“The caravan lurched suddenly, sending Master Lucius Enti, patriarch of the Enti trading family, tumbling out of his seat. Gasping, he looks out of his porthole to see a small group of hooded figures charging out of the snowline, their javelins taking another driver in the chest even as he watches. The Master reacts swiftly – this is hardly his first bandit attack after all. Retrieving his longsword from its hidden compartment and hastily donning armour, he is soon opening the hatch to the adjacent cabin, where he will rally the guards and make light work of this new threat. Or more accurately would have made light work of, as the pile of corpses in said carriage reveals someone else must have got there first. Panicking now, he begins moving through the carriages in the search for survivors, ignoring the sounds of the raiders outside. He finds none. Until he reaches the kitchen carriage where Hasso, the new boy, is cheerfully stirring away at a big pot of stew on the stove. Lucius reaches out to grab the lad and order him to find a weapon, or shake him for answers, or something but stops because the lad is cold. Really cold, even with the heat of the kitchen compartment and the bubbling stove pot. Ice cold. Wight cold.
“Do you know what your biggest mistake was?” asks the boy, turning ice blue eyes on Lucius’ own brown ones.
“Not the failure to properly vet your new kitchen hire, not your poorly designed system which allowed me to poison all the guards in one sitting, not even your misguided attempt to double cross the Free Road Amber Flag. No’ – and here the boy smiled wide, not putting Lucius at ease at all -’your real mistake was all that fear you keep bundled up inside you…”
At this, the whole scene seemed to fall away from Lucius’ eyes. No wait, he was the one falling, hurtling down from the tallest tower in Balors’ Gap, arms forced back by the wind, ground rushing towards him like a vast expanse of doom. He shut his eyes – normally this is the part in the nightmare where he wakes up. Then it hits him. The impact of the ground slams him back, crushing his bones instantly. His eyes slam open to see the wight walking out of the carriage door towards one of the bandits. He reaches out to try and grab him, but fails, in part due to the large dagger sticking out of his chest. He gasps desperately, blood pooling in his lungs-
“At least – tell me – your – name… – so I have something to trade the – the low gods at the crossing….. …. …if you have any honour..”
“Very well” the wight says, turning around and locking gazes “Rikash So’Merash”
“RIkash who vanquished the tribe of Enti, Rikash Va’Enti – so I name myself and so I claim the title”
At this the boy withdraws his dagger and runs it across the traders’ throat.