Prologue
My first sin during the crimson blizzard, was theft. Prior to that day, I had never stolen food from a beggar, let alone a dying man. In my defense, all the trade routes leading out of the city were buried underneath miles of snow, imposing cruel methods on us for survival. That didn’t make me feel any less rotten as my friends handed me the furs we pilfered from the foreign merchant.
“Why are you looking at us like that?” Tim, the taller of the twins, asked. “This was your plan.”
“You should have refused me,” I retorted even as I hugged the ill-gotten gains to warm my chest. “This red cold is curliest to the weak. That man will freeze now.”
“What’s done is done. Just go home, and keep your family warm.” Tom said stoically as he gently urged me on my way.
I stood there for a while before I spoke again. The scene we were in, a guard sworn to the law casually breaking it for a friend, it reminded me of something awful. “We’re becoming more like the clans.”
“Please don’t start.” Tim pleaded as he wiped his face. “I do not want to hear another lecture while my skin is peeling from the cold.”
I ignored my friend’s petition. “Once this storm passes, I can start my apprenticeship under Alchemist Oram. With time, I’ll exceed his position and change this miserable city for good.” Those words had been repeated so many times, it felt like a tick. Still, I meant them then, and I still do.
“Unless your new master finds out you lied about, well damn near everything on your letters of introduction.” Tim joked. “Your schemes are only so clever Jon, but they are not perfect.”
“Let’s not waste time arguing, we have our rounds to make.” Tom replied as he dragged his brother away, careful not to drop his musket on the ground with his other hand.
“Laugh now, but once I pull all our families out of the slums we dredge in everyday, all your doubts will be turned into admiration.” I cried to the backs of my friends.
“Whatever you say Jon, as long as I see you at dice tonight.” Tim called back as he and his brother, my two oldest friends, disappeared into the fog of snow.
***
I kept my eyes down as I walked home. There wasn’t much to see anyways; the streets were a shadow of their former selves. The grumbling factory workers were replaced by hollow people. The vagrants who walked the streets were either long frozen over or given temporary homes by those who could spare it. I was used to pushing my way through crowds. That was the only way to travel the streets before the red blizzard came. It only took a few days for the outdoor population to drop.
The makeshift cloak was barely doing its job to keep me warm. So, as I grew closer to my rundown home, I hastened to enter. My father was sitting on his favorite chair sharpening his pickaxe while my mother and sister were eating hot soup—our daily delicacy. “I managed to get a good deal with that northern merchant.” I lied as I placed the furs on a counter. “Did a few favors for the man and promised some more.”
“Ha, no kidding.” My dad remarked. “See what a few hours of honest labor can get you son.” He put down his pickaxe to inspect my spoils.
“We’re really proud of you Jon.” My mother said with my older sister nodding along. “Your sister will put those to use fast, won’t you.”
“I’ll get right on it.” My sister cheerfully replied, as she put down her soup to gather the fur from my dad.
Gods, my family and I were so unlike. I was insatiable; they were content. It made it easy to get along with them, but difficult to aspire to.
“I’ve had a long day; I’m just going to lay down for a while.” I said as I reached for the ladder to our second floor.
“One moment son.” My dad called after me. “There is a town speech tomorrow, the mayor called it. You think you can go it my stead?” He motioned to his recently injured leg he got from working a double shift in the mines. I looked at him for a moment before smiling and giving a nod.
***
I arrived in the town square the following day. Wearing his usual all black suit, with his dark top hat, the mayor walked through the balcony doors and stood upon a great podium to greet us workers. Despite being a portly man well past middle age, he always carried himself well. Somehow from where I stood, I could tell beneath his monocle, his face wore a politician’s smile. Flanking him as always was his mage assistant, a sign of fortune that never seemed to trickle down. One of the many wrongs I had hoped to right one day.
“Brothers and sisters.” The mayor’s voice boomed by use of his mage assistant as he gave his speech above the castle-like town hall. “Ladies and gentlemen, man, and others, huddle near the fires and heed my words.” The mayor had a peculiar way of speech, akin to a showman addressing a crowd. It was like he never took us seriously as peers. “The days are long, even for me. Nights are now far more treacherous than ever before.” People already started their grumbling, their discontent threatening to boil to outright rage. But it was too soon for my fellow citizens to react. They listened intently.
“Whether some god has taken offense at our great city, or some foul dark force circles our home we must stand firm; we will endure as we have all our hardships and trials. Great nations have tried testing our mettle; monsters hidden in the shadows of the mountains hungered for our flesh; famine plagued our streets. Every time we came out stronger, greater.”
I could see where the speech was going, I had hoped my fellow city men did too. I gave them too much credit.
“Why must this cold be any different? Why must we turn to indolence? Already I hear that our factories of fire and smoke lie empty. That our mines no longer make the sounds of industry. That my people are too scared to work. Scared . . . scared of the cold?”
His words quickly resonated with the crowd, and people who only moments ago would have stayed home to endure the chill were now inflamed by rage. The mayor was speaking to our sense of Londal pride. As if there was anything to be prideful about.
“We are the city of smoke. We are the city of heat. We are the city of splendor.” As the mayor’s words took on a poetic cadence, I was not surprised to see the foul fruit of patriotism blossom. It took only a few soothing words—built on a lifetime of propaganda—to make the poor denizens of Londal thrilled to die for a home they should hate.
“I say no more rest. No more fear. We shall all return to our duties and forever light the flames of industry. So that all the gods of fire and metal may be pleased with us and spare us of this temporary hindrance. This momentary snag on our great history. For Londal, the city of black gold, shall stand eternal!”
