a pendant sitting on General Murdock's desk. The gold chain snakes around an ink pot.

'They have the right profiles to defend Ilia from Etrurian reach without appearing like invaders from Bern. It will buy us some… Soft power in Ilia,' General Murdock takes the pendant off the table and clicks it open. He shuts it in his palm like a carnivorous plant, 'though a loyal knight of Bern, Gale seems unlikely to harbour any expansionist desires because of his Etrurian birth. As for Miledy, her mother is a patriot but foresaw the inevitable breakdown of empires with the arrogance to spread their influence too widely. In terms of combat skill and strategy required, this test is an excellent fit for them both.'

The village chief's home is laden with tasselled rugs and knitted throws. The smell of lamb pie that the chief's wife treated us to lingers in the oven-warmed home. My face still stings from flying through icy air for so many hours.

The exposed area of cheeks under Gale's eyes are blistered and purple like mine, 'I'm sorry, Miledy. I hadn't expected the village to be so difficult to enter through the winds. We probably should've set up camp.'

'It's better that we arrived early. In any case, I'm glad the chief received us well,' I retrieve a mint-green oil that Ellen had shoved into my knapsack and apply it to my skin. It crackles before soothing like a warm cushion. I roll the vial to Gale, 'this will stop your skin getting more irritated and infected.'

'Thank you,' Gale cocks his eyebrow at the tiny vial, 'so… How do I use this?'

'Ellen said to just use two drops at a time—here,' I take the vial and fiddle with the cap, 'open your hand.' Our fingers touch when I tip the oil into his palm. My fingers shake but manage to hold the vial upright before spilling anything. I squint at the instructions in Ellen's script on a scrap of paper, 'gently apply... to the affected area.'

Gale winces as he rubs the oil onto his cheeks. I notice the word 'gently' is underlined but it is too late.

'Is it better?' I try to stop myself laughing.

'It stung a bit at first, but yes —,' Gale exhales with relief, 'is something wrong, Miledy?'

'Well, I just never thought I'd see the great Sir Gale, self-made knight of Bern, trusted by General Murdock himself, use such a dainty product!'

'It does smell quite... Feminine,' he sniffs the mint scent left on his palm.

I slide the vial back into my knapsack, 'all the women in the Bern army use this. It doesn't leave you feeling greasy for days like the standard military balm.'

'So this is a woman's cosmetic product?' Gale murmurs with some embarrassment.

'A Bern knight should use the best solution available!' I laugh, spreading the traces over the tops of my hands, 'it's not expensive at all. Ellen said that you can even make it with local plants, although it's difficult to get a product this smooth outside of a shop.'

'I'd hate to appear like an Etrurian dandy though,' Gale mirrors my motion of using the remaining product around his roughened knuckles. So even at his rank, he's still self-conscious about being Etrurian.

'That's alright,' I warm my hands under a throw, 'when we get back to Bern, I'll buy it for you. In return, you can help me train.'

'You know I'd do that without the incentive of skincare products.' His jawbone becomes more prominent when he laughs.

'Then it can be thanks for giving me a chance to go on this mission,' I glance outside at the faraway torches of Pegasus squads approaching the village. They disappear while passing through grey clouds, then reappear again, 'I don't know how I could repay you for that really, the chance to redeem myself as Princess Guinevere's guard.'

'Miledy, if I may ask, what drives your loyalty to the princess?' Triangular shadows form across Gale's face as he looks down at me, 'are you not first a knight of the Bern state?'

'Of course, I'm a knight of Bern. My family has served the army for generations,' I fiddle with a badge featuring the Bern crest pinned to my cloak, 'but when I proclaim my loyalty to Bern, I think more of the people within it. To me, the princess has always embodied the values of Bern: strength, justice, but also a protectiveness towards those who are forgotten and cannot defend themselves. No matter how hard I try, I can't ally myself with something so nebulous as "the state".'

A lamp by the windowsill flickers, making Gale's features go in and out of focus. 'Why is that?'

'Because I could have been born just one generation earlier and served under King Desmond like Mother had. Swearing loyalty to "the state" would've meant following the orders of a tyrant,' I focus on the steady rhythm of Gale's breathing which seems timed with my own, 'why do you ask?'

'I had always seen myself as a knight protecting Bern's values. I have not thought deeply or practically enough about what that meant though,' Gale rests his chin in one palm, watching the lamp's flame bend in a draught, 'perhaps it's easy for outsiders to idealise any place that isn't their hometown.'

I notice his eyes droop when referring to 'outsiders', 'I-I wouldn't say I've thought deeply about politics or anything. It's just the way I make sense of systems—besides, there are things you appreciate as a recent arrival. For one thing, you've studied Bern's history in far more detail than I have.'

'Thank you, Miledy,' Gale smiles, 'I appreciate it.'

My heart pulses right under my skin. We're sitting close to one another, like we did against my wyvern after he came to deliver Princess Guinevere's letter, 'by the way, what did Grandpa tell you to say to me?'

'I said it already.' Strands of Gale's hair come loose from his temples, sticking to his neck.

'You did?'

'Yes,' he angles his face away, showing the statuesque profile of his deep-set eyes, 'there's... no one I trust more.'

'To go on this mission,' I complete the sentence, 'that was what you'd said.'

'...That's also true, I suppose,' he stands upon hearing the clopping outside the window, 'it looks like the village squads have arrived. We should check out weapons inventory. Each of us needs to have at least one axe reaver and some resistance tonics.'

The air becomes heavy, as if I've insulted General Murdock in Mother's presence again. If only I could have Ellen's talents in 'matters of the heart', as she calls them. In fact, interpersonal astuteness might have saved me a suspension and this perilous mission. Yet strangely, those humiliations seem more bearable when I remember the joy at receiving Gale's letters and seeing him arrive with Grandpa near the estate.

'General Gale, Lady Miledy,' the Ilian village chief opens the door, letting in a gust of freezing wind. His armour is lightweight compared to a wyvern rider's. Its silver coating is designed to reflect the blinding snow at opponents, so unlike the wyvern rider's dark armour meant to hide our bleeding wounds, 'our squads are ready. They've spotted some unusual activity to the north of the village.'

'Alright,' Gale turns to me, 'Miledy, I will take the primary squad. You will lead a reinforcements team. Your job will be to do a thorough survey of the terrain surrounding the village before joining us.'

'Yes, Gale…' The warmth of the facial oil suddenly becomes unbearably hot. Sweat seeps out of my pores as I imagine flying through that opaque white mist again, anxious that it will blind me in an icy vortex.