"Now this," Frost said, "Is the best thing I've ever tasted." He licked his ice cream cone, his third of the night. The cool silky texture lit up his taste buds with sugary sublimity. The experience was like a gentle wave crashing against a smooth sandbar on a calm beach. Transcendent.

"I quite like it myself," Prisma said, licking her cone. Her jet black hair blended against the night sky. Prisma's piercing brown eyes kept focus, darting between Frostilicus and the path in front of her. She was a few inches shorter than him. Her face was smooth and tan, her body thin, and her posture straight.

The two of them walked together in the open, away from Greatwinter Hall.

It was beginning to rain.

The gentle pitter patter of droplets hitting the stone ground. Frolick had remained behind in a lively conversation with Alex. Frost didn't catch much about the topic. Something about the applicability of mathematical models to biological systems. It turned out that Alex was a genius, especially when it came to math. And Frolick was, well, Frolick. He could socialize with anyone.

"I'm glad that our brothers are already friends," Prisma said, biting into her cone. "Alex can be prickly. Most people find him uncomfortable."

"Frolick gets along with just about anyone," Frostilius said. "It's a real virtue of his."

"Why yes," Prisma said. "He does."

"Thank you for welcoming us," Frost asked. "To Everwinter. It's nice to know other students here."

"Of course," Prisma said. "I didn't know you were heroes. To be honest, I just wanted someone else to talk to. Someone besides Alex." She glanced sideways at him as she spoke.

"Well, you accomplished that," Frost said. "And I hardly think we are heroes," Frost said. "We're just here to learn."

"Learn?" Prisma said. "Oh, of course. This is a university. You traveled an awfully long way to get here. Is that the only reason you came?"

Frostilicus hesitated. "I came," he said. "To learn how to fight the Flintlock."

"Flintlock?" she said, sighing. "I see."

"They tried to kill me," Frostilicus said, his eyes narrowing as he spoke. "They did kill my friends and neighbors. And they're coming here next."

Prisma hesitated.

"You don't think so?" Frost said. "Everyone here seems to think that nothing should be done about it."

Suddenly, Prisma grabbed him, yanking on his shirt, before he could take another step. "Quiet," she said, her index finger covering her mouth.

A dark figure cast a hulking shadow on the pavement obscuring the light of the torchlamp.

Halorax.

The large young man with a brutish muscular figure emerged backed by two others, slightly shorter than him but just as stocky.

"Well, well, well," Halorax said, clasping his hand into a fist. "If it isn't the savior of the kingdom."

"Back off, Hal," Prisma said.

"Why Prisma," Halorax said. "Making friends with foreigners? That's not very patriotic of you. Savior or not. He should be taught the ways of the frost mage." He clenched his hands into fists, pounding them into one another.

Prisma stood back erect, positioning herself between Frost and Halorax.

"It's all right," Frostilicus whispered. He'd faced off Flintlock. What was an imbecilic plaground bully?

"No," Prisma said. "You can't."

"I've fought the Flintlock, Prisma," Frost said. "He's nothing."

"He's a trained frost mage," Prisma said.

Frost hesitated. She had a point. He'd seen what a small handful of frost mages had done to an entire army. What exactly was he up against?

"How about we do a little dance Cappyboy?" Halorax said. "You are Capscatian, eh? I can hear your runt of an accent. Come to learn the civilized ways of the frost mages? Let me be your teacher." He smirked as he talked, neck muscles bulging while he eagerly cracked his knuckles.

"Why don't you show me what you've got?" Frostilicus said, clenching his jaw.

"I like this guy," Halorax said, turning to his minions. "Glom, Grub, take note of his attitude. Fun while it lasts. I'll beat it down to size."

In an instant, Halorax's eyes glowed bright blue. The droplets of water soaked into his clothes began to quiver, vibrating violently. Then they sprung out from his person like water from a dog shaking itself dry, leaping out in all directions. In an instant, they snapped back in place around his hands, steel gauntlets of the highest quality forming around his fists.

The gauntlets were immaculately formed. Like finely forged metals. Frost recognized the handiwork instantly. Gloves of this quality would sell for a month's wages in Capscatia, and Halorax had formed them instantly.

And they were headed straight toward Frost's face.

Prisma gasped, but Frost reacted on instinct, ducking just in time to evade the blow. When he glanced up, a swirl of raindrops encircled Halorax like a glowing tornado. As it spiraled downward toward his person, each drop stuck, forming pieces of armor unlike anything Frost had ever seen before.

This armor was ornate, with spirals weaved into it alongside frost stars. The frost formed metal continued to look more like, well, frost. Geometric shapes formed and remained rather than disappear as they did with Frost's work. The armor itself had a jagged shape to it, like it was something that mimicked frost itself.

Frost's eyes widened. A shiver ran down his spine. For such a brute, Halorax's armor was stunning. Where could he learn how to make something like that?

"What's the matter, foreign scum?" Halorax said. "Never seen frost magic before? Then you picked the wrong place to stay." Halorax barreled forward, carrying the weight of the armor like it was his own skin. The young man didn't bother to form any weapons, only to attack with his hands.

Frostilicus snapped to attention a moment before Halorax made contact, leaping out of the way. He landed on the ground with a thud, falling into a muddy puddle.

Glom and Grub laughed, pointing fingers at Frost. "He didn't even hit you," one of them said. Frost hadn't yet learned to distinguish the two.

Fine, Frost thought. He wants to play it that way?

"You should've let him die," Halorax said, pivoting himself to glare at Frost's prone figure. "The old king is bad for this country. Bad for the world."

Frost stared at the ground, pushing off with his hands in a push-up. Drops of water fell from his doused face. His leftover ice cream was smothered in the dirt a few feet away. His shirt and hands were covered in mud.

Then his eyes glowed blue.

In an instant, he pulled. The water snapped into form in a split-second around his body. He didn't bother with anything fancy. His armor didn't look half as decorative as Hal's, but it was strong. Very strong.

"What in the Northern Reach?" Halorax said, mouth dropping.

At that point, Frost leaped to his feet and punched him in the gut.