For three more days, we traversed the mountain paths, our progress slowing as weather conditions deteriorated. By the fourth morning, a full blizzard had descended upon us, transforming the world into a howling white void.

We need shelter, I stated, my tendrils retracting beneath my cloak as ice crystals formed along their edges. Even with my internal heating systems running at maximum capacity, the extreme cold threatened to compromise my war frame's functionality.

Arctur squinted through the whiteout, scales dulled by frost despite his protective gear. "There!" he shouted over the wind's roar, pointing toward a shadowy recess in the mountainside. "I think it's a cave!"

As we approached, I detected an orange glow emanating from within. Smoke, barely visible against the white sky, curled from the entrance.

The cave is occupied, I informed him.

Arctur tensed. "The Kingdom soldiers?"

I calculated our options rapidly. The blizzard had reached dangerous intensity, with visibility reduced to mere feet. Wind gusts strong enough to unbalance even my war frame slammed into us, carrying ice particles that stung exposed flesh. My scout spiders, deployed in a protective formation around us, transmitted degraded sensory data, their optical systems overwhelmed by the storm.

We have no alternative, I concluded. This storm will kill you within hours.

"And what if they recognize us? Or attack?"

Then I will eliminate the threat.

We approached the cave entrance cautiously, keeping our hands visible in the universal gesture of non-aggression. Heat radiated from within, a stark contrast to the bitter cold at our backs. The dancing light of a campfire painted the stone walls in amber hues.

A sharp cry of alarm greeted our appearance. Two figures leapt to their feet, crossbows leveled at our chests with practiced efficiency.

I analyzed the scene instantly. Three individuals occupied the cave: two sapien women in military uniforms bearing Kingdom of Silk insignia, and an orc male wrapped in crude furs. The women flanked the fire in defensive positions while the orc remained seated, though his massive hand had moved to a knife at his belt.

[Analyze] activated:

Aryana of Alms

Level 18 Archer

Corinnee of Wasdon

Level 22 Archer

Braam

Level 7

Age: 13

The orc's age surprised me. Though barely adolescent by his species' standards, he already matched an adult human male in size, his green-tinged skin stretched over developing muscles.

"State your business," Corinnee demanded, her crossbow unwavering.

I glanced at Arctur, expecting him to negotiate, but he remained silent, his posture rigid with tension. Unhelpful.

We were caught in the blizzard, I explained, causing the three to widen their eyes upon hearing my voice in their heads. We seek temporary shelter and are willing to share provisions in exchange for space by your fire.

The women exchanged a meaningful look, some unspoken communication passing between them. After a moment's consideration, Corinnee lowered her weapon, and Aryana followed suit.

"Come in then," Corinnee said, though wariness remained evident in her stance. "But keep your hands where we can see them."

They shifted to make room around the fire. The cave, while not spacious, offered adequate protection from the elements. Arctur moved stiffly to the offered spot, his scales gradually regaining their luster in the warmth.

He reached into his pack, withdrawing strips of dried goat meat. "For your hospitality," he said, offering them to our reluctant hosts.

An uncomfortable silence settled over our impromptu gathering, broken only by the crackling fire and the distant howl of the blizzard.

As they ate, I studied our unexpected companions, my mind's eye cataloging details of their condition. The Kingdom of Silk soldiers' equipment told a story of prolonged hardship. Their once-pristine uniforms hung in tatters, reinforced with mismatched fabric patches. Their boots had been repeatedly repaired with crude stitching and strips of bark. Even their weapons showed signs of desperate maintenance: bowstrings frayed but functional, crossbow mechanisms cleaned but lacking proper lubricant.

Most revealing were their cloaks, reduced to little more than rags that could hardly provide protection against mountain winds, let alone a blizzard of this magnitude.

The women ate with deliberate restraint, taking small, measured bites while maintaining vigilance. Their eyes constantly flicked between Arctur and myself, never fully relaxing. The young orc, however, showed no such reservation. Braam tore into his portion with adolescent enthusiasm, his tusks already pronounced enough to complicate the process.

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A movement at the cave entrance drew Aryana's attention. One of my scout spiders scuttled inside, its metal limbs sluggish from accumulated frost. In an instant, Aryana's crossbow was up, aimed at the mechanical arachnid.

It's alright, I projected into their minds. The constructs belong to me.

"What the hell are those things?" Corinnee demanded, hand still on her knife.

Scout spiders. They won't harm you.

As if responding to my reassurance, the remaining four spiders entered the cave, their metal bodies gleaming with melting ice as they sought the fire's warmth. They shook themselves with uncannily organic movements, droplets of water spattering onto the stone floor.

Braam's face transformed with delight. He abandoned his meal and crawled toward the nearest spider, which rotated its optical array to observe him. When the spider lifted a foreleg in response to his outstretched hand, the boy's laughter echoed through the cave, a startling, bright sound in our tense atmosphere.

The sound broke something in the women's carefully maintained composure. Aryana's lips curved upward, and Corinnee actually laughed, a rusty, unpracticed sound that suggested it had been dormant for too long. Their expressions remained strained at the edges, as though the muscles responsible had atrophied from disuse.

After several minutes of watching them eat and observing Braam's interactions with my constructs, I decided to address the obvious.

You're deserters, aren't you? I projected, keeping my mental tone neutral.

Their reactions confirmed my suspicion instantly. Aryana froze mid-bite, while Corinnee's hand darted to her weapon. Terror flashed across both faces, the specific fear of fugitives who've been discovered.

I raised my hands in a placating gesture. I have no intention of reporting you. Your choices are your own.

