The castle was the sort of thing you did not believe until you saw it.

Built into the side of a mountain, as a great deal of Faustben seemed to be, the area before one approached the gates was heavily wooded. Pines and other hardy trees clung to the mountain dirt mercilessly, where grass would sometimes struggle to find purchase. There were patches of it here and there, well-cultivated, but the trees were the thing. The stone rode, like the walls of similar make, seemed to wind serpentine around the crags and sharp relief of the mountain's face. Even with trees all around them Skandra could see the flags flying high, blue and white and stolid, from each of the bastions built into the castle's wall. The thing must have been forty feet or more in height - more than enough to tower over opposing forces - but the main thing were the glimpses of snowy white and solid blue cloaks that one could catch glimpses of through the crenelated parapet. There must have been five dozen of them up there, where the towers exceeded the walls in height by a good twenty feet, but only those flashing glimpses alerted anyone that guards patrolled the heights. Skandra thought the old stone looked worn, but it was only the coloration.

( The castle itself looked like a beast. )

The winter harvest was long over, thankfully, which meant the dead of winter had set in. Snow blocked all of the passes that led in or out of the capital city of Faustben and nearly everyone who could stay indoors was indoors. The castle itself was set as warmly as possible, even if one could see their breath hanging in the air in every corridor they did make sure that every room had a fire going, or at least had hot coals of some sort burning for the residents warmth. Many people unaccustomed to a winter here would have froze to death if not properly prepared. Vedette thought everyone was slightly wimpy for it. Wandering around in two or three heavy jackets and cloaks over their heavy tunics and pants. Some even walked around with blankets round their bodies to keep the cold out.

She felt free in it. Each night she could creep out and lay in the snow that collected on her balcony in nearly nothing and be alone. And be cold. She could freeze her human form and still feel as right as rain. The castle staff wandered around with teeth chattering when they thought no one could hear. Whispering the hopes that they would be back in their warm bed soon. Vedette rejected every offer to place a tin of coals under her blankets before she retired. She had no need for a warm bed. In fact, she had to get up every morning and make her bed look slept in and then mess up the balcony's snow so that no one knew she'd been out there sleeping in it.

( The snow was beautiful though. )

It'd been nearly a month since that disastrous ball in which Lethe had tried to force a wife upon Ithacles only to have Ithacles turn the tables on her and announce that he'd marry Vedette. It only took a week of badgering Ithacles to find out that he was not marrying Vedette, or married to her already. That entire time Lethe hadn't left Vedette side, and since then had made sure Vedette was on opposite sides of not only the castle, but the city itself most of the time. Vedette was sick of it. The princess should have been satisfied with the fact that Ithacles was not married so she could continue to try in vain to set him up with one of their rich neighbors, or one of her friends. Instead Lethe was making it her personal mission to keep them as far apart as possible.

Not only was this troublesome because Vedette's main purpose here in Faustben was to protect Ithunvel's bloodline, but also because Ithacles was one of her closest friends. Life was relatively boring without him around and Vedette was beginning to wonder if Lethe would do this forever or if her temper tantrum over the ball would end by the time winter did. Of course, Winter was still months away from ending and Vedette could not stand being holed up here in Faustben for another month without Ithacles for entertainment. Lethe had forbade her from seeing him, which sounded like a challenge to Vedette.

( Vedette did enjoy challenges. )

Faustben, Skandra decided, was not the sort of place where one took their ease.

Since he'd come here - ostensibly to see his old friend Ithacles - he'd been punched, nearly stabbed, clubbed, and dragged. His head ached like a thousand soldier's feet after the hard desert march. His hands were sore from laying about him like hammers. And his purse was empty. The worst of it was, he'd known for a fact that he could have diced with those idiots all night and never lost a round, but there'd been that fellow with a cigar chomped between his teeth. Smelled like four-day old cheese curd and looked like it, too. To amuse himself Skandra was spinning the tin cup he'd been given on his finger, twirling it forward and backward, listening to the odd whistle that it generated while he glared through the bars at his jailer. This fellow, too, could have smelled like something more pleasant. Then again prisoners would not appreciate it it. What occupied his thoughts, and the reason for his tension, was simple. He was fairly certain one of the men he'd been gambling with was a soldier in the palace of the king. And he was fairly certain that fellow had been talking about selling himself to the highest bidder.

( His memory was so good, after a beating like that. )

As with all celebrations hosted in the Castle, Vedette was on duty but was suppose to do her best to blend in. Already the castle was filling with people, the murmur of excitement was all over the place. Servants were humming festive tunes and gardeners who hardly had a thing to do in the dead of winter were trimming at indoor plants of all shapes and sizes in order to impress their guests. The list was quite long and Vedette could hardly remember which Steward was which, and what each Lord.. lorded over. But she had to be in attendance, and had to blend in with the crowd. So her first duty of the day after bathing was to dress the part.

