The Kingdom of Eternal Frost. Not a single living soul would willingly choose to travel to this island. Snow, ice, and northern winds rule here; hopes and dreams are lost here; dreadful monsters and mountain serpents dwell here; and the northern lights, with their mad beauty, are enough to drive one insane.

Han Jisung is here. He doesn’t quite understand how it happened or why fate decided to play such a cruel joke on him. He had lived peacefully in the royal library, studying new spells, working on scholarly treatises, gaining experience for a future position. Sometimes he joined expeditions to the southern, western, and eastern lands. The north, however, was new to him.

Apparently, the king decided that Han was ready for a new step in his training. After all, Jisung was one of the most outstanding mages in the kingdom. Despite his fairly young age, he already knew a great deal—perhaps even too much.

Power fears everything it cannot control, and the best way to seize control is through fear.

Yet Han Jisung had always been calm and compliant, and he was also close to the heir to the throne. Why the hell they had sent him here, and for what supposed sins, he simply could not understand.

A blue doublet with a high collar rubbed unpleasantly against his neck, white boots sank into snow traps, and thin streams of sweat ran down his face, which the mage periodically wiped away with his long sleeve.

Already at the foot of the mountain, Han was mentally cursing and ready to collapse straight into a massive snowdrift—it looked like it would make a fairly comfortable bed. Despite his extreme exhaustion, he understood that these were special lulling enchantments capable of putting an unprepared person to sleep. But Jisung wasn’t considered the kingdom’s finest mage for nothing.

Han cast a spell of vigor on himself and continued climbing.

Fortunately, he didn’t have to walk for long—about five minutes later, their group was met by a wind mage.

“Felix,” the young man introduced himself, flashing a radiant smile.

Han had imagined the locals somewhat differently.

Various rumors circulated about northern folk: that they lived in caves, ate raw meat, drank mead every day, killed game with their bare hands, and so on. Han wasn’t particularly susceptible to stereotypes, but from childhood, unease about this place had firmly settled in his mind. However, to his surprise, his first impression of the settlement was quite pleasant.

Together with three of his guards and Felix, Han reached the mountain summit, where the northern mages lived.

They were taken there by enchanted sleds—another novelty for Jisung, and he made a mental note to ask about the spell later.

“We understand you’re not used to such conditions, but this is all we can offer at the moment,” Felix said awkwardly, shifting in place as he showed the mages their new lodging.

Inside the yurt were three sleeping places and an enormous number of pillows. A cauldron stood in the center, flames dancing beneath it.

On two small tables at the sides were jugs of wine, pots of meat and mushrooms, vegetables, and rice on silver plates.

One of the mages—the stockier one—nearly started drooling, but the other managed to toss a napkin into his mouth just in time.

“Thank you very much for the warm welcome, but you truly didn’t need to go to such trouble for us,” Han smiled peacefully at Felix and bowed smoothly.

“I still can’t understand why the king decided to dump you here,” a new guest appeared inside the yurt.

His hair was an unnatural shade of violet, his eyes held a foxlike squint, his attire looked as though it were made of snow itself, and a fur cloak of the same dazzling white rested on the mage’s shoulders.

Han couldn’t tear his gaze away from this spectacle. The man before him radiated confidence—every smallest movement carried the grace of the entire world, and his magical power made one instinctively shrink. Han felt such a sense of superiority only when standing before the heir to the throne.

But Han wasn’t considered the kingdom’s finest mage for nothing—he knew how to push back: magically, verbally, physically—any way necessary.

“Apparently, His Majesty decided it would be useful for me to study northern magic and the local way of life. After all, when Christopher ascends the throne, I will become his advisor. Which means it will be in your best interest to convince me to whisper to him about the incredible hospitality of Lord Lino,” Han said with a sly smile, tilting his head slightly as he waited for the head of the settlement’s next move.

To his surprise, Lino merely snorted softly and tossed over his shoulder,

“Make yourselves comfortable.”

Felix once again showed the southern mages their quarters, explained the basic rules of life in the northern world, and left behind an enchanted dreamcatcher.

“If you have any questions, just blow on it, and I’ll come.”

Then the wind mage led Han to his new dwelling. It was slightly smaller than his guards’, but for one person, there was more than enough space.

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