Though Vardin's memories surfaced unbidden. Vivid images of deserters hung from makeshift gallows during the Second Crusade, his own voice coldly ordering examples to be made of those who abandoned their posts. I pushed these memories aside.

Corinnee studied me for a long moment before speaking. "We had our reasons," she said finally, her voice tight.

"Good ones," Aryana added, a hard edge to her words.

Corinnee sighed, setting down her food. "We were part of a fifty-soldier detachment from the Kingdom of Silk. Official mission was to map viable trade routes through these mountains, connecting the eastern and central kingdoms."

"Found an orc settlement controlling a perfect pass," Aryana continued. "Commander Dalius could have negotiated passage rights. Reasonable payment. Mutual benefit."

"Instead," Corinnee's voice turned bitter, "he ordered a full assault. 'Clear the vermin,' he called it."

Aryana's hands trembled. "The village men fought bravely, but they were outnumbered. After they fell, our soldiers… our comrades, started on the women. The children."

I glanced toward Braam, now lying on his stomach as three spiders climbed carefully over his back, his young face alight with simple joy.

"We couldn't stand by," Corinnee whispered. "We grabbed the boy, the only survivor we could find, and ran."

Arctur broke the silence that had fallen over our group. "You risked everything... for a monster child?" Genuine surprise colored his tone. "Even desertion, which means execution if you're caught?"

Aryana looked at him strangely, her brow furrowing. "Why would that surprise you? It was the right thing to do." She glanced at Braam, who giggled as one of my spiders performed an intricate dance atop his outstretched palms. "Anyone with basic decency would have done the same."

Arctur nodded slowly, his expression pensive. The firelight cast deep shadows across his scaled face as he seemed to retreat into his thoughts, processing her words.

What do you plan to do now? I asked, directing my question to both women.

Corinnee sighed, her shoulders slumping with the weight of uncertainty. "Honestly? I don't know. We've been wandering these passes for weeks, just surviving day to day. Hunting mountain goats when we can, hiding from patrols, trying not to freeze to death."

"Braam mentioned a settlement of his people somewhere in the Central Hellzone," Aryana added, rubbing her hands together for warmth. "But we'd never survive such a journey. Not with winter setting in, and certainly not with a child in tow."

I considered their predicament, calculating the potential benefit of sharing information against the minimal risk.

There's a settlement in Calsor, I told them. The city at the heart of Lathan. Humans and monsters have established a functioning society there, one where your past doesn't matter.

Their expressions shifted from interest to skepticism.

"Lathan?" Corinnee's voice dropped to a whisper. "That's forbidden territory. The undead, the plague..."

The plague is a fabrication, I explained. And while the undead are real, they can be avoided with caution. If you reach Calsor, ask for Bonrad. He will help you settle in.

Aryana and Corinnee exchanged looks, silently weighing their options.

"We should consider it," Aryana said finally. "It beats staying in these mountains all winter, slowly starving or freezing to death."

After a moment's hesitation, Corinnee nodded. "You're right." She turned to me, her expression softening. "Thank you for the information. And for sharing your food."

The tension that had permeated our shelter gradually dissipated as the meal continued. Conversation flowed more naturally, punctuated by Braam's delighted laughter as he played with my scout spiders. The mechanical arachnids performed increasingly complex maneuvers for his entertainment, scaling the cave walls and creating geometric patterns across the ceiling.

I observed the scene with a curious sense of satisfaction, noting how my children responded to the young orc's joy with apparent enthusiasm of their own.

Two days later, the blizzard finally spent its fury, leaving behind a pristine landscape of untouched snow that glittered under the returning sunlight. The air remained bitter cold, but without the howling winds, travel became possible once more.

I stood at the mouth of our shelter, watching as Corinnee adjusted Braam's newly repaired winter gear. The night before, I had used Assembly to meticulously restore their equipment, mending torn seams, reinforcing worn leather, and adding insulation to their boots and gloves. Their Kingdom of Silk uniforms, once ragged from weeks of harsh travel, now looked almost new, the deep purple fabric rich against the snow.

"I don't know how to thank you," Aryana said, testing the draw on her bow, which I had reinforced with a flexible metal core.

By ensuring Braam reaches Calsor safely, I replied. The boy deserves a chance at life.

Corinnee stood beside Braam, helping him into the small pack I had constructed for him. "We'll protect him with our lives," she promised, her breath clouding in the frigid air. "And perhaps someday, we can repay this kindness."

We parted ways at the fork in the mountain path, watching as the trio descended toward Lathan, their silhouettes gradually diminishing against the vast whiteness.

Arctur and I continued our journey upward, climbing steadily through the pass. The lizardman moved with renewed vigor after his recovery, though he remained unusually quiet until midday.

"Those women," he finally said, breaking the silence. "They risked execution to save a monster child."

Yes.

"Is that common among humans? To believe helping monsters is the right thing to do?"

I considered his question, searching through Vardin's fragmented memories and my own observations.

Many humans would agree with Aryana and Corinnee's moral stance, in principle, I answered. Most would say helping those in need, regardless of race, is right.

Arctur's tail dragged a pattern in the snow behind us. "If that is so," he asked, his voice uncharacteristically soft, "then why do so few humans actually do it? Why are monster settlements raided, and our people hunted, if humans know better?"

The question hung between us, as stark as our prints in the virgin snow. I had no satisfactory answer, no explanation for the gap between human ideals and actions that wouldn't sound hollow.

I don't know, I admitted finally. Perhaps that is the greatest paradox of humanity.

We continued our ascent in silence, each lost in our own thoughts.

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