With the oath made, Aranor observed the boy. He'd thought he'd considered all the choices the boy might make. In honesty, he'd expected the boy to accept the Gardener calling. Or to run away.

Swearing the oath was… unfortunate. The nearby territories were all claimed, and it would take a considerable amount of resources to get the boy assigned one before the oath started to weigh upon him.

Aranor inspected the boy, who was, to all effect, simply standing there. A result of Aranor's accelerated mind, compounding the moment of weariness that always came after swearing the oath.

Retrieving his maps and laying them upon the table, Aranor considered his options. Despite the boy swearing the oath, Aranor could force him to take another role. The oath might weigh on him, inhibit the boy's growth while it was left unmet, but not enough to hide the truth. It was a shame he wasn't one of the core family. The ritual had worked well.

Too well, for a child who wasn't his.

Well, technically, he'd conceived the child. Of all his children, the boy really did resemble him the most. A shame, that those sharp blue eyes were from the boy's mother.

Aranor's own eyes returned to his maps. There was little reason to smooth over the problems the boy's ritual would create. Easier to send the boy off somewhere he'd be unseen. Somewhere… he walked his fingers towards the far side of the map, over in the east. Maybe…

His gaze returned to his own domain, nestled just to the west of the heart, practically spitting straight into the Infinite Rift. A noble place to stand. Respect was given to all who held such places, as was appropriate.

Again his eyes flicked to the boy as he cycled a spell, inspecting the shape of his mana. It was churning and untamed, not one that had been long worn down by the gentle flows of Nature. Were another with even half his skill to check the boy, they'd notice the same.

Again, his gaze returned to the map and his place upon the border. Perhaps, if the barrier wasn't letting through more and more low level monsters, he would've considered keeping the boy around.

Another glance at those eyes, so like his mother's.

No. One way or another, the boy's fate had always been to be sent somewhere Aranor would never have to look into those eyes again.

While the boy was still in a daze, Aranor once more shuffled his maps, looking through them with the speed that only a Djinn could, processing each with a different schism of his mind. The boy would soon be someone else's problem. He'd taken the oath.

He put away the maps of the Hundred Kingdoms, and pulled out maps of the far east.

Keeping the boy close would be a mistake. Thankfully, his old rival Althon had sent out a demand that Aranor repay his debt, asking for any ensouled Aranor could spare, Magus or not. He was worried about some sort of disaster, though as usual, the old Dragon-soul was closed lipped.

Tapping the map, he nodded. The Frigid Peaks would be where the boy would go, left to decide his own fate. Well, assuming his soul didn't collapse.

A month… a month of those eyes he could handle.

And if it meant he'd be rid of the sword dangling over his head that was the boy's loyal servant…

Well, two dragons, one spell, as the saying went.

Start of chapter 6, right after the minotaur attack.

The sky was grey as Nexxa met her friend in the city shortly after ensuring Perry had made it safely back to the family compound.

He'd killed a minotaur. On his own. Without a single spell to his name.

She should've been proud. And she was. Absolutely. She was also livid. Signs of her anger could be seen in the sparks coming off her knuckles as she tapped the table. It was herself she was angry at. She never should've left him on his own when there were monsters in the streets.

"What were minotaurs doing on the streets?" Nexxa demanded before her friend could even take her seat.

Tress raised an eyebrow at her as she slid into the chair across form her, sliding a warm drink across the table. "Not so much as a hello?" the light haired woman replied, raising her eyebrows while bringing her own cup close and blowing lightly on it. "Truly, your time amongst the Jade Enclave has made a savage of you."

"Don't give me that, Astressa," Nexxa said, holding a finger up in her friend's face. "You know I'm a Magus Dominus now."

"Yes, and isn't that quite the change. I was certain you'd be off hunting monsters until the day you died," Tress replied, pushing the finger to the side before taking a long sip of her drink. "You should try it. It's a rather splendid blend. All Worker made, not a single speck of ensouled mana to promote growth."

Nexxa rolled her eyes at the comment. It was all the rage in Arcadia to avoid ensouled foods and drinks, at least amongst the very ensouled who were normally responsible for the growth. As if mortal made produce was somehow more 'authentic'.

Still, Nexxa did sip her drink, and she found it was exquisite. Too perfect. Mortal-tended it might be, but the original plants had clearly been created by an experienced Nature mage.

Once she'd done the bare social minimum, her gaze returned to Tress. "The monsters in the city? What happened to the city shield?"

