《Rise of the Frontier Lord [ Kingdom Builder ]》


 1. Awakening

    A snarling growl awoke Mark from his dreams of burning settlements. In the dreams, armies of bestial warriors had been marching through burning wreckage¡ªcarrying severed heads by their matted hair. They marched by foreign yet strangely familiar corpses¡ªas if their faces belonged to people he should recognize.


    His heavy lids fluttered open as the growl grew louder and more urgent. Eyes widening, he locked on the gnarled fangs from which the low growl emanated. Saliva dripped from the razor-sharp maw as a wolf stalked within a few yards. It stepped slowly and deliberately through the blanket of snow perched atop the forest¡¯s undergrowth.


    His lip trembled, and he went to scream, but his breath caught in his dry, pained throat. Mark¡¯s head spun, and his body ached. Terror gripped him, and instinct took over as he raised his hands over his face to shield himself.


    Gloves?


    Mark had never been one for wearing gloves, and the tight, black leather lined by copper wires with tiny plates in line with his knuckles and finger joints was the last thing he expected to see. Not that he had time to ponder the thought.


    Roaring, the wolf leaped forward, and Mark squeezed his eyes shut as his body tensed. He cowered behind his hands. An angry crackle sounded as static rippled through the gloves. A bright flash of lightning shot forth in a blink, slamming into the wolf with a thunderous bang. Charred and smoking, the wolf¡¯s furred corpse fell lifelessly into the snow beside him.


    ¡°What the hell?¡± Mark muttered, looking down at his gloved hands as thin ribbons of smoke swirled up.


    His vision blurred, and a memory flashed: He was stuck, bumper to bumper, on the Golden Gate Bridge. He heard the groaning of metal. It had lasted barely several seconds before the ground collapsed, sending him and all the other unfortunate souls crashing into the dark blue beneath.


    A startled gasp claimed him as if he¡¯d awoken from drowning, and Mark wiped the sweat from his brow as he steadied his breathing.


    I¡¯m alive. But¨Cbut¡­ I fell¡­didn¡¯t I? That was definitely real. The memory of water filling his lungs was too vivid for any dream.


    Mark swallowed, pulling his hands away from his face, and glared down at them. Thick sleeves reached his wrists. He appeared to be wearing a dark blue trenchcoat¡ªthick and warm, it was made for a harsh winter. Beneath the trenchcoat were dark leather sleeves lined by the same copper wires as his gloves.


    His panicked hands ripped the coat open, revealing a leather vest covered in wires. And the wires continued down his trousers until leather boots replaced them.


    Where did this come from?


    Shuffling to his feet, Mark patted himself down as he pivoted, hopelessly trying to make sense of his situation.


    A thumping ache stabbed into his head, and he grasped at his temples as he let out a soft moan. It felt like his brain was expanding, threatening to burst through his skull.


    An anguished cry escaped his lips before he could clench his jaw to silence it.


    ¡°Imperator Atlas?¡± A high-pitched voice came echoing through the forest.


    Mark dizzily spun toward the voice¡¯s direction, narrowing his eyes as he struggled against his suddenly blurred vision.


    Every time the pain stabbed at him, memories flowed through his thoughts¡ªmemories from another person.


    A baby-faced teen with dark hair pushed his way through the wiry branches of the leafless forest. He wore a white robe and carried a crossbow.


    Imperator Atlas. That boy is calling out for me.


    Spikes of pain flashed through his brain as the hazy memories invaded deeper. His body belonged to this Imperator Atlas¡ªor at least, it had.


    Miasma. Poison. A cloud of death that plagues this world. The Imperator had been poisoned by it months ago. He had come here alone and in secret. To let the poison take him in privacy.


    ¡°Acolyte,¡± Mark shouted back and squinted as he made out the youth¡¯s features through the foliage. ¡°Callum.¡±


    The memories came in doses but seemed to be able to force relevant information to the forefront.


    ¡°You¡¯re okay,¡± he said, panting as he pushed through a final wall of thin branches. ¡°The ferals were saying you looked odd this morning. I¡¯m sorry, Imperator. I didn¡¯t mean to break orders¡­ But¡ªbut, I was worried.¡± The Acolyte said, his words fast and shaky as if he had stepped out of line.


    ¡°I¡¯m okay,¡± Mark slowly said. He wasn¡¯t. This was all too much, too quickly, and it felt wrong to say otherwise.


    ¡°Good,¡± the boy swallowed and straightened. His eyes darted down to the blackened wolf before shooting to the cloudy sky.


    He¡¯s scared of me. Of course he is; I¡¯m his Imperator.


    ¡°Relax,¡± Mark said. Is that my voice? It¡¯s deep and grizzled¡ªlike I was born with a Marlboro Red hanging out my mouth.


    The boy tried to relax a little, but he still looked stiff.


    ¡°The fort, let¡¯s head back,¡± Mark said as he flicked through the foreign memories like a photo album as they came to him.


    ¡°Yes, Sir!¡± The boy saluted and turned, leading Mark back through the trail he had snapped into the twiggy branches.


    Within a few minutes of crunching through snow, they reached a well-trodden path. The forest thinned as they followed it, and mounds topped by straw dotted its sides. Beside one of the straw mounds, a fire burned. A dirty, dreadlocked figure dressed in brown rags squatted at the fire''s side. And they appeared to be roasting a small rodent on a stick.


    Mark¡¯s eyes settled on the filthy figure, and the feral¡¯s narrow gaze looked up at him in return, creepy, pin-prick pupils following as they walked by.


    Ferals. Mark shifted through the memories. These wild people dug their homes straight into the frozen mud and mounded straw atop them. This land was filled with barbarians, but ferals were, for the most part, harmless.


    As the forest thinned behind them, a clearing took its place, dotted by dozens of feral hovels and a spiked timber palisade behind them.


    He spotted another robed youth waving as they approached. And the palisade¡¯s timber gate groaned open. Through it came two more robed youths carrying crossbows.


    Fort Winterclaw. An outpost at the edge of¡ªno, not the edge¡ªwell beyond the edge of civilization. We¡¯re deep in barbarian territory. Outcasts sent here by the empire are to be forgotten.


    ¡°You got the acolytes worried,¡± smirked a well-built, sandy-haired man with dark stubble and dressed in studded leathers as he stepped between the robed youths at the gate. ¡°I''m starting to think they don¡¯t like the idea of being stuck here alone with me.¡±


    Master-at-Arms, Henric Dawn.


    ¡°Neither would I,¡± Mark said, attempting to impersonate the man he saw in the memories.


    ¡°What in the dead emperors were you doing out there, anyway? The Daggers howl, and you know what that does to the barbarians. The damn savages are crazy enough at the best of times.¡±


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    ¡°I can look after myself, Henric.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say. Get yourself killed out there, and I¡¯ll be the one left to deal with this shithole alone. I hate to imagine what kind of asshole they¡¯d send me to replace you. I know you lot have a doctrine and all that, but the last guy I worked with didn¡¯t even play cards or drink. Can you imagine how boring that gets?¡±


    He¡¯s told me this before.


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard it before, Henric,¡± Mark said, passing into the fort.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m just saying,¡± Henric said, ordering the acolytes around with hand gestures as he turned to follow.


    Pulling a wooden wheel lever, the acolytes hastily closed the gate.


    Inside the fort was a dozen log cabins lined in a circle, all facing inward. At the center of the fort was a well. And at the far ends of the palisades were two log blockhouses opposite each other.


    This Atlas guy was the commander of this little, stranded fort. That makes me the commander.


    Glancing around at his surroundings, Mark aligned the dead man¡¯s memories to his surroundings, noting the buildings¡¯ purposes. His eyes settled on the cabin opposite him. His cabin.


    Privacy; that¡¯s what I need¡ªa moment to get my head straight.


    ¡°Imperator, are you still planning on providing today¡¯s lesson to the acolytes?¡±


    ¡°I need a moment, Henric,¡± he said, slamming the door behind him as he entered the cabin.


    ¡°What¡¯s crawled up him?¡± Henric muttered under his breath. His brow sharpened as he turned, catching the intrigued acolytes as they burst back into action. ¡°Keep your noses where they belong,¡± he said, passing a couple of acolytes with their heads down.


    Mark slammed his back against the closed door and took several hyperventilating breaths.


    This can¡¯t actually be happening, can it? I¡¯ve never had a dream that felt this real or lasted this long. I¡¯m either in a coma, gone insane, or I really was freaking reincarnated as this Atlas guy for some reason. Reason? Mark thought about the word. Did there need to be a reason? He wasn¡¯t sure if life had a reason. Therefore, jumping to the conclusion that reincarnation did, seemed irrational.


    Okay, calm down. There¡¯s nothing to be done about it. I need to get the facts straight. That was easier said than done. The memories of Atlas were cloudy and confusing, and with every passing second, they drifted away like a dream.


    ¡°Paper,¡± he mouthed, wildly eyeing his room and locking onto a desk beside the bed.


    Struggling to search the fading memories, Mark pulled open a drawer full of papers and grabbed a handful. He took a quill from its ink well and began scribbling whatever fleeting details he managed to grab hold of.


    Four messy pages marked by a combination of ranting notes and poorly drawn pictures covered the desk as Mark crinkled his brow.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he sighed, leaning back in the chair. ¡°They¡¯re all gone. It¡¯s just me and this body now.¡±


    No matter how hard Mark tried, all he drew were blanks. Atlas¡¯s memories were gone. Only those he had consciously thought about and, in turn, filed away into his own memory remained. And the shitty notes he had just scribbled down.


    How am I supposed to figure this place out now?


    Swirling around on the chair, Mark stared up at the ceiling.


    A plan. That¡¯s what I need. Let¡¯s start with what I know, thanks to Atlas¡¯s memories. I¡¯m in the middle of nowhere, in a fort no one cares about. I¡¯m the leader of this place. I¡¯m wearing an Imperator suit that basically makes me a human lightning rod. We¡¯re surrounded by murderous barbarians that see us as heretical invaders. And besides Henric, the cook, and their healer, there are two dozen acolytes¡ªhalf of which are teenagers.


    ¡°Will I reincarnate again if I die?¡± Mark mouthed. Not that it mattered. He had no intention of testing it.


    The Daggers howl. Mark recounted Henric¡¯s words as he spun. They rang a bell, but the memory had gone.


    Swirling back toward the desk, Mark extended a foot to stop himself against it.


