“What’s your business in the valley?” A Mage in a green cloak demanded, his hand on the bridle of Arthur's horse. The prince pulled his cloak tighter around him, partially to better obscure his features, but mostly against the cold.

“Trading.” Arthur told the mage, affecting a rural accent as he jerked his head back at the ragged-looking carts behind him, and the equally ragged-looking men who operated them. “Food, medicine. Trading for monster gems to take back to The City.” There was no need to specify which city. There was only one city that bought the monster gems.

“What’s that accent? You a Strathi man? You’re a long way from home.” Arthur shrugged. So what if he was from Strath? Traders went where the money was, and there was always money to be made in the gems you pulled out of monsters.

“Is there some kind of problem, friend?” Arthur tried to ask, but a frigid wind chose that moment to gust over them, stealing the noise from his mouth and blasting every man present with a sheet of tiny ice crystals. The Mage seemed unperturbed, but Arthur sat shivering and miserable atop his horse. As the wind died down, Arthur tried his question again.

“Is there some kind of problem?” The Mage’s eyes swept him up and down, before leaning around him to look at the Mage who was inspecting the carts. Arthur turned in time to see him give a wave as he tucked the cart's cover back into place.

“Guess not.” the Mage answered. “You’re free to carry on. I advise you to conduct your business north of The Gap in a timely fashion.”

“Why’s that, sir, if you don’t mind my asking?”

“Because it’s damn cold and crawling with monsters.” The Mage growled back. “I haven’t seen your group go up this way before, so I’m guessing you’re new at it.” Arthur nodded. That much at least was true, and there was no sense lying when the truth would serve.

“S’right, we was told we’d get a bucket of Maefars for this job.”

“Yeah,” The Mage agreed. “Academy pays well, assuming you live long enough to make it back south.” The Mage gave Arthur’s group a look that said clearly he didn’t think they’d ever make a profit.

“Well then, we best get to it.” Arthur said, trying to sound as if the thought of money had lifted his spirits despite the cold.

“One last thing.” The Mage said, not letting go of the bridle. “If you see any bodies, mark the location and report them if… when you come back this way.”

“Bodies?” Arthur asked, “Why would I see any bodies?”

“Because it’s damn cold and crawling with monsters. Just report any if you see them. Carry on.” With that, he stepped back and waved Arthur forward. The prince in disguise signaled to the carts behind him and heard them creak into motion. Creaking and squeaking audibly in the cold.

The fake caravan rolled on past the outpost, headed for an open space between one mountain and the next. A winding road that led into the northern valleys, known widely as ‘The Gap’. He had hoped that once on the road, with a mountain to either side, they’d be sheltered from the wind. To his dismay, it turned out to be quite the opposite. The space between the two massive bodies of rock funneled frigid air straight into his face. The cold was biting at his skin, as the constant wind chafed at him.

Not for the first time, he contemplated turning back, but only as a fantasy. He had made a promise. A royal promise. He had looked his family in the eyes and swore that he would do this. He would go north, and he would find these lost Mages, and he would bring them back to Strath. What kind of prince would he be if he let himself be turned aside by a stiff breeze?

As if the wind could sense his thoughts, it chose that moment to give him a full blast of chill air laced with extra frozen bits of snow. Arthur threw up a hand to protect his face. The horse shied to the side so it could turn its face away from the wind, and blew its lips in dissatisfaction.

“You said it.” Arthur growled in agreement. The wind died back down, apparently satisfied that he had learned better than to mock it, even in his own head.

By the time they reached the far end of the pass, where the mountains parted to reveal a snow covered forest. Arthur was sure most of his face had been peeled off. As he stepped down from his horse, taking the reins in one hand. He closed his eyes and tried to smile. The shifting of the muscles under his skin caused the burning sensation to intensify.

“Lovely.” he muttered, as one of his bodyguards approached him.

“What was that, sir?” the man asked, but Arthur waved away the question.

“Nothing, nothing. Where are we headed?”

“The largest settlement in the region is Dangole, your highnes-”

Arthur made a sharp gesture with one hand, and the bodyguard cut off.

“Err, sir.” The Prince inhaled sharply through his nose, which sent a wave of pain through his wind burnt face.

“Dangole?” Arthur asked, trying to turn the conversation back onto a normal course. Most First Tiers had no idea what Mages could, or couldn’t do. To the citizenry, their existence was wrapped up in mysticism. Arthur had the privileges of a much broader and more thorough education, and some legends about Mages gave them far too much credit.

That they could potentially eavesdrop on a conversation only a few miles from one of their primary outposts was well within the realm of possibility however. Even his man's minor slip of the tongue could’ve scrapped their entire mission and triggered an incident between Strath and Academy City, and this put Arthur on edge, which saved his life.

His eyes swept across the barren stretch of snow-covered field that separated The Gap from the thick pine forest that made up most of the valley, and his sense of unease grew. His hand had only drifted toward the sword at his waist when a small collection of nearby lumps in the snow seemed to explode.

