Jameson was not a fan of the cold. This wasn't even the same kind of cold as Rajsend. This cold was dry and weighed in his lungs. It was a terrible and awful thing, but what could he do about it? He was essentially here for the ride.
Anubis had stopped at a vender to trade out their kips to dats—a copper colored coin with the head of a young woman stamped on one side and a raven on the back. Ketil called it a Kvättorp or something, but Jameson didn't particularly care. Money was money and even as Anubis collected the money and began talking to a woman with maps, Jameson was relieved to have a few dats in his own pockets.
Now as they meandered around the crowds which kept their distance from each other, Dante led him by the hand to stare at curios and oddities, gasping at whatever caught her fancy.
They were treated normally here, it was odd to him, but what did he know about other cultures? The only culture he'd thrived in was prison culture.
The crowds were friendly too, they held strangers at a distance—Jameson guessed it was because riesun were venerated and respected. If someone like Anubis passed through their ranks, they wouldn't injure anyone or themselves accidentally. The riesun looked relieved to actually breathe in peace.
Dante grabbed his arm suddenly, "look at this!"
He bent down at a stall where she pointed to a charm necklace. It was dainty and held two charms, one a seashell and the other a small rose carved out of wood.
Jameson looked to the seller who was desperately attempting to get Ketil to buy something that looked like golden honey. Jameson pressed his finger against the charm, dragging it to the edge of the table before letting it drop to the ground.
He slowly picked it up, shoving it into the top of his boot.
"You can't do that," Dante said, crossing her arms.
"You forget I killed two men. A little thieving from a rich merchant will not hurt my soul."
"I don't think that's how morality works." She still looked at him with big eyes. She was one of the only darker skinned people in the market. People still looked at her with a bit of confusion—or maybe it was awe. Vasco, Raziel, and Dante had suddenly become very popular.
A Polarian woman grabbed Dante by the arm now, her gloves white against Dante's skin. "Very pretty," she said, an accent pulling at her words. "A flower for the pretty girl, yes?"
She took the blossom from her hair and stuck it behind Dante's ear. "Very nice, yes?"
Ketil turned around, his hand reaching for the knife in his belt, but stopped when he saw the woman. His lips curled into a smile and a slight blush covered the woman's cheeks. "A beautiful flower from a beautiful woman. A very beautiful flower."
She smiled at him, taking his hand with a small bow before turning back into the crowd. Her white hair trailed to her waist in braids full of the flowers, she plucked one from her braid, offering it to another young girl before the crowd swallowed her.
Dante took the flower away, looking into the red swirls of color against the stark white petals. "It's beautiful, isn't it Ketil?"
Ketil took it, tucking it into her braid. "It's a winter blossom. They are in bloom this time of year and I know back at my home, they—" he sighed deeply. "They fall from the trees like snow. The smell good, yeah?"
Dante smiled, "I can't believe you live here. It's a fairy tale."
"You should see the place I live," he looked away, drawing his gloved hands through his hair. "It's a beautiful place."
Jameson took the necklace from his boot as they walked away from the vender, carefully draping it around Dante's neck. He brushed away her hair, struggling with the clasp for a moment. "There you go."
"Jameson," she whispered, looking down at the charms with a large smile. "It's beautiful."
He smiled, looking to Ketil who smelled the air, a single dat in his hand. "Wait—do you smell that?" He laughed, spinning as he walked. "I have smelled that in my dreams for the past five years! Now I'm back! I'm back!" He looked at the ground then to Jameson. His mouth was open with a smile and he laughed a little. "I'm really back!"
He turned to another vender, handing her a dat and picking up a large pastry. He split it, handing them a slice. "No one can recreate this, I've tried, but nothing makes up for a homemade bleiä."
"What is it?" Dante said, her mouth stuffed with pastry.
"It's very thinly layered bread around a center of sweet cheese and sky blossom." He bit into his own, closing his eyes. "I used to know a woman who made them—you could just bite into them and it made you want to cry. They were so good."
Jameson picked at his own piece, biting into the creamy center with a small smile. It was still warm and sweet, but the bread was thin enough that it seemed to melt in his mouth. Another bite and a sweet jam filled his mouth. He let out a laugh. "Wow."
"Good yeah?" He finished the rest of his with another bite, resting his hand against Dante's shoulder. "I always wanted to show you all where I am from, I just wish it wasn't like this."
Dante pointed to the top of weeping trees, their tips white with flowers. "Is it always like this?"
"Things bloom in winter here, they stay trapped between snow until the thaw season and then they grow. Or batræ will help them grow."
The man seemed comfortable in his own skin for the first time. Jameson finished his bleiä before looking back to the others. "Shouldn't we wait for them?"
Ketil stopped, looking back to Vasco who now had a woman sticking flowers into his hair. Vasco was laughing, carefully savoring every flower and movement as a woman braided his hair. Raziel, on the other hand, had his arms crossed, prickling as women stared at him and offered him flowers. He angrily took the flowers, tucking one behind his ear. "They seem to be having a great time. People with dark skin or hair are seen as some of the most beautiful people—unusual but beautiful. We're all so pale up here." Ketil looked up at a curl stained with ash. "Hmm," he whispered to himself.