    ¡°Huh?¡± He craned forward.


    The plain leatherbound book didn¡¯t look particularly remarkable, but he could read the foreign script.


    Cartography?


    Gently opening the book, he found the maps of what must have been the region. It didn¡¯t take long to find what looked like a range of massive, pointed mountains labeled ¡°The Daggers.¡±


    Pictures were drawn beneath the mountains depicting frizzy-haired barbarians and wolves. His eyes glided across to a picture of an upright wolf with a bare, chiseled chest.


    ¡°Winter,¡± Mark breathed.


    Perma frost and icy winds were year-round phenomena in Barbarian Lands, but winter worsened them.


    ¡°Wargs,¡± he mouthed, tracing the drawing¡¯s lines with his finger. He saw them in Atlas¡¯s memories.


    That¡¯s them from my dream. They¡¯re real, Mark swallowed as he recounted the life-like dream.


    He had seen the wargs in his dreams. Intelligent wolf-like creatures that stood upright and carried weapons. They were terrifyingly strong, resilient to extreme weather, and as intelligent as men.


    They¡¯re coming, aren¡¯t they? Those faces from my dream, I¡¯m going to meet them¡­


    Mark¡¯s pupils dilated as a vision from his dream magnified in his mind. It was Henric, his head impaled on a post.


    Not a dream¡ªa vision. I¡¯ve got to do something. I-I can¡¯t. I can¡¯t sit around. We have to be ready for winter.


    His eyes drifted toward several notebooks piled on the desk, and he began working through them. Noting anything that sounded useful, Mark bent the edge of the pages and drew crosses beside points of interest.


    His frantic pace slowed when he reached the storehouse ledger. They were short on everything¡ªfirewood, smoked meat, wheat, berries, and just about everything else listed. There wasn¡¯t much he could do about the wheat since it came from the empire, but quite a few items were resourced locally.


    Damn it, this Atlas guy totally checked out. He knew his end was near, but come on, man¡ªa really shitty position to leave a bunch of people that were relying on you.


    Months of preparations had been lost, and now they would need to work overtime to gather the supplies needed for winter.


    The army flashed before his eyes again, marching through the charred remains of fallen settlements.


    Would the walls be enough? It wasn¡¯t a question he knew the answer to, but he knew they didn¡¯t have the manpower to arm them properly.


    His glimpse into Atlas¡¯s memories had revealed the disdain imperials held for the barbarian population, including the ferals. But Mark saw an opportunity. This was the resource hidden beneath their nose that the stubborn imperials could not grasp due to their belief in their own superiority.


    Ferals hung around imperial outposts for safety and sometimes even traded. But that¡¯s where their relationship ended. And some even believed engaging in these acts was to tarnish one¡¯s hands.


    To Mark, the solution was as plain as day. He had seen enough of Atlas¡¯s memories to know that the other imperials would be hostile to the plans he was cooking, but he saw no other way. They needed each other if they were to survive the winter. There was simply no way this handful of stragglers would hold out against the visions he had seen.


    Inviting the ferals into the fort would probably lead to mutiny, but if we could extend it¡­


    Mark flicked back through the notebooks. There it is. He had found a series of journey entries noting the erection of cabins and a section devoted to the wall. Okay, so, we¡¯ve got the skills. He tapped the end of the quill against the notebook''s edge as he read.


    This was within his means and hopefully wouldn¡¯t cause too much friction.


    ¡°There¡¯s no time to waste,¡± Mark said, jumping up from his chair and making for the exit.


    Outside, Henric showed two boys who looked barely fifteen how to chop firewood properly.


    ¡°Henric,¡± Mark yelled as he crossed the fort¡¯s central courtyard.


    ¡°Imperator?¡±


    ¡°New orders.¡±


    ¡°Hey, what did I say about swinging with the weight of the axe?¡± Henric snapped as one of the boys awkwardly brought the axe down against the timber, sending it bouncing off the frozen wood. ¡°Sorry, please continue, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I want the walls extended.¡±


    ¡°The walls? What for?¡±


    ¡°Come,¡± Mark said, marching for the palisade. He pointed across the clearing from atop the wall walk as Henric reached his side. ¡°I want it extended there, there, and there.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, sir, but why? We¡¯re already undermanned as it is. Increasing the length of the wall we have to defend is only going to stretch our meager numbers even further.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not prepared for winter, Henric. Changes are needed.¡±


    ¡°I believe I¡¯ve brought this to your attention many times, Imperator. What¡¯s stirred such a change of heart?¡±


    ¡°Just listen to me, Henric. As your Imperator, my word is law.¡± Mark thought. Now wasn¡¯t the time to risk talking about visions and dreams. And he knew how Atlas felt about the ferals. No explanation would make sense. For now, he just needed people to follow orders.


    ¡°Yes, of course, Imperator,¡± Henric saluted, and the color drained from his tone.


    For now, let them think I¡¯m mad.


    Mark understood enough to know that when he explained his plan, it would cause an uproar. Better to get the walls built first. Once that was completed, he could deal with the fallout of inviting the ferals to shelter behind them.


    There¡¯s no other way.


    Mark stared out across the primitive huts. His plan was a gamble. There was a real chance the fort would rebel against him. But it was also their only hope of survival.

 2. Walls

    Come on, don¡¯t make a fool of yourself. Mark aimed his palm at a fifteen-meter-tall oak.


    His understanding of the imperator suit was that it read his neural pulses somehow. Still, this was the first time he would intentionally use its power.


    Electricity crackled down his arm too fast for human eyes, and the beam snaked through the air with a flash. A deafening boom echoed as it slammed against the tree¡¯s trunk, loosening snow from surrounding trees and sending birds flying. The wood groaned and was quickly succeeded by crunching snaps.


    ¡°Timber!¡± Henric called out, hands to his mouth.


    The ground reverberated as the heavy tree landed with a thud, and several small branches flung out.


    I did it; Mark grinned.


    Downing trees wasn¡¯t just about providing timber to extend the palisade. The branches would provide them with plenty of firewood.


    Work couldn¡¯t start properly while he was downing trees, though. And so Mark hurried to knock down the next. And within several minutes, he had downed a dozen trees¡ªcausing the suit to warm into a portable furnace.


    ¡°Done,¡± he said, wiping sweat from his brow. His body felt moist beneath the suit now. A hot bath¡ªthat¡¯s what this place needs.


    ¡°Well, the easy part¡¯s done, at least,¡± Henric said. ¡°Alright, enough standing around, you slackers,¡± he twirled his hand above his head.


    The acolytes descended on the first tree with axes and began delimbing the trunk.


    ¡°I agree that the firewood will come in handy.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Mark replied, stepping to Hernic¡¯s side as they watched the acolytes work.


    ¡°While I''m glad you¡¯re finally taking this seriously. The reality is we need food, Imperator. The stores aren¡¯t even half full. And now you¡¯re putting us to work extending the palisade.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Mark tapped Henric¡¯s shoulder. ¡°Give me some time,¡± he added, turning to the fort.


    Felling trees wasn¡¯t just about logs for the palisade. Mark wanted to keep the acolytes and Henric off his back as much as possible. He still had no idea what he was supposed to teach these kids. And would do whatever he could to postpone those lessons.


    Retrieving one of Atlas¡¯s journals, Mark made for a nearby stretch of woods. It was a location the former Imperator had marked for food gathering. His journal had roughly drawn maps noting spots where thick shrubbery could be found with plentiful berry bushes, wooded lands where he had spotted deer scat, and several fishing spots. Fishing and berry picking¡ªif any berries still remained at this time of year¡ªsounded like tasks better suited to the acolytes.


    Walking with the map between his hands, Mark¡¯s gaze constantly shifted between it and the indistinguishable trees.


    If this is the fort, then¡­ He ran his finger along the larger map as he tried to compare it with the journal entries and paused. Behind a circular screen on the inside of his forearm, a dial flickered as he moved.


    ¡°Wait a minute,¡± he mouthed, holding out his arm as he pivoted. Sure enough, the dial turned. This suit really does have everything.


    After a minute or two, Mark had found his bearings. Thanks to the combination of the compass on his suit, the map, and the location of the fort on it¡ªhe found the landmarks scribbled into Atlas¡¯s journal.


    Mark crunched through the snow for several minutes before arriving at the spot Atlas marked.


    He was no hunter and realized he had no idea what to do, but he remembered a survivalist show he had watched on TV. Deer were skittish. And if he wanted to hunt one, he would need to be invisible.


    Lowering himself by some trees and bushy undergrowth, Mark tried to make himself unseen. Unfortunately, after half an hour, he spotted no signs of deer.


    They¡¯re not going to show, are they?


    Sighing, he rose to his feet. He wasn¡¯t sure if deer hunting was like fishing and he should be patient and wait, but a sense of urgency made sitting around hard.


    Carefully avoiding twigs and bushes, he trudged the forest¡ªmoving deeper into the area marked by Atlas.


    Disappearing into the woods again and returning empty-handed isn¡¯t a good showing. Especially not when I¡¯ve asked them to trust me and just built the palisade.


    Through the corner of his eye, Mark caught the faintest of movements and froze.


    Even leafless, the density of the surrounding forest made it hard to see far, and whatever he had spotted blended into its surroundings.


    Mark remained still for a long moment and focused on silently cycling his breath.


    There!


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    Carefully, he twisted his neck to where he spotted movement and narrowed his gaze.


    Brown, black, and white trunks, some narrow and some thick, climbed from the ground. The undergrowth created an uneven surface of snow. But after a moment of squinting and straining, he spotted something.


    The horizontal brown of the deer¡¯s body between trees caught his eyes, and a second later, he saw its head dip into the undergrowth to gnaw at the vegetation.


    Slowly, he raised his arm and pointed his palm. But the shot was far from clear and distant.


    Holding his breath, Mark steadily inched forward. He wasn¡¯t sure what kind of range his lightning attack was capable of, but the trees between them concerned him.


    After only a few meters, the deer¡¯s head shot up. Its ears twitched, and it turned to survey its surroundings.


    Shit! He stood completely still for what felt like an eternity. Finally, the deer lowered its head again, and he exhaled.


    He wanted to get closer, but the risk felt too high now.


    Raising his arm again, Mark held his breath and aimed. Lightning crackled across the forest floor. Arcs of its energy caught trees as it passed, blackening and burning them. But the bolt shot true, and a resounding clap blasted through the forest as it hit the deer.


