In the port city of Voltagi, a low bong…bong…bong reverberated; curfew was starting soon. From the upper hills to the lower city, anyone still out in the cold winter winds started hurrying home. Always, the echo of marching boots lingered just around the corner.
Corrin stood in the mouth of a dirty alleyway in the lower city, her nose buried into her woolly scarf. The noise of thousands of souls floated into the air around her. She was developing a headache again, too used to the relative quiet of nighttime forests in the mountains. And the wind was blowing in just the right direction to catch the stench of human waste and misery coming from the hulking harbor dungeons.
Concentrate. She was on a mission after all, and twenty days deep into it. The mission was to find a former royal bodyguard and ask for help in the Nordi queen’s rebellion against the Ansellan invaders. Corrin hated this mission, from the minute the queen had called her in to speak about it, three weeks ago, to right now.
Her energy could’ve been better spent elsewhere, but one did not refuse royal orders.
Corrin breathed in slowly and then out again. Cold heart, sound mind, she reminded herself, even as the old anger echoed far inside.
She leaned out of the alleyway, just enough to see up and down the wider street. Docker workers in high-collared coats trudging through snow and ice. A gray stray cat perched on the edge of an iced-over water barrel idly grooming itself. A few Ansellan colonists kept close together as they walked out of the lower city and towards the wealthier middle districts. Their eyes were wary in pale faces reddened by the cold.
There were no Ansellan soldiers in sight yet, but they would be here soon. Their presence was always heavier in the lower city where many Nordi residents had been pushed into living.
A familiar commotion broke out a few blocks away; Ansellan soldiers were already arresting someone for some offense or another. If she hadn’t seen them posted in large painted boards in the market squares, Corrin wouldn’t have believed the things a Voltagi citizen could now be arrested for. Worship of Niva, the goddess of winter and patron saint of the Nord— sedition. Being caught saying prayers to the “Winter Witch”, as the Ansellans called Niva— sedition. Even complaints about trash in the streets were sedition.
Wondering why the Emperor of Ansello did not have an heir after almost ten years on the throne was also sedition. It was a popular one lately.
Corrin could almost understand that last one, but mostly she felt relief that Camar did not have an heir. That was one less complication in Kasora’s fight to get back to her throne. She didn’t want to waste time thinking about how before the invasion, Camar had actually intended to marry Kasora. Some of the older barons still grumbled about it.
A hand suddenly grabbed her left arm and she turned to face a knife.
“Give us your money. Now.” said the man holding the knife; his big puffy nose was red in the low light. His partner, a thin man with greasy hair, tightened his grip on her arm, his free hand holding another knife high. His grip was bad and the smell of wine hung in the air.
Corrin deftly twisted out of the thin man’s grip and danced back from their grasping hands. The alley was slippery with ice in places, which was useful. With a well-placed kick, Corrin helped Big Nose trip and fall heavily into his partner. She darted out of the alley.
And straight into a woman walking just outside it.
Green eyes in a pale face stared down at her, startled. Corrin stumbled over her apologies, but the woman just swiftly pushed her away. A club whooshed into the space Corrin had previously occupied quickly followed by one of the would-be robbers, Thin Man, off balance and stumbling.
Thin Man swung his weapon back around, which the woman easily ducked, and then languidly dodged the following strikes, like she was moving through the steps of a familiar dance. Corrin was struck by a sudden familiarity.
“Hand over all your money, now!” Thin Man shouted at the strange woman, trembling under his expensive furs.
“Cash or coin?”
“What?” Thin Man’s face was slack with shock.
“I said,” the woman blinked slowly “cash or coin? I have both, you see, so which one do you want?”
“I… uh…”
“Curfew’s almost here.”
“Just wait a minute!”
Corrin missed what happened next; the other robber, Big Nose, had gotten his second wind and was making his way toward her. She twisted away from Big Nose’s stabbing knife and, stepping around him, wrenched his wrist up hard behind his back. The weapon dropped from Big Nose’s ringed fingers. She then kicked him between the legs, hard, and shoved him, sending him slipping onto his face. He did not get up again, weeping pitifully into the frozen cobblestones.
When she looked up, she noticed Thin Man was on the ground too, groaning with his hands over his face.
“Go rob people in your own borough,” The strange woman said dismissively and stepped around the fallen Thin Man. She looked up and smiled.
“Have a good night.” The woman began to leave.
“Wait!” But the woman did not appear to have heard her.
Without hesitation, Corrin followed after the strange woman who… didn’t seem to care that she was being followed. The daylight was almost gone and the shadows in the streets were long dark fingers reaching across cobblestone, brick, and plaster. The streets had gotten very quiet; curfew was definitely here by now.
“Hey, wait!” Corrin called out again, her patience running thin.
The woman ignored her and abruptly turned down a narrow alley. A pair of cats perched upon discarded crates scampered away as Corrin ran after the woman. All of her instincts said not to follow and yet here she was chasing a stranger out of pure curiosity. She should know who this was, she was beginning to be sure about that now. Something about those green eyes stuck out in her memory, years ago.
Halfway down the alley, the woman suddenly turned, smiling crookedly.
“Hi, Corrin.”
She felt her breath catch in her throat.
“Who are you?”
“Oh, sorry,” the woman reached up, grabbed her brown hair and… pulled it off her head. In the remaining sunlight, the woman’s noticeably shorter hair was a dull red, but Corrin knew it was a wilder, brighter orange in daylight. A narrow, pale face, and those green eyes. And that mouth made for crooked smiles. The answer came into startling focus.
“You,” Corrin breathed, feeling incredibly stupid. Varia Hirore, the former royal bodyguard; this was the person she had spent weeks crawling through the muck and grime of Voltagi looking for.
“Yes, me,” Varia smiled crookedly.