Chapter 3 - Counterattack

The plan was working. Elizabeth had managed to distract the Aisenevian forces and this had given Gavriil the opportunity to sabotage the boats on which they had landed. The young soldier cautiously explored the village and noticed an old tractor in a shed. The roof of the shed was supported by a few wooden planks and nothing more. He quickly inspected the vehicle. Some Kalekyan tractors were quite easy to sabotage, and the one in front of him was one of those. First, he tied the vehicle to one of the wooden planks with the rope he had with him. Then he put his hands on the electrical panel cables and on the accelerator; a fairly simple and quick sabotage operation for Gavriil. The young soldier finished it all by grabbing something that could push on the accelerator and then stole away.
Meanwhile Lieutenant Ivan Vasilyevich Kun had agreed to bring Elizabeth to the imperial capital. If it had been up to him alone he would never have done something like that, but Viper and Echo had managed to persuade him and now some soldiers were heading towards the lake shore—others stayed behind to 'gather up what they left behind'. Ivan had already planned to put Elizabeth on the boat and then, once away, to give a signal to his men to massacre the entire village. His loyalty had a limit. Unjust revenge mattered more.
Ivan got on the motorboat first and then two soldiers took their seats with him, the twins and finally Elizabeth.
"We can go," Ivan said. "We'll reach Grishkuv and then talk to Prince Pavel. He'll be the one to organize the meeting with the emperor."

The boat moved. In a few minutes they reached about the center of the lake, where the water was deepest and at that moment Ivan took out his gun and shot into the sky. The twins and Elizabeth were confused.
"It's nothing," Ivan said. "I was just letting my men  know we could go," he lied with false kindness. "Now let's hurry, I don't want—"
He felt something wet on his ankles. He looked down: it was water.
"Well, I think I must go too," Elizabeth exclaimed, rising to her feet. "Sheva’el-Avelon!"
Two fiery angelic wings sprouted behind her back and she took flight back to the village.
"No!" Ivan shouted. And then he noticed that the motorboat's engine had stopped running. "What the hell?! What the fuck is going on?!"
"Sir! If we sink into these freezing waters—!!"
"I know! I fucking know! We need to get back to shore, immediately!"
"But we're in the center of the lake! We'll never be able to swim to shore—!"
"Shut up, coward!" Ivan shot him in the head in a fit of rage.
Echo and Viper were calm, leaning on the edge of the speedboat, as if nothing serious was happening. Ivan was shocked.
"You two! Help me! We have to get back to shore or we will freeze to death!"
"Yeah, right," Viper said putting her finger on her chin. "Hey, sister, have you ever died of hypothermia?"
She shook her head.
"Then this will be a completely new experience for both of us! Cool!"
"What the fuck are you saying?! Do you want to piss me off?! You bitch! Now you'll give me a hand! I order you to! Or I'm gonna—!"
Viper laughed. "You're truly ignorant. You should know that we Brannovians are special. Death doesn't scare us."

"Shut up, bitch! I don't care who or what you are! You have to help me! I won't die here—!"
"I'm tired of you." Echo shot him in the throat without even looking at him.
Ivan didn't die instantly. His blood began to gush left and right and choking sounds came out of his mouth. He was crying. He wanted to be killed immediately and put an end to that terrible suffering. His subordinate, seeing that scene, shot him; it was an act of compassion. He then pointed the weapon at Echo. Viper immediately turned and kicked him into the water.
The motorboat sank shortly thereafter with the two girls calmly waiting for hypothermia to set in.
Meanwhile, the soldiers in the village prepare to carry out a massacre. At that moment they heard a tractor start up and shortly after they heard a noise coming from behind a house; the roof of a shed had collapsed and the tractor was coming towards them.
The soldiers shifted, scared and confused. Some inhabitants took advantage of that moment to escape and arm themselves with everything they had: pitchforks, cleavers, axes, sticks, stones. The shots started shortly thereafter, but Gavriil was there, well hidden, making sure that no one harmed the civilians. With one shot he eliminated one soldier and caught the attention of the other seven.
"There's someone with a gun!"
"The United Tribes!"
"The United Tribes are here! Kill them!"
Gavriil quickly moved and changed position. Some men began to attack the soldiers and the young rifleman helped the people eliminate the invaders. Elizabeth arrived shortly after, but she didn't kill any of the enemies and merely assisted the people who wanted to escape. If she had used her magic in that village, people would've gotten hurt.

Of eight soldiers remaining in Hedeov, only two managed to reach the motorboat and leave the coast. Gavriil saw them flee knowing that they too would die in the waters of the lake.
Hedeov's people celebrated the victory with shouts of joy. The invaders had been repelled. Once again, after ten years, the village had managed to defeat the arrogant Aisenevians. Once again justice had triumphed.
Gavriil and Elizabeth helped the inhabitants treat the wounded and rebuild the houses. As the sun went down they feasted in true Kalekyan style with meat soups, steaks, homemade cakes and lots of alcohol. The suffering of the morning had been chased away by the joy of the night. The banquet ended with warm singing by men and women. The song of the United Tribes.

𝅘𝅥𝅮  Friend! My friend!

Avert from depend!

Look at your tribes,

feel their vibes!

Fight! Reunite!

Avert from tyranny,

crush the villainy!

Reclaim your land!

None shall stand!

The Dragon! The Dragon!

 The Dragon roars!

Strenght is yours!

Together! Together!

Together to end!

Together! Together!

Together my friend! 𝅘𝅥𝅮

At the end of the singing and the beginning of the dancing, Gavriil decided to leave the village and head to the monument on the hill. He thanked those fallen for giving Hedeov the strength and pride needed to resist the enemy attack. Hedeov hadn't lost its pride, the people hadn't lost the will to fight against the enemy. Unfortunately, not everyone could boast that same tenacity. Not everyone. The war was difficult and there was a lot of uncertainty, a lot of fear, but Gavriil didn't want to think about it.
Today we celebrate, but tomorrow the war will continue. Not here, but certainly elsewhere. But why think about it? Why let these terrible thoughts depress me? I should smile. We're alive.
Then he thought of Klyugin. His house. And he prayed for them.

"Heeeeeey!" Elizabeth exclaimed.
He turned around. "What are you doing here? I'd like to be alone for a while, if you don't mind—"
"Weeeeell, I'm so-sorry. You know? I'm really trying—I'm really, really trying to be your friend—you're so cute, you have a pretty face and I bet you haaaaave the sexiest body under that moss uniform—but you keep ignoring meeee." She took a breath. "Fuuuuuuuuuck you!" She started laughing.
"Are you drunk?" He narrowed his eyes.
She approached him. "If I say 'noooooo', will you let me—you know—show me your Herculean body?"
"My what? Stop acting stupid!"
"Stuuupid? What the fuck—who the fuck is the stupish... stupe... stupid? I'm trying to make friends aaaaand see you naked."
He sighed. "You don't know what you're saying. Now sit down and... No! Not here!" He prevented her from sitting near the monument. "It would be terrible if you vomited. Hey! Are you listening to me?"
She looked at him with wide, tired eyes.
"Let's sit here, maybe it's better." They sat down on the floor. "Here, it's better here." He turned to her and noticed that her eyes were now languid. "Hey! Are you okay?"
"I know it's no use... what the fuck can it do if I'm sick?" She began to tremble. "Sex is sex... but if I wanted something more it would be a fuc-fucking problem for me—that's why I always have to say 'goodbye' in the end. Yeah, yeah... 'Bye, bye! See you again! Maybe.... Maaaaybe not'. Right?" She looked at him with tears in her eyes. "You understand? If I didn't say goodbye, it would be a fuuuucking problem... for... like... everyone... yeah..."
"Who did you say goodbye to?"

