”So, we’re staying then?” Anastacia asked from the old adventurer, who peered out of a window at the ever-harshening weather outside. The tall pines bent and swayed in the gusts of snow and ice, only staying upright by some unknown miracle.

  “I doubt we have other choices, but don’t drop your guard. Not everything here is as it seems, it might not be nefarious, but this is far from a simple lodge. Do not explore it alone.” Gilbert warned her, never relenting his gaze from the snow.

  “What’s ‘foul winter’? Just some particularly terrible weather?” The necromancer inquired while attempting to make contact with King through the window in the hopes of getting him and Leggy inside without needing to go outside again. “You seem worried by it.”

  Gilbert sighed. “I’ll explain it after we get settled. For now, just don’t go outside after sunset tonight.”

  King finally noticed the necromancer’s flailing from outside, and through a system of gestures meaningless to anyone besides the two of them, they communicated the idea of King needing to go and get Anastacia’s backpack and Leggy, and join them inside. Gilbert and Solaria fetched their own gear and informed the pair of guards about the situation. After a bit of consultation from the spriggan, it was agreed that the guards were to stay with the animals, keeping them calm and fed over the next couple of days. Whatever protection the lodge offered, also extended to the stables beside it, and they should not run into any trouble as long as they kept the doors tightly shut. Iatum would bring them some food and drink to keep themselves comfortable as well. Anastacia felt a bit bad about leaving them out, but apparently, they trusted the spriggan and the lodge about as much as Gilbert, and were in no hurry to enter.

  With all that sorted, Iatum once again greeted the party with grand gestures and wide smile that was hard to dislike. “Dearest honored guests, The Lodge and I welcome you to shelter the storm here. There are no secrets buried within these halls, and as one of you might well have confirmed, no skeletons hidden in the many closets of the rooms we offer. You are allowed to roam freely, but on the account of the positively apocalyptic conditions out there, I strongly urge you to stay inside.

  If it suits all, I would like to follow with a brief overview of The Lodge and its services?”

  The spriggan paused for a while to see if anyone wished to interrupt, but when none did, they continued with glee. “Here in the first floor, you will find the common space we currently habit, behind these doors is the dining room and the kitchen it is connected to. The doors over there will lead one to a corridor mostly reserved for storage as well as the restrooms and the common baths, in the other end of said corridor, you will find a staircase leading to the upper floors, just like the one you can see through the open doors there.” They explained with a clearly practiced pace and tone, circling the room to be closer to the different doors as they were mentioned.

  “The second and third floor both contain a number of rooms prepared for guests, of these you may choose as many as you see fit. Each room is equipped with what I well hope is the most comfortable bed any of you honored ones have slept on, a beautiful view outside – usually that is, storage space for what burdens one might carry, plenty of space to move and seats for those one allows inside. Additionally, rooms with iron numbers on the door have access to a private bath. Rooms with numbers carved from antlers are equipped with balconies – which I would ask you keep closed for now. Rooms with numbers fashioned from brightest brass, limited to one on both floors, have access to both as well as some additional space. I would as-“

  “Dibs!” Anastacia interrupted the spriggan.

  Seeming mostly just humored by the interruption, Iatum continued. “A spectacular choice, honored guest! But as I was about to say, I would ask that you inform me of the rooms of your choosing so that I may better organize their upkeep.

  “Finally, there is the fourth floor, wherein lays mine and Sam’s personal quarters as well as attic storage. I would ask that you refrain from straying there but will not forbid it. You are welcomed and urged to familiarize yourself with The Lodge at your own convenience.

  “Breakfast, lunch and dinner are served at a time of your choosing, and requests are taken into account. Please inform me of any allergies you may have as well. Some lighter meals and items are available whenever one might feel peckish. I will more often than not, reside behind the bar over there in the corner, wherein the honored guests are able to order a vide variety of drinks, tonics, beverages and refreshments. I fancy myself as a bit of a collector and connoisseur of such things, and will gladly introduce you with rarities and peculiarities from around the world!”

  The introduction was finished with a deep bow and the spriggan slipping behind said bar as if to encourage everyone to ask for a drink.

  “She’s not allowed alcohol.” Gilbert immediately pointed out and gestured toward the necromancer.

  Iatum took a measure of the situation and the necromancer in question. “I am dreadfully sorry, but I am not in the habit of denying much of our honored guests. Might I know what authority might you call upon to make such a ruling over another?”

