Echoes of Ice and Iron-Chapter 50: Back to Polished Halls

By Masa’s recollection, Athax did not feel like a city at war.

The streets bustled. Merchants shouted. Bells rang for prayer, for meals, for meetings. Stone walls held firm, banners snapping in the wind as if nothing beyond them threatened to burn the world down.

To him and the rest of Frost Fire, it felt wrong.

He noticed it first as they passed through the inner gate - how the guards stood relaxed, hands resting near hilts but not gripping them. How no one looked twice at bloodstained cloaks or scarred armor.

Perhaps they have been informed of their arrival beforehand.

They had come in quietly, as Santi guided them back. No formation. No banners. Shin was carried on a litter between him and Thorne, unconscious but breathing, his face too pale against the dark furs tucked around him.

Masa kept his eyes forward, even as Santi bade them goodbye to ride back to his King’s side.

This city was polished. Too clean. Too far removed from the sound a man made when he realized he was dying.

"This place smells too homey," Thorne muttered under his breath. "It’s kind of unsettling."

"You too, huh?" Bela replied dryly.

Masa snorted once. "Worse."

It felt wrong.

They had come back cut, exhausted, smelling of blood, iron, and smoke.

And Athax... endured them politely.

They passed beneath the inner ward where the streets widened and the architecture softened, and that was where Vignir and Nolle waited.

Vignir stepped forward first, coat unfastened, eyes already on Shin. His face tightened with recognition. A man who had seen too many bodies laid out in similar ways.

"Get him inside," Vignir ordered calmly. "Now"

The healers did not waste time. Shin was lifted, straps adjusted, hands already checking pulse and breath as they moved him toward the infirmary wing.

Masa followed two steps behind until Nolle laid a hand on his arm.

"He’s in good hands," Nolle said gently. "You need to be looked at too."

Masa hesitated - then nodded once and stepped back. His eyes tracked Shin until the healers disappeared through the archway.

That was when he felt it.

Eyes. Council members. Officers. Southern nobles in muted finery, pretending not to stare at their disheveled, bloodied state.

They gathered in small knots along the corridor - silks and signet rings, murmured conversations halting just long enough to assess them. Bela straightened unconsciously. Thorne rolled his shoulders, making himself broader. And the rest of the Frost Fire men just looked towards the direction of the training courtyard, thoughts silent.

Eir stood apart from the others - not dressed like a court ornament, but like what she was: a soldier who had learned how to survive in rooms without swords drawn. Leather coat reinforced at the shoulders, dark green cloth beneath, hair braided tight and practical.

Her eyes swept over them with a sharpness Masa disliked immediately.

"That one," he muttered to no one in particular, "is trouble."

Thorne followed his gaze. "Pretty. But she’s watching us like we’re a problem to be solved."

Bella caught the exchange and winced. "Please," she said under her breath. "If you’re going to dislike someone in this city, do it quietly. This isn’t a battlefield."

Masa snorted. "Could’ve fooled me."

Vignir and Nolle exchanged glances, but kept quiet. Eir approached them then, smile smooth and unreadable.

"Lady Aya’s men," she said. "Welcome back."

Her eyes lingered on Masa a fraction too long.

Masa did not bow.

Thorne didn’t either.

Bela inclined her head politely with the rest of their group - just enough to acknowledge rank without offering submission.

"Yes, Eir," Vignir answered for them. "Lady Aya’s Queensguard."

Eir’s smile tightened. "How... loyal."

Before Masa could reply, Vignir stepped in smoothly. "You’ll be housed near the infirmary temporarily," he said. "Close enough to visit your comrade. And close enough for healers to assess your injuries if you have any."

Masa inclined his head. "Appreciated, Lord Vignir."

Eir’s gaze flicked between them, something sharp glinting behind her eyes. "The Queen is not with you."

That earned her a real look from Masa - measuring, curious. "She’s still out in the field," Masa said. "If that’s all, my Lady, we’ve been riding and fighting for days."

Eir studied him - measuring, filing him away for later.

"Of course," she said lightly.

She turned and swept away.

Masa exhaled slowly. "I don’t like her," he said flatly.

Thorne smiled faintly. "You’re not alone."

***

Shin woke to pain.

Not sharp - dull, heavy, everywhere.

His eyes cracked open to stone ceilings and lamplight. Clean air. Linen. The smell of herbs so strong it made his head swim.

He tried to move. Failed. And heard Masa’s voice.

"...don’t care how long they say it takes," Masa was saying. "If he can curse, he’s alive."

Shin tried to speak. Managed a rasp instead.

"Don’t," Masa said, sliding into his vision now. "Unless you’re trying to die properly this time."

Shin swallowed, throat dry. "...Didn’t take you for sentimental."

"Don’t flatter yourself."

Bela appeared on the other side of the bed, relief softening her usual sharpness. "You scared us," she said.

Shin winced. "Sorry."

Masa snorted. "You will be when you try to stand."

Shin swallowed, eyes flicking around. "Aya?"

Masa’s jaw tightened. Just for a second. "She’s still out there," he said carefully. "Doing what she does."

"...Figures." Shin blinked. "That went... badly."

Masa leaned closer, voice low. "You want to tell me how one of the best fighters in Vetasta managed to get himself skewered?"

Shin winced - not just from pain.

"They had crossbows," he muttered. "A lot of them."

Masa grunted. "You always see those."

Shin’s jaw tightened. "Not when she’s in front and when there were too many flying towards her."

That did it.

Masa straightened slowly. "I see. They were really trying to kill her, huh."