"Why... taaaalk about it?"
"You started it."
She remained silent for a few minutes looking at him and then turned towards the view. She was still crying, but her expression was no longer sad; rather, there was resignation in her eyes.
"Hey," she began softly, "promise me something..."
"What?"
She looked into his eyes.

Didn't say anything.

She came a little closer.

A little closer.

And then she said:
"Promise me you'll kill me if it gets worse."

Udalovian Duchy Map

 

Äon World Map

Political map

Regions map

 

Chapter 2 - Hedeov

For a two-day journey to Hedeov, Gavriil needed the essentials to survive: food, water and medicine. A strong three-metre rope, a lantern, binoculars, a machete and woolen cloths were useful for tackling the freezing forest; two firearms would've protected him and his traveling companion from possible dangers. The gun was a YLG-8, a revolver with a 6-round cylinder, an overall length of 279 mm and a weight of approximately 1 kg. The rifle was a Sneg-12, made of wood and metal; it was a bolt-action firearm with a weight of approximately 4 kg, an overall length of 1,300 mm and an 8-round integral box magazine that could be loaded with en-bloc clips.
It was six in the morning and Elizabeth was still sleeping. Gavriil had already packed his backpack and silently approached her to feel her body temperature.
She's still hot. Absurd.
He had never understood anything about magic and magical energy. He was a Kalekyan—he was a mere human. Unlike all other races on the continent, the Kalekyans had no spiritus and were only known for two things: their resistance to cold and the fact that they were physically very strong. But these traits weren't superpowers. Resistance to cold, for example, was a trait of most, but not all, Kalekyans. The same was true for strength. Genetics dictated the law... or at least that was what people thought. Whether this was true or not was still difficult to determine. Just as it was hard for mages to decipher the Kalekyan people, it was complicated for them to do the same with mages. For this reason Gavriil had a lot of difficulty understanding the world of spells, for him it was like mathematics. He was a little embarrassed by this, because he felt like an ignorant yokel—just like those who were often mocked in the Empire's propaganda.
The young soldier left the house. The snowstorm was over and he could relax on the shores of Lake Chmil while waiting for the girl to wake up. He heard a dog barking; it was Stanimir. The beautiful animal with black and white fur licked Gavriil on his face and he cuddled him affectionately. The dog's elderly owner, Mrs. Pepova, was nearby helping her husband take a walk in the area. When she noticed that Stanimir had gone to the young man, she showed a slight embarrassment.
"I'm sorry, he's a bit impolite—" she saw the weapons and her eyes widened. "What's the problem, Gavriil? Something bad?"
"No, I... I just... er... I have to go to Hedeov with someone."
"The girl?"
He blushed.
"You thought we didn't notice her? Everyone knows about the young girl you saved and hosted in your home. She's very cute, a little Drakalian, but cute nonetheless," she commented with a gentle smile.
"Hmm... Maybe, but I don't trust her."

"Then why do you want to accompany her to Hedeov? It's a long road, no?"

"Well... Yes, but... but I'm only helping her because I know she would never be able to survive the journey, alone. I'm just doing her a favor, that's all. Just a favor."
"I notice a certain hostility. Do you think she's a bad person?"
"No, I just... I don't know... I can't trust her. My instincts tell me to be on guard. And then she's a Drakalian, only the gods know what she might have in mind."
She ruffled his hair with a motherly affection. "That pout! It doesn't do you any good! Free yourself from negative thoughts. The fact that she's a Drakalian shouldn't worry you, but it should push you to get closer to her and do what many, in these times of war, refuse to do: learn to stop fighting."
"I can't," he said with embarrassed hostility. "I have to fight. Only in this way will I be able to bring justice and free the Kalekyans from oppression."
"And you do well. But there'll come a day when you'll have to abandon your weapons, when you'll have to talk to the Drakalians who have never done us any harm, and if by then you have not learned to stop using violence, then you'll never be able to do justice. I know what I'm talking about. My Semyon was a brave, honest young man and also a true patriot... but violence made him blind."

"I know..." Gavriil murmured, remembering the friend whose name he had engraved one year ago.
"Many of the crimes he was accused of, I don't believe ever happened. My nephew was a good person, but there are those who don't think like me and who just want to throw mud on his memory. It's a disappointment and an immense sadness for me, but the greatest sorrow is knowing that he wasn't totally innocent. I know... I saw him be violent when violence wasn't necessary. He had been drugged by the war and perhaps the best thing that could've happened to him was to die on the battlefield." She wiped away her tears with shaking hands. "It's not nice to say that, I know, but I doubt that someone like him, reduced to that state, would ever have been able to live in peace."
"I don't want to end up like that," he muttered, saddened by those heavy but true words.
"Then use these moments with her to learn to open your heart to those who are different. In these times of war, we need more people who are capable of listening. That's all."
Maybe, but why should I be the one to make the first move? I'm not a Drakalian. I wasn't born in an oppressive empire.
When Mrs. Pepova left, Gavriil remained alone for a few minutes to reflect on those words some more and then decided that the time had come. It was time to go. Hedeov waited and he no longer intended to share his home with a Drakalian.
The fact that she's half Tiberian doesn't change anything. There are many like her who have built their damned colonies in our lands.
Returning home, Gavriil entered the bedroom; Elizabeth was getting dressed and when she saw him come in, she immediately asked:
"Did you wake up before me?"
He nodded.
"Why didn't you wake me up too? Do you think I want to waste my time that badly?" she asked in a scolding tone.

"You're a Drakalian, I don't know when you're used to waking up—"
"C'mon, don't pretend you care!" she exclaimed, tightening the waistband of her trousers.
"I'm not pretending," he replied coldly. "I'm trying not to treat you like you're a Kalekyan, that's all."
She sighed. "So you think I'm as fragile as porcelain?" she asked, tying her tie.
"Yes I think that. You Drakalians are not used to this climate—this reality and its dangers. You solve all problems with magic and your bizarre technologies, but without them you're like snow at the mercy of the sun."
"Nice simile," she said sarcastically, "are you also a poet?"
"I'm serious—"
"Me too." She put on her leather jacket. "Do you think I'm not a serious person? Do you think I'm some kind of runaway princess who wants to be protected by a soldier? I tried to assassinate a prince and am wanted by those Kalekyans who sold themselves to the Empire. If I hadn't gotten here, I would've ended up in one of the most terrible prisons in the world. I'm not a diamond, I'm a fighter just like you and I expect you to treat me accordingly!" She approached him. "Now step aside."
He did so hesitantly.
Elizabeth left the house and opened her hand. "Sheva." Her palm was engulfed in flames and she remained motionless.
"What are you doing?!" Gavriil asked in shock. "Stop that! Now!"
"Relax, I've no intention of hurting anyone."
"But you'll scare people that way!"
"Have you never seen a fire?"
"You know what I mean! Now, stop that!"

