The dining hall was lively. Voices overlapped, tables scraped, cutlery clattered onto iron plates filled to the brim, as if the food had lost its flavor in the face of the avalanche of rumors. The news of the truce didn't come from a single source — it arose from every corner, carried by stories, theories, and poorly confirmed gossip.
No one really knew how it would work. The draft of the agreement hadn't yet reached Svarog. But one thing was certain: the terms seemed lenient — more lenient than any race ever conquered by the Empire had received. Too lenient.
"They're going to stab us in the back at the first opportunity!"
Andrei bellowed, his fist raised high with a bloodied, rare roasted game thigh. The grease dripped from his fingers, splattering on the floor and even on the unlucky ones who walked nearby.
"Love… at least try to speak with your mouth closed or with nothing in your hands,"
sighed Ekaterina, discreetly wiping away some drops of fat that had landed on her sleeve.
She shared her husband's distrust, but deep down, she acknowledged: an endless war was unsustainable. At some point, one way or another, it would have to end. She just didn't want to be the first Northerner sent to the imperial altar to "test" the truce.
"Let me see if I got this straight…"
Nikolai finally jumped into the conversation, eyes squinting.
"The agreement offers benefits to those who enlist in the imperial army. Including… even the chance to receive an artifact made by the Empire's craftsmen?"
The murmuring around them ceased for a moment. Some eyes turned to him; others, to their own plates — as if hearing the confirmation out loud gave weight to something no one wanted to believe… or even be sure of.
"That's right,"
someone said from another table.
"They didn't restrict it by bloodline. Even black bear tamers can go."
someone snapped from across the room.
"Shut up, that doesn't make any sense. You all pull this stuff out of your asses like it was carved in stone. Nobody knows shit!"
Ekaterina gritted her teeth.
"If I had to guess…"
Andrei dropped the clean bone on the table, eyes narrowing.
"I'd say there's something wrong with the Empire. Very wrong."
Nikolai swallowed hard.
"You think they have… a new enemy?"
The word hung in the air like blasphemy.
War.
No one in Svarog knew for sure. The Empire had always seemed infinite, an ocean of men and winged beasts that never stopped expanding. But there were rumors — rumors that the advance force at the Strait was shrinking every month. Patrolmen spoke of fewer winged ones, fewer soldiers, fewer eyes in the snow.
What could be holding the Empire's attention? Some believed they had found an enemy greater than themselves, a colossal fish capable of swallowing even the most voracious predator.
And if that were true… then the truce wasn't generosity. It was desperation.
"From what I heard from a friend who frequents the castle…"
Vadim began, her voice low, but clear enough to draw the attention of nearby tables.
"They say the Empire found an enemy beyond the Misty Sea. And apparently, they're afraid."
The table seemed to hold its breath for a moment. Rarely did anyone have access to rumors coming directly from the castle, but living as Vadim did in Medved was a privilege: she heard whispers from every corner — brought by servants, merchants, or the wives of powerful men who didn't know how to keep secrets.
The secret was in knowing the right person, with the right information. And then, it was just a matter of bringing up the subject at the exact moment — and there you had it: you found out what the true weavers of the North's fate actually knew.
"Of course, it's hard to separate truth from lies,"
she went on.
"But one thing I'm sure of: the Empire is struggling to deal with the enemy."
Kuzma, until then, had seemed detached from the discussion, eating in silence. But suddenly, he coughed loudly, making everyone fall silent. He wiped his mouth, raised his eyes, and spoke firmly:
"Our team has been together for years. We don't need the Empire's benefits — no matter what they are. My suggestion is that we ignore this possible call-up, no matter how tempting it may seem."
He paused, his eyes scanning each of his companions.
"But if this is true… I won't stop anyone. To me, you're not just battle partners — you're my closest friends."
A heavy silence settled. Kuzma knew there was a real risk his group might fall apart. The Empire could offer what Svarog never could: artifacts, wealth — maybe even comfort. Especially for black bear tamers like him. His group wasn't strong, just stubborn survivors.
And yet, when he expected hesitation… he was met with laughter.
"You think we're going to abandon our leader?"
said Andrei, smiling.
"Never. We still need to conquer the third and fourth floors, remember?"
Ekaterina placed her hand over Andrei's and added:
"My husband and I will always stand by you. We owe too much to you and your wife."
Andrei nodded vigorously, as if any further words were unnecessary.
Finally, the lightest voice chimed in:
"Brother, stop being silly,"
Daria said, trying to hide the emotion behind her casual tone.
"We'll always be together. In fact… I actually see this as good news."
Everyone looked at her, curious.
"After all, with fewer people in Svarog…"
she gave a mischievous smile.
"The first and second floors are going to be much freer for us to enjoy."
Laughter echoed across the table, breaking the tension. For a moment, the weight of the truce, the Empire, and the uncertain future disappeared. What remained was the warmth of a shared table, the strength of a group that, even in the face of the greatest temptations, still chose to stay united.
Everyone seemed certain of their decisions. The table was filled with smiles and conviction, but one voice was still missing. A curious silence spread through the group until all eyes turned to Nikolai.
He, however, was more focused on desperately chewing a juicy piece of meat — from some animal no one cared to identify — biting into it grotesquely. The grease dripped down his chin, splattered on the table, and made some girls at nearby tables look over in disgust. It was only when he noticed all the eyes on him that he choked, pounding his chest.
"Fr… friends…"
he coughed, swallowing with effort.
"I still need to train a lot before I even think about anything. I have zero interest in joining any alliance with the Empire, whatever it may be — not even for all the money in the world."
The group erupted in applause and cheers of approval.
"HELL YEAH! Fuck the Empire!"
