Aven got word of the emergency meeting just after returning from the latest hunt. Victory over voidspawn only brought rewards of more work, it seemed. Aven dismissed the triumphant hunters (all sound despite running into a pit with a pair of speartails) and headed straight for the meeting room to find Etrani, Esharah, and the reserve captains all with various looks of worry, alongside a bruised and bloody herald.

  The runners were under Etrani’s direct authority, not Aven’s, so he didn’t know the canin woman that well beyond a couple encounters in the town. But she certainly didn’t usually look like that — bruised, scratched, covered in dried blood, and more than a bit wild in her eyes.

  “Captain, thank you for coming,” Executor Etrani said. Captain, was it? This was a serious meeting, then. “Cursor Shevan, please continue.”

  Shevi nodded and took a gulp of water. Aven could smell the herbal tea mixed with the water. Something to calm the nerves.

  “Right, as I was saying, Frostwood’s taken over,” the herald’s voice sounded steadier now, though it trembled. There was a raw, hoarse sound to it as well. The sound of someone who’d been screaming. “Leader is Sergrud fel-Maies.”

  That name apparently meant something to the others (a lot to Captain Frostclaw from the way the usually taciturn beastkin was pacing furiously in corner). The title “fel-Maies”, however, indicated a prisoner sentenced for treason. One who’d committed crimes great enough that the empire had purged all other names and titles. Even patricide hadn’t granted Aven that ignoble title. “Who?”

  “Seven years ago, he was captain of Hellfrost,” Etrani supplied, scanning an old scroll on her desk. “Then he was prisoner here.”

  “Traitor,” Frostclaw growled. “Killed the executor. Tried to take power for himself.”

  “Gave you some of those scars too,” Breton indicated Frostclaw’s face. The captain nodded, still pacing, clawed hands flexing.

  “Then, five years ago, Sergrud fel-Maies led the largest prisoner escape in Hellfrost’s history,” Breton said. “I was here for that one. We tracked down the bastards. Voidspawn and frost got most of ‘em before we did. Never found Sergrud’s body, though.”

  “I said it,” Frostclaw wheeled around on Breton, eyes burning with rage. “I said we should’ve searched until we found the corpse. You insisted that no one could survive out in the mountains that long. Look who survived!”

  “Yeah, you were right,” Breton raised his arms defensively. “Congratulations.”

  “So, this Sergrud took over Frostwood,” Aven tried to steer the conversation away from past arguments to their present challenges. “How many are with him? And what happened to the villagers?”

  “They...they kept me imprisoned,” Shevi said, eyes looking haunted. “After killing Blackeye...” the herald stopped, eyes squeezing shut and voice trembling. “Never saw most of the villages. There was a pyre, though. But plenty of the hunters were with him. They didn’t speak to me. I don’t know if they’re working with him out of fear or loyalty. There were at least three-score with him. Probably more. Could be a lot more. Zhagra, beastkin, ondrar. Tribes from the northwest. Called him ‘Kriegsharr’.”

  “Warlord,” Frostclaw translated. He spat, “Traitor’s gone barbarian.”

  “So he has a warband and has conquered one town already,” Aven said. “He’s coming for Hellfrost?”

  Shevi nodded, “He...wanted information about Hellfrost’s defenses. The vis.” Her hands tightened, claws digging into her palms. “I’m sorry. I tried to hold out, but I...” She paused, eyes shut and trembling.

  Esharah put a hand on her shoulder, whispering some comfort into her ear, no doubt accompanied by mental comfort as well. The herald took another shuddering breath.

  “They had a mind vis with them,” Shevi resumed. “She knew when I lied. I’m sorry.”

  “But you escaped and made it back here,” Aven said. “That takes courage-”

  Shevi shook her head, “I didn’t escape.” Her voice grew quiet. “Sergrud let me go. To deliver a message.”

  Executor Etrani leaned forward, “Which was?”

  “Hellfrost’s king returns,” the herald recited. “Before spring comes, he will reclaim his throne. Those who surrender may serve. Those who resist will burn.”

  Silence filled the hall. Aven glanced around at his fellow captains. Breton’s face had hardened, all usual good humor gone. Frostclaw’s anger had settled, a deadly look in his eye.

  “And...we’re taking that seriously?” Aven asked.

  The others stared at him.

  “Let me re-phrase: we are assuming he can make good on the threat? We’ve 250 soldiers. Sixty vis. We’ve got the fortified town. We’ve got supplies to hold through winter. They’ve got one village; surely not enough to feed an army through winter here.” Aven glanced around the group again. “How is this anything more than bluster?”

