While on the road, the two brothers maintained an unnerving silence between them. They both kept their gazes averted, and, truth be told, Winter was occupied solely with thoughts of how to complete the quest more swiftly. It was not impossible, yet it would be arduous, given that he might soon be drawn into a war alongside numerous other trials. Not to mention that this was no conflict against ordinary beings, which made it evident that it would not be easy in the slightest. Nevertheless, there would be abundant pleasure and further rewards to savour.
If he did not perish before its conclusion, that is.
He crossed his legs and released a quiet sigh.
The only sound that disturbed the silence was the rattling of the wagons and the royal carriage, accompanied by the slow, measured steps of the horses that carried them steadily onward.
At that moment, it seemed that the prolonged absence of conversation had made William uneasy, prompting him to advance some remark at the very least.
William, after an abrupt chuckle, said:
"Come to think of it, why did our mother name you Winter, and me William?"
Winter turned towards him with a faintly dazed expression. He had anticipated that William might attempt to draw him into conversation, yet not upon such a topic as this. It was, to put it mildly, rather inane.
Even so, he did not deny him an audience. He understood too well how oppressive near two hours of silence could become, and it had indeed been almost that long since their departure.
He replied in a solemn, faintly poetic tone:
"Perhaps it is because I was born in winter. I imagine Mother may have found herself short of inspiration and simply chose whatever name first came to mind."
William blinked twice. His expression was suspended between surprise and confusion.
'What? Have I misspoken?' Winter wondered, regarding him blankly.
After a moment of thinning silence, William recollected himself and responded:
"Ah. That… does sound rather plausible. A somewhat poetic name, I suppose."
Winter gave a quiet scoff.
"Yes."
In reality, he was not fond of poetry. The reason he had been named Winter in his previous life, according to what he remembered, was far less romantic. His mother had been an author and had named him after a character in one of her novels, who had coincidentally been born during the winter season. That was all he knew. She possessed a decidedly poetic disposition.
He disliked poetry precisely because she adored it.
Perhaps the reason his present self bore the same name was likewise poetic, or perhaps it was merely the consequence of limited imagination and unfortunate timing within the season of winter. Either way, the coincidence felt almost deliberate. The connection between the two lives was difficult to ignore.
He had only just come to realise as much.
Silence once again settled between the two brothers, heavy and unbroken, with nothing further to exchange.
Outside, the sun began its gradual descent beneath the horizon, ushering in the approach of night. The sky grew darker and darker still. They were making their way along the mountain path, and beyond the mountain's slope lay the forest, after which they would arrive at the camp.
However, they were compelled to halt for the night, for descending the mountain slope in darkness would have been tantamount to suicide. The road was rocky and unstable, and in such conditions it could very well send them plummeting to their deaths, perhaps resulting in mass casualties. With the coming of dawn, they would be able to traverse the slope safely.
Moreover, even if they pressed onward without establishing a temporary camp, the forest posed its own peril. Dangerous beasts prowled there under the cover of night, lying in wait for prey, their chances of a successful hunt greatly heightened by the darkness.
It was far safer to stop…!
"Rein in the horses! We shall make camp here for the night," Bethel commanded, dismounting from his horse to direct the men as they began establishing camp along the mountainside.
Winter, fatigued and stiff from remaining within the carriage throughout the journey, was eager for the moment they finished their preparations. He soon stepped down to take in the cool night air, while several men moved about gathering firewood for a bonfire and erecting two modest tents for the princes.
William descended shortly thereafter and distanced himself from Winter, taking a seat upon a large brownish rock as he fixed his gaze upon the night sky. Three men from his division, including his personal adviser, hastened to his side unbidden, prepared to attend to his every requirement before he chose to relieve them of their heads for incompetence.
It was not as though he had never attempted such a thing before.
Abruptly, William raised his hand towards a constellation and commanded:
"Inform me of everything concerning that constellation."
The formation consisted of five pale stars stretched across the heavens in a slanted line, each one marginally brighter than the last. Though they appeared scattered at first glance, closer observation revealed faint threads of starlight linking them, crossing delicately between each point. The highest star shimmered with a cool blue hue, whilst the lowest burned with a faint amber glow, granting the entire arrangement a subtle gradient against the dark expanse. The three central stars lay closer together, forming the heart of the pattern, while the outer two anchored it at opposing ends. When traced with care, the connecting lines formed a tilted lattice, reminiscent of fine silk suspended in moonlight.