"Nope, I won't. Do you remember last night's speech? What I'm doing now is decreasing my spiritus level to achieve a more 'balanced' body temperature. I prefer to keep it under a certain level, it's my life at stake, after all. Give me fifteen minutes and I'll be ready to go."
He was annoyed by her stubbornness, but he certainly couldn't get into an argument with her in front of everyone. And then he knew she was right. He didn't want to admit it, but what she was doing, even if he didn't fully understand it, was right. Plus, her words gave Gavriil an idea. The young soldier entered the house again and remained there until the fifteen minutes were up.
"I'm ready! We can leave—" Elizabeth was taken aback by what Gavriil had just put on the table. "What's this?"
"Hot chocolate and homemade cookies," he replied coldly. "I was so caught up in doing things quickly that I forgot that you Drakalians have no natural resistance to cold. This breakfast will give you  the necessary energy and warm you up a bit."
She didn't ask any more questions and started eating. She dipped the biscuits in the chocolate and savored them; the flavor of the cereal pervaded her mouth and she smiled as if she had tasted the best dish of her life.
"Did you make them?"
"Yes—"
"Today?!"
"Huh? No! I had saved them!"
"Hm-mm. They're very good! You know, you should think about dedicating yourself entirely to cooking with the end of the war! What do you think?"
He didn't answer. He didn't want to continue that conversation.
"Well, I forgive you everything," she said, giving him a kiss on the cheek.
He jumped backwards and almost fell to the ground.
She laughed and started eating again.
"You...!" She did it on purpose. But why does she behave like this? Moments ago she seemed angry and now it almost seems like she has forgotten everything. I don't understand her. "Hey, look... um... I've something you might need."
"And now you've got a gift? Ohoh, Gavriil, be careful: if you carry on like this, I might think you're hitting on me."
"Don't be silly and take it!"

He gave her a heavy jacket. She immediately understood why: that black leather jacket, alone, would never have protected her from the cold. She was pleased to know that he had cared about her to the point of not only preparing her breakfast, but also giving her a piece of clothing so she wouldn't suffer from the cold.

The great forest that separated Klyugin from Hedeov stretched for several kilometers and was made of pines and firs dressed in white. The road to take was narrow, full of obstacles, undulating, punctuated by short climbs. A cold breeze sometimes whistled through that quiet forest, and when it did, one could hear the thud of heavy blocks of snow. Everywhere the girl looked, she had the impression that nature extended to infinity.
Gavriil and Elizabeth had left just an hour ago and had not stopped walking. He led the way and she walked next to him. The soldier didn't speak, he was always serious, but not angry and, what she noticed immediately, his seriousness tended to dissipate when he looked around; the sight of the wild, untamed nature relaxed his face, his eyes, his heart.
A fallen tree crossed the road. It had been uprooted from the ground and had smashed, with its mass, many smaller trees. Gavriil placed his bare hand on the snow-covered wood.
"The wind last night was devastating," Elizabeth commented.
"It wasn't the wind," he said.
"How do you know?"
"Look at the snow on the trunk. It's too little. If it had been knocked down by the wind, the tree would've had to be practically buried under the snow. This means that the wind isn't the culprit." He glanced at the branches and then at the roots. "It was a young, healthy tree. Something tells me it fell for another reason.”

"Do you have any idea?" she asked curiously.
"Hmmm." He cleaned some parts of the trunk and revealed some claw marks. "Belyy Zver'."
"What?"
"A kind of white bear, but much bigger." He turned and pointed to the ground. "The footprints have been covered by the snow, but some are still partially visible. Judging by the height of the scratches, it's probably a young male of about four years old. He's not particularly big, but he's looking for a partner."
"Wait a minute, how can you say he's not big?"
"The height of the scratches and... well, the trees around. They are still intact. An adult male, in these periods, tends to break  a few more trees. Consider them some kind of tests of virility. They break them to seduce females."
"Oh. Then you'll definitely have problems with deforestation."
"No, luckily there aren't many Belyy Zver' and they also tend to knock down the younger trees. Do you know why? Because the older ones are much tougher and are experts at making big adult males look weak."
The two began walking again.
"Soooo... the tree is a bit like the jam jar," she said, smiling.
"What do you mean?" He narrowed his eyes.
"There are some men who, to impress women with their 'great physical prowess,' take on the arduous task of opening jam jars with their bare hands. Sometimes they succeed, but occasionally the jam wins."
"It's dumb. What kind of man would do such a stupid thing?"
"If it's not the jam jar it's swatting a bug or fixing something that's broken or lifting big boxes."

"We don't have anything like that. If a man wants to impress a woman, he goes into the forest to hunt for her and brings his prey to her."
"Wait—you mean like cats do?" she asked, holding back her laughter.
"That is the way to show physical strength and courage. Having said that, it happens that women do the same thing."
"What?! Really?!" Her eyes widened in amazement.
"To demonstrate to the beloved man that they can have a strong offspring. But when it comes to that point, in most cases, the two people are already in love and have probably already decided to get married. The whole practice, whether men or women do it, is just the icing on the cake."
"So... which of your two parents did it?"
"First my father and then my mother, although for different reasons: he did it to demonstrate his strength, she did it for fun."
"How can you say that?"
"I was already born." He paused briefly. "And... what about your parents? How many jars of jam did your father have to open before he seduced your mother?"
"A million," she replied ironically.
"Your mother really loves jam, uh?"
"She loved the cherry one... and my father preferred honey... in fact, even when he prepared cereals for himself, he put honey in the milk."
"Condolences," he muttered.
"Thanks," she replied, quickly wiping her eyes.
As the sun set, Gavriil found a place to spend the night. He prepared everything needed to light a fire and prevent it from going out. From his backpack he took out some cheese, some stale bread and some water. Illuminated by the fire, the two travelers dined in the taciturn and dark pale forest. Elizabeth took off her heavy jacket and this worried Gavriil slightly.
"Are you sure?" he asked.
"I'm warm enough already," she replied with a gentle smile.
"I'm surprised you're not already dead. Heat is just as lethal as cold. If your body can warm up so much that you don't suffer from the freezing cold of this forest, then it's a miracle you're still alive."
"I know," she murmured. "High levels of spiritus cause hyperthermia and, in my specific case, I could die or... well... um... I should've already died. Even Dr. Mannlicher, the doctor my mother took me to, thought there was something abnormal about me. The best explanation he could give me was this: my body has adapted in such a way that it can withstand higher temperatures."
"How high?"
"Think about the maximum body temperature a human can tolerate and double it." She sighed. "Obviously his is just a theory, but if he were right then a question would arise spontaneously: why? And I'm afraid to ask it."
"Aren't you curious?"
"No," she replied quickly.
"Why?"
"Because I'm not. I don't want to know. That's all. There are things I'd rather not know, at least not now. Maybe one day, when I'm ready, but not now." She forced a smile.
He immediately dropped the topic, he didn't want to argue. "I advise you to sleep, I'll be there to keep watch."
"And what about you?"
"Do you want to take guard shifts?"
She nodded.
"Then we'll do that." He breathed an internal sigh of relief.

 

On the second day, finally, after several hours of walking, the two travelers arrived near Hedeov, the small village that stood on the banks of the Lepechin River—which flowed into the large Lake Chmil. To reach it it was only necessary to go over a snow-capped hill, on which stood an eight-metre stone obelisk erected by the United Tribes in memory of the fallen soldiers. Ten years ago, in 1711 IC, eighty one brave volunteers, led by Lieutenant Vvedensky, defended Hedeov for fifteen days from the forces of the Aisenevian Principality. The lieutenant was saved at the last moment by reinforcements from the United Tribes and it was he who, a few months later, ordered the construction of the monument.
From up there one could clearly see the village and Gavriil immediately noticed something strange, and stopped Elizabeth from continuing. He hid together with her and took out the binoculars.
"Shit!" he exclaimed angrily.
"What happens?" she asked worriedly.
He gave her the binoculars.
In the streets of Hedeov there were soldiers in blue camouflage and black berets; they were ten men of the Aisenevian army. The population of Hedeov was very low—barely two hundred people lived in that village—and every single man, woman, and child was forced to leave their homes and stand on their knees with their heads bowed. A young rebel with a lion's heart tried to oppose this injustice and was immediately killed; the shot was heard all the way up the hill. Gavriil was furious and immediately grabbed his rifle, he was ready to kill each one of those soldiers. He could not accept such cruelty, just as he could not tolerate the arrogance with which those invaders had decided to cross the border established by the United Tribes.

