Prologue

Karsten squatted in the alley, bare feet scrunching through the cold silt. He peered at the tight gap beneath the wall, attempting to raise his body.

The sun wouldn't rise for hours, and the tavern was desolate. Most taverns in town had dirt floors, but this one had been built over a slimy one, and not even drunks would enjoy it here, so the tavern had been raised a few inches on studs and covered with round, wooden sticks.

There was complete silence. Only the hollow echo of the rats' footsteps bounce off the walls of the old houses next to the tavern; reverberating down the dark streets, dead and empty for the moment.

It had been Karsten's favorite position for a year, but he wasn't as slim as he used to be. The last time he got stuck, he panicked for hours until it stormed and the ground beneath him thawed enough for him to pull himself free.

It was now muddy, there would be no visitors, and Karsten had seen the Jester go. Everything should be fine.

Karsten lay on his stomach, pushing aside mounds of mud. His thin, filthy garment was immediately soaked by the watery earth. He'd have to work quickly. He was frail, and the chances of him recuperating from a cold were slim.

However, after a few minutes, Karsten could hear soldiers racing up, walking quickly. They dashed through the darkest alleyways.

It wasn't people they were fearful of; any mad men who gather the bravery to confront the supervisors of public order would undoubtedly be punished harshly with their hefty blades.

Something else made them terrified. Other beasts were hiding in the darkness.

Creatures who crawl out into the open at this hour for their night meal. And may Heaven bless the patrol if those hideous beasts were hungry.

The shades of night were a haven for all: for good residents nervously sheltering themselves away from dangerous men, and for bandits and thieves alike, who simply wished to remain shielded in safety despite their heinous crimes.

And, of course, for the Jester lurking in the shadows, who were only too eager to prey on good citizens, petty bandits, and thieves alike. They were all humans, after all.

Karsten, fortunately, has yet to face a Jester who has appeared in the city.

Yes, he had met many, but he had the good fortune to escape such situations alive.

He began darting through the darkness, as the lamps were all turned off and only shades of light entered through some cracks in the wall, exposing the mud.

Dense fog climbed the rays of light, only to descend again and again. Spider webs stretched across Karsten's face and snapped, and he felt a tickle on the back of his neck.

But he disregarded the pain. He had to.

His head and shoulders made it through, but a stub of a branch caught the back of his garment, shredding it and jabbing him in the back.

He almost cried out, but was immediately relieved he didn't. Karsten noticed a Jester walking across the tavern through the hole between the openings.

The patrol squad's footsteps on the next street fell into silence shortly after the Jester passed him.

All patrols have been tripled in strength on the orders of the patrol guards' lieutenant.

According to rumors, the object that has been holding the Sissy One in the Wry Lands is weakening, leading to him soon erupting into the world from that chilly valley, coated in unending frost.

War was on its way, no matter how hard the Order of Strength and the legions of priests who followed the various pantheons of gods tried to delay it. It was merely a matter of when it would come.