Commonly known as Velaryn's Loom, it was said to resemble a celestial loom hung within the heavens, eternally weaving the threads of fate between its five silent lights.
In many cases, it signified danger, and sometimes, luck.
The tyrant prince was already familiar with this, yet he insisted upon hearing a tale of it nonetheless, a request his personal adviser would never dare refuse. The short, grey haired man stepped forward with composed demeanour and began his explanation.
Winter observed them from a distance for a moment before averting his gaze and walking towards the bonfire that had just been lit. He took a seat upon a smaller boulder as the flames cast a faint golden glow across his features, granting him warmth against the night air. Bethel promptly hurried to retrieve a water flask for him, which Winter accepted, drinking half its contents before returning it to his ever attentive adviser.
"Thank you, Bethel," Winter said.
Bethel regarded the prince with undisguised astonishment. In all the years he had served him, this was the first occasion upon which he had received genuine gratitude. For a fleeting moment, he wondered whether the prince had been overtaken by some altering spirit overnight.
Suppressing the thought, the scholarly adviser offered a brief bow before ensuring that the camp had been properly established. Once satisfied, he permitted the men to begin roasting the fine cuts of meat reserved for the princes, whilst they themselves partook only of modest rations of bread and water.
A faint discomfort stirred within Winter as he ate the prepared meat while the soldiers nearby gnawed upon stale bread. It did not sit well with him. Yet rank demanded distinction, and they could not partake of the same fare as the princes. Such was the rigid structure of social hierarchy.
'…I truly ought not to concern myself with that at present. My priority should be this quest, and deepening my understanding of this world's power system — and of the system itself. Without that, I would be nothing more than a mindless sex doll. I would not desire such a fate… though it might have its appeal—'
He abruptly choked on the water he had been about to swallow at the direction his thoughts had taken.
'Absolutely not. Ahem. That is most certainly not what I want.'
William cast him a brief, puzzled glance at the sound, then looked away once he determined that nothing was amiss.
"You ought to take greater care," he remarked evenly, without turning towards him.
Winter inclined his head in acknowledgment but offered no reply.
After the brief repast, the two retired to their respective tents to rest, while the guards remained vigilant throughout the night.
Yet with the wind howling restlessly across the mountainside, Winter found himself unable to close his eyes. He remained awake through much of the night, staring into the dim canvas above him.
'If I am candid with myself… I am beginning to harbour an ill feeling about this journey…'
***
"Clear the area. We shall proceed towards the mountain's slope at once, so that we may reach the forest before nightfall. Exercise utmost caution upon the descent. Move slowly and carefully, regardless of urgency," a rugged voice commanded.
The sky had begun to pale long before the sun revealed itself. A thin veil of grey gradually softened into blue, then into delicate streaks of rose and gold stretching across the horizon. The air was cool and motionless, bearing that peculiar stillness belonging solely to early morning. Birds stirred within the distant trees, their calls breaking the hush in gentle intervals.
At the edge of the horizon, a glow gathered and brightened steadily. The first curve of the sun emerged, spilling warm light across the mountain and the lands beyond. The shadows that had dominated the night withdrew reluctantly, diminishing as the radiance intensified. Dew upon the grass and leaves caught the light and shimmered as though strewn with minute crystals.
As the sun ascended, the sky cleared into an open blue. The caravan resumed its movement, advancing towards the mountain's slope with measured care, whilst the two princes remained as silent as ever within their carriage.
Upon reaching the slope, they succeeded in descending to the other side and entering the forest with only minor difficulty. The men were visibly relieved that they were drawing near to their destination, and that thus far they had encountered no mortal peril.
To Winter, however, it felt like the calm before a storm.
As though in answer to his unspoken unease, a deafening roar erupted without warning. Within moments, a wild beast, as large as two carriages combined, lunged from the left and descended upon the startled guards with savage ferocity.
"It is a Basked Rat. What is it doing within the forest in broad daylight?"
"Prepare for engagement. Protect Their Highnesses with your lives!"
Winter and William were instantly alerted within the carriage at the commotion outside.
"…A Basked Rat?" William echoed, his composure faltering as dread seized him, n
o less than it did Winter.
'Damn it. Of all moments, it must be now, just as I had begun devising a new sex technique.'