Westedge’s streets were as somber as ever when the company trotted back in. Winter never became easier, after all. Still workers were shovelling, still merchants were shivering at their stalls, still pedestrians were shuffling through the streets, hoping to find relief from the ever consuming cold.

The stranger, whose arms were now bound and whose mouth had been stuffed with a rag, eyed the city with wide eyes as he was pushed forward at the point of a weapon, deeper into what the outside world had marked as a hollow ruin. Devoid of life, devoid of emotion, only sorrow under the scaled heel. So had been said. Victor pulled his snout up. A scent lingered in the pale air.

He’s scared more than ever. Probably afraid of what will happen to him. Oh well, should calm down, when they’ll just put him in a prison with all the other imperial prisoners. He’s Lokahnian, we know that much…

Halfway through the main road, the man leading the pack stopped dead in his tracks. “Alright, this should be far enough. If one of you could be so kind as to escort the sod to the warden...”

Jim tipped his head. “Sure thing, Captain. Alright, come with me, you. Don’t try and run off.”

The stranger twitched one of his black eyes. “But, but, no, you’ll beat me again-”

“Shut it. Either you listen to me, or you’re going to regret ever being born. Ought to have thought twice before you sold your countrymen down the river for some drinking money, scumbag! Now move!”

“Y-yes...” he mumbled, before being forced to follow Jim off to his new home. William turned back to the crowd, a few droplets running down his forehead.

“Splendid work everyone. That’ll be enough for today. I’m not particularly a huge fan of ending things on a sour note like this, but I’m afraid we don’t have much of a choice.”

His audience had shrugs and timid nods to reply with. “Alright. When is the next time?”

“Err, tomorrow, I guess?” replied William, before biting down on his lip.

“Hey, I was wondering if we’re gonna get rewarded for capturing that bastard back there. Quite a lot o’ work for rookies, won’t you say?”

William bit his lip. “You’ll have to talk with your superiors for that. I don’t decide those things.”

“Ah, c’mon…. Like t’have a little more than a bed and some food as payment for stickin’ my neck out there!” One shouted. The infantryman to his side tapped him on the shoulder.

“Blegh pal, ‘s what it is. Let’s go now, I’m starving.”

The group dispersed over town. For one slight minute, Westedge had regained some of its liveliness, only for a downpour of snow to bury it where it stood. The two dragons and the captain alone remained standing, for reasons no outsider would understand.

“Well, I suppose it’s time I get back to the orphanage,” Celesta said. “If anyone sees me here, and they tell my father, I’ll be in deep trouble. Quickly though, do I have a scratch or a bruise anywhere?”

The lavender dragoness turned around until she had spun back to how she stood, opening and closing her wings throughout the process. “I don’t see anything out the ordinary,” William said, without any struggle. The red dragon had nothing to add, however; all he did was stare blankly at her face.

“Good to hear,” Celesta said as she folded her wings. “And you, Victor?”

“Victor? Hello? Are you awake?”

The red dragon shook his head. “Uh? Yes, I’m here.”

“Well?”

“No, nothing wrong that I see,” he said, lips half tuckered away into his mouth. Something within him protested for reasons unknown. Celesta looked as she had when Victor first ran into her. There wasn’t so much as a scale out of place; yet the face remained an enigma. He couldn't stop thinking about Celesta's face, the eyes, the shape of her horns, something felt... strange. It was a puzzle he’d have to figure out; the whole matter made him glow red hot.

“Oh, okay then. Well, I would like to wish both of you gentlemen a wonderful day. Divinity be with you!”

“Farewell, Celesta.”

“Yes, Divinity with you too.” Victor clicked his tongue. That didn’t sound like wishing well, did it?

The lavender shape vanished into a street further down. The streets were almost deserted, spare a few civilians walking in and out of shops with depressed heads, and a group of Draconists shivering away in their thin prayer clothing on their way to the temple nearby.

William sighed. “So, that was that. Do you think it went well?” he said in a voice devoid of fortitude. The antithesis of the Captain from earlier. As if a frail mask had given way to the skin underneath.

Victor licked at his teeth, eyes pressed in the direction of a sign hanging off of a building. “Well, you were the one in charge. I think you would know better.”

The crossbow man folded his arms. “I don’t think it went so well.”

Victor clicked his tongue. “Well, I cannot say the same. Everything under our control was fine, all things considered. Sure, we ended up running into that spy out of nowhere, but it wasn’t as if we could’ve known about that.”

William clutched a forehead with a single hand. “That’s understandable and all, but it should’ve gone better now that I’ve finally had help. Instead, we’ve had to call it off early again. How anyone can trust a captain that gives up so easily, I don’t know.”

The red dragon laid a claw onto William’s shoulder, a toothless grin spreading to the corners of his snout. “You’re overthinking this, Will.” As usual.

“Am I, though?”

“It wouldn’t be the first time.” And it wouldn’t be the fiftieth time either.

“Urk...”

“No worries. It’ll take some time to wrap your mind around it, but eventually you won’t have much of a choice.” Victor lowered his claw back onto the ground, where it proceeded to drum onto the pavement alongside its brother. “Just have a look at today. No stragglers… well, except for myself and Celesta, now that I think about it.”