Elizabeth knew the reason for that invasion.
They're looking for me.
Her heart was filled with a strong sense of guilt and she was ready to do whatever was necessary to stop those people, but when she saw Gavriil pull out his rifle she became agitated. Elizabeth could feel the young soldier's anger firsthand, but she couldn't allow him, blinded by his anger, to make a mistake that would cause a carnage. As soon as she saw him take aim, she put her hand on the barrel of the rifle and muttered:
"Stop. Those soldiers will turn on the civilians if you attack them!"
"Not if I can scare them—"
"They have hostages! They have nothing to lose and if you provoke a firefight, they'll have no reason not to use those people as human shields!"
He raised his eyebrows. He hadn't thought about that. He was ashamed of not having done so and left the rifle.
"Now we have to think about how to stop them."
"Do you have any idea?"
"With my pyromancy I can generate fire whirlwinds and I can throw fireballs, but if I used it it would be dangerous for those people, so we have no choice but to play smart." She looked into his eyes. "Do you trust me?"
He frowned. "No, but if you have a plan that can save those people, I'll listen to you."
"Good."
Meanwhile, in Hedeov, Lieutenant Ivan Vasilyevich Kun took two people—a man and a woman—and led them into a completely ransacked house. He made them sit down with the most false of kindnesses and, taking out his pistol, asked:
"Have you seen a blonde girl wandering around here?"

"No, sir, absolutely not—"
The lieutenant shot the man in the head without hesitation.
The woman screamed in fear.
"Shut up, bitch, and answer the question: have you ever seen or helped a blonde girl? A foreigner? She's a Drakalian."
She, scared like a child, shook her head slightly; she had tears in her eyes.
"You're useless."
"No, Please—"
He shot her. "Bring me two more! I want to hurry! No wasting time!"
Two girls who didn't belong to Hedeov, but who were helping the military, entered the building. They both had a black bodysuit, red winter jackets and were both armed with the same model of pistol. They both had blood-colored eyes and hair as white as snow. The only difference was that one had long hair, the other had short hair and was also wearing a red scarf. They were twins who belonged to the Ordo Gladii. The first, the one with the long hair, was Viper; the second was Echo. They had been tasked by Prince Wilhelm to help the Aisenevian military forces search for Elizabeth.
When the lieutenant saw them cross the threshold, his eyes immediately fell on their weapons; he wanted to be sure that neither of them had any intention of killing him. He was never too sure around the Ordo Gladii. The FK-11, the gun model used by the two girls, was, among other things, much faster and more resistant than the Aisenevian weapons. This handgun was black, metal, with an overall length of 217 mm, a weight of 950 g and had a detachable box magazine with 32 rounds.

"What do you want?" he asked submissively.
"This violence is useless, Lieutenant," Viper said with a contemptuous sneer. "What do you think you're getting by killing these people? We'll never be able to find the fugitive if we don't do proper interrogations."
"We don't have time. The United Tribes don't know we're here. We must be fast, otherwise we'll be surrounded by enemies. And does it really matter how many will die from this waste? Hedeov is a piece of shit, no one gives a damn about this place."
"What if you were wrong?" Echo asked coldly.
He shrugged. "It makes no difference to us. One way or another we're harming the enemy, right? And then... this place deserves to burn." He looked out the window. He looked at the desperate faces of the prisoners. He felt nothing for them. "My brother died right here. He wanted to free Hedeov from the tyranny of the United Tribes, but he was killed by those fanatics led by Vvedensky. But not just my brother, oh no..." he turned towards the two girls. "One hundred and four soldiers were killed in this village. One hundred and four liberators, who only wanted to protect Hedeov and allow it to embrace progress, were killed here. Hedeov is a den of barbarians who prefer bloody traditions to freedom and modernity. They deserve to die."
"Do as you please," Viper exclaimed, raising her arms. "My sister and I have no intention of standing in your way. We have our orders and you have yours, but know that by slaughtering these people you will get nowhere—"
"Sister," Echo murmured, placing a hand on her shoulder.
"What's up?"
Echo motioned with her head to look out the door.

Elizabeth was in the village. She had her hands raised and rifles pointed at her. The girl they were looking for was right there in front of them, and no one understood why she hadn't been found before.
"I'm not here to fight. I want to give up."
Lieutenant Kun, as soon as he came out of the house, showed a triumphant smile. "It turns out I was right: Hedeov's people were hiding you. They're all liars, I knew it—!"
"There's no need to hurt them! It would be unnecessary violence!" the girl exclaimed. "Now you have me! Let these people go! I'm the one who tried to kill the prince, they didn't do anything wrong! They don't even know who I am—"
"So what? Just by having welcomed you, these people have committed a very serious crime. They have to die."
Elizabeth's gaze fell for a moment on the two twins.
Brannovian. Ordo Gladii.
The girl looked back at the officer and asked, "What does the Empire want from me?"
He was confused.
"Why not just kill me? Why didn't you order your men to shoot me? And why didn't the two of them take out their guns to kill me?"
The lieutenant had no idea what to say, he didn't know the answers to those questions either. He only knew that the Empire didn't want her dead.
"Your escape was quite... interesting," Viper stated with a smirk on her face. "You flew all the way here. The news has reached the ears of the prince, he, then, has decided to... er... commute your sentence. You see, these people are not here to kill you, but to take you—"
"Do you want to kidnap me?"

"You're perceptive," Echo exclaimed, crossing her arms.
"Forgive my sister, the first time she heard about you she expressed strong doubts about your intelligence. I admit that I thought so a little too. I mean: what kind of idiot would try to kill one of the most important people in the world? You're lucky, you know? You're so lucky. Another person, in your place, would've already died. But, hey, congratulations! You've gained the prince's interest! You won't die! You should be happy abou that."
"Well, if I'm that important, I want you to listen to my requests."
"Ooh! And why on earth would we do that?" Viper asked raising her eyebrows.
"Because I could leave this very moment, right?" Elizabeth replied immediately. "I could spread my wings and fly further and further into the territory of the United Tribes."
"You would never do that. You care about these people," Echo commented.
"This is true, but I'm still a Drakalian and I've no intention of throwing my life away for barbarians. I protect them because I believe it's the right thing to do, but there's a limit to everything."
"Liar."
"My sister is right, you're lying and you suck at hiding it. The very fact that you made an attempt on the prince's life is proof that you're one of those people who believes in the cause of the United Tribes—"
"And who told you that? Do you want to know who I am? I'm the illegitimate daughter of Emperor Ludwig XIII!" she stated in a solemn tone. "I was never recognized by my father because my mother was one of his many concubines! I tried to kill the prince because he doesn't deserve the throne! I deserve it!"