  Gilbert frowned, knowing that he didn’t really have any such authority but had made the ruling based on past experiences. “None. It’s your lodge, but the last time she had any, she punched a child and got declared war on.”

  “Thank you for your advice, it will be taken into account – but I must say warring is a base need for people from what I observe, and children tend to be dreadful, so I can not say if what transpired is really that remarkable.” The spriggan politely explained.

  “HA!” Anastacia exclaimed and sneered at the old adventurer, who was clearly growing less and less fond of the place.

  Solaria took out his chalk and tablet to pose a question to the spriggan, but before he was able to write it out in its entirety, Iatum spoke out. “No need for that, Honored Mage. Simply envision the words in your mind and willingly present them to me. Barely trained in the arts as I am, I can still gleam off short sentences.”

  After a brief silence and what appeared to be some moderate effort from the spriggan, the message was received. “Your companion here has inquired me of the price of your lodging and services used. Though I am certain guests such as yourselves are equipped with ample coin, I am delighted to inform you all that the payment that covers your stay has already been made!”

  “What’s that supposed to mean?” Gilbert asked, finding the claim understandably suspicious. “Who paid it and with what?”

  “I am not privy to such knowledge, I’m afraid to say. I simply know that it has been paid in full.” Iatum said begrudgingly, clearly displeased to give such a useless answer to one of their guests.

  “But it’s normally paid in coin, right? This isn’t like some deal where we have to pay with our souls or let the lodge eat one of us or something?” Anastacia decided to ask directly.

  The uneasy smile on the spriggan’s face didn’t make Gilbert feel at all better. “The exact price depends much on the guest. For some it is gold, but many currencies have been used before. None have paid with their soul or life, but I can not in good conscience rule either out. However! in your case, honored guests, The Lodge has been paid its price, and nothing more will be extracted… Unless you mean to partake in some of my collection of spirits! For those I do unfortunately intend to ask coin for – if for nothing else than to keep expanding and restocking it.”

  The party glanced at one another, Anastacia and Solaria figured they might as well take full advantage of the situation and shrugged while Gilbert stared longingly at the exit, knowing he would be outvoted even if he protested further.

  The necromancer wasted no time claiming the room in the second floor with a brass number attached to its door, while Gilbert and Solaria simply chose their room based on the proximity to the necromancer’s room, figuring it was safest not to spread their lodgings too far apart even if it meant giving up some of the luxuries. Aside from a brief search through the rooms for anything suspicious, no time was wasted on them quite yet, as Gilbert felt it be more pertinent to inform the others about the ever-worsening weather outside.

  Gathering to the common room, the adventurers, the mage and the simulacra found comfortable seats by the roaring fire in the large fireplace and finally thawed their travel-weary bodies in its warmth.

  Gilbert slowly prepared his pipe and made sure it was lit perfectly before saying a word. “Where my family is originally from, way up in the northern coast of the continent, we used to speak of a cursed event called foul winter. The very abridged version of the story is that there used to be a kingdom way up there, ruled by a human queen and an ice spirit king. There was some kind of a betrayal on the part of the queen, which thoroughly broke the king’s heart. The exact details of what followed change depending on the version, but the one I was told by my folks had the king curse the land with an impossibly harsh winter that lasted only three days, but killed everyone besides a hundred or so people, who managed to find shelter – my ancestors being among them.”

  Unauthorized reproduction: this story has been taken without approval. Report sightings.

  “One hundred and fifteen, to be exact.” Iatum stated from behind the bar, somberly staring at a bottle they were polishing. “On the first day, a lodge from elsewhere appeared in the area. Not of the cursed land, it withstood the weather and saved the one hundred and fifteen who made it in time.”

  Gilbert raised a brow at the spriggan. “Are you implying that you were there? This place is nowhere near north enough.”

  “The Lodge will be where it is needed, honored guest, and the foul winter will follow to complete its work – doubly so this time, since you are here, Winter-born.” Iatum nodded but didn’t look up from the bottle, until completely switching their attitude and cheerily smiling at the group. “But fear not, The Lodge has weathered far worse, our esteemed guests will remain safe within!”

  For a while, the old adventurer ruminated on his newfound knowledge. Though a verifiable historical event, the foul winter had become more of a folktale than anything real among the descendants of the original survivors, now scattered across the world. He stared at the impenetrable blizzard raging outside through one of the windows. For a while he thought he could see the faintest silhouette of a grand castle in the distance, but as soon as he blinked it was gone again.

