The town of Vinterheim lay spread beneath the whitewashed hills like a storybook etched in frost. Stone walls wrapped around cobbled streets, and gabled roofs leaned close to one another, their chimneys puffing steady plumes into the winter sky.
It was a quiet town, dignified in the way only northern settlements could be—no bustling markets or loud cries, just the low hum of life enduring the cold.
I stepped into it with cautious steps, the snow crunching softly beneath my boots. The guards at the gate had let me through without question, having received word earlier from Father to grant me passage.
They didn't speak, but I saw the brief flicker of surprise when they recognized me in the plain charcoal cloak I'd thrown over my usual finery.
No crest. No silver embroidery. Just wool and leather, and the soft weight of a hood drawn up to shadow my face.
I wanted to see it all for myself—for the first time, not as His Highness, but simply as Claude.
At first, no one looked twice.
The townsfolk moved with purpose. An old woman swept the steps of her shop with practiced rhythm. A butcher arranged cured meat behind a fogged-up window. Children darted through the alleys with scarves flying, shrieking with laughter.
I walked among them like a shadow, my hands tucked into my sleeves.
Until I didn't.
It happened near the center of town, where the old bell tower stood watch over a small square. A group of youths had gathered—some older than me, some not by much. Rough cloaks, ruddy faces, and the loose, lazy posture of boys who thought themselves men.
They hadn't seen me approach.
Not until the wind caught my hood and tugged it back.
"Wait—"
I reached for it too late.
The boy nearest me froze. His gaze locked on my hair first, then my eyes.
"Silver hair," he muttered. "And those eyes…"
The others turned.
Silence fell, sharp and immediate.
"He's Vinterheim," one of them whispered, backing a step. "That's noble blood. Real noble."
A younger one dropped the apple he was holding.
I opened my mouth to say something—to deflect, or reassure, or explain—but the words never came.
They were already moving. Some stepped back in awe. Others leaned forward, curiosity sharpening to something more dangerous.
"Oi," said the tallest of them, voice low. "You lost, Your Highness?"
The way he said it wasn't respectful.
It was mocking.
And I understood, suddenly, why Father and Mother had always kept me close. Why the estate's walls had never seemed like a prison—only now, away from them, did I feel the exposure.
I turned without a word and walked away.
Not too fast. Not fast enough to look weak. Just… enough.
I didn't hear footsteps behind me, and I didn't want to know if there would be.
But I knew this much: it would never happen again.
Back at the edge of town, before the snowfield path that led home, I stopped beside a frozen stream and stared at my reflection in its glassy surface.
Silver-blonde hair. Glacial blue eyes.
Unmistakable.
I knelt, letting the cloak fall to one side, and reached into the pack slung over my shoulder.
I pulled out a strip of dark cloth—just wide enough to wrap around my head, like the kind travelers used against wind and glare. I tied it carefully, tucking my hair beneath it and pulling the ends tight.
Then I pulled the hood up once more.
The reflection changed.
I wasn't anyone now. Just a traveler. A boy in grey.
I didn't hate the way it felt.
After an hour of quiet wandering, the sky began to dim into the softer hues of dusk. The clouds had thickened overhead, smothering the sunlight beneath a blanket of grey, and the wind carried the bite of an approaching snowstorm.
I followed the path that circled behind the outer town wall, where it sloped down toward the frozen river bend. Few people ventured this way—the road was uneven, the stones half-buried in ice, and the landscape had a hollow, wind-swept silence to it.
I was about to turn back when I heard them.
Shouts—panicked, breathless—and the quick pounding of boots over frost.
I turned sharply and crouched low behind a broken stone wall.
They came into view a heartbeat later.
The same group from earlier. The boys who had stared and whispered. Now they were running, scrambling over the snow like hunted prey.
Behind them, five larger figures surged from the trees—rough-looking men with iron rings looped through their coats, their movements fast and predatory.
Thugs.
"Split up!" one of the boys shouted. "They won't follow all of us—!"
A harsh cry cut through the air as one of them stumbled. The youngest—barely older than ten—fell hard, slipping down the slope with a crunch of snow and a sharp thud.