The twins and even the soldiers were stunned by that statement.
Elizabeth stepped in front of the civilians; her enemies were now all in front of her. "So here is my proposal: put an end to this useless violence and tell the emperor that her daughter wants to talk to him. I want to talk to my father. Just that." She looked at the twins. "Can you do it?"

Chapter 1 - Gavriil

He didn't know the name of that girl he had just saved from the freezing waters. He had taken her to his humble home and had lit a fire for her. He checked her heartbeat rate several times and closed the windows to keep out the cold. He was a Kalekyan, he was used to the harsh temperatures of the north; however, he thought that she, resembling a Drakalian, didn't have the same resistance and so, in addition to closing the windows, he ensured that there were no drafts. After doing so, he focused on her—on who she was. He wasn't used to bringing strangers into his home, especially not Drakalians. A voice in his head suggested to take her to his superior officers, but he wanted to be one hundred percent sure he was dealing with an agent of the Empire and not a common civilian. He knew it wouldn't be easy to discover the truth, in that situation, but he wanted to try anyway. He studied her to try to figure out who she was: her blonde hair was a common trait of the Drakalians; short hair and a little messy—which was unusual. She was wearing torn jeans, a white collared shirt, a black leather jacket and a black tie. He was perfectly familiar with the military uniform used by the Empire, and the clothes she wore were completely different.
She's not a soldier. Is she a spy?
He knew that the Drakalians had strange technologies and, above all, spies were known for their gadgets and lethal weapons that were always well hidden. The girl had a black hair clip on her left and he gently took it off her and took a look at it.
Nothing.
He put the hair clip back on her with the same kindness, a little embarrassed for having assumed that that could be a dangerous gadget. He reached into her various jacket pockets, searching for weapons or badges.
Nothing.
He tried to put his hand in the pocket of her pants, but they were so tight that his large hand couldn't even fit.
In the ankles... maybe?
He inspected to make sure she had no knives, guns or poisons.
Nothing. Absolutely nothing.
She seemed like a normal girl, but he didn't trust her. He couldn't trust a stranger so similar to a Drakalian. There was a limit to what he could do in that situation. The voice telling him to take her to the proper authorities grew louder, but he still hesitated. He knew he was taking a risk, but he didn't want to put an innocent person in danger. He looked out the window, the sky suggested that a snowstorm was coming, and so he closed the door and sealed the windows tightly. 

With the storm I wouldn't be able to get her far from here anyway. I'll have to keep her here at least until tomorrow and then... And then... Well...

He wasn't used to having guests at his house, but he had enough food to feed both him and her.
When Elizabeth opened her eyes, she didn't make a sound. She had no idea where she was, but began to look around carefully to study the place: the house was made of wood and stone, it was small and spartan. It was a typical mountain home with literally the bare minimum. The bed she was on was made of wood and the blankets were handmade from animal fur. She stood up slowly. She carefully left the bedroom and saw that there were just three rooms beyond that: the kitchen, a small foyer, and a bathroom. Nothing else. Around the house there were work tools, boxes full of fruit and vegetables, firewood and some old rifles hanging on the wall. There were no photographs, but there were wooden vases containing different species of flowers.

A smell of vegetable soup caught her nose and she peeked into the kitchen; when she saw that young man, in military uniform, cooking she was amazed—but she had to walk away. The heat in the kitchen plus the one in the whole house was suffocating.
Why did he light a fire? I thought Kalekyans didn't suffer from the cold!
She felt like she was in a sauna and she quickly took off her leather jacket; she threw it without even looking and knocked over a vase.
The boy immediately left the kitchen and, when he saw that the mysterious guest was standing and sweating as if she had a fever, he began to worry:
"Are you okay?"

She shook her head. "I need you to put out that damn fire."
"Huh?! Are you crazy?! You'll freeze to death if I do that!"

"Then open a window!"

"No chance. There will be a snowstorm soon and the temperature will drop dramatically—"
"When it'll come?"
"Well, I think tonight—"
"Good." She opened a window and stood underneath it. "Much better!" she exclaimed with a satisfied expression. "See? It wasn't that hard, right?"

"Are you sure you're okay? I mean... it's pretty cold outside, and—"

"Don't play the lovely dad with me, 'kay? I know what I'm doing," she said, waving her hand at him to leave.
"I... um... I'm going back to the kitchen," he muttered in confusion.

She watched him leave and then relaxed under the fresh air.
An interesting guy, indeed.
It was that thought that began to capture her head. This stranger had short black hair, beautiful emerald eyes—just like her—and had a face that was pleasing to the eye. He had broad shoulders and the hands of a mountain man. His military uniform was green with red trim, this meant that he didn't work for the Empire but for the United Tribes.
The United Tribes were a nation that formed in 1427 IC, when the Drakalian Empire began invading the frozen lands of the north. This nation, which was in fact a confederation made up of many tribes, wanted to preserve the ancient traditions, repel the invaders, free the Kalekyans conquered by the Empire and overthrow the various aristocracies that had been created over the course of three hundred years. Not everyone agreed with these 'extremists'.
It was a truly complex reality. 

The Aisenevian Principality was formed when around twenty Kalekyan tribes agreed to ally themselves with the Drakalian Empire. In 1684 IC, the emperor chose a prince and gave him the task of dominating and representing these tribes. The imperial State called it 'privilege' and in Drakalian intellectual circles the potentates were praised for their compassionate attitude towards the 'barbaric' people of the north. But the emperor and the nobles had no respect for these people. They wanted to kill their culture. Other tribes had suffered the same fate of the Aisenevian Principality. Duchies were born. Dukes, chosen from among the most loyal and servile Kalekyans, were chosen to represent and above all to tame the tribes under their authority. Many Kalekyans had to deal with what was, in effect, colonization by the Drakalian Empire.
The United Tribes fought against all that.
"Lunch is ready," the soldier said, placing the plates.
Elizabeth sat down at the table. He handed her the spoon and when she put the soup in her mouth, her palate was hit by the flavor of tomato, pumpkin, then by that of lentils and beans; black pepper and rosemary served as seasoning.
"Do you like it?" he asked coldly.
She nodded.
"Good. You'll have to get used to it for the short time you'll be here."
"Are you already thinking of sending me away?"
"Why shouldn't I? I don't know you—"
"Same. But that's not a problem for me."
He narrowed his eyes. "Mm... I see..." He didn't trust her. In his eyes that stranger was one of the 'bad guys'.
She understood his feelings, read them in his eyes. That distrust was justifiable. Many Kalekyans had suffered at the hands of the Empire.
"You have no reason to stay here, that's all I wanted to say. And I bet you have someone looking for you. Perhaps a duke or even a viscount—"
"Viscounts no longer exist though," she corrected.
He glared at her. "That's not the point. This is not your place, Drakalian. The fact that I saved your life means nothing."
She was genuinely surprised. For a Kalekyan of the United Tribes to show mercy to a Drakalian was truly unusual. Of all the things she had expected to hear, that was the most shocking.

"Stop looking at me like that," he said, blushing. "I just wanted to be nice! That's all! Don't get any weird ideas, okay? You and I are enemies."
She put down the spoon and held out her hand. "Elizabeth."
"Huh...?" He raised his eyebrows.
"My name is Elizabeth."
"I'm... Gavriil." He shook her hand a little hesitantly.
"I don't believe it," she commented, smiling.
"Huh? What do you mean you don't believe it? It's my name!"
"Is your name just 'Gavriil'? That's it?"
"What does 'just Gavriil' mean?! It's my name! I'm Gavriil!"
"Oh, c'mon! You Kalekyans are known for your loooong names!"
"Wait—do you want the patronymic too?! Forget it!"
"Then I won't let go of your hand," she exclaimed, remaining faithful to that playful smile of hers.
"You're acting like a brat! Seriously! Let go of me!" He began to move his arm.
She shook her head and stuck her tongue out at him.