    ¡°Did I get it?¡± Mark mouthed as he began to hop through the undergrowth towards his target.


    The deer lay amongst the snow. Its fur roasted and body unmoving.


    One deer won¡¯t last long, but hopefully, it will raise their spirits and maybe even earn me some trust.


    He doubted they would forget so easily that Atlas had checked out a while ago. But he had seen enough of his memories to know that jobs like hunting and other support roles were seen as beneath an Imperator. Even if they were starving to death, such a job would be the responsibility of the acolytes.


    Hopefully, if I can gain their trust, my plan with the ferals will go over smoothly.


    Pulling the smoldering corpse through the snow, Mark¡¯s belly began to rumble. It smelt a bit burned, but it was still cooked meat and a reminder he hadn¡¯t eaten since his arrival.


    Somehow, even this bullshit isn''t as bad as meeting venture capitalists back in the Bay Area.


    Mark had probably repeated the same exhausting speech a thousand times: disruptive tech. The terminology made him shudder. If there was one thing he was grateful for, it was not having to say that again.


    Not only that, but Mark had been relatively fit back in college. That was over ten years ago now, and he had well and truly let it go, chasing his dreams with grueling eighty-hour work weeks.


    On the other hand, Atlas''s build was like something between a special forces operative and a lumberjack, and the feel of his muscles tightening as he strained them reminded him of what he had once had.


    There is no way I am letting myself get out of shape again.


    Mark heaved the deer with a rough grunt, dropping it in front of the fort and exhaling.


    ¡°Been busy, Imperator?¡± Henric said, eyeing the deer as he approached, walking over from the busy acolytes.


    ¡°You said we needed food.¡±


    ¡°Yeah¡­ but maybe take a crossbow next time. Charcoal is an acquired taste.¡±


    Mark looked down at the burns covering much of the deer''s body.


    Right, I''m an idiot.


    ¡°The acolytes, not to mention Treff, will be glad to have more meat. But Imperator, we need real supplies. Every day, walking around out here is going to get more dangerous. With all due respect, we should be sending the acolytes out on hunting and gathering trips. Not building a senseless wall.¡±


    ¡°Are you questioning my orders, arms master?¡±


    ¡°¨CNo¡­ Imperator¨C¡±


    ¡°I don''t have to explain my plans to you. Nor do I need you to understand them. But you will follow them, Henric. Understood?¡±


    Henric gritted his teeth and nodded.


    ¡°Besides, I''m not going to let people go hungry.¡±


    Mark mentally sighed. Playing the tough guy is getting tiring. But if I let my guard down now, things could spiral. Just remember, you''re doing this for the right reasons, Mark.


    Smoke lazily trailed up from the back of one of the cabins; it was the smokehouse connected to the cabin containing the cookery and butchery.


    The welcoming scent of herbs, meat, and cherry wood chips greeted Mark¡¯s senses as he entered the cook¡¯s cabin.


    Working a cleaver on a wolf''s corpse, a bald, mustached man with a square jaw looked up at Mark mid-swing.


    ¡°Over there,¡± Mark said, pointing to an empty butcher''s table. Three acolytes passed him and heaved the deer onto it, almost collapsing under its weight.


    ¡°You''ve gone from bringing me nothing to two corpses in one day?¡±


    Mark eyed the partially cut-up wolf corpse. Despite its fur having been removed, he spotted the charring.


    ¡°The wolf I killed?¡±


    ¡°What do you think, Imperator?¡± Treff raised a dark, bushy brow as he brought his cleaver down with a reverberating thud, severing a limb. ¡°We don''t waste food here,¡± he grunted.


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark mumbled. ¡°Is it possible to get some steaks out of this?¡± He pointed to the deer.


    ¡°Out of a deer? Yes, Imperator. It is.¡±


    ¡°Good. Prepare and cook enough for the acolytes. The best steaks you can manage. Hard work should be rewarded.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Treff grunted and severed another of the naked wolf corpse''s legs.


    Mark eyed the short-worded butcher for a moment as he returned to work.


    ¡°Something else, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°No, it''s fine,¡± Mark replied. ¡°Just thinking.¡±


    Treff¡¯s bushy brow curled, but he didn''t speak as he returned to chopping.


    **Acolytes**


    The acolytes sat around, their robes pulled down to their waists, revealing their dirty undershirts. Treff had cooked up steaks on the bone, and they tore into them, barely stopping to breathe.


    They already had several trunks prepared and lined up. And a growing pile of firewood.


    The ferals watched curiously but knew their place and didn''t get too close. This didn''t help their perceptions among the acolytes, who glared them down as they ate.


    ¡°What do you think goes on in their heads,¡± Acolyte Clay said as he tore meat away from the bone.


    ¡°Pure evil. Pa said they eat their young during the winter,¡± Dober replied, thinning his glare at the ferals as he chewed. ¡°Probably casting curses on us, filthy things.¡±


    ¡°What would your pa know? You said you were the first of your blood to leave the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°You think you''re so special coz yer family are travelers. I''ll have you know, Eeerin, that the good men of Tibbits Way know plenty. Including all the evil them ferals are up to.¡±


    ¡°Sure, Dober,¡± Erin rolled her eyes and took a bite.


    The three ferals they watched crouched together, whispering. One pointed a dirty, mittened finger at them, and the others nodded.


    Crunchy steps sounded behind them, and Callum dropped himself beside the trio, biting into his meat and loudly chewing. ¡°Who cares.¡±


    ¡°Whaddya mean, who cares?¡± Dober spat, almost choking.


    ¡°About the ferals. They''ve been here since before we arrived. And they ain¡¯t ever caused us no trouble.¡± His voice dropped to a whisper, ¡°But what about the Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Careful what you say,¡± Erin whispered.


    Callum glanced around before continuing, ¡°None of you think he''s been acting weird? Suddenly, he wants us to extend the walls. Now, this? Have you ever heard of an Imperator hunting to feed his acolytes?¡±


    ¡°At least he''s doing something now,¡± Clay said.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum said under his breath. ¡°I suppose he is.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t stick your nose where it doesn¡¯t belong,¡± said Erin. ¡°We¡¯ve enough to worry about with winter coming.¡±


    ¡°Forget I said anything,¡± Callum grunted, but Erin¡¯s gaze rested on him.

 3. Stockpile

    Watching from a raised section of the clearing, Mark eyed the acolytes as Henric ordered them to work. Using ropes and pulleys, they hoisted the prepared logs up into a trench they had dug. Stakes were then added for extra strength.


    At this pace, we should be done in a couple of weeks.


    He was impressed with their speed of progress, and maybe it was just a coincidence, but it felt like today¡¯s chill bit deeper.


    I need to find a better solution to our food problem.


    Turning away from the screen, Mark spotted several figures through the skeletal canopy of the surrounding forest. They were picking at the undergrowth as they walked the forest floor, carrying sacks. They shoveled whatever they found into the sacks as they walked.


    Eyeing them, Mark wondered what the ferals were gathering, but his attention was soon stolen by a group passing through. They paused to speak to the gathering ferals, who pointed south past the fort.


    More ferals are leaving.


    He scanned the group of about a dozen as they shifted through the forest. It was the third group he had seen heading south in the last couple of days.


    As they stepped out of view, his gaze drifted to the ferals as the hunched figures returned to their huts. He spotted them pull mushrooms and what looked like pieces of bark from the bag.


    What is that?


    ¡°The hard work has been good training. Not to mention the callouses. They are constantly complaining about bloody hands. If I had known they were this weak,¡± Henric said, appearing at Mark¡¯s side.


    ¡°What is that,¡± Mark pointed toward the pieces of bark the ferals were piling on a cloth.


    ¡°You got a sudden interest in the local infestation?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s important. Just answer the question.¡±


    Henric bit his tongue and shifted his gaze toward the ferals, ¡°Rigar bark. I believe they boil it. And once it¡¯s soft, mash it up into a paste and cook it again. I¡¯ve heard it tastes bitter. They use it to soak up soups. Apparently, it¡¯s not bad for that. Takes in the flavor. If you trust a feral, that is.¡±


    Interesting. It sounds like a carbohydrate.


    ¡°And there¡¯s a lot of this rigar bark around here?¡±


    ¡°Huh? I mean, sure, I guess. The ferals sure eat a lot of it.¡±


    ¡°And why aren¡¯t we, arms master?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t we eating this rigar bark?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s feral food. I¡¯ve never heard of an Imperial eating rigar bark, and I have been stationed in the frontiers for a decade now.¡±


    ¡°Right. But besides being feral food, are there any health issues with it? I¡¯m not going to give my acolytes diarrhea by feeding it to them, am I?¡±


    ¡°No. But Imperator, be reasonable. Even the lowest-born acolytes will take offense at being fed barbarian scraps. It¡¯ll sow discontent in the fort.¡±


    ¡°Starving to death during the winter will sow discontent in the fort, Henric. Some things are more important than pride.¡±


    ¡°Imperator¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve heard enough,¡± Mark raised a hand. ¡°It looks like they need a hand,¡± he added, pointing toward several acolytes as they struggled to raise a spiked log.


    ¡°Hey! What did I say about applying equal torque from both sides?¡± Henric shouted and ran toward the impending disaster as the log swayed on the rope''s end.


    I¡¯ll need to figure out how to collect this rigar bark without annoying everyone.


    He didn¡¯t want to get overexcited, but eyeing the ferals as they continued to pull the bark from their sacks, piling it onto what now was a large stack beside the hut, gave Mark hope that he could, relatively easily, solve the food stockpile problem.


    **Mira**


    Three ferals carrying bags surrounded Mira at the rear of the fort.


    Blonde braids bordered the healer''s long hair. Her pale, delicate hands shuffled through her pouch, producing three bottles of clear rum.


    ¡°As agreed,¡± she said, retrieving the bottles and lining them on the ground.


    ¡°It''s good stuff?¡± One of the feral said, twisting its head as it craned toward the bottles.


    ¡°Yes, as always. Now, the herbs you promised.¡±


    ¡°Show ¡®er the gear,¡± he jerked his head, and the other ferals dropped the bags of herbs at her feet and loosened their ties. ¡°Take a gander. They''re all in there for ya.¡±


    ¡°No merchant''s bane?¡± Mira said as she shuffled through the bags.


    This tale has been unlawfully obtained from Royal Road. If you discover it on Amazon, kindly report it.