Shin didn’t answer.

Didn’t need to.

Masa exhaled through his nose, equal parts anger and relief. "Idiot."

A corner of Shin’s mouth twitched. "You taught me that."

Masa huffed a laugh despite himself. "Rest," he said more quietly. "We’re not done yet."

***

Later, when Shin slept again, Masa sat alone on the infirmary steps, elbows on his knees.

He thought of the first time they’d met Aya - after the North fell quiet, after King Ive died. She’d been younger then. Sharper around the edges. Grief like a blade she hadn’t learned to sheath yet.

She’d looked at them like she was deciding whether to trust the world again.

He’d decided right then. And he knew that Shin did too.

She wouldn’t go through anything alone from there.

Watching Shin fight for breath had reminded him of that promise.

"I just don’t want to lose any more people," she’d said.

Masa swallowed.

Neither would he.

***

That evening, Bela and Thorne joined him near the outer wall, where the city lights dimmed and the air smelled faintly of the warm earth.

The wall was warm beneath their backs, stone holding onto the day’s heat even as night settled over Athax. A far cry from the cold they had experienced days before. Below them, the city dimmed by degrees - lanterns shuttered, patrols thinned, voices softened into the low hum of people pretending the world was still orderly.

Bela sat with her knees drawn up, sharpening a dagger more out of habit than need. Thorne leaned against the parapet, arms crossed, gaze drifting outward. Masa stood about three arm’s length away from them, forearms resting on the stone, eyes fixed on the dark beyond the walls.

"So," Thorne said at last, breaking the quiet. "She always like that?"

Masa didn’t turn. "Like what?"

Thorne searched for the word. "Too... intense."

Bela sighed softly. "That’s one way to put it."

Masa exhaled through his nose. He let the silence stretch, the way Aya used to when she didn’t want to give an answer too easily.

"She carries more than she lets on," he said finally. "And less than she deserves."

Thorne glanced at him. "That doesn’t answer the question."

Masa’s mouth curved faintly. Not a smile. "I’m surprised she showed restraint, to be honest."

That caught both of them.

Thorne’s brows drew together. "Really? Why do you say that?"

Masa dipped his head, just enough that the lantern light missed his eyes. When he spoke again, his voice was quieter.

"Because that bastard of a prince was the one who pushed her older sister to kill herself."

Bela’s sharpening stopped.

Thorne straightened. "You’re serious."

Masa nodded once. "Dead serious."

He shifted his weight, memories surfacing whether he wanted them to or not.

"Aya didn’t grow up hating House Islan and the West," he went on, saying her name comfortably without title, speaking as her friend. "Contrary to what the songs say, she wasn’t born with a blade in her hand and a grudge in her heart."

Bela looked up.

"She was introduced to it," Masa corrected. "Lady Emeryn was meant to be peace, a bridge of some sort. Married into House Islan to keep borders quiet, bloodlines calm. She was kind. Too kind for that bastard wolf."

Thorne’s jaw tightened. "That Maric?"

"Maric enjoyed breaking things," Masa said flatly. "People included. He humiliated her in court, played with her at every turn, made sure she knew she was alone. By the time Aya was old enough to fight against anything, her sister was already drowning."

Bela swallowed. "And no one stopped him."

Masa’s laugh was short and humorless. "Power protects its own."

He looked out into the dark again. "When Lady Emeryn died, the West called it grief. Sickness. Weakness. Aya called it something else."

Thorne frowned. "But she didn’t go after them then."

"She couldn’t," Masa said. "She was young then. And her father, mad. The North was bleeding from the inside. She chose to survive and protect over vengeance."

He glanced at them both now, eyes sharp. "But don’t mistake that for forgiveness."

Bela sheathed her dagger slowly. "So that’s why in Ceadel..."

"That’s why she went in willing to talk. Banking on a King that was maybe willing to listen," Masa said. "But with the old man dead and that fool taunting her, it nearly cost them all their lives."

Thorne shook his head. "And you say she held back."

Masa nodded. "Because she’s not a butcher like her father." He paused, then added quietly, "But don’t think for a second it isn’t there."

Bela leaned back against the wall, looking suddenly very far away. "House Islan didn’t just make an enemy of the North," she said. "They made one of her."

Masa’s mouth twitched. "Exactly."

Thorne turned to Masa. "Your master is still out there. Shouldn’t she be-"

Masa let out a short laugh. "I wouldn’t worry about it. Knowing when to make her stop and breathe is a trick only a few people know how to do. Clearly, not my expertise. I only know how to follow her everywhere."

He left the conversation at that and listened to the steady hum of the city below.

***

Elsewhere in Athax, Vignir stood at a window, overlooking the lower wards.

"Frost Fire unsettles the court," Nolle said mildly.

Vignir snorted. "Good."

"You’re enjoying this," Nolle continued. "That’s something, coming from you."

"They don’t pretend and fold with us," Vignir replied. "They are bound to just Lady Aya."

Nolle smiled faintly. "In that case, I might join them. I am quite fond of her."

"Me too. A refreshing change," Vignir responded. "Dare I say, someone like Killan who naturally commands respect and loyalty, but with a prettier face and a gentler voice?"

Nolle’s expression sobered. "That kind of loyalty frightens Eir."

Vignir’s gaze sharpened. "Eir frightens herself."

Below them, Athax glowed warm and untouched.

Vignir folded his arms. "War doesn’t look like this, Nolle," he said quietly. "What exactly is happening out there?

"We’ll hear more when Killan returns," Nolle agreed. "War may not look like this, but it’s coming anyway."