When does silent compliance with an oppressive regime become unbearable? For Charlie Simpkins, the manager of a small vegetable shop in Los Angeles' San Fernando Valley, part of the West Coast People's Democratic Republic, the breaking point comes when he is asked to display a meaningless propaganda poster in his shop window. It is a seemingly insignificant act in a lifetime of obedience. But Charlie just can't bring himself to do it. This minor act of defiance, however, shows too much independent thinking on Charlie's part, setting off a chain of escalating consequences.

For three long years, the militant Chleuh have occupied the Kingdom of Quimper and its great capital, Lutesse. Times are hard since they won the war. There’s not much food or fuel—the Chleuh take anything that isn’t nailed down. People in Lutesse have terrible choices to make. Do they go along with the Chleuh and try to make the best of a bad situation? Or do they try to fight back, hoping the occupation can’t last forever?

More than four centuries ago, the Scepter of Mercy was lost to the king of Avornis, and each subsequent liege has promised—and failed—to return the powerful talisman to its rightful home. Now, young Lanius, the only surviving son of King Mergus, rules, though he is considered illegitimate and must abide by the decisions of regents. Still, the legacy of the missing scepter ultimately belongs to him.

Peace in the North has been fragile and tentative in the five years since the terrible Werenight, when the light of four full moons transformed men into beasts. Now cut off completely from the Elabon Empire, the land is in violent dispute, squabbled over by minor barons hungry for greater power. Gerin the Fox is one of the few who stand firm against the encroaching chaos, but his own life has been violently shaken, first by a heartless betrayal and then by the kidnapping of his young son. Having angered a vengeful deity, he cannot look to the gods for support.

Count Hamnet Thyssen is a minor noble of the drowsy old Raumsdalian Empire. Its capital city, Nidaros, began as a mammoth hunters camp at the edge of the great Glacier. But that was centuries ago, and as everyone knows, its the nature of the great Glacier to withdraw a few feet every year. Trasamund, a clan chief of the mammoth-herding Bizogots, the next tribe north, has come to town with strange news. A narrow gap has opened in what they'd always thought was an endless and impregnable wall of ice.