  “Because Sergrud never picks a fight unless he’s certain he can win,” Frostclaw said. “Arrogant bastard. But damned smart. Cunning as a wolf. He’s got some scheme, you can be certain of that.” Frostclaw paused for a long while, “And Sergrud himself is strong. Back then, it took me and Erdrak together to bring him down. He was right at the peak of 2nd circle back then. You think he’s been idle these five years?”

  “I can confirm he’s of the 3rd circle,” Shevi said. “I...didn’t observe a Sign, so I don’t believe he’s progressed higher.”

  Frostclaw nodded, “Aye. If he was 4th circle, we wouldn’t be having this conversation. He’d have already marched in and killed everyone in his path.”

  “Erdrak was 3rd circle too,” Aven noted.

  “And you beat him with surprise, numbers, and tricks,” Frostclaw said.

  Aven couldn’t rebut that. It just meant they’d have to make sure surprise, numbers, and tricks were on their side again. They were the best at that, anyway. He glanced at Etrani. The Executor’s face was drawn tight, her mind calculating a dozen variables.

  You might be reading a stolen copy. Visit Royal Road for the authentic version.

  Frostclaw spoke first, “We need to end this fast. Flush them out like rabbits from their warren. Village isn’t equipped for defense.”

  “No. We’d be fighting an entrenched enemy in hard terrain,” Breton said. “Unknown numbers and powers. Too many unknowns.”

  “Our companies could take any barbarian warband,” Frostclaw snarled.

  “In an equal fight, aye,” Breton said. “We don’t know what they’ve planned. We have the fortifications, we have the supplies. We have a stronghold.”

  “Sergrud would count on that,” Frostclaw said. “Plan for a siege. He knows Hellfrost, knows exactly where to attack.”

  Breton threw up his hands, “And maybe he’s predicted this whole conversation and is counting on us making an attack! Maybe he’s already predicted what we’re going to have for breakfast and has planned around our indigestion! We can’t just assume our enemy is all-seeing and invincible, man.”

  Etrani held up a hand and waited for silence, “Please, captains. You have made your positions clear.” She looked to Aven, “What would you suggest?”

  In Aven’s mind, the solution was clear.

  “If this Sergrud is a threat, we kill him,” Aven said

  “Oh, you think it’s that easy, do you?” Frostclaw gave Aven a disgusted look.

  “Simple,” Aven rejoined. “Not necessarily easy. We’ve got plenty of vis. Send a team to assassinate him. Threat’s over.”

  “Sending them into unknown territory, to face an unknown number of enemies of unknown strength?” Etrani asked, expression making it clear she found the suggestion reckless, at best. Which, of course, it was.

  “Fine, we’ll rule out assassination,” Aven said after thinking for a while. “I don’t know Sergrud. I don’t know Frostwood. But its seems to me that the walls and winter are our strength.”

  Breton nodded approvingly, while Frostclaw growled again.

  “But,” Aven continued. “That only forestalls the threat. It doesn’t end it. A defensive strategy coupled with an assassination team would.”

  Etrani considered this for a long while. Her gaze met Esharah’s, and something spoken only in thought passed between them.

  “An offensive push is the greater risk,” she finally said. “That risk means the lives of our soldiers. I will not subject them to such a risk. Nor would I subject an assassination team to such risk. Our advantages are best on the defensive. Captains, please inform your soldiers of this threat, and prepare to defend Hellfrost. We will hold our town against this threat.”

  * * *

  For the months since Yvris’ overthrow, the sense of uncertainty pervading Hellfrost had gradually faded to normalcy. A point perhaps slightly better than the constant discontent under Yvris’ rule but little different from the usual worries and hardships of life on the outer edge of the empire. Now, the news of Sergrud’s hung over the whole town like a miasma to Esharah’s senses. With constant new arrivals, many of them retired veterans promised land as reward for their enlistment, the number of souls within Hellfrost who actually remembered Sergrud’s time in leadership were few. Most tales came from the legionaries in Frostclaw’s company.

  Truth quickly fell behind rumors in the race for the town’s imagination. The Hunter of Hellfrost, returning from the dead to claim vengeance. Many in the heart of the empire considered the imperial spirit above petty superstition; the frontier did not hold the same opinion. In a town threatened ceaselessly by monsters from the void, guarded by a man who himself had perished and returned from the void, who was to say the Hunter could not return as a vengeful spirit as well?

  Esharah spread comfort where she could, but the impressions her Mindspeaker domain left were only seeds, and even healthy seeds could not grow in a storm. The news of the Hunter’s return was a tempest, blowing all else aside.

  “Our executor and captains have the situation under control,” Esharah told the thousandth person who demanded answers. “The threat is real, and we are prepared to meet it.”

