“Making a spectacle of yourself here…”

  Ga was kicked hard and sent sprawling to the ground.

  Before she could even process what happened, a man behind her seized her by the collar and yanked. The fabric cinched tight against her throat, forcing out a choking, rattling sound—like a cat being lifted against its will. She flailed on instinct, rising onto her toes as if that would buy her air. Her chest felt like it might burst. She finally managed a shallow breath and tried to scream in protest—

  —and was slammed back down without mercy.

  Dusty and dazed, she pushed herself upright. She was still gasping when something cold pressed against the side of her neck: steel. A blade—paired with the heft of an axe.

  Terror climbed her spine. Slowly, she lifted her head and saw the face of the man no one in Oslo dared provoke.

  Tabor Archambault, the imperial enforcer.

  “Do not imitate those Vikings again.”

  Tabor’s hair was entirely white. His cheeks were hollow, his eye sockets yellowed, and his bloodshot eyes—set beneath heavy, dark bags—looked even more vicious. He always seemed on edge, his wrinkles knotted into harsh folds. Dressed in a severe military coat, he resembled a mad old man one breath away from exploding.

  People kept their distance from him, and for good reason. Yet he had made his name in the campaign remembered as The Storm that Ended the Vikings, and his reputation was one of the pillars that kept Oslo’s order intact.

  “Get up. Put your filthy hands on your head. Move.”

  In front of Tabor, Ga looked suddenly boneless. She could only sigh, obey, and lace her hands over her head, walking forward with a weary, helpless expression. As they moved, Tabor jabbed and shoved her from behind with the haft of his weapon.

  They cut through the crowded market street like that—enforcer and captive.

  All around them, people watched with pity and discomfort. Not one person dared step in under Tabor’s oppressive shadow.

  At the entrance counter of Oslo Hospital, the reception staff were chatting idly. Then someone spotted Tabor escorting Ga toward the building.

  Faces blanched. One attendant immediately bolted inside to warn the director.

  “My God… did that child clash with Tabor again?”

  Director Robert Schmitz had been speaking with a patient in a ward when the frantic message reached him. He apologized quickly, gave the patient a few hurried words, and rushed out.

  He arrived at the hospital entrance to find Tabor standing stiff and grim—while in front of him, Ga stood filthy and blank-eyed, hands still on her head as if her body hadn’t caught up with reality yet.

  Robert was an elderly man with a round bald crown and a thick beard. He had personally treated Ga when she was first brought in. After she recovered, her identity remained unknown, and there was no clear place to send her—so he had taken her in, willingly, as his granddaughter.

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  “Ga,” Robert asked gently, eyes full of concern. “Are you all right? What did you do this time?”

  Ga frowned, shrugged.

  Tabor didn’t give her time to explain.

  “Your child just imitated Viking behavior in front of my imperial citizens.”

  “What?” Robert blinked. “Did she cut someone? Rob someone?”

  “Neither.” Tabor inhaled, then pointed sharply at Ga as if presenting evidence. “In broad daylight, before everyone, she mimicked the Vikings’ barbaric howl.”

  “…A howl?” Robert stared at Ga—who looked more confused than feral.

  “Yes!”

  “Ah… well…” Robert lowered his head a fraction, apologetic. “She’s still very young. Children can be mischievous. Please—show leniency.”

  At that moment, another figure emerged from the crowd: an elderly woman with long white hair, dressed in a nurse’s uniform, her posture straight as iron.

  Her name was Jana Scholz—head nurse of Oslo Hospital, and Robert’s wife.

  Like Robert, she treated Ga as their granddaughter. If anything, she doted on the girl even more. And she was one of the few in Oslo who dared to raise her voice at Tabor without flinching.

  “Enforcer Archambault,” Jana said, voice carrying from deep in her chest, “you’re overdoing it again, aren’t you? How many times do you plan to frighten my child before you’re satisfied?”

  Years had etched lines into her skin, but they hadn’t stolen her vitality. She stood there solid and unyielding.

  “Frighten her?” Tabor scoffed. “This brat is never affected by my discipline. Look at her—same face as if nothing happened.”

  As if to prove his point, he jabbed Ga on the head with the haft of his weapon.

  “Hey!” Jana snapped. “Tabor, you crude—”

  She strode forward, took Ga’s hands down from her head, and pulled her firmly back to Robert’s side. She brushed dust off Ga’s clothes, then wiped Ga’s face with the clean edge of her own uniform.

  Tabor looked momentarily thrown off by Jana’s sudden intrusion. Then he forced his composure back into place.

  “In any case,” he said, cold and official, “since you insist on being her guardians, you will assume the responsibility of educating her. I will not allow anyone in my jurisdiction to engage in behavior that damages the honor of the Great Roman Empire—nor anything that stirs up Viking sympathies.”

  “What behavior, exactly?” Jana asked, continuing to comb Ga’s hair as though Tabor were background noise.

  “He means she imitated a Viking howl,” Robert explained.

  “What? For that?” Jana stopped mid-stroke.

  Tabor pointed at Ga’s feet—blackened with grime.

  “And not only that. Look at her. Running around barefoot. She’s clearly trying to make herself like those Viking little pests.”

  Jana’s jaw tightened. She let out a low, frustrated growl toward the sky—then swung the comb up like a pointer and jabbed it in Tabor’s direction.

  “You fault-finding lunatic! Children being naughty is the most normal thing in the world! Yelling and going barefoot—that’s what you call ‘degenerate’? She kicked a temple brazier once and you arrested her. She climbed up to the ca

  “You—” Tabor’s eyes widened.

  Robert hurried in, stepping between them with an embarrassed cough.

  “Ahem. Dear… I do think opening travelers’ doors at random is rather impolite…”

  Then he turned to Tabor with a strained, appeasing smile.

  “Wouldn’t you agree, Enforcer Archambault?”

  Jana immediately smacked the back of Robert’s bald head with her palm.

  “You old man! Whose side are you on?”

  “Enough!” Tabor barked. “I don’t have time to trade insults with you two old fossils. Out of respect for your standing, I will be lenient again. Same warning as always—keep the child under control. One day, if I lose my patience, don’t blame me for being merciless.”

  He finished with a sharp, angry snap of his cloak and turned away, striding off without looking back.

  “Thank you, Enforcer. Safe travels,” Robert called after him, bowing politely.

  “Thank him for what?” Jana hissed, displeased. “That man does nothing but swagger around waving an axe! Your status isn’t even beneath his, and you’re his elder—why do you keep yielding to him every time?”

  “Oh, Jana…” Robert sighed. “Don’t always meet force with force. Peace is precious, after all. Besides, he… well. Peace is precious.”

  “Hmph. Peace?” Jana scoffed. “The Vikings wouldn’t dare attack with this place so heavily guarded—especially with that madman Tabor around. It’s too peaceful! That’s why someone has to stir things up—just like our precious Ga, right…?”

  She glanced down.

  “…Huh?”

  Robert followed her gaze.

  The space beside them was empty.

  Ga was gone.