King Max was in conference with his advisors when they entered — the kind of meeting that didn't pause for interruptions, which meant it paused when Winters walked in. Levi noted this and filed it under things to understand later about how this kingdom worked.
"Winters," said the King, without looking up from the documents in front of him. "I hope Aquafina is behaving."
"She is. That's not why I'm here." Winters moved to the centre of the room with the unhurried directness of someone who had made this kind of request before and understood how to frame it. "I'm requesting approval for a mission. Four or five squad members, including myself. The objective is to reach the Syndicate of Knowledge and obtain information that could be decisive in ending the myth war."
One of the generals looked up. "The Syndicate of Knowledge? That's a myth."
"It isn't," said Winters. "I've been there."
"You've been—" The general stopped. "How?"
"I was hired by someone in Frostilia to make a delivery when I was seventeen. The Syndicate is real — it's simply located somewhere most people can't reach. Sub-zero depths, extreme cold, no landmarks. The reason it's considered legendary is because most people who go looking for it don't survive the journey." He paused. "I'm immune to cold. I know the route."
King Max set down his document. He looked at Winters, then at Levi — a longer look, the specific attention of someone who had read a file and was now updating it from the primary source. "Whose idea was this?"
"Mine," said Winters. "Levi's situation prompted it."
"The objective of ending the myth war," Max said. He said it without scepticism — not dismissing it, turning it over. "You believe the Syndicate has the information necessary to make that possible."
"I believe it's the best starting point available to us," said Winters. "We go there, we find out what we don't know. What we do with the information after is a separate question."
The King was quiet for a moment. The advisors and generals waited with the practised patience of people who had learned that Max's silences were working silences rather than empty ones.
"Approved," he said. "Half the squad remaining here is sufficient for Blizzaria's current threat level." He looked at Levi specifically — the same direct attention as before, carrying something Levi couldn't fully read yet. "All the best with the journey. I mean that particularly for you."
"Thank you, sir," said Levi.
He and Winters left. In the corridor, Levi said: "He knows something about me that he hasn't said yet."
"Yes," said Winters.
"Are you going to tell me what it is?"
"No. But he will, eventually. He does things in the right order." Winters looked at him. "Café first."
✦ ✦ ✦
The Frosty Love Café was two streets from the palace, tucked between a tailor's shop and a building that appeared to sell only things made from ice, which Levi decided not to question. The window was frosted at the edges, the interior warm and yellow-lit, the smell coming through the door the smell of baked things that had been made by someone who cared about baked things.
A woman behind the counter looked up when they came in with the expression of someone greeting a regular. "Winters. You're late today."
"I had a training session." Winters gestured at Levi. "I brought you a new customer."
"How sweet. Where are you from, new customer?"
"Olympia, originally. Velvetia before that," said Levi.
The woman — Issa, by the nameplate on the counter — let the information land with the gentle weight of someone who understood what both those names meant in the current world. "My condolences. To both." She smiled. "Whatever you want today is on me. Choose anything."
"Thank you—"
"My hometown was also destroyed," said Winters, without looking up from the menu.
"You already have too many freebies from me," said Issa, with the ease of someone delivering a line they'd delivered many times. "Choose something, Winters."
Levi looked at the display case. He was, by any reasonable measure, a person for whom food was one of the few uncomplicated pleasures left in the world, and the display case was not making things simple. He took his time.
"The vanilla cookie crumble Frappuccino," he said finally. "And the custard cream puff. And the chicken panini."
"A foodie," said Issa approvingly. "Good. I'll make your Frappuccino fresh."
Winters had already disappeared through the kitchen door. From behind it, a brief commotion — voices, the clatter of someone being interrupted mid-task — and then Winters emerged pulling a girl about his age by the arm, a work apron still on, two small children trailing behind with the specific delight of children watching a sibling get hassled.
"Winters, I am working," she said, attempting to remove her arm from his grip with limited success.
"You've been working since six in the morning. Five minutes."
"You are so—" She saw Levi. Stopped. Her eyes did the same quick assessment as her brother's, the same unhurried read of a person. "Who's this?"
"Levi. New squad member. Levi, this is my sister Neve."
Neve looked at him with the frank appraisal of someone who had grown up around R.K Squad members and was not easily impressed by the category. "You don't look Blizzarian."
"I'm not," said Levi. "Velvetia originally."