"You little—! Do you want to make me angry or what? Look, I'll leave you to die in the cold if I have to!"

"Or! You could just tell me your full name.What's going on?" She moved a little closer to him. "Embarrassed?"
"Tch!" He sighed. "Alright then! I'm Gavriil Fyodorovich Korsakov!"
"See? It wasn't that difficult!"
He didn't let go of her hand.
"Wha—?" Her eyes widened in surprise.
"Now it's your turn. You Drakalians have longer names too. Tell me yours!" He was red like a bell pepper.
"I think I'm going to disappoint you a little."
"Why?"
"My full name is Elizabeth Regimia Laberius."

He dropped her hand, shocked. "You're... not a Drakalian..."
"I am... and I'm not. I'm a 'mixed blood'. My mother was a Drakalian and my father a Tiberian. I was born and raised in the Empire, but I'm not part of those aristocracies that you hate. You can rest assured that there's no one waiting for me. In fact, I think I'm more like you."
"Ah! Please! Do you think this is enough to make you different from the enemy?"
"So you still believe that I'm your enemy? Why? And what will you tell me next? That all Drakalians are evil?"
"Yes," he replied immediately.
"I see, know... I thought the United Tribes wanted to be different from the Empire—"
"We are."
"With such a closed mind? No, I don't think so. Giving a certain people a certain moral attribute is typical of the Drakalians. If you also start doing the same things you'll cancel out any difference between your cause and theirs—"
"It's not the same thing!" he stated, slamming his hands on the table.
"C'mon, don't be so aggressive... I just wanted to talk—"
"No!" He left the table. "Stop doing that! Stop acting like we're two acquaintances talking to each other in a friendly way! Stop acting like this is all a game! We're not friends! We're not! And this isn't a fucking game! Your presence here is a problem! And you know what? It doesn't have to be my problem! Tomorrow you'll leave! End of the story! And never come back here! Never again!"

"Listen, I'm sorry—"

He raised his hand. He didn't want to hear her talk anymore. "Never. Again." He wasn't joking. "Finish your lunch, I'll go out for a walk."
Gavriil immediately left the house, slamming the door furiously. She was left speechless and lost her hunger.

Klyugin was a small village of a few thousand inhabitants. It stood on the banks of the Ipatiev River. The waters flowed into the cold Lake Chmil. The town was surrounded by thick white forest and the landscape was defined by the pale and long Svarov mountain chain. Gavriil loved that place. He loved it as if it were a woman. Every time he felt bad he would sit on the shore of the lake, he would remain silent and let himself be enraptured by the beauty of nature. His heart always beat fast when he admired that work of art that was the wild and immaculate forests; he almost stopped breathing when his eyes were lost in the mountains; his mouth was incapable of uttering any sound as the rushing streams rang in his ears.
That was heaven. His paradise.
And it was right on the shore of Lake Chmil that he had left the reason for his battle, the reason why he always wore the uniform. A stone stele, two meters high, looked towards the clear surface of the water. Between two trees, near the mouth of the river, the stele represented the only art he would ever be able to produce. On it had been engraved the names of thirty-two people, their dates of birth and death; at the bottom there was a prayer. They were friends, relatives, parents; they were home; they were what the Empire had taken from him.
He prayed silently for them; that was the only way he knew to keep alive the memory of their faces, their voices, their affection. Only in that moment of solitude did he allow himself to cry.
I miss you. I miss you so much.
The sound of an engine broke that silence. He turned and saw, in the distance, an Aisenevian military police speedboat. The only misfortune of living in Klyugin was that the people had to share the beautiful lake with the Empire's guard dog. He immediately hid and, cautiously, carefully observed the movements of the enemies.
What are they doing? Should I inform the headquarters?

They were looking for something in the water and inspected the banks with binoculars. After a few minutes they moved away and Gavriil returned to the village.
"Everything okay, Gavriil?" asked an elderly woman who was bringing her dog back into the house. "You seem a little nervous. Is there something wrong?"
"Don't worry about me, Mrs. Pepova. Instead, be careful: the weather doesn't look good. There'll be a bad storm tonight."
"I see it, I see it. The sky roars." The dog slipped out of her hand and showed all its affection to the young soldier. "Oh, Stanimir! I'm so sorry!"
"No, everything's fine!" He began to pet the dog. He rubbed its fur and accepted all the kisses in the face. "I love this guy. Good boy. Well done, you're good boy."
He didn't know he was being watched.
Elizabeth, from the window of the house, looked with curiosity at the young man. In addition to being charming, he also had the attitude of a 'friend of the people'. Everyone knew him, everyone respected him and everyone loved him. It wasn't just the uniform that evoked those feelings in the people, that was obvious. They knew him very well, they treated him like a son and like a guardian. And then she thought about how he had behaved towards her. He had been rough, but he wasn't a bad person. She just had to look at how he behaved with the people of the village to understand his heart; he was pure.
Maybe he should know of my job.
The more she thought about it, the more it seemed like a great idea.
Someone like him could help me.
And as she thought about it, she realized that the magical energy was regenerating very quickly. This was good, but also bad. Her body became hotter and hotter and it would soon become impossible for her to stay in that house, perpetually heated by the fire.

When Gavriil returned home he immediately realized that the flame in the fireplace had been put out.
Fucking brat.
He sighed and prepared wood to heat the house again, but Elizabeth stopped him immediately.
"What do you plan to do with that?"
"What do you think, genius? You'll freeze to death if I don't make a damn fire—"
"I don't need you to heat the house and, if you do, I risk suffocating. My body heat will be enough to keep me warm."
He looked at her with disbelieving eyes. "Are you serious? Do you realize that the temperature can drop dramatically here?"
"I'm serious," she exclaimed. "I know what I'm doing. Don't light that fire, 'kay? Good."
"You know what? You do you! But I won't be responsible for what happens! It's your problem, not mine!"

Night fell and the storm came. Violently it began to bang against the wooden walls and against the windows. The wind howled. Sometimes one could hear the sound of something breaking and being tossed left and right by the air. And while Elizabeth was afraid that the entire house would collapse on her, Gavriil sat quietly peeling potatoes. The entire building was lit by several candles and that atmosphere was the only thing that gave the girl some peace.
"Are you making dinner?" she asked, sitting next to him.
"Roast potatoes."
"Can you cook those too?"
He looked at her as if she had asked a stupid question. "It's not a complicated dish. My mom taught me how to prepare them quickly."
"Without an oven?"
"I don't need an oven."

