Rumors of House Hiatt and the Fog-Shrouded Peak
Whispers and rumors clung to the Hiatt family like frost to the northern peaks. The clan's isolated stronghold, their generations-long vigil over the borderlands—all of it bred baseless tales that spread like wildfire. Plenty of folk peered curiously at the towering walls of their estate, but few dared make the trek. Why risk the biting cold, the frontline perils, and a landscape offering little more than the scenic Winter Island?
That's how unfounded stories took root. Gossip leaped from mouth to mouth, fattening with needless embellishments along the way. Even the name Hiatt, now synonymous with the North itself, was tangled in such myths. And among them, the one accepted as gospel truth revolved around the North's greatest mystery: the mountain.
No one could say what came first. Some claimed the peak was named for the family; others insisted the clan took its name from the mountain. Either way, the conclusion was the same. Hiatt family and Hiatt Mountain were bound by some unspoken bond. That was how people spoke of the North.
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"Isn't it ridiculous? No Northerner has ever said anything like that, yet it's taken as fact."
Far from the Hiatt estate—closer, in fact, to the front lines—lay a mountain. Nothing remarkable about it, save for its snow-blanketed vastness; otherwise, utterly ordinary. Selasier climbed its slopes, hunting magical beasts. True to the council's decision, her followers had begun the purge. Some knights tackled the remnants near the lines, while the rest fanned out around Hiatt Mountain. Naturally, Selasier stood at the vanguard, scaling the heights ahead of all.
She pressed upward to confront the beasts they encountered. By now, everyone should be scouring their assigned sectors.
"What's even funnier is how no one bothers verifying it. But honestly? I think it's true too."
"Why is that, my lady?"
"Because we don't know otherwise."
Though focused on the beasts, maintaining vigilance grew tedious. It wasn't long before boredom prompted Selasier to broach tales of her own house.
"Sure, maybe one person out there knows the truth. But trekking up here just to chase down some random rumor unrelated to your life? That's a stretch."
"True enough."
"So everyone just accepts it at face value. No one contradicts it, and hey, if that's the consensus..."
Did a distortion become truth if enough believed it? Kalen nodded faintly.
"Anyway, why the sudden beast surge centered on Hiatt Mountain? Even if it was Makbel's trap, the reports were real."
Selasier hadn't shown her face to Kalen since rising that morning. He couldn't guess why. Anger at him prying into old wounds? Fear over Makbel's potential betrayal? Or lingering embarrassment from last night's late-hour commotion? Her voice sounded normal, but she never turned his way.
Thus, chatter to ease the tedium was born. But for Kalen, these words were essential. What was the point of his bodyguard role? In exchange for honoring Selasier's request, Hiatt would ally with Rakatus to restore House Dranus. It had all been her scheme, but with events spiraling, he had no choice but to see her civil war through to victory.
Yet falling for an obvious trap spelled danger. He couldn't let her lose the war. So he needed to sharpen her caution.
At first, he'd assumed she was oblivious, which was why he'd spoken up. He'd hesitated over whether mentioning Makbel's betrayal might reopen scars—but she knew. She knew his actions were suspicious, knew this could be a trap. And yet she denied it.
To Kalen, that denial was more perilous than ignorance. Vague hope bred deeper despair. If she clung to Makbel with her last, bloodied thread of faith, the risk skyrocketed. That's why he'd voiced such bitter truths.
Kalen wasn't some knight swearing eternal fealty, nor did he share a decade of memories with her. That's why he'd uttered such awkward barbs. I trust you, though my motives differ. So trust me in return. That was the intent behind his embarrassing admonition.
But that was purely from his vantage. To Selasier, it was a fresh-faced boy—younger than her, barely acquainted—raking her wounds and spouting unwelcome advice. No wonder she couldn't face him.
Kalen watched her lead the way, convinced of it.
You're too serious sometimes, Kal! Sinat's voice flickered in his mind... but he shelved it for now.
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They sensed something amiss only after the purge had been underway for a while.
"...Where are they all coming from?"
The beast surge was expected—that's why they'd come. But this was unnatural. Even accounting for Hiatt Mountain's size, even granting the reports of beasts concentrating here, finding this many inside the mountain was bizarre.
Squeak!
Gurgle!