    ¡°Miss, c¡¯mon. Frost''s already taken ¡®em. You''ll be waitin¡¯ months for freshies, assuming you make it that long. We did what we could, as agreed.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Mira rose, brushing her hands. ¡°It''s a deal. Same time next month?¡±


    ¡°Hah, not a chance,¡± the feral said, and the other two chuckled.


    ¡°What''s so funny?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re moving on, Star Maiden. Down south and then out east. Safer that way.¡±


    ¡°Out east?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± one of the other ferals excitedly nodded. ¡°Bunch of clans joining up. The cultists spooked them; they did.¡±


    ¡°What he said. Every fella knows the cultists be gathering. And not just that. People been spotting more wargs every day. Outside of them mountains, too. And other things. Some say trolls and giants if you believe the tales comin¡¯ from up there.¡±


    ¡°And do you believe these tales?¡±


    ¡°Would¡¯ve said nah¨Cif ye''d asked me a couple weeks back. But decent fellas been sayin¡¯ troubling things. And not just them mad types, either. Somethin¡¯ off,¡± the feral said with a pointed chin.


    ¡°These decent fellas, as you put it. Have they seen these trolls and giants with their own eyes? Or are they just repeating rumors?¡±


    ¡°They¨Cwell, they be repeatin¡¯ the words of mountain fellas. But¨Cbut, even Weedy Eye says he''s got it on good account. And I ain¡¯t ever heard Weedy Eye to be tellin¡¯ dodgy yarns.¡±


    ¡°Right. Well, thanks for the herbs,¡± Mira said, throwing the sacks over her shoulder. ¡°For what it¡¯s worth, It¡¯s been a pleasure doing business with you.¡±


    ¡°The feels are mutual,¡± the feral smiled yellow teeth as he greedily stroked one of the rum bottles.


    Turning before the fort, Mira watched the ferals disappear into the surrounding woodlands. An uneasiness stirred within.


    ***


    ¡°That¡¯s what they told you?¡±


    ¡°To the word,¡± Mira said, ducking beneath a line of hanging herbs as she added more to the drying strings along the cabin¡¯s ceiling.


    ¡°And you¡¯re worried about what a few ferals say? You know their kind. They share all kinds of tales. Those yarn¨Cweavers, they get drunk on your rum and smoke that awful herb and start yapping all kinds of nonsense. Hardly reliable sources.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been trading with those three for going on nine months, and not once have I seen them this worked up. Even if tales of trolls and giants are made up, something is happening, Erald.¡±


    ¡°If you say so,¡± the apprentice healer said as he kneaded a mixture of herbs with a mortar and pestle.


    ¡°Besides, wargs are bad enough, aren¡¯t they?¡± Mira said, crossing the room to stoke the fire.


    ¡°Damned cultists¡ªmingling with beasts. Master Mira, Is it true the wargs are born from virgins the cultists give to wolves? I heard they kidnap young, virgin girls and give them as wives to the beasts. A bardsinger back in Haelsreach said so. He said he even hiked the Daggers themselves.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t put too much weight on the words of bardsingers back in the Imperium. They¡¯ll sing you whatever tale they think will earn them a few crowns.¡±


    ¡°So, you don¡¯t think it¡¯s true?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve no idea, Erald. Never been to the Daggers, nor have I heard of any Imperial making the journey in the last three hundred years¡ªat least not any whose words I¡¯d trust. Besides, when they say virgins, they mean beautiful, young maidens, not little boys with puckered-up behinds. So you can rest your mind.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I meant,¡± Erald¡¯s face reddened.


    **Imperator**


    Determined to learn as much about the frontiers and the Imperium as he could, Mark flicked through the journals left behind by Atlas.


    He learned that the miasma that took Atlas¡¯s life hung over the region, along the mountain range, separating the Imperium from the frontiers¡ªcreating a natural barrier between the two.


    Several months ago, Atlas had ventured into the region. Based on the notes he left behind, he had searched for something called an Imperator Throne Ship. Mark searched the pages for details, hoping to find an explanation of what exactly a Throne Ship was, but found nothing. Clearly, Atlas didn¡¯t need any help reminding himself. He had left a few scribbled notes about how it could assist in supplying Fort Winterclaw through the winter. And apparently, those who had spotted it, reported it as undamaged and abandoned.


    Sighing, Mark spun in his chair. It didn¡¯t matter if he didn¡¯t know what an Imperator Throne Ship was; if it could help them survive winter, he would need to at least consider trying to retrieve it.


    Dying a second time doesn¡¯t sound too fun.


    He stared up at the timber log ceiling. He might have taken Atlas¡¯s body, but he doubted he was even half the Imperator his predecessor was, and the miasma had gotten him.


    One step at a time, Mark. If it¡¯s so dangerous, it probably isn¡¯t going anywhere.


    He needed a win. But this wasn¡¯t it. Not now, at least.


    ***


    ¡°Mira, Mira, call Mira!¡± Came Callum¡¯s panicked cry from the gates as Mark stepped out of his cabin.


    He led two acolytes as they carried a third over their shoulders¡ªhis robes were torn, and blood-streaked freely down the acolyte¡¯s leg, staining his robe red.


    ¡°What happened to him?¡±


    ¡°One of those damn ferals attacked him, Imperator.¡±


    Holding her robes up past her ankles, Mira appeared from her cabin.


    ¡°Star Maiden, one of the ferals attacked him with an axe.¡±


    ¡°Inside, place him on the table,¡± she ordered, standing aside as the acolytes carried him into the cabin.


    ¡°Is he going to be okay?¡± Mark asked, following the acolytes.


    ¡°We''ll find out shortly, Imperator,¡± Mira said with a pointed look and followed the acolytes into her cabin.


    Pulling the teen¡¯s robe back, the acolytes exposed a deep wound across the kid''s thigh, the white of bone visible behind the torn flesh.


    Mark swallowed at the grisly scene in an attempt to hold back his discomfort. He doubted Atlas would have squirmed at the sight of a wound like this.


    ¡°Rum,¡± Mira said, and her apprentice handed her the bottle. ¡°Here, drink this¡ªit¡¯ll help,¡± she added, pouring a cup.


    Trembling, the acolyte''s stubby, freckled fingers took the cup. He locked eyes with Mira, who nodded as he brought it to his lips.


    ¡°Go on. In one.¡±


    Gulping it down, the boy winced up and squeezed his eyes shut, and Mira shoved a rag into his mouth as her apprentice handed her the fire stoker.


    The rag muffled the scream as the boy shook against the acolytes holding him down.


    ¡°Done,¡± Mira said, removing the iron from the cauterized wound as the smell of cooked flesh assaulted them.


    Sweat dripped from the boy''s brow, and his pale skin lost what little color it had as his thrashing weakened.


    ¡°Sorry, can''t risk getting sick out here,¡± Mira said, placing the back of her hand on his forehead.


    ¡°Will Dober be okay?¡± A girl with scruffy brown hair said, tightly holding the boy¡¯s damp hand.


    ¡°Should be. But he''ll have to take it easy for a while. And make sure he gets lots of fluids.¡±


    ¡°Hear that, Dober? You''re going to be fine,¡± the girl said, staring down at the ghostly boy.


    Dober moaned as Mira removed the gag, ¡°I''ll mix you up something for the pain and a little something to boost your strength, okay? But for now, help him back to his cabin. He needs rest.¡±


    The Acolytes nodded and helped Dober up¡ªcausing him to cry in pain.


    Mark eyed the healer. Her techniques seemed primitive, but he didn''t know what else he had expected. At least this woman seemed to care about what she was doing. But the thought of getting caught at the end of her iron instilled a fresh sense of terror.


    Note to self: don¡¯t get wounded.


    ¡°You¡¯re still here. That¡¯s unlike you, Imperator. Can I help?¡±


    ¡°No. I just came to make sure the boy was alright.¡±


    ¡°The boy?¡± she said, a faint crease crinkled the middle of her brow. ¡°You¡¯re starting to worry me, Imperator.¡±


    Atlas was a bit of an a-hole, wasn¡¯t he?


    ¡°Every set of arms counts,¡± Mark said, turning for the exit. He figured that keeping up appearances was important. He would ease them into his more caring version of Atlas the Imperator.

 4. Cripple

    A knock shook the cabin door.


    ¡°Are you decent?¡±


    Silence followed.


    ¡°Dober?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± came a weak reply.


    The door swung open, pushed out by Erin¡¯s behind as she turned into the cabin carrying a bucket.


    ¡°Mira asked me to clean it. She won¡¯t be far behind.¡±


    ¡°Sure.¡±


    Erin paused, eyeing the boy¡¯s absent stare. ¡°It¡¯s okay. Mira¡¯s the best; if she says you¡¯ll get better, you better believe it.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    ¡°Dober,¡± she snapped, marching over to his bed and dropping the bucket beside his leg with a thud.


    ¡°Oww, watch it!¡±


    ¡°Oh my, sorry,¡± Erin¡¯s brow scrunched up as she pulled the bucket away.


    ¡°Ouch, be careful,¡± Dober grunted as he clutched at the sides of his thigh.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Erin repeated, arms wrapped around the bucket.


    ¡°It''s fine. You¡¯re only trying to help. Thank you, Erin,¡± Dober''s voice trailed off into a whisper.


    ¡°It''s the least I can do,¡± Erin said, a frown bending her expression as she carefully placed the bucket at the bed''s end.


    ¡°It''s not your fault. You know that, right?¡±


    ¡°If I hadn''t been feeding them then¨C¡±


    ¡°Doesn''t matter,¡± Dober shook his head. ¡°You were just trying to do something good. It''s them damn ferals that are the problem. They''re not like us.¡±


    ¡°It''s not like that. I saw him; he just got spooked whe¨C¡±


    ¡°Really, Erin? That damn savage almost took my leg off, and you''re still defending it?¡±


    ¡°No, it¡¯s not like¨C¡±


    ¡°Like what? It sure sounds a whole lot like that to me. I thought this might change you. But nah, you¡¯re still sticking up for those savages,¡± Dober crossed his arms.


    Timber creaked, sending their gazes to the door as Mira stepped through.


    ¡°Have you cleaned the wound yet, girl?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, still getting to it,¡± Erin said, placing her hands on the bandaged leg, eliciting a groan from Dober.


    ¡°Has the pain gotten any better?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Dober hissed through gritted teeth.