"It… malfunctioned. At least, that's the official story. Yet I've been hearing rumors it was sabotage," Tress said, a mischievous smile on her face. As though she held the keys to Arcadia's throne within her words. Still Tress' love of gossip was exactly why Nexxa had sought her out. "There was a group who tried to claim credit, but the rumors can't decide who. Whoever it was, it got our Berin worked up. You'd think a man who'd been ruling over the city for nearly a decade would have more composure. A disgrace to us all. Wouldn't be surprised if your father puts a new Magus Dominus in his place inside the month."

"That would be something father would do," Nexxa replied, frowning. The Berin, a position similar to the Republic's mayor, was a low ranked Magus Dominus, not even having their own Beacon. But they still had their duties. And this man had clearly failed his. It grated her that she had to go through Tress to find out he'd messed up. If she was one of the core family, she could've simply asked her father's head Diviner.

"I heard your brother acquitted himself well," Tress commented, with a lilt in her voice. "He's of age, isn't he? And recently awakened?"

"And he's taken the oath, same as me. We're headed to the Frigid Peaks," Nexxa replied, frowning at her friend.

"Oh poo. That's no fun. I'm rather attached to my creature comforts," Tress said, shaking her head. "Who knows what sort of mess you'll be thrown in when you arrive. Really, I can't believe you took that oath. If it were me…"

Nexxa was unable to hide her smile as Tress continued to rattle on. Yes, she didn't know what she was heading into. Still, whatever she found there, she was doing her part. A Magus Dominus on the frontier? She wouldn't just be playing at politics and hunting the occasional monster that slipped free of the front, she'd be making a real difference in peoples lives.

Best of all, she'd be going with the only decent member of her family.

Even if he had become a bit of a spell nerd.

Start of Chapter 11, right after arriving in the City on the Water

The morning sun rose well after Calbern.

As was proper.

After sorting out the young master's clothing, Calbern set to his first tasks of the day. While he'd been glad to travel with the young master, to ensure he didn't stumble as he took up his new mantle, he'd had other reasons for coming to the Frigid Peak, as cold as the trails of his friends of long ago had become.

The house Mastara was deemed sufficiently proficient to attend to breakfast. Still, it would be best if Calbern returned in time to see to master Perth's wardrobe. For all that his drive had improved after his night out with his brothers, his ability to maintain his apparel had suffered for it. As had his refined diction, when not in the presence of others.

Fair 'nuff?

Honestly, it was as though the young master had simultaneously matured and slipped back to his early teens.

A quick jog out into the city soon had him talking to one of his old contacts, an elf who'd settled in the City on the Water in his golden years, tired of the games he'd once played. Even retired, such a man couldn't help but keep abreast of those of significance. Unfortunately, while he did have news of those Calbern sought, it had been decades since either of them had last been seen.

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Not unforeseen, but far from preferred.

His old contact gave him what he could and Calbern thanked him as he sped back across the city, considering where the future might take him. The Frigid Peaks were a very different place from the Hundred Kingdoms. A place where many went to get lost.

It was possible he'd never find those he sought. And if so, it would be the work of years.

Thankfully, he still had a young master who'd lose his head if Calbern weren't around to keep it on for him.

The boy still had much to learn, if Calbern wanted him to fulfill his role to the exemplary standards he held himself to.

And for one Calbern loved so much, he could hardly do less.

End of chapter 36, right after Vaserra left Perry at the edge of Cape Aeternia/his domain.

Blizzards had once been Vaserra's favorite weather.

They reminded her of her mother. Of the first time she went out into one after bonding Frost Lily. There was a simple beauty to the soft white powder falling, covering the ugliness of the world.

No longer did a blizzard invoke such Wintered feelings. As she returned home, having safely escorted the new Magus Dominus to his domain, Vaserra frowned at the blizzard her father had summoned.

It was a little one. Not nearly as bad as the one he'd summoned two years earlier. That had blotted out their entire territory and a great ways beyond as well. This one only covered a few valleys and ridges.

Unfortunately, one of those valleys was the southernmost Sheepshome. As if her father hadn't made their lives difficult enough already. Thankfully she had the eggs and supplies gifted her by the Magus Dominus on the way. It was a bad day when a passing wizard was more willing to help her people than their champion.

Gripping her spear tightly, Vaserra shook her head free of such thoughts.

Her father wasn't her people's champion. Not anymore.

She simply needed to prove it.

If she could defeat him, issue the Call of Ice then get him to stand down. Maybe then…

Then she could lead and he could enjoy his retirement without worry.

The fight against the Inferno Drakes had been important. Vaserra had allowed fear to prevent her from tackling them for too long. Fear that her Ice would prove too warm, that her heart would prove too cold. It had kept her from considering other angles.

It had kept her from considering what was wrong with her father.