  Technically, as Head Warden Esharah should have been primarily concerned with prisoners. Given that the vast majority of Hellfrost’s prison population had received pardons and been conscripted into either the newly formed mining cooperative or the Hellfrost legion, Etrani had shifted Esharah into a general assistant to the executor. Which mostly meant being the public face so Etrani wasn’t socially overwhelmed.

  In town, repeating the message to everyone from tavernkeepers to farmers. Or, right now, the remaining clergy in Hellfrost’s temple.

  “And the festival?” Diakon Bella asked. A dezar like Esharah, though Bella was a full head shorter and had the air of a frightened mouse. Esharah had always assigned the woman’s nerves to working under Yvris for years; apparently even out from under his rule, she was still skittish as a young deer.

  Diakon Manu grunted at the side, heavy brow knitted in a scowl even deeper than usual. Until a new priest arrived from Northstar to take the empty space Yvris had once held, the two diakons were in charge of both everyday rituals and larger festivals at the town chapel. While both might be good supportive figures, Manu with stoic and silent hard work and Bella with gentleness, neither was built for leadership in a time like this.

  Esharah kept her voice low. Despite the chapel being near-empty in the mid-afternoon between morning and evening dedications, there were still a couple acolytes around. Best not to publically advertise anything that might cause further rumors or panic.

  “I’ll discuss the matter with our executor,” Esharah said, though given the expanding list of Etrani’s priorities, this probably wouldn’t make it near the top anytime soon. “For now, continue as normal. All the more important to honor our protectors at a time they’re needed most.”

  The new moon festival of Decem was the Still Vigil, a festival of the ideal of Discipline. A time to honor the watchguards and legionaries of the empire. Bella and Manu would have to handle the details. All that would be required of Etrani was a brief speech. Which Etrani already had written months ago, having taken the time to write out speeches for every single festival for the coming year shortly after first being assigned position as executor.

  “Um...ex...excuse me...”

  Esharah turned at the sound of the meek chirp. The acolyte was new, replacing one of Yvris’ acolytes who’d fled after the change in Hellfrost’s leadership. A blackwing avi. Birdfolk were rare throughout the empire, though blackwings were at least common enough in the northwest that most common folk had seen some. There were perhaps two dozen in Hellfrost, though this boy came from one of the outlying villages. Currently, he was holding a broom in the claws on the end of his black-feathered wings.

  Esharah gave a small nod of respect. The boy bowed deeply. His name...Esharah struggled to remember his name.

  “My...my family is...” he paused, croaking voice shaking with nerves, beak trembling. That wide-eyed stare might have been nerves or just the way his face naturally formed. “I’m...from Frostwood. Do you know...?”

  The question Esharah had heard dozens of times in the last day. From those in Hellfrost who still had family in the outlying villages.

  Esharah stepped over and put a hand on his shoulder, trying not to show any worry in front of him, “We haven’t heard from Frostwood, I’m afraid. Cursor Shevan did see a number of Frostwood’s hunters alive, but we don’t have any more information.” She neglected to mention that those hunters appeared to be working with Sergrud’s forces. Best not suggest to the boy that his family might be traitors.

  To Esharah’s empathy, the boy’s mind was a swirl of nerves and concerns. That welter of feelings did not calm from her words, and there was too much for a simple nudge to fully calm.

  “Our legionaries will do everything in their power to protect Hellfrost,” Esharah repeated.

  “But...they’re not going to save Frostwood?” the boy asked.

  “Ive,” Manu barked. “Enough questions. Back to cleaning. We still have a sanctuary to maintain.”

  The boy jerked at the reprimand and scuttled off.

  “You don’t need to be so hard on him,” Bella whispered. Or, for her, spoke at a normal volume. “He’s just worried, we all are.”

  “We’re the ones who guide the people in the Ideals,” Manu said. “In the month of discipline, we set the example.” He gave a distinctly military salute, “Warden. We’ll do our duties.” He gave a sharp glance to Bella, “Won’t we, diakon?”

  “Of...of course!” Bella squeaked.

  “I leave the temple in your capable hands then,” Esharah said, returning the salute. “Good day to you, Diakon Manu, Diakon Bella. Remember, you can always contact me or the executor with questions.” Esharah slipped out the door before anyone could raise any other concerns that she was ill-prepared to address.

  In the six months since Yvris’ death, they’d made real progress. They’d built the foundations of something better than Hellfrost had been. Now, the first crisis threatened to wash that away. Esharah could only hope the foundation proved strong enough to withstand the storm.

  * * * * * * * * * * * * * * * *

  patreon.com/OrpheusDAC