    ¡°What are you waiting for? Come on, girl. Get those bandages off and the wound cleaned.¡±


    Erin nodded and got to work, peeling back the bandages.


    ¡°Here, chew on this,¡± Mira said, passing Dober a knuckle-sized piece of root. ¡°I ground it up in your porridge, but I find it works better when chewed. Should numb the pain.¡±


    She then took out a bottle and poured a glass, ¡°Our rum rations are tight, so that''ll have to be the last one for a while.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Star Maiden,¡± Dober grimaced as he chewed on the root and took the wooden cup.


    ¡°Is it ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Star Maiden,¡± Erin patted the last bits of oozing, discolored grime away as Dober groaned through gritted teeth.


    ¡°Lightly coat it,¡± Mira said, passing Erin a small jar.


    ¡°Is that honey?¡± Dober said, gingerly watching as Erin delicately began to apply the gooey stuff.


    ¡°It is. Best thing for it now. I''ll have Treff add some ginger to your soup. The only thing left to do is rest,¡± Mira said to Dober and then turned to Erin. ¡°Can I leave the rest to you?¡±


    ¡°Yes, Star Maiden,¡± Erin said with a sideways glance.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be alright. But don¡¯t push yourself. The last thing we need is a cripple come winter.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t, promise,¡± Dober forced a smile.


    **Imperator**


    ¡°How''s the mood after what happened yesterday?¡± Mark asked as Henric stood at his side.


    ¡°I''ve seen it better. But at least the kid survived. A death would have been bad. The kids are already on edge with winter approaching. And it doesn¡¯t help seeing all the ferals headed south. You¡¯d think they¡¯d be relieved, but rumors reach their ears and spook them,¡± Henric said as they watched the acolytes delimb freshly downed trees.


    ¡°Do you know why the feral attacked the kid?¡±


    Henric shrugged, ¡°Who understands those wild people? The savages don¡¯t live by a set of rules like we do.¡±


    This book''s true home is on another platform. Check it out there for the real experience.


    ¡°Don¡¯t they? Surely, they have some means of governing themselves.¡±


    ¡°Barbarian means,¡± Henric huffed. ¡°They¡¯re not comparable.¡±


    ¡°Why, because you don¡¯t understand them? They work in groups. Trade. Seemingly have rules. I see they gathered and hunted food, leaving it drying out in front of their huts. Without rules, what would stop them from stealing from one another?¡±


    ¡°Laws are written in stone. Printed on books and maintained by ordained officials. I shouldn¡¯t have to explain that difference to an imperator.¡±


    Mark stopped himself from replying. Henric was right. He was ordained by both the emperor and the temples to uphold the law.


    ¡°You¡¯re right, of course. I don¡¯t mean to compare our great Imperium to these savages, but,¡± Mark said, carefully picking his words. ¡°It isn¡¯t wise to look past them. Underestimating the ingenuity of men is a recipe for disaster.¡±


    Henric turned his narrow gaze on Mark, ¡°I¡¯m not sure I follow, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°The ferals are part of our environment. Understanding them and their customs is as important as dressing right for the winter.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen them telling stories. Are those stories the source of our acolytes'' fears?¡±


    Henric nodded.


    ¡°It would seem that dismissing them as incomprehensible isn¡¯t an option then, wouldn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What would you have me do? Wargs have traditions and speak their guttural language. Should I learn their traditions as well?¡±


    ¡°If possible. Understanding your enemy is important,¡± Mark said. Do the Imperials of this world not have their own Sun Tzu?


    ¡°I find the edge of my sword works better than the tip of a quill.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps we could take such a simple approach if we had the manpower, Arms Master,¡± Mark tapped Henric¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe their stories, do you?¡±


    ¡°What stories?¡±


    ¡°You know, the ones about the wargs. Ever since the cultists fled north, the ferals have acted strange. Now, they won¡¯t stop talking about the wargs. It¡¯s been three hundred years since the beasts have been spotted south of the Daggers. Winter is always bad. Survival requires cunning. No doubt we¡¯ll lose a few acolytes, but we¡¯ll get new recruits in the thaw. But the way you¡¯re talking about the ferals¡ªit worries me.¡±


    ¡°And what if the stories are true?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I¡¯ll die the death of a tarnished soldier. At least my name will be cleared, and my children can join the Imperium ranks if they choose.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it? We just accept our fate?¡±


    ¡°The ferals say an army of a hundred thousand wargs will march down from the Daggers. If that¡¯s true, what recourse is there? I won¡¯t leave my post. I have three sons and a daughter. I would rather die than force them to live with the shame of a deserter as a father.¡±


    ¡°I see. You¡¯re an honorable man, Henric,¡± Mark said. He had seen a glimpse into the concepts of honor and duty that governed the Imperium but hadn¡¯t expected this. And he respected it, even if he disagreed with the terms.


    ¡°If only. My lack of honor is what brought me here. But a man needs to correct his path at some point.¡±


    Life in the Imperium must be hard.


    ¡°Maybe it is hopeless. But I¡¯m not ready to die. Don¡¯t you want to see your children again?¡±


    ¡°More than anything. But I can¡¯t keep running from duty. A lesson I wish I had learned earlier in life.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Mark said. Would you do me a favor, though?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re my imperator. Your word is my law,¡± Henric¡¯s brow curled.


    ¡°I want you to trust me.¡±


    ¡°Sir¨C¡±


    ¡°No more words. Just remember my request, okay?¡±


    Slowly, Henric nodded.


    ***


    ¡°Imperator,¡± acolyte Clay said, his chin held high and saluted as he stepped into Mark¡¯s cabin.


    ¡°Relax, Acolyte.¡±


    Clay dropped his arm.


    ¡°I heard you were nearby when the attack took place?¡± Mark asked, turning from his desk and rising to his feet.


    ¡°Yes. That''s correct, sir,¡± Clay said, staring directly ahead.


    ¡°Do you know why it happened?¡±


    ¡°I ah¨C¡±


    ¡°Speak honestly, Acolyte.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. It was¨Cone of the acolytes; she has a soft spot for them, Sir. We tried to warn her¨C¡±


    ¡°What happened?¡±


    ¡°Well, she was sharing some of her meat. And¡­ when some of the other ferals saw, they gathered around. Dober¡¯s never been much for them, the ferals, that is, and, well¨C¡±


    ¡°Get to the point, acolyte.¡±


    ¡°He-started-yelling-at-them-and-pushing-them-and-it-took-his-axe-and,¡± Clay gasped for air.


    ¡°It''s fine, I get it,¡± Mark raised a hand and sighed. ¡°You''re dismissed.¡±


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Clay¡¯s arm shot up to salute again, and he turned to exit.


    So, it was the acolyte that started it. I doubt any of them will care, though.


    Mark turned to his desk and strummed his fingers against its timber top. If he allowed tensions between the Imperials and ferals to grow, inviting them to live behind his new walls would no doubt end in disaster. And there was no way he could let a couple of weeks of hard work go to waste by leaving the new wall empty.


    Damn, it. This complicates things.


    What he needed was a distraction for the acolytes. But not something that would take time away from their work.


    If only I could show them their human side¡­


    The feral¡¯s tale-telling seemed obvious enough, but Henric¡¯s reaction made it clear that they didn''t respect them as anything more than barbarians.


    Mark thought back to Earth. Humans have bridged differences through entertainment for millennia. If only he could find some common ground they could bond over. Maybe then their attitudes toward the barbarians would soften.


    ***


    From the palisade, Mark watched the ferals under the waning afternoon light.


    A skinny, wrinkled man with fuzzy, white hair told a tale with animated movements. He wore dark, hole-ridden robes, necklaces, and bracelets lined by various animal fangs.


    A dozen ferals sat captivated by his story as he swung around the small crowd, often led by his hands as they brought the scenes to life.


    What do I have to lose? Mark¡¯s thoughts were rhetorical; he had a lot to lose.


    Heading down the rampart, he waved for the gates to be opened and marched out into the clearing dotted by feral hovels.


    The gathering of ferals turned as Mark approached. They stood in squats and scattered like wild animals as he stepped into the storytelling group.


    Eyeing him as Mark stood across from Weedy Eye, the ferals twisted their heads curiously and made gradual steps closer.


    ¡°Come for the show, mighty imperator?¡± The old feral grinned with cracked, puffy lips.


    ¡°Am I welcome?¡±


    ¡°It would be me pleasure,¡± Weedy Eye bowed. ¡°Stop making fools of ye¡¯selves,¡± he waved to the scattered ferals.


    Mark glanced back as the ferals slowly returned to the circle.


    ¡°Skittish fools. Ignore them. Weedy Eye has special yarn for this night.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m looking forward to it.¡±


    ¡°Go on, tell him about the wargs,¡± one of the ferals said, smiling with brown teeth and dreadlocked hair as it stared up at Mark.


    ¡°I¡¯m gettin¡¯ to it,¡± Weedy Eye hissed. ¡°Yarn weavin¡¯s an art. Now gather close,¡± he added, waving the still hesitant ferals over.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Weedy Eye cleared his throat. ¡°In the far, far away. Where it¡¯s always cold, lives the warg. Big, mean. Fangs like daggers. Fur thicker and warmer than mammoth hide. But brains like a smart fella,¡± he tapped his noggin. ¡°Once the warg ruled it all. Marchin¡¯ in hordes fasta than fellas on horseback. Always fightin¡¯, always killin''. Was them fancy Imperiums coming over them poison clouds. The warg was divided. Too busy fightin¡¯ itself to fight the Imperium. But that¡¯s all changin¡¯. They want it back. Ten tribes led by ten lords. That¡¯s what them fellas say. A troll. A giant. Two brothers. A magic man. A chieftain. A warlord. Mammoth riders. A shapeshifter. A dead man. And a cultist. These are the nasty ones bringin¡¯ the doom. Them ones that will seep the land. Them ones that will rule the cold. Them ones that will collar men like dogs.¡±


    Mark ground his teeth. He wanted to inspire, not terrify, his young acolytes.


    ***


    Dimming a lamp by twisting its gas nozzle closed, Mark sighed and rubbed at his temples. It seemed his plans had been pulled out from under him.


    Making his way to the next lamp, he stopped at the sound of a knock on his door.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he said, turning to the door.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Henric saluted and stepped into the dimly lit room.


    ¡°Can I help?¡± Mark said with a rub of his tired eyes.