The ride back to Riven's Pass went quickly. She was tempted to check on the sheep, on the delivery of eggs and meat but she trusted Engrid and Intelid to handle it. Time was too precious. If she wanted to stop her father from sending off more sheep, she needed to be ready to challenge him before the Howling season struck.

Frost Lily bounded past the gate, barely slowing as she made her way towards her den. First, Vaserra needed her equipment. There were several threats around the other Sheephomes she'd tried to convince her father to deal with. Threats that would now serve as cracks within the glacier, allowing her to ascend.

Before she made it that far, her father stopped her. Thick muscled arms crossed, black braided hair swaying in the gentle breeze that ever flowed through Rivenkeep. He was displeased, frowning, going so far as to spit on the ground at Frost Lily's feet.

"Foolish girl," he said, his braided hair clacking as he shook his head. "I had my men take those eggs you were going to waste on the sheep."

Vaserra felt the heat rising up her neck. "You… how could you?"

"You forget yourself, Vaserra," her father said, hand glistening with near invisible ice. "Those eggs are far too valuable to waste giving away as food of all things. They will be traded for what we need."

He was right. Not about the eggs. About forgetting herself. She'd forgotten that she wasn't ready. That her father was on his way out, but that he still held the power.

With a force of will, she calmed herself.

Her father nodded approvingly, arms unfolding from across his chest. "That's right. We control the Ice, it doesn't control us. See to Frost Lily, then come see me. I need to know everything you learned about this new Magus Dominus. If he's going to be so meddlesome, stealing what is mine and giving it to the sheep… Well, best to know what sort of man he is now, before he becomes a threat."

Grateful that she'd already smoothed her features, Vaserra nodded. She'd answer his questions. If things went how she intended, it wouldn't matter.

One way or another, her father's reign would soon end. No longer would she allow him to keep her from protecting her people.

Middle of Chapter 45, as Perry is going around meeting the Tethered before sentencing Grivis

Selvi still wasn't sure what to make of their new Magus Dominus. Yes, he'd stopped Grivis and even healed the worst of her injuries.

Reaching up, she brushed a hand across the scars. They still burned. His healing hadn't done anything to fix that. That was fine. She saw them as a reminder. A reminder of her failure. First with Balthum, then with Grivis.

She didn't intend to fail again, with this new magelord. He might not be cruel but he was young. And soft.

It wasn't just her that saw it. Her people, her fellow Tethered, saw it too. His stiff movements, having to reach to grip the ropes with every other step, the lack of callouses…

Except when she looked in his eyes, she saw something else. There was hardness there, of a sort that even Balthum hadn't shown. He'd suffered once, of that she was sure. But suffering hardly made for a good leader. If it had, Selvi would've been the greatest netmaster to have ever swung a rope.

That he promised things would be improved… more than once, Selvi found herself glaring down one of the Tethered who were preparing to toss him off the nets.

Promises had been given often by those who'd sought to challenge Balthum. Suffering had been their only reward.

While Selvi might not be certain of their new magelord, he'd at least earned a chance.

There was a growing ember of hope as he went amongst her people. A dangerous feeling she did her best to quash. She couldn't afford to trust his words. She found herself wanting to, but reminded herself of the last time she'd hoped for things to get better.

Of the way Balthum's eyes had blinked open. Of the way he'd calmly pulled her blade free. Of the torrent of hopelessness that had filled her.

Miracles didn't happen in Tetherfall. Just the calm before the next storm rolled in. Yes, the man had earned a chance to prove he was better than Balthum and Grivis.

And… if he proved he wasn't.

Her gaze met Myris', where the older woman hung in the nets above.

If he wasn't. Well, fraying outsiders weren't protected by the rites. There wouldn't be a trial for him, when he took his fall.

Start of Chapter 66, the chapter after Perry is knocked unconscious by Nexxa's Lightning Bolt. (Possibly the middle of chapter 65)

Another curse slipped from her lips as Nexxa dodged to the side, barely escaping the blade that sought her heart.

The Jade Shadow barely hesitated, flowing directly into their next attack, their stiletto trailing green light. The figure seemed sluggish, their cloaked form not moving with the poise the last such assassin had displayed.

Whether that was from the spell they'd used to follow her or having taken the majority of the Lightning Bolt that had clipped Perry, Nexxa couldn't be sure.

Nexxa knew better than to let that blade touch her. A single nick and her magic would start working against her. She wasn't supposed to know that. Or that the Gardeners even had a secret order of assassins. But she'd never been good at keeping her nose out of things. It was part of why she'd ascended to Paragon so fast.

It was also why they'd sent assassins after her.

Her gaze slipped towards her… brother.

It was him, at least in part. She was certain of that.

