The abrupt change of subject wasn't lost on Kaine, but he followed his brother's lead."Parts of it.The interior walls of the older sections, some of the support columns.It's called ice-metal—regular forged metal with ice magic bound into it during creation.Makes it stronger than steel but lighter."
"And the Howling Forge?They say you can hear the screams of apprentices who failed their trials, sealed forever in the walls."
A huff of surprised laughter escaped Kaine."That's new.No, the howling is just wind through the ventilation shafts.They're designed to draw heat up through the entire fortress."He paused, allowing himself a small smile."Though I might start that rumor with the first-years.Keep them in line."
Jorik's lips quirked upward, a ghost of the mischievous grin Kaine remembered from childhood."What about the Crystalline Plateau?Is it really made entirely of ice that never thaws, even in summer?"
"There’s some truth to that.The plateau itself is stone, with sparse grasses trying to grow where there’s little soil.But the ground is almost always frozen over."Kaine watched his brother's profile as he spoke, still struggling to reconcile this man with the boy he'd left behind."The plateau is our training grounds, where—"
His voice caught as a memory surfaced: twelve-year-old Jorik, barefoot in the snow outside their cabin, mimicking the sword forms Kaine had been teaching himself in secret.The determined set of his small shoulders, the fierce concentration on his face as he moved through each stance with a stick for a blade.
Kaine had watched from the window, torn between pride and fear—pride at his brother's natural talent, fear of what their father would do if he caught the boy "wasting time on useless fantasies."
"Kaine?"Jorik's voice pulled him back to the present.
"Sorry."Kaine cleared his throat."The training grounds.It’s the largest flat expanse for miles."
Jorik nodded, studying the contents of his mug with unnecessary focus."And the instructors?Can they really freeze a man solid with a glance?"
"Only Virek, and only if you cross him," Kaine replied dryly."The rest have to use their hands like ice mages."
They fell into silence, the weight of unspoken years pressing down between them.Kaine found himself cataloging the changes in his brother—the scar that bisected his right eyebrow, the calluses visible on his knuckles, the way his shoulders had broadened to fill out his worn jacket.Signs of a life lived without Kaine's protection, of hardships faced alone.
The guilt rose like bile in his throat.He should have found a way to take Jorik with him, should have made arrangements, should have done something other than leave a twelve-year-old boy to face the aftermath of their father's death alone.Even knowing that prison would have been a death sentence for a child, even understanding that he'd had no choice, the knowledge that Jorik had suffered for his actions cut deeper than any blade.
"I tried to find you," Kaine said abruptly."After I was transferred here.I sent letters to our clan holdings, had contacts in the Northern cities asking questions.No one knew where you'd gone."
Jorik's expression softened."Mother didn't tell anyone where we were heading.She was afraid—" He stopped, reconsidered his words."She thought it would be safer that way.For both of us."
Safer from what,Kaine wanted to ask, but feared the answer.Had their clan threatened more than just exile?Had there been talk of blood-price, of vengeance for their disgraced father?
Instead, he asked, "What happened to you, after?Where did you go?"
Jorik drained the last of his tea before answering."South, like I said.Not all the way to the Southern Kingdoms—Mother wouldn't go that far from Northern soil—but to the borderlands, where the mountains start to give way to foothills.We found work at a logging camp.Honest work, hard work."He set the empty mug on the bench beside him."When I was seventeen, Northern recruiters came through.The Isle Warden raids were intensifying, and they needed soldiers.Mother couldn't support herself alone, so I enlisted."
"They took you at seventeen?"Kaine's hands clenched into fists.The Northern army's minimum age was supposed to be eighteen—though he knew exceptions were made during desperate times, and for those without family connections to protect them.
Jorik gave a slight shrug."I was big for my age.And willing.They didn't ask too many questions."His voice had taken on a flat quality, as though reciting facts about someone else's life."Did my training at the Caribou River Barracks.Fought in three campaigns along the eastern coast."
Pride and sorrow warred in Kaine's chest.His little brother, the boy who'd once wept over injured birds, who'd hidden behind Kaine when strangers visited—transformed into a soldier, fighting battles before he'd even reached full manhood.
"What happened?"Kaine asked softly, sensing there was more to the story.Jorik wouldn't be leading a band of civilian refugees if he were still with the Northern forces.
Jorik's jaw tightened."Two years ago, we were stationed at Frostbay Harbor.Orders came down to clear a Southern refugee camp that had formed near the border.The commander said they were harboring Isle Warden spies, that we had intelligence about planned attacks."He paused, his gaze fixed on some distant point beyond the narrow window."But they were just people.Families.Children.They'd lost everything to the raids, and they were starving, sick.Not a threat to anyone."
The muscles in Jorik's throat worked as he swallowed."I refused the order.So did three others in my unit.They executed two as an example."His voice dropped lower."Would have been me too, but there was an attack that night—actual Isle Wardens this time.In the chaos, I escaped."
Kaine reached out, hesitated, then placed his hand on his brother's shoulder.The muscle beneath his palm was rigid with tension."You did the right thing," he said firmly.
Jorik gave a short, bitter laugh."Did I?Those people died anyway.And I became a deserter—no better than the cowards our father always despised."
"Our father," Kaine said, his voice hardening, "was a cruel man who used honor as an excuse for brutality.There's no courage in following immoral orders, Jorik.Only in standing against them."
His brother turned to him then, searching his face with an intensity that made Kaine want to look away.But he held the gaze, allowing Jorik to see the conviction behind his words.
After a long moment, Jorik nodded, some of the tension leaving his shoulders."I wandered for months after that.Kept to the wilderness, avoided settlements.Thought I might head all the way south, maybe find work as a mercenary where no one would ask questions about my past."His expression shifted, growing distant."Then I saw my first Deep One."
Kaine felt a chill creep up his spine."Where?"