They'd barely crested the mid-slopes, yet if numbers were this thick already... how many more lurked above? Why hadn't such a force triggered alarms before? This scale demanded a full northern alert. "Sudden increase" didn't cover it.
"They never scouted the interior?"
"If they weren't planning a total extermination like now, it makes sense."
Logical. If Selasier had come merely to clear beasts from Hiatt Mountain, investigators would've done a superficial sweep—"investigation," not eradication. Judging numbers was subjective; you had to hunt them one by one to grasp the truth.
Kalen glanced back over his shoulder.
"My lady. You've fallen too far behind."
"Ah."
Selasier started to turn at his words, then caught herself with a jolt. She spoke without fully facing him.
"...Should we head down?"
"Wise choice."
Leading too aggressively had its perils. The sporadic sounds of beast-slaying had faded. He and Selasier had outpaced the others. In a crisis, isolation spelled trouble. With retreat decided, Selasier swiftly dropped below him.
"Let's go."
Before Kalen could taste the bitterness, they were off. Both harbored frustrations for different reasons. And so, they missed the fog beginning to encircle them.
Thud—
Another beast crumpled, its head pierced by a flickering line of flame. Countless slain before, and now one more.
"We're trapped, it seems."
Kalen stated it flatly. No reply came. Selasier scanned the thickening fog with hardened eyes. Concluding they'd been ensnared wasn't hard. Midway down what should've been a swift descent—even from these heights—they should've reached the base long ago. Instead, fog shrouded everything. Pressing downward yielded endless mountain vistas. They'd marked trees, only to loop back unmet. Meanwhile, beasts poured in—ever more, from sides, from above. Everywhere but the foggy depths below.
Selasier couldn't handle them alone. Isolation confirmed, the hunt shifted from duty to survival. Kalen lent his aid to her solitary efforts.
1st Hierarchy Magic
Ignition
But not the common spark—this was an elongated thread of flame.
"Kalen, that..."
"Worth bringing along to guard Rakatus's lady, wouldn't you say?"
As a mage, Selasier knew ignition spells. But Kalen's was... different. She'd thought her father, Azkal Hiatt, the world's oddest mage for blending northern sword arts with magic. Kalen's ignition went further. Like threading a needle, beasts' heads pierced one after another on the fiery line. They didn't just burn; impaled, they sizzled and collapsed. The flame danced at his whim, weaving a perimeter that repelled the horde.
"My lady. Could you apply some magic to the fog?"
"The fog?"
"Yes. Test if it can be pierced."
"...Got it."
He looked utterly reliable. The real reason she'd brought him wasn't mere protection. Same age group—even younger—and she'd never imagined lagging in magic. In danger, she'd protect him, not the reverse. Yet here they were. Selasier nodded obediently.
Boom!
Her icicle spear hurtled into the fog with a crack. Kalen, fending beasts, glanced over and sighed faintly. The fog stood unscathed.
"Can't pierce it, then."
Fog blocked below like a wall. Beasts assailed from all sides—but manageable still. If down was sealed, go up. No one had summited Hiatt Mountain since beasts appeared—since magic's dawn, at least. Unease lingered, but fog clung low. Lingering risked it sealing above. Up was the way.
Worst of all: Selasier's ragged breaths. Exhaustion? Altitude sickness in these heights? If the latter, leave her and scout alone. But solo against this many? Impossible if afflicted. Kalen hesitated, then decided. Up it was.
He closed on her swiftly as she gazed downward, gasping.
"Pardon me."
"Wh-what are you—?"
"Holding out here changes nothing. Fog's unstable, and at the summit, at least the overhead beasts stop."
"N-no, what are you do—"
He scooped her up. The classic princess carry, by common parlance.
"You're spent."
"Just a breather and I'll recover! Put me down...!"
Exhaustion or altitude—irrelevant. She'd soloed beasts en route and crested mid-slopes high enough for sickness. Both fit. Priority: escape this spot. As she wriggled in his arms, demanding release, an annoyed Kalen muffled her with one hand.
"—!!"
"Quiet."
Her ruby eyes blazed enormous. Seizing her startled compliance, Kalen eyed upward.
"Hold tight. I'm running."
"..."
He readjusted his arm under her back and bolted. The perimeter flames surged forward, blazing a path.
"I'm the older sister here..."
Feeling her arms tighten gradually around his neck amid her mutterings, they raced toward Hiatt Mountain's unknown summit.