Sixty li north of the Imperial Capital stood an abandoned mill.
The night hung low overhead. Wind swept in from the edge of the wasteland, carrying fine snow and the scent of dry grass, stinging their faces.
The mill's wooden sails had long since broken, leaving only a shaft like a black shadow, swaying faintly in the wind.
When the mysterious man brought Varius here, the first thing he saw was a cluster of carriages.
They stood scattered around the mill, their wheel ruts crisscrossing the frozen ground in a tangle, like a temporary assembly point.
Varius dismounted and stood still, studying the figures around him by the scattered torchlight.
Maintaining order was a troop of knights who looked like mercenaries. They wore mismatched armor and cloaks of different colors, and the weapons at their waists came from all manner of sources.
But Varius could tell that it was merely a disguise.
Their positions were steady, their speech terse, and their eyes constantly swept between the mill entrance and the perimeter.
These men had received systematic training.
What truly made Varius's chest tighten, however, was the group gathered in the clearing beside the mill.
None of them looked much like ordinary refugees.
Varius scanned their faces one by one and recognized several.
They were people who had served in various departments while the previous emperor was still on the throne.
One had been a special investigations officer at the Treasury Office, another an auditor at the armory, and another... had once overseen judicial inspections in the Empire's Southern Frontier.
Now some had disheveled hair and beards, while others looked ashen. He understood that this was the damage the Second Imperial Prince had inflicted.
Even so, Varius could still recognize at a glance the marks that years of professional training had