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You wake early the next morning, emerging from the common room and stretching out your aching back. The “bed” that Bear promised was little more than a roll of cloth on a hard wooden floor, and while you did have a roof over your head there was little else you could say in its favour. You woke early, but Jan must've woken even earlier – he's already up, sitting atop the crates in the wagon and gazing up at the mountains.
Night had hidden it from you before, but now you can see the Iron Keep itself rising his from the mountains beyond. It looks like something ripped straight from the history books, a crumbling stone edifice that stabs at the sky with high towers. Jan stares up at the looming structure, so lost in thought that he doesn't notice your approach. It's only when you rap your knuckles against the crate that he jolts around, startled from his thoughts.
“There it is,” he murmurs, looking back to the castle above, “We're so close now.”
“Having second thoughts?”
Jan looks around to you in surprise. Just for a moment, you see a distant echo of his earlier fear. Then it's gone again, replaced with something closer to... awe.
“No,” he whispers, “No second thoughts.”
-
Leaving early and pushing hard up the mountain, you creep ever closer to the peak. The trees grow denser and darker here, untroubled by the lumberjack's tools, and you shudder to think of what might be hiding in their shade. Patches of snow cling to the ground, while the leaden clouds above threaten more. There's a chill in the air too, growing sharper with every hour that passes.
It's late afternoon when you finally arrive at the outside wall. The gate remains sealed for what seems like an eternity, so long that even Bear starts to fidget uneasily. There are a few windows above the heavy wooden gate, so dark and filthy that you can't see anything behind them. It's easy to imagine curious eyes staring out from within, studying you as if trying to discern the meaning behind your unexpected arrival.
“Does this happen often?” you murmur to Bear, eyeing the gate with no small amount of suspicion.
“Nope,” the large man answers, slowly shaking his head, “In fact, they're usually waiting for us. We're as regular as clockwork, bringing new supplies every two weeks.”
“Two weeks?” you repeat, glancing back at the convoy of wagons, “Don't you think this is an awful lot of food for just two weeks?”
“I don't ask,” Bear replies, “They pay well enough, which is the only answer I need. Maybe they've got a lot of mouths to feed. All their servants, maybe even the miners too...”
Before you can say anything else, the gate finally lets out a terrible groan and grinds ever so slightly open. Wincing against the dim afternoon sun, a pallid man peers out from the ajar door. His posture is hunched and heavy, his body smothered beneath a thick winter coat, while his eyes are wide and staring.
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