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Baldr was struggling to keep his eyes open as he chatted with a few of the nobles who attended the King's Midsommar ball.

How some of the most boring aristocrats maintained power in Logi was beyond him.

They must have been proficient in nothing but appealing to their ruler.

Why else would Helvig keep them around if they so clearly lacked a single brain cell?

A surprising amount of wildflowers bloomed in the Palace of Wind and Embers' grand hall; they hung in long garlands across the large windows overlooking Logi, vases filled to the brim with exploding life lined the ballroom floor where dancers twirled in brightly colored gowns with flower crowns on their heads.

At the head of the ball, sitting on a grand podium well over six feet from the floor, were Helvig and Vilde. Side by side in their thrones, the couple was a black stain in a room bursting with color.

Midsommar was one of the more favored holidays in Ahland— a time where loud celebration was encouraged, bonfires in the desert reached as high as the gods, and mead flowed steadily into eager drinking horns.

Even now, across the entire city, pubs and taverns were filled to the brim with those looking to escape their slice of Hel for a few hours on the longest day of the year.

This year, however, most of the people of Logi had taken to gathering outside the palace gates instead.

Their collective emotion spilled over the wards surrounding the black iron that separated them from the nobility: fury, outrage, sorrow.

The restlessness of Logi's citizens was starting to become difficult to reign under control.

Constantly at war with himself over toeing that fine line of rebellion and duty, Baldr was at a loss on how to move forward .

Did he let the people overwhelm the palace gates at the cost of their lives?

They did not have the support from the north yet, did not know that what they were waiting for could change the outcome of this brewing war.

The chaos that threatened to overwhelm the security at the gates had heightened enough during the day that Baldr had snuck out into the city in search of the rebellion leader.

Hood pulled low over his brow, Baldr kept his head down as he navigated the slums of Logi in search of the pit keeper, Sigurd. When he finally arrived at the pale green house that had been packed in tightly between the other homes on that street, he hesitated.

Dropping off the map needed for Herrick and the vitki's escape was one thing.

He had not needed direct contact. Now, he needed to speak face to face with one of the most influential rebels in the city.

His entire cover would be blown if Sigurd recognized him.

But it was a risk Baldr needed to take if he was going to protect the people of Logi from a fight they would lose right now.

Though the mid-morning sun was already coating the streets with heat, Baldr was cold as he searched for the courage to knock on the door.

"Can I help you, boy?" a voice came from the dense shadows beside the house he stood before. "I'm on my way out and won't be returning for a while."

Baldr turned to find the pit keeper emerge slightly from the dark alley, cloak pulled tightly around his face and a thick pack slung over his shoulders. Was he leaving already?

"There is a large gathering outside the palace gates of citizens who are likely to lose their lives if they try to overtake the soldiers there. I came to see if you would be willing to talk them down, help them see reason, until the bigger fight can occur," Baldr said carefully.

He didn't want to reveal too much to the stranger he knew led the underground rebellion in Logi. Sigurd seemed to see right through him though.

"It is within their rights as free citizens to speak out against injustices forced on them," Sigurd replied as he stepped out further into the sunlight. "Who are you or I to stop them?"

"If it means protecting them, shouldn't we interfere?" he said carefully.

Sigurd watched him closely, trying to discern any familiar features beneath the darkness of his cloak. When he seemed to find what he was looking for, he let out a deep sigh before muttering something about "those gods damned Elven."

"I take it you are working for our friends in the north," Sigurd said, his voice dropping to a low whisper that Baldr struggled to hear over the busy morning chaos.

Baldr's silence was answer enough.

"Let's go then," Sigurd replied as he pushed past him and headed toward the palace. "There are a few stubborn asses in that mob, I'll need help wrangling them away from the group."

Without waiting to see if Baldr was following, the pit keeper wove through the crowds of merchants and residents of the slums who seemed to be going about their mornings with one eye over their shoulder.

The tension that radiated in the air was smothering as fear and anger choked all other emotion.

Things had gone from bad to worse for these people and there seemed to be nothing Baldr could do for them.

"You're leaving," he said to Sigurd in a whisper that was drowned by the busy streets, but the pit keeper heard him.

"I am," he confirmed. "There is a group from Engate sailing to Nida this afternoon. With the winds, we hope to make it there by moonrise tomorrow."

"Good. How many are traveling with you?"

"You expect me to tell you that?" Sigurd asked as he halted and spun to face Baldr.

He almost collided with the man, the icy blue of his eyes impossibly cold as they searched the shadows of his hood again.

Baldr put his hands up in a slightly defensive position as he said, "I only ask to see if there is space to take more with you.

The people at the gates have been there for days, the soldiers there have undoubtedly marked their faces and will follow them home.

It won't be safe for them here anymore."

Sigurd scrutinized him for a few more moments before turning and taking off at a brisk walk again. Baldr followed, but did not say more. Instead, he hugged the mans shadow in case he spoke again.

"No one is safe here anymore," Sigurd whispered, the words skating over Baldr's skin in an ominous wave of promise from the Norns.

"But we are making progress here," the tall blacksmith argued with Sigurd after the pit keeper pulled him into the alley where Baldr was waiting. "If we can just get through the gates—"

"You'll be killed on sight," Baldr said, cutting off the blacksmith.

His dark green eyes turned to face him, his fury already etched into his striking features as his hands flexed a few times.

The blacksmith was tall and burly, the corded muscles of his arms typical for those in his line of work.

His wide chest tapered into a narrow waist before his hips and thighs packed with the same steel muscles of his arms flared again.

The light gold of his skin was stained black around his fingers, the tough callouses evident even from where Baldr stood a short distance from him.

Though this man complexion was the same as most of the Logi natives— light reddish/blonde hair, fair skin tinged gold from working in the sun, the freckles on his arm and bridge of his nose a smattering of color on an otherwise monochromatic canvas— he was an imposing figure in the cool alley as his emotion was flaring higher and higher.

"Finn, you have to understand that starting this fight right now will only end in failure," Sigurd said smoothly, drawing the blacksmiths attention away from Baldr.

He sunk back into the darkness of the alley they stood in and let the pit keeper soothe the man.

"Come with me to Nida, there is a lot you can do for us all in a place where the fight won't have to end in death," Sigurd continued. "The people trust you, they listen to you and we are going to need that leadership. But we have to leave now if this war is ever going to end up in our favor."

Finn hesitated, the uncertainty of his current situation finally seeming to make it through his thick skull.

"How many can you take?" he asked Sigurd.

The pit keeper glanced at Baldr before responding, "As many as we need."

The blacksmith nodded before motioning to Baldr with his thumb. "What about this one?"

"I need to stay here a while longer," he replied smoothly. "My job isn't quite finished."

Finn hesitated another moment before nodding at Sigurd. "Fine, we'll leave. I'll have one of my men pick a fight with a soldier so the rest can get away. He's slippery, it shouldn't take too long for him to get away after we've all cleared out."

Sigurd nodded before releasing a large breath. "South gates, be there in half an hour and bring only what you can carry."

They each gripped the others forearm. "We'll see you soon."

The blacksmith took off back into the crowd without another word, leaning into someones ear every few steps and whispering their plan.

Baldr did not stick around to see how the fight would turn out.

Instead, he turned to say his goodbye to Sigurd so he could make it back to his office in time to divert patrols from the southern gates.

The pit keeper brought his gaze from the blacksmith he had convinced to fight another day to Baldr, his eyes betraying none of what the man was thinking as they eyed each other.