    ¡°It¡¯s the acolytes. They¡¯ve caught a feral. The one they believe is responsible for wounding that boy the other day. They''re demanding justice.¡±

 5. Trading

    Henric led Mark through the night-shrouded fort, their path dimly lit by the lantern the arms master held.


    Taunting chants filled the air, and at the rear of the cabins, they found the crowd of acolytes.


    ¡°Make way,¡± Henric shouted, and the group of mostly boys quickly parted when they spotted their imperator.


    On his knees in the snow, a feral trembled as the axes of two acolytes were held to his neck¡ªa combination of dried blood and mucus staining his face.


    ¡°Quite down!¡± Henric whistled as Mark stormed into the center of the group.


    ¡°Explain,¡± Mark said, catching the eyes of the boy who seemed to be the ring leader.


    ¡°We got him, the one that attacked Dober,¡± the acolytes said, jerking the axe toward the feral¡¯s neck.


    ¡°Show the barbarian your law, Imperator,¡± an acolyte heckled from the crowd at his back.


    ¡°And your evidence?¡± Mark questioned.


    ¡°The witnesses. Acolytes Clay and Callum,¡± the stony-faced acolyte said. ¡°They spotted him in the camp, and we cornered him.¡±


    ¡°Where are they?¡±


    The two boys were pushed to the front of the crowd.


    ¡°There, those two,¡± the acolyte pointed.


    ¡°You¡¯ll wait for my law. Understood, Acolyte?¡±


    The boy nodded.


    ¡°And your name?¡±


    ¡°Acolyte Radic,¡± the large boy with sandy curls saluted.


    ¡°Good. I¡¯ll hold you to your word, Acolyte Radic. Now, you two,¡± Mark said, pointing at the boys as he swung around. ¡°With me,¡± he added with a wave marching through the parted crowd.


    ***


    The two teen boys stood stiff in his cabin, waiting for Mark to speak.


    ¡°Clay,¡± Mark acknowledged with a nod. ¡°The two of you witnessed the feral attack, correct?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the boys echoed.


    ¡°And you¡¯re confident that man is the same feral that attacked Acolyte Dober?¡±


    ¡°We are, sir,¡± Callum said. ¡°I¡¯d never forget the scar that runs along his brow.¡±


    ¡°What I am about to say might sound strange coming from your Imperator. But I need you to trust in my wisdom, okay?¡±


    The boys nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to tell the others that you were wrong. And that the feral held captive in the fort is not the one that wounded Dober, okay?¡±


    The boy¡¯s faces crinkled, and Callum opened his mouth to speak but stopped short as Mark¡¯s eyes rested on him.


    ¡°Can I trust you to follow a direct order?¡±


    ¡°You can, sir!¡± Clay said, looking like he was about to cry.


    ¡°But¨C¡± Callum¡¯s lips parted, but his breath caught.


    ¡°Speak, Acolyte,¡± Mark replied, stepping within a foot of the boy, his broad frame towering over the narrow teen.


    ¡°What about your lesson¡ªthe one about the Empire¡¯s Law? The law of hierarchy,¡± the boy swallowed. ¡°To attack one above you is to condemn yourself to death,¡± he continued, reciting the Imperator¡¯s words.


    ¡°Right, but¨C¡±


    ¡°The Law of Hierarchy dictates that the princes are beneath the emperor, imperators are beneath the princes, the masters are beneath the imperators, and the acolytes are beneath the masters. Citizens stand beneath the acolytes, and beneath the citizen is everyone else. Please forgive me for interrupting you, Imperator,¡± Callum¡¯s face reddened, and he bowed.


    He¡¯s repeating what he has been told. And from the sounds of it, it comes from one of Atlas¡¯s lessons.


    ¡°It is good that you know the law, acolyte. But please remember, we¡¯re not within the Imperium out here. We don¡¯t have the luxury of security afforded by the Imperium and its well-guarded borders. Now, tell me: do you want to die?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Clay shook his head.


    Callum¡¯s expression was stiff as Mark stared him down, and after a pause, he whispered, ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Good. Because neither do I. Tomorrow, you¡¯ll be out working on the wall again. You won¡¯t have the safety of the palisade separating you from the ferals. Now, with that in mind. Do you want to be looking over your back as vengeful eyes glare at you because we killed one of their brothers?¡±


    ¡°No, sir. I don¡¯t,¡± Clay said.


    ¡°Acolyte Callum?¡±


    ¡°No¡­¡±


    ¡°Right. For your sakes and your fellow acolytes, tell them that they¡¯ve got the wrong feral. Let this end here. We¡¯ve enough problems to worry about with winter coming. Let¡¯s not create one with the locals, okay?¡±


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    The boys nodded, and Mark wondered if he was making the right decision. Keeping it between the three of them meant fewer people to offend potentially. But if word got out about it, it would no doubt complicate things.


    ¡°Do not worry about justice being served. I will see to it that the feral receives a punishment. But this is a delicate situation we find ourselves in. Maintaining the Imperium¡¯s law is not just about stubborn adherence to rules. Sometimes, the completion of a mission requires one to be flexible. The pragmatic imperator is a successful one. Do you understand?¡±


    ¡°I do, sir,¡± Callum nodded enthusiastically, but Mark waited for a response from Clay.


    ¡°Yes, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Good. Let¡¯s survive the winter with not just our honor but our heads.¡±


    ***


    Disappointed, downcast glares twisted the crowd¡¯s faces as they dispersed. They had accepted Callum and Clay¡¯s admissions and Mark¡¯s passing of the law, but they weren¡¯t happy about it.


    The feral fell begging at Mark¡¯s feet when he was released. It was obvious the barbarian knew who he owed his life to.


    But It didn¡¯t feel like a success. Mark had been worried about his plans before, and now he was downright terrified. It was the right decision, of course. An army of wargs worried him far more than a few upset teens. But insubordination at a time like this could prove fatal.


    His thoughts trailed off to the ferals. The man would need to be held accountable. But now his hands were tied. Law dictated that if the feral was guilty, the punishment was death. Balancing the two camps would be more difficult than he had first appreciated.


    The ferals were barbarians, not accustomed to Imperium law. Moreover, he wanted to create the foundation of cooperation between them. But the law treated them as their lessers. If he were to bring them together under this law, he doubted they would see the defense of the fort as a mutual goal. Sure, he might be able to gain their support through trade. Some might also offer their service out of an understanding of mutual benefit once the walls were completed. But as long as they were simply barbarians, stripped of rights afforded to others, the majority of them wouldn¡¯t invest in the fort¡¯s survival.


    Saving this feral from the death penalty hardly solved this problem, but he hoped it would buy them time and some goodwill. Still, it was a gamble, with the real risk of causing more division than it solved.


    ***


    The dining hall was unusually quiet that evening. Mark had made sure meat was on the menu, and they ate a hearty stew of deer, mushrooms, and a root vegetable found in the forest undergrowth called caffda. Not that it helped much to cheer the mood. And it only worsened when Erin excused herself ten minutes in to take a serving back to Dober.


    ¡°Don¡¯t take this the wrong way, but are you sure it was wise to let that feral go? It would have cheered the acolytes up even if he wasn¡¯t the culprit.¡± Henric said.


    ¡°You¡¯re suggesting I should have let an innocent man¡¯s head roll?¡± Mark raised a brow as he brought a spoon of tender deer to his mouth.


    ¡°They¡¯re just ferals, Imperator. As the weather worsens, they will head south like the rest of their brethren. Unfortunately, we can¡¯t. Not unless you want to become an outlaw and a deserter. We need to be thinking about our morale, not theirs.¡±


    Mark internally sighed, listening to his second in command. For now, he wanted as few people to know about his plans as possible. But with the rise in tensions from the feral attack and now releasing said feral, he realized he would need to share a little more.


    ¡°Meet me in my cabin after dinner. I¡¯ll try to explain.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Seriously? What you¡¯re suggesting is nothing short of sacrilege.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t make these decisions light-heartedly, Henric. We need more hands to survive the coming winter. If there was another way, I¡¯d gladly take it.¡±


    ¡°Instead of extending the palisade, you could be putting the acolytes to work gathering food. I understand that questioning your law is overstepping, but this is a problem of your own making. And besides, the emperor¡¯s law comes before yours.¡±


    ¡°Is that a threat?¡±


    ¡°...no,¡± Henric¡¯s gaze fell to his feet. ¡°Of course not, Imperator. But you must also understand how this looks. Housing barbarians¡­ It goes against not just the imperial mandate but also our religious tenets. As a master of the Imperium, how can I justly comply with this order?¡±


    Among Atlas¡¯s books that Mark had studied, he found his book of laws, with which he was ordained to carry out the Imperium¡¯s rule. And a book on the God-Lord¡¯s tenants. The God-Lord was described as the lord of all other gods. And since Imperials worshipped this god, it put them above all others, circling back to the Law of Hierarchy that underpinned so much of Imperial society.


    Worshippers of other gods weren¡¯t quite infidels, based on their religious beliefs, but closer to slaves or servants. He was commanding acolytes to build a wall to house the ferals. It wasn¡¯t just insulting, but he was turning his underlings into workers for the benefit of worshippers of a subservient god to the God-Lord. And by doing so, breaking their tenants.


    ¡°We won¡¯t be sheltering them, Henric. They have their own huts; we¡¯re simply building a wall around them.¡±


    ¡°But¨Cbut, Imperator,¡± Henric stammered.


    ¡°Sometimes you need to learn to adapt. I don¡¯t take these decisions lightly, and I¡¯m aware that it will make people unhappy. But I intend to see Fort Winterclaw through this. I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve heard the rumors going around.¡±


    ¡°You mean barbarian tales? I don¡¯t put much weight into such things.¡±


    ¡°Tales rarely put enough fear into men¡¯s hearts to see them uproot their lives and embark on perilous journeys. I¡¯ve been watching them. So have you.¡±


    ¡°So has everyone.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. You said it yourself. The fleeing ferals are getting to the acolytes. Something needs to be done.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll trust in your law, Imperator. But please, be wary of the God-Lord. You cannot fool a god. If you try, you¡¯ll bring curses upon us all.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t. I promise, Henric.¡±


    The stern Master-At-Arms stared into Mark¡¯s eyes for a moment before nodding.