Andrei shouted, raising a huge jug he used as a cup.
"Then we're in this together! Let's conquer this place and get rich!"
The laughter was unanimous. That was Andrei's way: over-the-top, loud, and impossible not to follow. No one expected him to change — he'd been like that far too long for anyone to try.
Nikolai looked around at the faces around him. Kuzma and Daria, serious but proud. Vadim smiling with that sparkle in her eyes of someone who had seen everything and still believed in tomorrow. Ekaterina leaning on her husband, but with her usual firm expression. And he… among them, feeling more and more at home.
Dinner ended up lasting longer than anyone expected. Laughter mingled with serious discussions, political speculations crossed with memories of old hunts — and time simply slipped away.
In the end, however, they reached a consensus: the expedition, now with the full group, would depart the next morning.
The climb to the upper floors, where the dormitories were located, was more difficult than Nikolai had expected. He had to overcome several flights of stairs before finally reaching his room and, upon entering, found everything strange. Despite Svarog being immense in every possible aspect, curiously, the room did not reflect that grandeur — it was, in fact, extremely small. There was only a bed pushed up against the wall, a tiny bathroom, and nothing more.
In the end, that didn't matter.
He was exhausted and full. His body still hadn't fully recovered since the incident, and climbing to the eleventh floor had drained him. But even so, it didn't matter.
He was there. With Ashen lying beside him. Finally on the brink of his first true challenge.
He felt anxious and tired — an incongruity that gnawed at him inside, but that, paradoxically, made his heart beat faster.
"Well, I guess that's it, Ashen,"
he said, settling into the narrow bed.
"Tomorrow will be our first day… are you nervous?"
The answer came clearly in his mind.
"Yes. And you?"
Nikolai smiled. Ashen still wasn't capable of holding a full conversation, but he already expressed himself with more than just vague, scattered desires. They were learning to understand each other.
"Yes, I am…"
he confessed.
"But I'm also excited. I want to show our best."
"Yes."
He had left his clothes ready beside the bed, boots aligned, reinforced jacket. He had spent the last few hours adjusting the metal prosthesis, wrapping it in leather straps to prevent sand and stones from getting in and compromising movement or ambushes. Everything was ready. Everything except his mind, which insisted on staying awake.
As he stared at the ceiling, he murmured:
"Sometimes I wish I were related to some noble… just to know what's really going on."
He sighed.
"But then I remember I hate them too. Anyway…"
He turned over. Ashen was already snoring heavily, his belly full of meat, his spirit exhausted. Nikolai smiled at the sight of him so peaceful.
"I hope tomorrow… we manage to prove our worth,"
he whispered, finally closing his eyes.
And the silence of the tower wrapped around him, heavy and full of promises.
* * *
While Nikolai slept peacefully in his narrow bed, in another part of the sky far from the north, a group of five people was cutting through the clouds aboard a flying carriage, pulled by two griffins with golden wings that beat rhythmically against the night wind.
The cold wind whipped against the passengers' faces, but inside the carriage the tension felt colder than the air itself.
"So we really came… to propose a ceasefire?"
Lena asked, her voice still hesitant. Sitting next to Frida, she gripped the seat with her fingers, trying to cling to some certainty amid the void.
She was the only one who seemed genuinely surprised by the revelation. Until then, she had believed the trip was merely a trial and that nothing concrete would happen — perhaps just a cultural exchange between the Empire and the North. A pretty story, but fragile. Something inside her had felt something was off. Now, hearing that, the suspicion turned into a stone in her stomach.
Hans, the history professor, remained calm. The man who taught about ancient battles and forgotten treaties now spoke differently, as if he had always carried a hidden burden.
"Yes,"
he confirmed, adjusting the cloak over his shoulders.
"In fact, this possibility had been in the air for some time. But we needed to… close a deal."
"A deal?"
Lena narrowed her eyes.
Hans took a deep breath, avoiding her gaze.
"Unfortunately, it didn't go exactly as I wanted… but at least we secured a guarantee."
"A guarantee of what?"
Lena shot back, her curiosity overflowing.
She hated being kept in the dark. Since the beginning of the trip, they had kept her on the sidelines, treated like a mere accessory in a game of larger pieces. She had agreed to come along because she needed the grade to try for the Winged title. But the more she understood, the more she realized she was being used as a scapegoat.
Hans hesitated. He looked ahead, at the horizon covered in clouds, as if seeking strength in the darkness.
"I can't say. Not yet. The true reason for this journey was kept secret by my lady. There are too many forces within the Empire itself that would rather see everything fail before it even begins. We had to come up with a convincing excuse, and honestly, no one would suspect that a history professor and two students would do something like what we did."
He sighed.
"I'm sorry for involving you in this. But in the end… it worked."
The words hit her mind like stones.
Lena was beginning to piece it together: sent to the North in secret, on a veiled mission; decisions made in the name of the Empire, but without the slightest trace of official consent — as if some internal dispute was being disguised under the veil of diplomacy.
Hans, Frida, and herself would never be seen as main players — to everyone else, they were just the smokescreen. Presented as mere pawns, they were, in fact, knights and rooks positioned for the final move.
"Do you think… we're in danger?"
she asked, her voice steadier than she expected.
Hans turned slowly, studying his pupil. He was surprised by how quickly she was grasping the game.
"I don't think so anymore,"
he said calmly.
"We had moderate success in our objectives."
Silence once again took over the carriage, broken only by the powerful beating of the griffins' wings.
"So that's it…"
Lena murmured, as if still doubting her own reasoning.
Hans tilted his head slightly.
"Yes,"
he replied softly.
"That's it."
But the way his gaze drifted into the night made it clear: nothing was settled.
This was only the beginning.