( The castle was ready to celebrate not only the royal family, but the change of seasons. )

"You must be joking," Koe mumbled.

He had not counted on these fellows being minor lords. Raised from the cradle to be even more pompous and arrogant than normal lords because the lacked the finances and manpower to be menacing without trying, these stuffed shirts pranced about on show ponies with swords already drawn, half the time driving their skittish creatures into chaotic canters just by yelling at the sight of a hawk. Koe wanted to point out that no dragon would fly that high unless they had no other choice. Koe wanted to point out that if you were trying to sneak up on a dragon, war whoops were not helpful things to solicit from your colleagues every pair of seconds. Koe wanted to point out that he would chronicle nothing but a feast for a scaled creature. He could say none of this without being offered a duel on the spot. Not since this morning, when the terms of their arrangement had become exceedingly clear and altogether wasteful.

( Master Bard, indeed. )

There were a great many things on the wind. Whispers of death to the south, war to the east, gold in the west, and a dragon to the north. Dragon, Vedette could hardly believe her ears when someone spoke of a dragon. Humans had such a strange idea about them, and sometimes she wondered if any had ever seen one. In this tavern, The Grain Mill so named for what it used to be, there was so much talk that Vedette had a hard time concentrating on one line of conversation before she shot to the next. Some said listening in on people was rude, Vedette found such things interesting. Especially when they whispered about dragons. Oh the stories humans had, of Dragons that swooped over villages and stole the virgin daughters of farmers for their meals. Of Dragons which burned whole fields of grain for the fun of it.

( They never did mention ice dragons, maybe it was just those red ones that were feared. )

The central mountains were a very large mountain range. Each mountain taller than the next, and each pass much different than the last. She was suppose to be scouting out one of the passes that had proved to be dangerous for those within Faustben. Too many wolves, too many slides, and thieves that liked to frequent this pass were all very troublesome to Ithunvel's people. So Vedette sat there on a high shelf of rock that jutted out over the pass itself and watched for movement. She could stay here for weeks and never tire of the cold, or of the lack of company. It was just as well to be alone.

( She enjoyed being alone. )

Sitting in front of a fire without anything on his feet. A wooden tankard steaming in his left hand.

Ithacles had his eyes at half-lids in a sort of post-hypothermic euphoria. His toes were probably still numb but all of his skin felt so comfortably lived in that he didn't notice. The castle was built strong and well but nothing could be done to defeat Faustben's brutal winters entirely. Hence the massive fire, and the Prince sitting so close to it.

They were in an enormous chamber. Big enough that barely a third of it was lit by the orange flames which flickered and lapped at their steel grate. The rest, the high ceiling, the long table behind them, the trophy animals and banners on the wall, was lost in soft shadows which deepened to a sleepy black. About midnight and the castle was silent around them. Just like the world outside, quiet and asleep, huddled into anything warm.

It hadn't been an easy trek down the mountain.

Ithacles lifted his left hand dreamily and took a mouthful of spiced cider. It was warm and tart and he held it in his mouth until it slid down on its own. He shifted his feet and rubbed them together. Pop, the fire cracked. A bloom of cinder shooting up the chimney.

"It wouldn't surprise me if they hanged him," he said quietly. "But a bit of a shame. He did hike all the way down here, after all."

Quietly, too. Probably scared of what was to come. And stunned at having watched his friends die so quickly.

This was the most perfect day she'd seen in a long time. Snow assaulted them from the north blowing it down their coats and clinging desperately to anything it could hold on to. It felt wonderful against her skin, she could see so well in this, so well that she was leading the both of them across the face of the mountain with ease. Ithacles was not having an easy time, but the wind howling around them and the chance that talking too much or too loudly could cause a slide kept him from saying much. Every now and then they halted in place to watch the darker objects above them climbing and moving around. To make sure they were still going somewhere.

( She'd tracked them here not a week ago. )

It was a crisp day, but that was almost every day in Faustben. The air was calm and cool despite the bright sun of late summer. And the air was clear as the church bells which tolled the late afternoon hour. Sound carried well there, in the valley of Faustben's great peaks. The church could have been a mile away and still every woman and child would have known the time: six o'clock. The men wouldn't have heard it, though. They were elsewhere.

Little more than a year since the Breaking. Ithacles looked up from the parchment in his hands, scanning the painted sky. Yes, he was right. Just over a year. Another autumn was almost upon them, and Faustben's men were still scattered. To her borders and passes, guarding against those who would invade. Guiding those who sought shelter. A year was a long time to wait for some things: for a letter, for a verdict, for safe return.

( A year was quick as a blink for others. )