    ***Acolytes***


    ¡°Why¡¯d you lie to him?¡± Said Radic, pushing Callum with Clay at his back into the cabin¡¯s corner. The pudgy, broad boy stood almost a foot taller than Callum, and three others stood at his back.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t. We just got it wrong. That¡¯s all,¡± Callum said. ¡°Isn¡¯t that right, Clay?¡±


    Clay nodded from behind, unable to raise his eyes from Callum¡¯s back.


    ¡°Bullshit,¡± one of the boys spat.


    ¡°Show them what we do to liars, Radic,¡± another boy taunted.


    Radic pushed Callum¡¯s chest again and stepped forward.


    ¡°C¡¯mon, Radic. I¡¯m not lying. You really think I¡¯d lie to the Imperator of all people?¡±


    ¡°I dunno, Callum. It kinda sounds like you¡¯re a heretic¡ªdefending ferals and all that. And we all know what heretics are capable of.¡±


    ¡°Erin¡¯s their friend, too,¡± one of the boys standing behind Radic said. ¡°She was the one feeding them. Maybe they¡¯re all working together. Heretics under our nose, working with the barbarians.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got a point, heretic,¡± Radic said, forcefully pressing his index into Callum¡¯s chest.


    ¡°Don¡¯t call me that,¡± Callum gritted his teeth.


    ¡°What are you going to do about it, heretic?¡±


    Callum¡¯s fist came quickly, smacking the center of the boy¡¯s nose and sending him reeling backward. A stream of blood ran from his nose almost immediately as the boy cupped it. Another punch followed closely behind, reddening Callum¡¯s fists as he landed several more times before the boys rushed him.


    Grabbing his arms, the Radic¡¯s entourage pushed Callum up against the wall as Radic wiped blood from his face and squeezed his nose to stop the bleeding.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to hurt for that,¡± Radic said as he stepped forward and planted a wound-up punch into his belly, eliciting a breath-stealing grunt from Callum.


    ¡°Get lost,¡± one of the boys raised a fist and sneered at Clay.


    ¡°Sorry, Callum,¡± Clay said, eyeing Radic¡¯s bloodied face momentarily. ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± he added, shaking his head as he ran away.


    ¡°Some friends you got,¡± Radic mocked as he pounded Callum¡¯s ribs, making the boy fall limp against the two boys holding up his arms.

 6. Tensions

    ¡°You¡¯re telling me not a single person knows who did this?¡± Mark said, looking down at the bandaged boy in the bed.


    ¡°We can ask him when he wakes up¡ªif he wakes up,¡± Mira said as she sorted her medicines.


    ¡°This isn¡¯t just a beating,¡± Henric added at his back.


    Mark didn¡¯t need clarification on that. The kid had a bandage across his forehead where someone had used a knife to carve ¡®heretic¡¯ into his flesh.


    This is my fault, isn¡¯t it? Mark gritted his teeth. This went beyond maintaining order in the fort. A kid had been beaten nearly to death for following an order he had given.


    ¡°Find out who did it,¡± Mark growled. ¡°I won¡¯t have this kind of savagery go unpunished in Fort Winterclaw.¡±


    ¡°Remember what we talked about. They¡¯re kids, but they¡¯re not idiots. You can¡¯t lead us down this road without people realizing,¡± Henric said.


    ¡°Do as I command. Find who¡¯s responsible and build my palisade; I¡¯ll worry about the rest, Arms-Master.¡±


    Henric gave Mark a sober nod and left.


    ¡°Mira. No acolyte enters this cabin without my permission.¡±


    ¡°And my apprentice?¡± Mira replied as she readied a paste for Callum¡¯s bruised lips.


    Mark¡¯s gaze met the gangly boy and then returned to Mira, ¡°He can stay. No one else.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Greetings, Mighty Imperator, didn¡¯t ¡®spect to see ye again,¡± Weedy Eye smiled. ¡°How can Weedy Eye be of ye service?¡±


    ¡°The feral who attacked the boy. You know him?¡±


    ¡°The one you let go?¡±


    ¡°I need him punished. And I need the rest of your people to understand why. I¡¯m giving him this mercy as a gesture between us. But it should be understood that attacking my acolytes is crossing a line. Regardless of the reason.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Weedy Eye nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll cut his balls off.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll what?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll cut his little balls off. He cut a kid¡¯s leg open, didn¡¯t he?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s correct.¡±


    ¡°Right, for that, I¡¯ll cut his balls off. It¡¯s what I¡¯d do¡ªif he did it to one of me own.¡±


    Getting used to this world won¡¯t be as easy as I hoped. It seemed he was going to need to get used to a certain degree of barbarism.


    ¡°Fine, do whatever is appropriate.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯d be ball cuttin¡¯,¡± Weedy Eye grinned, pulling free a dirty shiv from his cloth belt.


    ***Acolytes***


    ¡°What are you two doing here?¡± Erald said, standing in the doorway of Mira¡¯s cabin with the door opened enough to stick his head through.


    ¡°We came to see him; we¡¯re his friends,¡± Erin said as Clay cowered behind her.


    ¡°Sorry, but I can¡¯t let you see him,¡± Erald said. ¡°Master Mira has ordered me not to let any acolytes visit the patient until either his attackers are discovered or he makes a recovery.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re an acolyte, Erald,¡± Erin said with a curled lip.


    ¡°You know what I meant, Erin. And if you¡¯re really his friend, then you should respect this decision. It¡¯s to keep him safe.¡±


    ¡°Come on, Erin,¡± Clay said, pulling on the sleeve of her robe.


    Pushing Clay away with a shrug, Erin stepped forward.


    ¡°I get it, Erin,¡± Erald lowered his voice. ¡°But the order comes directly from the Imperator. You¡¯ll get the both of us punished if I let you in.¡±


    ¡°C¡¯mon on, you heard him,¡± Clay said, grabbing her robe again. ¡°It¡¯s an order from the Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Fine, but I¡¯ll be back,¡± she said, letting Clay pull her away as she locked eyes with Erald.


    ¡°Jeez, gimme a break,¡± Erald muttered under his breath as they left.


    ***


    ¡°You''re gonna tell him,¡± Erin said, pulling Clay by his collar into an alley between two cabins.


    ¡°What do you mean? Tell who?¡±


    ¡°Who do you think, the Imperator!¡±


    ¡°What? No. Do you have any idea what Radic will do to me?¡±


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    ¡°Grow a spine, Clay. You think Callum wouldn''t have your back?¡±


    ¡°I''m sorry, Erin. But I can''t¡­ I¡¯m not strong like you and Callum. Besides, It''s not like it''ll make him better anyway. Callum needs rest and medicine. Let''s just leave it at that,¡± Clay pleaded as Erin pushed him against the cabin wall.


    ¡°Why are you even here? What chance would a coward like you have to become an Imperator?¡±


    Whimpers turned to tears as Clay replied, ¡°It''s not like I want to be. I''d give anything to be back in the Imperium. I hate this place.¡±


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± Erin released his collar. ¡°Get a hold of yourself, or you won''t make it through the winter.¡±


    ¡°Th-thank you.¡±


    ¡°Don''t thank me,¡± Erin curled her lip. ¡°Cowards like Radic will be the least of your problems if you don¡¯t grow up. Even the masters are scared of winter.¡±


    ***Imperator***


    ¡°Works slowed with two injured acolytes, but worst of all is the mood it''s created. There''s no doubt it affected them.¡±


    ¡°I suppose I can¡¯t blame them,¡± Mark sighed, eyeing the kids as they worked. Most had at least minor injuries: cuts, bruises, and the occasional bandaged limb.


    A large kid with thick, blonde curls pulled on one of the ropes as a group of acolytes leveraged a log into place. He was clearly doing most of the heavy lifting. But what caught Mark¡¯s attention was the bandages wrapped across his nose and the purple bruising surrounding them.


    ¡°That¡¯s Acolyte Radic, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    Henric followed Mark¡¯s gaze, ¡°The big one? Yeah. Thank the God-Lord for that one. I don¡¯t know how we¡¯d ever get this palisade built without him. Has twice the strength of the other boys.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d he get that nasty injury?¡±


    ¡°Who knows,¡± Henric shrugged. ¡°It¡¯s Mira¡¯s job to babysit their injuries. I¡¯ve got enough to worry about.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark nodded as he watched the boy pull the log up and into the pre-dug trench.


    ***


    ¡°Come in,¡± came Mira¡¯s muffled voice as Mark knocked.


    He pushed through the door to find her partially shrouded by hanging herbs in the kitchen, bent over a pot as she dropped ingredients into it.


    ¡°Imperator?¡± She said, as their eyes caught in a gap between the hanging herbs.


    ¡°Got a moment?¡±


    ¡°For you? Of course.¡±


    Mark walked around a bench that separated the kitchen from the rest of the cabin. The kitchen was just a fireplace and a few benchtops strewn with pots and mortars.


    ¡°How are your supplies going? Seems to be quite a few injuries across the acolytes.¡±


    ¡°Fine. But it''s certainly not something we need going into winter. And it doesn¡¯t help that my trade contacts have headed south. If I can¡¯t restock, we¡¯ll be in for it.¡±


    ¡°Your trade contacts? You mean trading with the ferals?¡±


    Mira gave him a sunken glare, ¡°And who else is going to collect the reagents I need, Imperator? Don¡¯t tell me you think those kids got it in them to find what I need? Half of them would be lucky to return,¡± she chuckled.


    ¡°Right, understood. I wasn¡¯t trying to suggest you send them. It¡¯s just that tensions with the ferals are high right now. I only wondered how your trading with them might affect the fort¡¯s mood.¡±


    ¡°People¡¯s persuasions are more flexible when their health is on the line,¡± Mira shrugged. ¡°They all know who I get this stuff from. And let me tell you, never heard a peep from nobody when they¡¯re in one of these beds.¡±


    ¡°Sounds about right,¡± Mark said, running his hands through the drying herbs as he eyed the alien plants. ¡°So, now what? I have a feeling we¡¯ll be needing healing herbs this winter.¡±


    ¡°Who knows? I barely have time to think. And now I¡¯ve got the boy to worry about,¡± she said, eyes shifting to Callum¡¯s unconscious form in the bed.