But…

Another strike from the Jade Shadow had her cursing again as she flung out a more carefully aimed bolt of lightning. Her mana was limited this far from the storm. She'd already wasted too much on the bolt she'd tossed on reflex.

The Jade Shadow seemed to have picked up on the focus of her distraction, as they stopped attempting to strike her directly, moving towards Perry. Nexxa cursed to herself as she distracted the Jade Shadow with another Lightning Bolt, dashing forward to grab him first.

With a thought, she channeled mana into Written Word, attempting to write a message to Perry. It didn't come out as legible as she'd have preferred. Turned out it was difficult to dodge a magically enhanced assassin while carrying a man twice her own weight and concentrating on her words all at the same time.

Still, she was pretty sure she'd gotten the important words down.

'Sorry Perry, soul hunter after me. Going back to the Front. Sorry it all got messed up. Can't fight here. Sorry.'

Some of them might've been a bit smudged but-

Nexxa jumped back, letting out a Spark with only a trickle of mana in it, just enough to make the assassin think they needed to dodge. She really needed to get Perry to safety. And then she needed to get to the storm.

With the storm's mana, this fight would be simplicity itself.

Only… Nexxa glanced at her brother's unconscious form. She… should probably come back after. Talk to him.

After. She needed time. Time to sort out her feelings.

As the assassin made another lunge towards them, Nexxa used Lightning Transfer, flashing over to where Calbern and the translator in the cloak were waiting. She dropped Perry with a thump, handing over the letter.

Then, before the Fronting Jade Shadow could target them, Nexxa used another Lightning Transfer to crash down towards the storm.

Only once she was certain the assassin was following her again, did she continue her mad dash towards the storm, drawing every iota of mana she could.

"You better not die on me, Perry," she muttered under her breath. She rolled to the side as the assassin came slinging through the air, using some sort of magic that seemed to attract them to her. "Right. He's not the only one who needs to survive."

"Come on, you Fronting glorified weed picker," Nexxa called as she drew in a pocket of Storm mana that had collected near the lake's edge. "Let's get this over with."

Start of chapter 75 - The Ice Calls, right after a blizzard settles over Cape Aeternia

The sky was covered in grey, light snow falling across the five vales. Too early. Far too early.

And too large.

Vaserra's father had acted while she'd been hunting. A great ritual, calling on the entire pack's magic. One of the hidden strengths of the Frost Riven. She'd only barely been able to fight off the drain.

His raving had gotten worse every day. One of the eagle-bonded from the Ten Feathers clan had kept watch on the new Magus Dominus as a favor to her father. Over a barrel of the blue wine he loved so much, he'd revealed their new neighbor found something. Something father wanted.

"We need to move. Soon," Vaserra told Intelid a short time later, during what should've been a celebration. "While we have seen much success, and the sheep are safer than ever, it is too slow. We will need to head south, risk the jungles. There are many worthy foes there."

"That's too dangerous. Even more so than going against your father. You know there are ancient monsters sleeping there," Intelid said, his weathered face twisting into a grimace. "Another winter will be enough. What will the sheep do if we all die after waking a giant spider the size of Frost Lily?"

"Coward," Engrid said, shaking her head. "You'd have us live forever, instead of doing as is right?"

"It is Vaserra I am concerned for, as you well know, you fire-blooded fool," Intelid shot back.

Vaserra found herself smiling despite the grim task ahead as her friends bickered. Intelid and Engrid had been at her side longer than she could remember. She'd once run alongside their children, some of her closest friends. Those friends had died in one of her father's glorious raids on the Grizzled, attempting to 'put the Bears in their place,' as he'd put it.

It had been over two decades since that terrible raid. Ice, was Vaserra really almost fifty winters old?

The years slipped past so fast.

"What about that Magus? Could he help?" Intelid asked, drawing Vaserra's attention back to the moment.

"Perhaps, to keep the battle fair. I must defeat father properly, if I am to lead. However, I don't trust him to answer the Call of Ice solely with his packmates."

"You think he'd enlist outside aid?" Engrid asked, spitting, running a hand through her red hair. "Sarpit surely hasn't fallen that far."

Engrid had loved her father once. Would've been proud to call him life-mate. Yet she'd still sided with Vaserra over him, when he started taking the tribe towards ruin. Vaserra had always appreciated her for that.

"When was the last time father answered a challenge without the twins and that cat lord at his side?" Vaserra replied, grimacing. "No, he has abandoned his honor."

A rustling noise interrupted them. As Vaserra turned, she spotted one of her father's boiling sycophants darting away.

"Well, Ice me," Intelid swore. "That's not going to be good."

"No," Vaserra agreed. "Best you gather the pack. Our celebration is over."

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