Primordial Heir: Nine Stars

Meanwhile, on the other side of the continent, the air was cold and crisp. The city of Freyport rose from a vast, ivory blanket of snow, nestled in the cradle of mighty, grey-peaked mountains. It was a modest but striking urban phenomenon. The mountains didn’t just frame the city; they built it. Nearly every structure was crafted from the local stone, giving Freyport a sturdy, timeless, and unified look—as if the city had been carved directly from the earth.

The skyline was not one of soaring towers, but of solid, medium-height buildings with steep, snow-shedding roofs, their designs telling stories of a practical past, a resilient present, and a cautious future. Despite the cold, parks and gardens flourished in sheltered courtyards, their evergreen shrubs and hardy flowers drawing admiration. The city was a quiet melting pot, where the influences of hardy human settlers, mountain clans, and passing traders were etched into the stonework and the local customs.

Into this snowy, stoic city came a team of cadets whose internal climate was considerably less stable.

Adam, of the Gnomus clan—stomped through the snow, muttering about the ”elf’s delicate constitution.”

Azalea Zephyr, glided beside him with effortless grace, her every step a silent insult to his clomping boots. Her blonde hair seemed to catch the winter light, and her green eyes held a perpetually unimpressed look. ”At least I don’t need a stepladder to see over a snowdrift, little Adam,” she replied, her voice melodious and laced with venom.

They had despised each other since childhood, their clans’ ancient, mostly-forgotten rivalries revived personally in them. Every interaction was a skirmish.

Between them, like a weary peacekeeper in a warzone, walked Levy. She had gentle, light blue hair and warm brown eyes that currently held a deep, pleading headache. As a wielder of the Law of Water, her temperament was naturally calm and adaptive, but even water could only absorb so much turbulence before it yearned for stillness.

”Please,” she sighed, her breath a cloud in the air. ”We have a mission. Can we save the diplomatic incident for after we’ve met the mayor?”

Somehow, her gentle plea worked. As they approached the mayor’s stone hall, the bickering ceased. Adam straightened his uniform, his expression shifting to one of gruff, reliable competence. Azalea’s haughty disdain melted into a mask of serene, regal politeness. They were professionals, and they knew how to perform.

Mayor Thrane was a broad, bearded man who looked like he was made from the same rock as his city. He welcomed them warmly into his fire-warmed office.

”The problem is down the Eastern Pass,” Mayor Thrane explained, pointing to a map.

”A tribe of goblins has gotten bold. Nasty little things. They’ve been ambushing merchant caravans—stealing supplies, scattering goods, and causing a real nuisance. No deaths have occurred yet, thank the gods, but it’s hurting trade and morale. We need them cleared out or persuaded to move on. Standard pest control, but they’re cunning in the rocks.”

Adam grinned, a fierce, dwarven smile.

”Cunning in the rocks, you say? We’ll see about that.” His tone was confident, not arrogant, perfectly pitched for the mayor.

Azalea gave a graceful nod. ”We shall assess the situation and resolve it with appropriate force or diplomacy,” she said, every word measured and calm, she still maintained her warm and pristine personality.

Levy nodded, relieved that the meeting was going smoothly.

Impressed, Mayor Thrane assigned them a small, stone residence near the city wall—a former guard post, simple but sturdy, with three small bedrooms and a common room with a large fireplace. ”Make yourselves at home. The city is grateful.”

The moment the mayor’s door closed behind them, the truce shattered.

”’Appropriate force or diplomacy? Can you stop pretending for once?,’” Adam mocked, puffing out his chest as they trudged, through the snow to their new quarters.

”We’re not having a tea party with the little green runts. We smash them.”

”Brute force is the resort of the unimaginative,” Azalea sniffed, brushing imaginary snow from her sleeve. ”A show of superior power and a clear boundary is often more efficient. But I wouldn’t expect a dwarf to understand subtlety.”

”Subtlety? I’ll show you subtlety with my hammer!”

”Stop, please!” Levy interjected, her voice rising slightly as she unlocked the heavy wooden door to their residence. ”Inside. Now. Before we become the spectacle of Freyport.”

They filed into the dim, cold room. Levy went straight to the fireplace and, with a gentle motion of her hand, summoned a globe of water from the air. She guided it onto the dry logs, then, with a focused look, rapidly vibrated the water molecules. The logs hissed, then burst into flame as the water flash-heated into steam. A warm, cheerful fire crackled to life.

Adam and Azalea stopped their arguing for a moment, staring at the fire, then at Levy’s tired face.

”Right,” Adam grumbled, dropping his pack.

”Mission first. We can hate each other later.”

”Agreed,” Azalea said, turning to examine the sparse room. ”But we do this intelligently. We’ll scout the pass tomorrow. Observe their numbers, their patterns.”

Levy sank into a wooden chair by the fire, massaging her temples. ”A sensible plan,” she said softly. ”Thank you.”

For now, the battle was paused. The dwarf prince, the elven princess, and the weary water mage were alone in a snowy stone house, with a tribe of troublesome goblins waiting for them in the mountains. The real mission was about to begin, and it promised to be exhausting in more ways than one.

The Eastern Pass was a narrow, rocky gorge, its walls sheer and draped with curtains of ice. The air was so cold it sparkled. Following the mayor’s directions and signs of recent caravan disturbances, Adam, Azalea, and Levy moved with practiced, if tense, silence. The bickering was gone, replaced by the sharp focus of a hunt.

They found the goblin village not by sight, but by smell—a pungent mix of rotting meat, smoke, and unwashed bodies. It was nestled in a natural cave complex partway up the gorge wall, a messy sprawl of crude hide tents and stolen goods piled around the entrance.