  “I can’t believe it’s finally someone else’s fault…” Anastacia uttered, breaking the silence. “For once it wasn’t my accursed ass that dragged everyone into some deadly ancient bullshit!”

  “A curious thing to celebrate. Is that a frequent issue?” Solaria quickly scribbled on his tablet.

  “Oh, you have no idea. I can’t go get a piece of bread from a bakery across the street without some sect asshole trying to recruit or kill me, or some other ancient bullshit triggering from my presence. It’s almost refreshing that it’s not my fault again!” The necromancer exclaimed and could hardly stay in her seat. “Better yet, it sounds like it’s Gil’s fault! That never happens!”

  Solaria frowned and wrote down his thoughts. “I can’t help but to think you aren’t grasping the gravity of the situation.”

  “No… that’s fair.” Gilbert sighed. “Let her have this one.”

  “You adventurers never cease to amaze me.” The mage shook his head.

  “Innkeeper! A round on me!” Anastacia cheered.

  The green glow in Iatum’s eyes sparked brightly upon hearing that. “Of course! But of what exactly?”

  “Just wing it!” The necromancer ordered, unwilling to let her mood be sullied by her complete lack of knowledge on drinks that weren’t coffee.

  Without hesitation, the spriggan got to work and gathered what they needed from the shelves behind the counter, as well as quickly visiting some kind of a cellar through a hatch in the floor. With genuine excitement that was a delight to follow, they meticulously prepared four drinks – some requiring more effort than others. Soon enough, they placed the products of their labor on a tray and headed over to where the group was seated.

  “For you, Winter-born, Feybrew mead. Simple, strong flavors I am certain you will appreciate.” Iatum said and handed the old adventurer a hefty tankard of dark orange liquid.

  For Solaria, the spriggan simply handed over a dainty glass of red wine, briefly presenting the bottle itself so that the mage had a chance to read what was in his glass.

  Surprisingly, moving up to Leggy next, Iatum handed the simulacrum a brass cup. “Careful, honored guest, it is quite strong.”

  The necromancer herself was presented a tall glass of reddish, slightly cloudy liquid with pieces of fruit, herbs and a few berries floating in it. “For you, I have made a concoction of juice from macerated foraged berries, simple syrup as well as some fruit we have available at the moment, with a hint of clear spirits to bring the flavors to life.” Iatum described the drink and returned to their spot behind the counter.

  Though King had been excluded, he was not the type to care in the slightest, but everyone in the group did notice that somehow the spriggan knew to give Leggy a drink, even when she clearly wouldn’t be able to do anything with it. Nevertheless, after trying their respective beverages, everyone found them very much to their tastes.

  “Going outside after today would more than likely kill us, maybe barring King and Leggy, but I wouldn’t want you two to test your luck either. The weather out there will get colder than you could possibly imagine, if the stories are to be believed. After today, there will be a day of darkness, during which sun won’t rise – again, if the stories are to be believed. I don’t really know what that will otherwise entail, nor do I know what the third day will bring. It’s always just described as ‘foul winter.’ Like I said, I mostly just know about it from stories passed down in my family.” Gilbert gave a short rundown of what little he actually knew of the cursed weather. “I’m sure the spriggan has more to share about this?”

  “What you said is indeed true, wise Winter-born.” Iatum nodded, briefly pausing cleaning up their workstation. “I claim no expertise on curses beyond that of yours, but will warn you of the second and third days. In the darkness, there will be more dreadful things than just the weather. Things that wish to enter The Lodge, so no matter what the honored guests might hear or see outside, all doors and windows must remain shut. Naught of it is real, even less is trustworthy. On the third day, the old king himself will pay us a visit and, bring with him all the wrath he possibly can.”

  “And if these things get inside regardless?” Gilbert asked.

  “Our doorman will show them out, but there are limits to even Sam’s persuasiveness. My foolish self is not of much use in such tense situations, but you, honored guests, seem much more apt at such things – not that I’d ever dare to ask something like that from you.” The spriggan explained, referring to the brass creature that had stopped the coach along the path and guided them towards the lodge.