A man passed them, his eyes wide as he looked to Ketil and Dante. He bowed to both of them. "Batræ."
Jameson stepped in front of Dante, his eyes lowered. Ketil just nodded with a straight face before looking to Dante, "astute assumption. We are just enjoying the sunlight before heading back to the Sanctuary."
The man nodded, straightening up. "God be with you all, blessed." He went around them, a slight limp in his walk.
"Calm down, Jameson." Ketil whispered, resting his hand on his shoulder. "We are loved here. As long as they don't figure out that I'm dead and that you all are from Rajsend. Let me talk and I can get us out of any trouble"
"I could get used to this," Dante said with a smile as another woman with a basket of flowers handed her one. "Why the flowers?"
Ketil bit his lip, eyebrows furrowed. "It is a holiday of sorts. This is the year of the winter blossom—they bloom the most every three years. Women of the towns and villages gather them on the first full moon and distribute them to those they find lovely. They wear gloves to protect batræ and braid their hair to signify harmony. Later there will be parties and celebrations. It's a celebration of women."
A young woman offered Ketil a flower, stepping back with confusion as ash colored her white gloves. Ketil look the flower with a small smile, stepping away before she could speak. He tucked it in a curl, his body moving with excitement, his feet guided by an internal map.
As they walked, the two garnered more flowers, Dante's braid becoming one mass of white petals. The Polarians stayed away from Jameson, trying not to stare at the scars on his face. He kept beside Dante. She was so young and she needed protection from the others. That was his new purpose. He had let Samson die, but he would not let that happen to Dante.
An older woman presented Dante another flower, her eyes narrowed with a smile. The old woman tucked a strand of black hair behind her ear, pressing the flower into her hair. Dante thanked her before tugging it loose and presenting it to Jameson. "Here—a flower for you. I am a woman and I think you are lovely."
He smiled with a blush, taking it from her. She looked away and he cupped it in his hands with a smaller smile, taking a breath of the sweet perfume. He tucked it behind his ear, feeling the hair beginning to grow over his scalp. He tilted his head up a little, arms crossed.
Ketil stopped suddenly in the middle of the crowds, looking up to a statue. He whispered something in Polarian as he looked into his own face.
"It's you." Dante said, staring into the marble statue of Ketil Østberg. His lips were slightly turned up, his head raised and hair flowing around his shoulders. A crown of laurel sat on his curls and his eyes stared up at the sky. He looked regal, the cape around his shoulders flowing to his feet before flowing over the statue's large pedestal.
A few people lingered at the base, and one woman had even climbed up to throw a wreathe of flowers across the statue's shoulders.
"It's me." Ketil whispered to himself. "Aslaug did this." He read the plaque at the base of the statue and faced them. "Aslaug did this in memory of me." He ran his hands through his hair with widened eyes. "What have I done?"
Dante hugged him quickly. "Ketil, you are doing what's right."
His face was a mask of fear. "She did this for me. Because I'm dead. How can I repay her like this? She's my sister!"
Jameson pressed a hand against the man's shoulder, remaining silent.
"Remember what she did to you," Dante whispered. "Remember the dagger in your chest."
Ketil closed his eyes, "I have to do this."
"What does the plaque say?" Jameson interrupted, hoping to get Ketil's mind off the task ahead of him.
His blue eyes opened, staring at the small metal plaque. "In memory of Prince Ketil Østberg, son of Emperor Valdr, brother to Empress Aslaug. Torn apart by wolves. We do not forget."
He dropped his head, teeth gritted. "Torn apart by wolves. That's what she told my people." His hand pressed against the space over his heart. "As if she didn't stain her hands with my blood!"
There was another hand on his shoulder, "I'm sorry."
Ketil looked back to see Vasco behind him.
Anubis let out a low whistle. "Looks like you, but almost godlike."
"She said I was torn apart by wolves," he whispered back.
"I know, we made it appear that way."
They all took a moment to stare at the marble face in silence. The thick perfume of flowers settled along their ranks, each one carrying more flowers than dats.
"If we manage to pull this off, the first thing I do will be to destroy this statue. I will destroy any memory of this cursed life. I don't want to be remembered as a god."
Anubis patted his shoulder, pulling a map from her cloak. With flowers pulled throughout her hair, she looked human. "I believe it is time we leave this place. We have a journey to make. We need to be there quickly. We don't know when Aslaug will act."
They all nodded and Dante stood by his side again, her fingers laced in her necklace. She looked back up to him, resting her head against him. He smiled a little, touching the flower behind his ear.
Anubis interrupted the silence, handing the map back to Raziel. "Ketil, are you going to be alright?"
"I will do what's necessary."
"Good, we need to get to the town of Fulkström by nightfall. Order, let's move."
ns 15.158.61.8da2