He got up and went to the cooking hob. To heat the shelf he used a small stove. He took a wooden plate and began to cut the two potatoes to form many small cubes. He put the potatoes on a metal pan and poured in some oil, a little water and then put salt on top. Finally he closed the pan with a lid.
"Now all we have to do is wait."
"Mm-mm." She undid her tie.
"Everything okay? You're sweating and it's... weird. I just lit a small stove, it shouldn't be that hot."
"No, it's not the stove. It's... my problem."
"You're sick?"
"Depends on who you ask," she replied, moving her hand to throw air at herself.
"That's the dumbest answer I've ever heard," he commented coldly. "You're acting like it's hot in here, but I'm sure the temperature is very low. It's definitely below zero." He thought for a moment. "Maybe falling into the freezing water didn't do you much good. Maybe you have some kind of fever or something like that. Do you want me to take some medicine for you? I have supplies—"
"That's not it. It's magical energy."
"Magical... energy...?” He narrowed his eyes. "You mean that stuff you guys use to do your witchcraft?"
She didn't even explain and went into the bedroom.
"Magical energy, of course," he murmured warily. "Tch! Excuses to annoy me." Or maybe there really is something wrong? But she didn't seem that hot when I brought her in here. What medicines do I have? If I remember correctly I have something for fever, cold, cough and...
Gavriil turned off the fire and removed the lid. The smell of roast potatoes caressed his nostrils and made his bad mood go away. He put them all on a plate and sat down at the table. He didn't touch the food.

Medicines for: fever, cold, cough, stomach ache and then I have bandages, creams, herbs and maybe even antibiotics. I need to know what's wrong with her and then—

Suddenly Elizabeth showed up with a look that left Gavriil speechless: the girl no longer had her tie, her trousers, her shoes, her socks—she had practically taken off everything. She only had her white shirt on, which with its length didn't even reach the knees. It was absurd. She was practically naked and he was left frozen. She sat at the table; she sat near him and smelled the dinner. With a sunny smile she exclaimed:
"Guten Appetit!" And she began to eat.
He was still speechless. He had no idea whether it would be better to ignore it or talk about it.
"Is something wrong, Gavriil?" she asked with wide eyes.
"I... You..." he got up to move away from her. "You... um..." he took a breath. "Are you... trying to seduce me to extract informations from me?"
"Is it working?" she asked with a feline smile.
"Maybe it's not that clear to you that I don't trust you. At all."
"I know. So?"
"So... what the f—hell do you think you're doing?"
"Hey, c'mon... If you want you can take off your uniform. I would have no problem seeing what you look like under those military clothes," she said winking.
"You fucking brat!"
"For your information, I'm twenty-two, not fourteen. I bet you're not that much older than me. Let me guess: twenty-four."
He raised his eyebrows.
"Haha! I won! And this is my reward!" She ate a few more roast potatoes.
"What game are you playing? I don't understand..."
"Do you really think this is all a game?"
"Look how you're dressed—!"

"I'm hot. Literally. I'm hot. I don't want to melt, 'kay? And then, what's the problem? Afraid of a little bare skin?"
"No! That's not the matter! It's—How can you be hot when there's literally a snowstorm outside?!"
"I already told you: it's my magical energy."

"How?"

"Well... um... To start: all those who practice magic have magical energy, or spiritus, within them. The spiritus drains when magic is used and regenerates when not used. However, magic isn't the same for everyone. Each race has specific powers. Nervians are famous for telekinesis, Tiberians for the ability to fly, while Maranians are telepaths. Drakalians can create fire, ice, electricity and can manipulate various elements of nature. Next you have to understand that the amount of spiritus that we, the mages, possess depends on our potential. A five-year-old Drakalian, for example, will have less spiritus than a thirty-year-old, even if we assume that both are inexperienced. This is because a five-year-old child doesn't have a brain developed enough to remember many spells and to use all of them, and therefore their potential is lower. So: high potential equals high spiritus. I'm half-blood, but I have all the potential of both the Drakalians and the Tiberians. In fact, I could theoretically do all the magic of both races... and this means that I have a large amount of spiritus. More than a normal mage."
"So what?"
"Spiritus is energy. Energy is heat. The more energy I have inside me, the warmer I get. Don't believe me? Come."
"No, no. I believe you—"
She sighed and stood up to walk over to him. "Touch my forehead. Please."
He did. She was hot. Very hot. "Wow... Are you sure you're okay?"
She nodded. "See this black choker? It's to keep my spiritus under control."
"I see..." He thought for a moment. "So you can fly?"
"Yes." She sat down again and motioned him to sit next to her.
He did, mostly because he didn't want to leave the whole dinner to her. "Now I understand how you fell from the sky. And maybe you can help me understand something else..."

"What?"
"Why are the Aisenevian police looking for you?"
She was amazed by his intuition, but she immediately suspected there was something more going on. "How did you figure that out?"
"I saw them looking for something in the lake. They came closer than usual to the territory of the United Tribes, this has never happened before. Is it really a coincidence? I don't think so. In fact, I think you're involved. So, what's going on?"
"Well..." She took a long pause. "I tried to assassinate Prince Wilhelm Ostberger."
"The emperor's son?" He was shocked.
"Yup. But I failed and was caught. They wanted to send me to Komar Katorga, however I managed to escape and... that's why I'm here."
"Why did you try to kill him?"
"Because, believe it or not, there are Drakalians who are tired of obeying an emperor. I work for a group called the Syndicate. We want to put an end to the imperial family and start a revolution that will lead to the establishment of a democracy." She paused briefly. "Gavriil, I would like the United Tribes to help us fight this common enemy."
"I'm not the one making these decisions. If you really want this alliance, you'll have to talk to my superior."
"Cool. And where can I meet this superior?" she asked with a sunny smile.
Gavriil left for a moment to get a map. "Pletrey."
"It seems pretty far away," she noted.

"If we want to reach it alive we must avoid the main road, it's very easy to be attacked by the forces of the Udalovian Duchy; those bastards have been really annoying lately... especially in that area. It all started with some Udalovian miners who crossed that border, but... that's another story. It's not important."
"So what's our alternative?"
"From Klyugin we can take a dirt road that passes through the forest and reaches Hedeov. It will take at least two days to get there. Then, from Hedeov, we'll go to Pletrey."
"Two days?! Wha-What if we used a boat? I see that Hedeov is on the shores of the lake just like Klyugin."
"I don't want to be discovered by the Aisenevian military police. If we want to get to Pletrey alive and well, we should follow my plan." He put the map aside. "Tomorrow morning we will leave as soon as the weather allows us. I advise you to get a good sleep—"
"Yeah, okay. Aaand... Where will you sleep, Gavriil?"
"I..." He hadn't thought about it. "Um... Well, I can—"
She leaned closer and whispered in his ear, "Do you want to sleep with me?"
"HUH?!" He jumped in embarrassment. "What? Are you crazy?!"
She burst out laughing. "C'mon! I said sleep, not 'sleep'! Your face is as red as a strawberry! You're so cute, little soldier!"
"Daughter of a bastard! I—" At that moment he remembered that he had extra furs. "Ah-ha!" He prepared a place to sleep on the floor. "You see? Now you can sleep or 'sleep' with yourself!"
She shrugged and, having taken the last roast chip, she went into her room exclaiming, with sharp irony:
"Virgin."
"Hey! I heard you!"