The others didn't stop.
The thugs did.
Two peeled off immediately, eyes gleaming as they closed in on the fallen boy.
He tried to crawl backward, hands clawing at the ice with a frantic scrape.
I moved before I realized it.
My body reacted on instinct, cold flaring through my veins like lightning striking a frozen lake.
Fwshhh—!
Snow burst up around me as I leapt from behind the stone wall, mana thrumming beneath my skin.
One of the thugs spun around—too slow.
I raised my hand.
Shhhk! A shard of ice shot forward like a spear, slamming into the ground between him and the boy.
Crack-crack-crack!
Frost bloomed outward in a spiderweb of jagged white, forcing him back with a startled curse.
"You don't want to do this," I said, voice low and sharp.
The other man lunged toward me.
I sidestepped cleanly, fingers brushing the air.
Whrrr—whoosh!
A blade of glacial wind spiraled from my palm. It caught him full in the chest and sent him slamming into a tree with a heavy whump, breath knocked clean from his lungs.
The first thug hesitated now.
Good.
I took one step forward, eyes locked on him.
"Run," I said.
Scrrff! He bolted, boots skidding over the snow.
I turned to the boy, who stared up at me with wide eyes, his mouth open but no sound coming out.
"Get up," I told him. "The others went north. If you move fast, you'll catch them."
He scrambled to his feet, still stunned, and took off with a crunch-crunch-crunch through the packed frost.
I watched until he vanished behind the trees.
Then I pulled the cloth tighter over my hair, fixed the hood, and melted back into the snow-laced fog.
Let them wonder.
Let them whisper.
But they wouldn't know it was me—not yet.
And I was starting to see just how useful that could be.
---
The hairs at the back of my neck stood on end.
Crunch. Crunch. Crunch.
Heavy footsteps behind me. Too deliberate. Too calm.
I stopped.
"You're quick, little noble," came a voice behind me, low and rough like gravel dragged across stone. "But you're not the only one with tricks."
I turned slowly.
They were there—three of them now—regrouped, eyes glinting with something far more dangerous than greed.
Awakened—Stage I.
The air around them shimmered subtly, mana rippling like heat over frozen ground. One of them rolled his neck, and a faint thrum of power pulsed from his body like an echo in the wind.
"You've got talent, boy. Real clean magic. Controlled. Refined." The leader grinned, showing a row of crooked teeth. "But you made a mistake."
The others fanned out, blocking the narrow road.
"You should've killed us."
I raised my hand slightly, letting mana rise. Ice gathered at my feet, a fine mist of cold swirling up from the snow. My breath fogged the air.
"No." My voice was steady. "You made the mistake."
Fwoosh!
The leader lunged forward, fist glowing with a ruddy red light. Earth magic—brute force. I dodged to the side as the ground shattered where I'd stood a second earlier, stone and frost erupting in a violent boom.
The second man flicked his fingers—snap!—a whip of wind slicing toward me.
Whoosh-whoosh-whoosh! I raised a wall of ice just in time—
Crack!—
The wind hit it with enough force to send shards flying.
I gritted my teeth.
They were fast. Trained. Experienced. This wasn't a street fight anymore.
Sskk—
I skated backward, using a burst of mana to propel myself across the icy path. A breath later, I flung my hand forward—
Shhk!—
Sending a flurry of razor-thin icicles toward them.
The wind-user deflected them, spinning his staff with a sharp twirl-twirl-whoosh!
The third man hadn't moved yet. He was watching. Waiting.
The smart one.
I needed to change that.
I reached into the depth of my core, summoned more.
The cold deepened.
Crkk—crkk—shhhk.
Frost spread from my boots, racing outward in a circle. The trees groaned as the air snapped colder, the ground beneath us crystallizing with a crackling moan.
All three paused, if only for a heartbeat.
"You're not some run-of-the-mill heir, are you?" the leader murmured. His eyes narrowed. "What family are you from?"
I didn't answer.
Let the fear of not knowing work for me.
Then I struck.