The wind across the frozen Lake Isfellan roared like a hungry wolf, but the atmosphere at the land-dock grew even colder as an armored steamship bearing the Golden Eagle crest made an unannounced landing. The vessel didn't belong to the military; it was part of the private Vaine-Castell fleet.
The hatch opened, and a man stepped out. He was a perfect reflection of Anne Marie Vain: fiery red hair that stood in stark contrast to the white snow, and sharp amber eyes behind a monocle that gleamed like liquid gold.
"Anne Marie Vain," the man's voice boomed, shattering the silence of the Isfellan night. "You have exactly three minutes to explain why I had to hear the news of your marriage from a grain merchant in the market, rather than from your own official correspondence."
Caine Vain, the head of the Vain family and Anne's older brother, descended the ship's gangway with measured, precise steps. He wore a black sable fur cloak that cost enough to buy an entire village in the North.
Anne stood at the fortress gates, crossing her arms over her chest. "Caine. I didn't realize you had a hobby of traveling long distances in a blizzard just to complain about my administrative tasks."
Caine stood before Anne, looking his sister up and down. "Administrative? Marrying a Northern wolf covered in Cathedral blood is not an administrative matter, Anne! It's a suicide pact!"
Despite his sharp words, Caine immediately unfastened his warm outer cloak and threw it roughly over Anne's shoulders—an act that looked more like an assault than a gesture of care. "You look pale. And this place smells of rusted iron and failure."
Harold stepped forward, positioning himself beside Anne. "So this is your brother? I understand now why you enjoy arguing so much."
Caine turned his gaze to Harold. His eyes narrowed, assessing every inch of the General's armor and scars. "And here he is. The man who charmed my sister with... what? A lack of manners and a broken sword? Impressive."
"Caine, enough," Anne cut in coldly. "We are preparing for the Trial of Blood. If you are only here to insult my husband, you can do so from inside your warm ship."
Caine snorted, adjusting his silk gloves. "Insult? I'm here to ensure he doesn't die on the ice tomorrow morning. If he dies, my investment in you goes up in smoke, and I'll have to find a new widow to manage. It's a massive inconvenience."
Behind them, Rainnes watched the interaction with a strange feeling. In her eyes, Caine Vain emitted a frequency very similar to Anne's—cold, structured, yet fiercely protective. However, there was something else. Within Caine's ship, Rainnes saw flashes of silver energy she had never seen before.
"Who is this little girl?" Caine asked, his eyes shifting to Rainnes. He reached into his coat pocket and tossed a small box of expensive Western chocolates toward her. "Eat. You look like you've just seen a ghost."
"She is Rainnes," Anne replied briefly. "And she is the key to what we are building here."
Caine fell silent for a moment, looking toward the dark Isfellan mountains where Bael's black clouds were beginning to gather. His cynical expression vanished for a split second, replaced by the same wary calculation Anne possessed.
"I brought new supplies," Caine whispered to Anne as they walked into the fortress. "Not grain, but the resonance-shattering crystals you requested. I don't like your idea of 'harvesting' a demon, but I like the idea of my sister being eaten by one even less."
Anne didn't reply, but she tightened her grip on the cloak her brother had given her. Amidst the approaching storm, Isfellan had just gained another of the Empire's sharpest minds—and another very biting tongue.