Prologue

Everything was ready. Prince Wilhelm Ostberger was in Grishkuv to celebrate the coronation of Prince Pavel of House Snopek. The capital—that little city of just twenty-seven thousand inhabitants—was full of energy. People were cheering as the golden carriages rolled past on the icy stone streets between snow-covered wood buildings. Wilhelm was the son of Emperor Ludwig XIII and was in the Aisenevian Principality not to show respect to a puppet prince, but to accustom the locals to the presence of foreign aristocrats in their lands; it was now a tradition for the Drakalian Empire. Wilhelm greeted the people with a false smile and hid well his disgust when he received the affectionate gifts of mothers and children.
Prince Pavel's palace was built in Drakalian style: it had pointed roofs, spires and large dragon statues both inside and outside. The banners were red and gold, and on them was drawn a flaming winged sword; the wooden furniture seemed to have reptile legs and even the candelabras were reminiscent of dragons. Drakalian symbolism pervaded both the court and the State's propaganda, but Pavel, like his predecessors, had managed to convince himself that all this only served to demonstrate that he was on the same level as the rulers of the empire.
Elizabeth had been residing in that city for months and every time she witnessed the blind and insane servility of the Aisenevian Principality she couldn't help but feel sorry for them. However, she was convinced that with her gesture she would be able to change something. Walking through the crowd, Elizabeth made her way towards the prince's palace. She didn't have much time. Once they closed the large stone gates it would be impossible to enter and then the mission would fail. The palace was divided into two sections: one was open to the public, the other was not. The second section was, in fact, the throne room and was where the actual ceremony would take place. To reach it, one had to climb three thousand steps; a long and symbolic journey.

Wilhelm was climbing the staircase with Pavel—both protected by guards armed with rifles. Elizabeth's heart was beating fast, time seemed to slow down with every step she took towards them; once she left the ocean of people, everyone would understand her intentions. Her bosses had told her to stay hidden and strike stealthily, but she was aware of the damage she could cause with her attack; remaining stealthy would have involved civilians and she had no intention of committing such a crime.
When she started to climb the steps, the crowd was already behind her and some of them were wondering what she was doing, others were yelling at her to come down. She continued to climb faster and faster; the guards had noticed that the crowd was becoming unusually agitated. She ran towards the princes. The guards turned and saw a blonde girl approaching quickly. They raised their rifles.
"Stay back—!" a guard shouted.
"Sheva!" she exclaimed.
Whirlwinds of fire came out of the girl's hands and burned the men. The two princes were frightened and the crowd dispersed shouting. Pavel, at the sight of that girl with fiery hands, grabbed his sword and pointed it towards her. She didn't want him, but she would've had no problem killing him along with the emperor's son.
"You're dead!" Pavel shouted like a scared beast; he wanted to make her go away by shaking his sword agitatedly. He was desperate. He didn't know what to do.

Wilhelm, on the other hand, already had a plan: he got behind Pavel and kicked him towards Elizabeth. The girl moved away immediately.
"Sheva!" Wilhelm exclaimed.
That second, that small moment of distraction, was enough for him to hit the girl in the stomach with a fiery fist. She tried to fight back, but one of the guards who was still alive shot her with a pistol. The bullet that hit her back was magical and was specifically designed for those that used magic: it not only extinguished her flames, but stunned her.
"Sheva’tun," said the prince, and the flames in his hands went out.
Pavel stood up, confused. He smiled at the prince and sheathed his weapon thinking he had been the victim of an unfortunate accident. Then he looked at the girl who had lost consciousness and asked Wilhelm:
"Who is she?"
"Maybe a traitor. I'll have to take her to the capital to interrogate her, but..." He noticed that most of his men were dead. "It won't be easy at all."
"Then I can take care of it!" Pavel exclaimed like a dog ready to serve.
"Mm?" He turned to the man as if he had just become aware of his existence. "Right... You can. Yes. You take care of that girl. I'll return to the capital and inform my father of what has happened."
"Great! And don't worry!" He put a hand on his shoulder. "My men will make her regret ever going against us!"

 

Elizabeth was tied up and loaded into an army truck; the destination was one of the most terrible places in Aisenev: Komar Katorga. It was a horrendous prison for political enemies, terrorists, rebels and  traitors. The prison was approximately 300 km from Grishkuv and therefore the military police had prepared for a four-hour journey across the tundra, with an intermediate stop in Nerienko, a village of just two thousand inhabitants called 'Purgatory' by the authorities; a name full of black irony.
The girl regained consciousness in the middle of the journey. The truck had recently abandoned Nerienko and would've reached its destination in about an hour. Her arms were tied just like her legs, together with her there were two guards.
"Don't be stupid, brat. You have no way out," one of them said."This is all your fault and you'll never make it out alive from the place we're about to take you."
She looked around nervously. She was already planning a way to escape, but without magic it wouldn't be easy.
"You shouldn't have done that shit. Everyone knows that the Drakalians are unbeatable." He aimed the rifle at her head. "Anyway: don't you think you're a little too young for these things? How old are you?"
"Twe-Twenty-two."
"Twenty-two?!" he repeated in shock. "With a pretty face like that you shouldn't do certain things! Girls today always want to put themselves in danger." He turned to his friend who was smoking a cigarette and asked, "Do you know why?"
"Politics. It's always like that. The modern woman no longer wants to be a mother and wife, they all want to act like men. The world is changing for the worse, if you ask me."

"Yeah, you might be right."

As the two talked, she noticed that the handcuffs had something strange; she looked at them carefully and realized that there were no particular engravings on the metal. She was so scared that she had assumed that they were prepared to transport a prisoner like her; but when she realized that this wasn't the case, she rejoiced. A smile escaped her; it was noticed.
"Why are you smiling? Do you find anything funny in all this?" asked the annoyed man. "Do you think it's fun to end up in Komar Katorga? Forced labor is not for women, believe me. I've seen many come to a bad end..."
"Because of the inmates, above all," added the other with a hint of evil irony. "They all act honest and idealistic when they are free, but inside a katorga they all become what they really are: beasts."
"Yeah, you're right. That's why it's better for them to stay there—"
"Do you believe the Drakalians see you as equals?" she asked out of the blue.
The two opened their eyes wide; no one answered. Neither of them even had any idea what the reason for that strange question was.
"I mean... after all your prince loves living in a palace full of imperial symbols and, as if that wasn't enough, he was happy to send thousands of his subjects to work as slaves in the mines of the Empire. What does this mean in your opinion? Have you ever thought about it? Have you ever thought about your prince? And... what about you?"
"Us?" the man asked confused.
"Yes you. Aisenevian police and army. I look at your guns and I see rifles that still have integral box magazines like those from two hundred years ago and, just like those, your guns have wooden parts. I bet you don't even have the Limiter Revolver."
"Limiter...?"
"The gun they shot me with—"

"Shut up!" The man slapped her. "Don't you dare judge us, bitch! You know nothing about our friends of the Empire!"
"Friends... yeah..." She smiled. "You're pathetic... You pick on me, but you'd never have the guts to be tough with a Drakalian, would you? You know what I'm saying is true. You're not their equals, they see you as servants and nothing more."
"I said shut up—"
"Sheva’el-Avelon!"
Two immense angelic wings made of fire emerged from the girl's back. The men were burned alive by the flames and she took flight, breaking through the roof. The heat loosened her chains and freed her from the handcuffs. She knew she couldn't fly for a long time and so, without thinking about where to go, she moved as far away as possible from the shots and furious screams of the military police.
She flew away. Further and further away. She flew over the tundra at very high speed and the longer she remained in the sky the more she lost altitude. She saw a large lake surrounded by a white forest, there was also smoke. She tried to stand up more to see what it was.
A village!
The longer she remained in the air, the more her magical energy was depleted. No magical energy meant only one thing: losing consciousness again and risking death due to a disastrous fall. She had everything under control—she thought she had everything under control. She wanted just to reach a safe place; just that. She continued to fly and began to descend; she needed time to land, but eventually the fire went out; the magical energy had come to an end.
Elizabeth fell into the water.

The impact caught the attention of a young man who was washing himself in the icy waters. He ran to see what had happened and, when he saw the girl, he immediately rescued her.