Neve glanced at her brother. Winters gave her a look. She received it and understood it and let the follow-up question she'd been about to ask go somewhere else. "Well. Welcome to Frostilia." She smoothed her apron. "Hope my brother isn't being insufferable."
"He's been decent so far," said Levi.
"Don't let that fool you," she said. She looked at Winters with the affectionate exasperation of someone who had known a person their entire life and had decided to find them funny rather than frustrating. Then she went back to the kitchen, the two children scurrying after her.
Issa set the tray down in front of Levi. "She's been working here since she was fifteen," she said, with the fond tone of someone watching a story they'd been part of for a long time. "Winters used to sit right here every afternoon after training, waiting for her shift to end so they could walk home."
Winters had already moved to a table by the frosted window. Levi picked up the tray and followed.
—
He took a bite of the custard cream puff first.
He said nothing for a moment. He looked at the pastry. He looked at Winters.
"This is extraordinary," he said.
"I know," said Winters.
"How is this place not full at all hours?"
"Give it an hour." Winters wrapped both hands around his iced coffee and looked out at the street. Snow was falling — the slow, heavy kind that suggested it had been doing this for a long time and had no plans to stop. "How are you finding Blizzaria?"
"Cold," said Levi. "Beautiful, though. I'd never seen snow before we arrived."
"Never?"
"Velvetia doesn't get it. Olympia didn't either." He looked at the street for a moment — the pale stone buildings with their snow-covered roofs, the particular quality of light on a grey day in a cold place. "Strange how a place can be both harsh and beautiful."
"That's Blizzaria exactly," said Winters. "People from warmer kingdoms come here and only experience the cold. They don't stay long enough to understand what's underneath it."
Levi finished the cream puff and started on the panini. Outside, a few more people came into the café — the morning crowd arriving, the warmth of the space filling in. From the kitchen, the sound of Neve explaining something to the two children, punctuated by their laughter.
"Tell me more about the Syndicate," he said. "You mentioned going there when you were seventeen."
Winters set his coffee down. "An old man in Frostilia hired me to deliver a sealed package and bring back whatever they gave me in return. He wouldn't explain what either package contained." He paused. "I didn't ask."
"How far is it?"
"Four days on foot in Blizzaria's conditions. Possibly five if the weather turns. The final stretch is the worst — temperatures drop to ranges that would kill an unprepared person quickly and quietly." He looked at Levi. "The reason the Syndicate is considered a myth isn't because it's hidden. It's because most people who go looking for it don't survive the approach."
"But you did."
"Ice magic has its advantages. I don't experience cold the way you do." He turned his coffee slowly. "Which is why everyone going will need proper gear and a medical clearance from Zoe before we leave. Hypothermia doesn't announce itself."
"Who are we taking?"
"You, me, one of the twins for combat coverage, and Priscilla for range." He paused. "Not Sylvia."
"She won't like that."
"I know. Fire magic in sub-zero temperatures is inefficient — she'd spend twice the energy just keeping her ability functional. It's logistics, not a judgement." He looked at Levi with complete equanimity. "You'll explain it to her."
"You're very comfortable giving me problems."
"You're the one she listens to," said Winters, as if this were simply a fact about the physical world.
Levi laughed quietly. He finished the panini. The Frappuccino was, as Issa had promised, extraordinary. Outside the snow kept falling.
"Winters," he said after a while.
"Hmm."
"The packages. The ones you delivered and brought back. Did you ever find out what was in them?"
Winters was quiet for a moment. He looked at his coffee rather than at Levi — the look of someone turning something over that they'd turned over many times before. "No," he said. "But when I handed the return package to the old man, he cried." A pause. "Whatever it was, it mattered to him enormously."
Levi let that sit. "The Syndicate gave it back to him," he said. "Whatever it was that he'd lost. Or whatever question he needed answered." He looked at the frosted window. "That tells you what kind of place it is."
Winters looked at him. Something moved very slightly in his expression — not quite a smile, but in the neighbourhood of one. "Yes," he said. "It does."
They sat there while the café filled around them and the snow kept falling over Frostilia, and Levi thought about a place at the end of a four-day journey through cold that most people didn't survive, that gave back what had been lost and answered what had been asked, and felt something settle in him that wasn't certainty but was close to it.
The next part had a direction.
That was enough.