  It started to really seem like there wasn’t much the party could do besides wait and hope for the best, though to be fair, sitting by a fire with a drink in hand wasn’t the worst way ever to wait out some foul weather. Getting over the massive hurdle that was trusting the host and the building itself even slightly, made even Gilbert accept the place as cozy. It downright annoyed him how soft his chair was and how good the mead tasted, but there was little he could do but to accept the situation as it was and remain vigilant. The only beacon of light for him was that King seemed just as wary of everything going on. Simply knowing that someone else was actually keeping an eye on things did put him at ease, somewhat. He also noticed that Solaria was keeping a keen eye on the spriggan between sips of wine, which didn’t really surprise him since he knew the mage was no fool, even if he seemed a bit too swayed by the comfort. The necromancer on the other hand was already useless. Having observed the making of the drinks, Gilbert knew she had been handed what was essentially sugar water with a fistful of berries and no more than a spoonful of actual alcohol, but she must have convinced herself that it was stronger based on how handsy she had gotten with the simulacra. He could only hope that the instincts of a necromancer she always complained about would kick in if needed.

  “Where is this doorman of yours?” Gilbert asked after a while.

  “Sam? Dutiful as ever, he searches the woods for any poor souls that might be lost in the storm until the very last moment he can. It will still be some more time before he returns. Would you like for me to request he sees you upon his return, honored guest?” Iatum said and smiled, perhaps genuinely, perhaps in the hollow way a spriggan merely copying a smile would.

  “No need to.” The old adventurer shook his head and returned to enjoying his drink. He already knew Anastacia could feel the doorman’s presence, and had to hope would pick up on it when he returned.

  As time passed, Gilbert’s tankard ran empty, and he stood up to stretch his legs. He placed it on the counter and told Iatum to go ahead and refill it while he went out for a breath of fresh air, while that still was possible. As soon as he pushed open the door, the frigid air hit him like a vicious ogre, but it was nowhere near enough to discourage him from stepping into the snow that was already piling up on the stairs. More than a few years had passed since he migrated from his homeland up north into the considerably mellower climate around Valor, and winters had always felt a bit lacking to him since then, but not this one. This was an actual winter, just like the ones him and his numerous siblings had to endure every morning for almost half a year when it was time to feed the animals and clear the paths between the buildings. He didn’t miss his old home to be exact, but the sense of nostalgia was there. The cold wind finding its way through the bristles of his beard and any small gap in his clothes still felt like home after all the years spent adventuring.

  Calmly breathing in the cold air in deep, slow breaths he was suddenly taken by surprise by a particularly lively gust that forced him to raise his arm to shield his face for a moment. When he lowered it back down, standing in the snow across the yard was a figure. Before any other details, the regal aura of the man was apparent, though upon closer inspection years had taken their toll on him. A simple crown of iron attached to a helmet that had been eaten away by corrosion and didn’t hide the face of ice with reddish veins running through it. Exhaustion, sadness and anger, all still visible in his expression, though mostly conveyed by the look in his dark blue eyes. A cuirass punctured by ice formations mimicking the armor that was simple, but clearly extremely well made despite the decay that had taken over. A cape made up from the hide of some no doubt mighty beast flapped in the wind that had no effect on the man himself. His left arm, missing its ring finger, grasped the handle of a hefty sword fashioned from both steel and clear ice, and was flung over his shoulder. In his other arm, he held a shield with a defaced coat of arms Gilbert knew well, containing a bear surrounded by several flakes of snow.

  The old adventurer considered retreating back inside, but the king made no hostile acts or even showed any intent to move closer, so he simply kept observing.

  In the snowy forest behind the king, apparitions of countless soldiers marched among the trees. Some on horseback, others on their feet, trudging through the snow. Though they had no physical form and might as well just have been shapes in the falling snow, Gilbert could have sworn that in their shields and banners, they had the same insignia as the king himself. Then among the ranks he could see people not equipped for combat at all, workers, old people, even children. Eventually, they outnumbered the soldiers, until finally hardly any armed shades could be seen among them.

  “Apologies if I don’t kneel, Your Highness, my knees aren’t what they used to be and all this cold air does them no favors.” Gilbert said, but not without making sure he could be behind a door before the king could reach him.

  There was no response other than the continuous stare of resigned anger.

  A light knock on the half-open door behind Gilbert alerted him, but he didn’t risk averting his gaze from the king.

  “Everything alright?” The necromancer asked from behind the door before peeking her head out. “You’ve been here for a whiooh shit! There’s a guy standing out there!”

  “Aye. I reckon we’ve earned an early visit from the king himself.” Gilbert said, still locking eyes with the regal ice spirit. “You can’t sense him, I take it?”

  “No. Should we get back inside?” Anastacia worried, with neither of them being armed, and actually fighting the weather was never a part of the plan.

  “Definitely.” The old adventurer agreed, bidding farewell to the king with a wave of his hand before firmly pulling the door shut.