With that, people cheered in mass. Thousands upon thousands of voices cried out for glory, drowning out my thoughts. I never cared much for the mayor, but I had to respect his charisma.
At the very least the people wouldn’t cry as the cold slowed their hearts.
The new would-be iron hearts of Londal’s people rusted as in the span of two hours every scout that was sent out to find safe roads returned. I remember the feeling of my own chest tightening as the news the scouts brought back was spread throughout the city. Two armies each tens of thousands strong, marched on Londal from both roads leading to the city. With them where beasts of war as tall as our factories.
The mayor refused to make an appearance to calm the new horde of terrified people banging on the town hall gate. Instead, the captain of the guard, Hu Ye, a massive tiger chimera shared his plans for the city. We where all to be turned into a militia.
Everyone received basic training in warfare and survival. Ever the diligent student, I took the training very seriously from the start. In addition to the basic training given to large swathes of the population, I also learned under the personal tutelage of my twin friends Tim and Tom, who quickly shaped me into a less than capable fighter. A great improvement from what I was before. I could aim and shoot a standard weapon, but if anyone got close enough to force me to use the bayonet, my fate would be decided by grit and luck.
I spent my precious free time in the city’s library reading about warfare. That was when I still believed an answer to every question lay in those shelves. My parents could not afford him an education; but as a child, I would haunt these library walls eavesdropping on the lessons of children who could. It earned me more than a few beatings, but it was worth it. In exchange for my bruises, I became well versed in many sciences, primarily alchemy and magic. On a few occasions in the past, I consumed knowledge that had no right to exist in a mortal library. I still do not know how that grimoire came to be there.
On the day before the invading army arrived, the peoples of Londal were fully mobilized. Each member of the new militia was required to report to our training officers. There, we would be led to our designated spots within the vast labyrinth city.. Should Londal’s walls and cannons fall, Hu Ye was preparing the city for a new style of urban warfare. One that sought to reverse the invading army’s size advantage against them, and explicit their archaic weaponry.
When the morning came, I gave my family a long goodbye as each of us served a different squadron. I do not really remember all that we said to each other weirdly enough. I think I was trying to forget it even as we said our goodbyes. In all honesty I thought I would see them again in the life after, I still could have if not for my damned tongue. I suppose there is hope yet. I am here after all.
My squadron was filled with people I had only ever seen walking the streets, prior to the cold calamity. As I walked side-by-side with them a macabre thought entered my mind. “Perhaps it is a mercy to face death surrounded by strangers who wouldn’t mourn my life.” I held onto that thought for a while.
We were given a street corner that offered us an advantageous position to see approaching soldiers. My team was split into smaller groups of three and spread out both inside and outside the corner building. The order was simple: keep our rifles pointed out the windows and squeeze their triggers at any sign of movement. Fire before all else. Shoot to kill.
With no one walking the streets, the empty road looked like a premonition of death. Crimson snow piled high and stretched long. I wondered how long before the blood of war became indistinguishable from that red frost.
“You think they will get this far?” whispered one of my compatriots, a man kneeling by a window close to me named Zack.
“I doubt they will get past the walls,” Baid replied before I could think of an answer. “We have hundreds of cannons lining the towers, alongside a few thousand gunmen. From what the scouts claimed, the invaders still used swords and spears.” Baid sneered in her thick Londal accent. Though it was not hard for me to see that her false confidence came from a place of fear.
The invaders appeared from nowhere after weeks of red snow darkened our already smog filled sky. It was safe to say that the invaders had a hand in Londal’s sudden chill, which boded ill. But I was wise enough to know that it doesn’t do well for morale to truthfully assess the odds of victory. Just as I knew to bite my tongue when the mayor spoke nonsense.
Any further discussion we might have had was cut short as a loud horn sounded throughout the city. We were taught its meanings. One meant peace, two meant war, and three meant surrender. We all held our breath, hoping it ended after one. A minute after the first horn sounded, I spoke. “It looks like negotiations may yet prove fruitful.” If I was smug, it was mostly from my own sense of relief. The confidence was smothered by the sound of a second horn, which was followed by a thousand rounds of gunfire and cannon shots filling the air.
We all sat in silence for an hour that lasted a lifetime, listening intently as the roars of beasts slowly overwhelmed the sound of battle. Roars, and the loud banging of drums. “What in gods’ name is that?” Zack asked anyone who might know. But Baid was too focused on her prayers to the sun god, and I was lost in my thoughts. My mortality was weighing on me not because I feared death, but because I had worked so hard to accomplish my dreams, and there was still so much I wanted to do.
The roars and drums grew loud enough to muffle the hail of metal, much to my dismay. For gunpowder to go silent was ill for Londal.
Large shadows began to cover the road. When we three militia members instinctively looked up, boulders filled the sky. Unlike the gently falling red, the boulders came crashing down on the city, breaking through walls with unimaginable ease. Baid, Zack, and I were all paralyzed in a blinding fear.
Fear that mercifully shielded our eyes from the boulder that charted towards us. At first, it was indistinguishable from a small bird in the sky. As it grew closer, it blotted out the sun. In the movement before it struck, I could feel my muscles tense hoping to survive. In an instant, the boulder destroyed the corner building that we foolishly imagined would keep us safe. All the inhabitants were killed. Except me, who lay unconscious for some time.
I was taken prisoner shortly after and brought to a hag as my home lay dead around me. It was then I discovered my magic. With it I managed to contact two powers I still do not understand and struck a deal with the one who promised revenge in turn for my soul. His side of the bargain came in the form of reciprocal payment. Instead of simply wiping out my invaders he made us all watch as he tore apart their own city, that was filled with children and the elderly of their kind. Icemen.