The captain's face shortened. “True, true,” he said, struggling to suppress a smile of his own from creeping onto his mouth. Victor didn’t mind. He’d brought it onto himself. And he was no stranger to punches. For a moment, the timber frames arrayed around mutated into rocks and slopes, and the air felt like knives pressing into his scales.

“Alright, I think you understand the idea,” Victor said in a dull voice. “Do you feel a little better?”

“A little, yes,” William replied.

“Alright, anything else you want to talk about? This is kind of sad, standing all by ourselves in the middle of winter, catching cold.”

William gulped. “Well, erm, I wanted to know what that was with you and Celesta just now, if you don’t mind.”

Victor felt dizzy. Not helping matters, his blood surged through his veins at a rapid tempo all of a sudden, as if he’d been caught in the middle of a trap, and the huntsman was about to unleash a volley of bolts into his hide. He pictured his own head mounted to a wall, almost choking on his own tongue in the process.

“Vic?”

“Nngrh, it’s nothing.”

“Oh, um, okay. So, about you and-”

“Nothing, it’s nothing. It’s just me feeling a little nauseous for a while. An hour, somewhere around there. I still feel it, actually.”

William grabbed his upper arms, squeezing his fingers into the skin. “Alright, ehm, if you say so...”

Victor sighed. “I could use a warm fire right about now. And a hot meal.”

William timidly nodded. “Me too.”

For some time, Victor lingered on his last words, ears turned away from the conversation. “Hey, should we go and pay that tavern a visit again? Giant’s Rest, I believe it was called? They serve good food over there,” he said after a few ticks of the clock.

“Yes.”

With little more in the way of words, the two slogged their way through the snow bedecked streets, avoiding labourers and civilians alike on the way to the tavern out in the east. Westedge had never been all too busy a place, especially not compared to the likes of Ravens Hill, let alone cities like the Citadel or Two Rivers. But now, the only ones outside either had to be, or were hoping to find the shelter of a timber roof as soon as possible.

Even as they walked away, the promise of food and warmth lingering on the mind much as a smear of a salve, Victor couldn’t concentrate well. At one point he narrowly missed a labourer panting and leaning over his spade, who almost fell over in the mound of snow he had been creating. He couldn’t keep his mind off of what had happened. Why he couldn’t so much as budge his eyes away from someone’s face. It was as if he had been hypnotized.

The thought straining his mind, he shook his head and attempted to forget about it as best he could. Perhaps it was all an illness, or sleep deprivation. And he couldn’t think of a better cure than the other thing on his mind at the time.

* * *

As dusk broke on the skies of Westedge, the twin doors of a house made out of stone bricks flew open. Celesta entered, eyelids falling down from a wave of candelight. “Father, I’m home.”

By a fireplace at the other end of a room, a white dragon turned his head away from a thick black pot. “Good evening, my sweet little darling. How was your day at the orphanage?”

Celesta pressed her upper teeth against the first scales below her lips. “It was alright. Nothing out of the ordinary. How was your day?”

Wraldin lifted a wooden spoon into his mouth, dumping the contents onto his tongue before proceeding to loudly smack his tongue against the roof of his mouth. “Good to hear. We’ll be having stew tonight.”

“Again?”

“Not much in the way of choice, my dear. I’m sorry.”

“It’s okay.”

A few minutes later, father and daughter were resting on the floor, cautiously sipping from a wooden bowl. Being a dragon was no excuse for a lack of etiquette, after all, and no one in their right minds thought much of becoming a recluse.

“So, we’ve had a new guest arrive at the prison today,” Wraldin said as he swallowed a bite of the stew.

“Oh?” Celesta replied. “What kind of guest?”

“An imperial spy. One of the army groups found him loitering around in the woods, writing things down. He’s already confessed his allegiance without much of a hassle, too. Quite peculiar, if I must say so myself.”

Celesta looked off into the crackling fireplace. “I hope he’ll see the light without any pain.”

“Don’t you worry. At the rate he has revealed things to us, no pain will be necessary. A little fear, maybe, but there’s no baking an omelette without breaking a few eggs first.”

Celesta tepidly nodded, before her head drooped into the stew.

“You seem awfully tired today, my darling. Is there something wrong?”

“No,” Celesta said, sighing as she lifted the tip of her snout out of the stew. “I just don’t like hearing about these sorts of things, you know. Despite what you’ve said about me in the past, I’m not much of a fighter.”

“Fair enough,” Wraldin replied. “That reminds me. It would seem that Lothar has decided not to come after us for your… friendship with his son, thank Divinity. I was fearing the worst.”

“Does that mean I can go and talk to him again, father?” Celesta asked with bug-sized eyes.

“I am not sure. I do not believe it would be wise to allow you to do so.”

“But father...”

“Enough about this, Celesta. We must uphold the order in the Homefront. If that means you cannot see someone, then I cannot have you go out all willy nilly. And besides, I shudder to think what would happen to you outside of these walls, my darling. You know fullwell how dangerous it is. You have seen the burial mounds. Dragons much like you, who have now given their soul.”

“Yes, father...”

“Now remember....”

Despite Wraldin continuing to lecture her for another half hour or so, Celesta couldn’t understand a word of it. Or rather, she couldn’t bring herself to try and understand. Not while the whistling wind nipped away at the walls of the household. Not while the world outside of the walls existed.