“Ambush!” he called out as his sword rattled free of its sheath. For one horrifying moment, Arthur thought the Mages had recognized him at the checkpoint, and set a trap for him, but the monsters were quickly visible through the dissipating blanket of snow they’d thrown up into the air.

Taller than most men, the creatures were ungainly. Dark skin stretched over their ribs with concave stomachs. The long-limbed monsters looked on the verge of starving to death. There were four altogether, each of them carrying a bladed weapon in eerily human-like hands. They had muzzles like wolves, and bright crimson eyes full of hate and rage.

They swarmed around Arthur, chopping and jabbing at him. To their credit, his guards reacted efficiently to the surprise attack. Arming themselves and advancing quickly to engage the monsters. If Arthur had been the trader he was pretending to be, he likely would’ve been cut down immediately.

As it was, the second Prince of Strath danced between his four assailants. His sword moved in broad defensive sweeps as he spun, knocking aside an attack, as his feet shifted so he could dodge another. Arthur was a blur of motion, clinging desperately to his life as he held out for his bodyguards to move in and even the odds. No thought of offense while surrounded by four opponents.

The next few moments likely only lasted a couple of seconds, but for Arthur, it was impossibly long. His life balanced on the edge of a sword as he tried to see every direction at once. Then, just like that, a sword exploded from the chest of one of the creatures, and the others quickly found themselves engaged. Without a conscious thought, Arthur struck the one nearest him. In a single, flawless stroke, he beheaded the creature, its head tumbling free with its face still locked in a snarl.

Then it was over. They were all dead. Despite the cold, sweat dripped down the back of his neck as his lungs worked like bellows. Arthur reached up to run the back of his arm across his face.

“That was amazing.” one man was whispering to another.

Arthur just shook his head. He barely remembered anything but the bone deep certainty that he was about to die. Whatever he had done to avoid that fate, his body had acted with no say from him.

“Here you are, sir.” The commander of the bodyguards, an older man named Raul, stepped forward, offering Arthur a canteen. The prince tipped it back and drank deep and almost gagged. Where he’d been expecting water, he was surprised to find wine. Coughing, he pulled the canteen away and looked at Raul with a raised eyebrow.

“Thought you could use something a little stronger than water, sir.” Arthur thought it over for a second, shrugged, and then took a long drink.

“I almost thought you were going to kill them all yourself before we got over there.” Raul said as Arthur lowered the canteen.

“I thought about that,” Arthur said, rubbing an arm across his mouth, “but then I thought. ‘If I kill them all myself, what am I paying you for?’” He shot Raul a grin, which the man returned, shaking his head.

“I’ve seen nothing like that,” Raul said. His breathing slowing down, Arthur stepped forward, looming over one of the bodies. With a booted foot, he rolled the Monsters onto its back, its arms in an awkward pose, dead muscles quickly becoming rigid in the cold.

“What about this?” He asked. “Have you ever seen anything like it?” Raul leaned forward, putting his hands on his knees to inspect the creature. Arthur slipped a rag from the pouch at his waist and wiped the blood from his blade, which was already thickening in the air.

“Some kind of wildkin, I think.” Raul eventually said, and Arthur looked at the creature again.

“I’ve never seen a wildkin that size, or that mean.” They were a common enough monster back in Strath. Sometimes they spawned in sufficient numbers that a war party was dispatched to put them down. Arthur had been on several such expeditions.

“We’re only a few hundred miles from the border, this far north.” Raul said, as he pulled a knife from his belt and slammed it into the dead monster’s chest. “I hear the spawns can be strange this close to the True Wilds.” Arthur had heard the same, but he’d always had his doubts. Strath was a central kingdom, far from any of the wild borders, and this was the furthest from home he’d ever been. Raul worked the knife with brutal efficiency, cracking bones and parting flesh until he could extract a large, deep red gem. “Never seen one that size.”

“Collect them all, and we’ll have them identified when we get home. Where is my horse?” He asked, realizing that the animal was nowhere to be seen.

“It bolted when the fighting started, sir.” It took all of Arthur’s will to keep his shoulders from slumping. Even a momentary appearance of giving in would reflect poorly on his house. Part of him wanted to chastise Raul for not setting a man to run it down, but Arthur knew the impulse was ridiculous. Every one of them had been focused on saving his life. No one had time to look after the animal.

“It must have run off into the forest,” Arthur said as his gaze swiveled from side to side. “Not much hope in recovering it. How far was Dangole?”

“It’ll be a week for the wagons, give or take a day.” Arthur had considered riding ahead and letting the wagons catch up, but even before he’d realized his horse had run off, he’d dismissed the idea. The monsters in this part of the world were not to be underestimated. If he were caught alone on the road, he’d be dead. Sword returned to its sheathe, Arthur pulled his cloak tight around him as he climbed up onto the wagon to sit on the seat.

“That’s more than two weeks to get back to where I'm standing right now, so let's get moving.”