    ¡°Maybe I can help? Is there anyone else who can gather these herbs for you?¡±


    ¡°Plenty,¡± Mira said, crossing the kitchen to take a ladle of water from a boiling pot and add it to her concoction. ¡°There are more than enough ferals around who are willing to trade. The problem is finding someone reliable who isn¡¯t heading south.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±


    ¡°An Imperator helping me buy herbs from the local ferals. Now I¡¯ve heard it all,¡± Mira smirked as she ground the searing water into the herbs. ¡°Was there anything else? Or you came down here just to offer me a hand, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Do you know Acolyte Radic?¡±


    ¡°The big one, right? Yeah, I¡¯ve seen him around. What of him?¡± She glanced up from the bowl.


    ¡°He has quite a nasty injury, from the looks of it. He¡¯s got his nose all bandaged up. Mind sharing the circumstances?¡±


    ¡°Busted nose, huh? Well, he has said nothing about it to me. Sorry.¡±


    ¡°And is there any reason an acolyte might not come to you about their injuries?¡±


    Mira shrugged. ¡°What are you getting at, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Nothing. I was just wondering.¡±


    ¡°Ask them. Most are fighting to get through my door. Saying things like, Master Mira, my throat hurts, and so on. They¡¯ll find any excuse to get some of my rum.¡±


    Whose idea was it to give rum to kids anyway?


    ¡°Thank you, Mira. You¡¯ve been very helpful. And I¡¯ll see what I can do about your herbs,¡± Mark said, waving her goodbye.


    ¡°Stop being so nice; it¡¯s weird,¡± Mira called out as Mark left the cabin, nodding to Acolyte Erald, who stood stiff and saluted.


    ***


    Mark stood, watching over the acolytes as they worked. Based on what Mira had said, it didn¡¯t make sense that Radic wouldn¡¯t come to her if he had injured himself.


    His eyes followed the boy carefully, and when he collected his canteen to take a drink, he noticed bruising across his knuckles.


    That¡¯s got to be my guy.


    Several acolytes called Radic over as he drank, and he screwed the lid and dropped his canteen. The acolytes had been struggling to shift the next prepped log into position. Within a minute or two of Radic arriving, they shifted it into position and hooked ropes around it¡ªready to pull it up and into the trench.


    He¡¯s useful, not just for his skills, but because without his help, the others will likely be even more demoralized.


    Mark shook his head, kicking himself for getting into this situation. He had to punish the kid somehow. He almost killed a kid¡­ no, there was still a chance that he had. Callum¡¯s recovery was no guarantee. His punishment couldn¡¯t be a slap on the wrist, either; doing so might cause more problems than the punishment hoped to solve. But he couldn¡¯t risk the wall and their morale.


    His gaze drifted to Clay. He was a smallish boy. Skinny with scruffy, dark hair and brown, pin-head-like eyes.


    Every time Radic walked past, the boy flinched. Why had he been spared and not Callum? Mark wondered.


    ***Acolytes***


    Passing into the armory, Erin glanced around. There was a single acolyte on watch, but the boy lay across a table near the entrance, half-asleep on his arms.


    Her hand hovered over her crossbow momentarily and then shifted to the next one over. She hooked the leather strap over her shoulders and took the quiver of tagged bolts.


    ¡°Clocking in?¡± The boy lazily said as she walked for the door.


    ¡°Yeah, East Wall watch.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± the boy said, scribbling her name on a notepad.


    Exiting the armory, Erin headed for the East Wall. She kept her head down as she took steadying breaths and swung left¡ªtoward the West Wall. The wall that looked over the clearing.


    The sun was setting, and light was low. But the lanterns hadn¡¯t yet been lit. From the wall, she spotted him. Features were hard to spot from here, but his size was a giveaway.


    ¡°Keep it together,¡± Erin whispered beneath her breath as she pulled the leather strap from her shoulder and took hold of the crossbow.

 7. Punishment

    ¡°You did this,¡± Erin exhaled as she aimed the crossbow.


    ¡°Erin?¡±


    Startled, she Jumped and her finger slipped. The bolt shot free and was lost into the darkness of the waning day. A second later, an agonizing scream echoed into the brisk evening air.


    ¡°What was that?¡± The boy asked, rushing to the wall¡¯s edge and looking out.


    Erin¡¯s gaze shifted between him and the shadowy clearing¡ªlined by a faint ruby haze.


    Two unmakable figures rushed over as Radic shouted profanities. And after a moment that seemed to stretch forever, they came carrying the boy over their shoulders through the gate¡ªcalling for Mira.


    ¡°Is that a bolt?¡± the boy at her side said, narrowing his gaze on the wounded Radic as he was carried into the fort with a bolt protruding from his thigh.


    Erin nodded, her gaze fixated on Radic as he was carried toward Mira¡¯s cabin.


    ¡°Where¡¯s your bolt?¡± The boy said, staring at her crossbow.


    Backstepping, Erin shook her head. ¡°Umm¨CIt¡¯s¡­ it¡¯s¨C¡±


    ¡°Imperator, Arms-Master!¡± The boy cupped his mouth and shouted. His eyes locked on Erin¡¯s.


    ***Imperator***


    Mark rubbed his temples as he paced his cabin until the expected knock at his door came.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    Henric and another acolyte escorted Erin into his cabin¡ªher wrists shackled. ¡°She¡¯s the one.¡±


    ¡°Leave us,¡± Mark waved with an irritated sigh. Henric nodded and gestured for the acolyte to follow with a tilt of his head.


    Erin stood staring at her feet.


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°Imperator¨C¡±


    ¡°Answer the question, please.¡±


    Erin looked up, her gaze trembling, ¡°I-I¡­he¡¯s the one,¡± she swallowed. ¡°The one that beat Acolyte Callum.¡±


    I thought so. Still, she needs punishment. Letting her go would cause an uproar.


    ¡°Do you have evidence of this?¡±


    Erin nodded, ¡°Clay was with him. He saw it all.¡±


    ¡°And Acolyte Clay will testify to this?¡±


    Erin¡¯s eyes dropped to her feet.


    ¡°I take that¡¯s a no. My goodness, Erin,¡± Mark sighed. ¡°Did you really think shooting a fellow acolyte was the best way to handle this? Why didn¡¯t you come to me first?¡±


    ¡°I tried¡­ but when Clay refused, I-I didn¡¯t know what else to do. I couldn¡¯t just let him get away with what he did. My friend, he¡¯s¡­¡±


    ¡°I know. Do you think I don¡¯t understand Acolyte Callum¡¯s situation? But we¡¯re heading into winter, Acolyte. Do you think we won¡¯t have difficult decisions to make? What you¡¯ve done is commit a serious offense. Even if I wanted to let you go unpunished, I wouldn¡¯t be able to. Peace and stability need to be fostered within the fort. And that requires consequences.¡±


    ¡°What about him? What about his consequences?¡± Erin lurched forward. ¡°Even Mira said he got lucky. The bolt didn¡¯t hit anything serious. He could be back on his feet within a month. All while Callum is still unconscious.¡±


    ¡°I haven¡¯t forgotten about Callum or Radic, Erin. But you can¡¯t just go taking the law into your own hands. You should have come to me and shared what you knew.¡±


    Mark walked over to his desk, sighed, and dropped into his chair. The law was clear. Erin should suffer as her victim did. But not only did he empathize with her, but a part of him wished he could have been the one to maim Radic. Not only that, but he had no interest in wounding yet another acolyte. Three was already far too many with winter approaching.


    Staring down at the mess of journals and notebooks, Mark got an idea. What if he could use Erin¡¯s punishment to their benefit?


    ¡°I have no real evidence of Radic¡¯s crime, and it would be a bad look to punish him now after being injured¡ªunless some were to fall into my lap. If acolyte Clay has a change of heart, we can talk. But for now, we have to focus on your punishment. And I¡¯ve got a proposal for you.¡±


    Erin¡¯s brow creased as her gaze drifted up.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve seen the ferals heading south.¡±


    Erin nodded.


    ¡°This poses serious problems for us. As you may know, Master Mira relies on them to collect the reagents she requires for her medicines. There¡¯s no alternative, she¡¯s informed me. Not to mention our own problems with collecting enough food for the coming winter. And seeing that you¡¯re already familiar with the ferals, I thought maybe you could assist with these issues.¡±


    ¡°How?¡± Erin murmured.


    ¡°To be honest, I¡¯m not entirely sure. Imperium law states that your punishment should be equal to your crime. But we can¡¯t afford more injuries. However, I don¡¯t think anyone would complain if I were to ban you from the fort temporarily.¡±


    Gasping, Erin cupped her mouth.


    Mark looked up from his notes, ¡°I¡¯ll do my best to support you. I need you to make contact with the ferals. I¡¯ll have Mira¡¯s apprentice head out of the fort twice daily. If you need to talk to me or need any goods for trading, you can ask him. Your objective is to find useful and reliable ferals with which to trade. And, if possible, find out if we can convince any of them to stay. Build positive relations with them, if you can.¡±


    ¡°Convince them to stay?¡± Erin twisted her head.


    ¡°Yes, we can¡¯t afford all the ferals to head south. We haven¡¯t anywhere near the manpower to keep this fort standing through the winter. Without them, we¡¯re lost.¡±


    Slowly, Erin nodded.


    ¡°Good. I understand this might be asking a bit much. And if you can¡¯t do it, I won¡¯t hold it against you. But it would aid us greatly.¡±


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    As Erin left, Mark flicked open his book of law. He had been going over his thoughts. Ideas on how to fix the problems ahead¡ªand continuously returned to one page.


    The role of Tribune.


    When the Imperator cannot uphold Imperium Law, he or she may elevate someone/s of their choosing to the position of Tribune to uphold the Imperium¡¯s law on their behalf.


    While being made Tribune does not elevate one¡¯s position in the Holy Hierarchy, it ordains them with the holy rite to uphold Imperium law.


    The passage went on, but this was what he lingered on. Tapping his finger against the page.


    ***Acolytes***


    Forcing a smile, Erin pulled back the bandages. Dober gritted his teeth, holding the groan in.


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong? I¡¯m the one in pain. Why do you look like you¡¯re about to cry?¡± He grunted.


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing,¡± Erin said without looking up as she dabbed a clean cloth on the wound.¡±


    ¡°It is. You¡¯ve been here every day since the attack. And I¡¯ve never seen your eyes this glassy.¡±


    ¡°I did something stupid, that¡¯s all.¡±


    ¡°What? What¡¯d you do, Erin?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. I¡¯ll be fine. But you¡¯re not going to see me for a little while. They let me change your bandage once more. I wanted to make sure you were doing better.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, Erin. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s less swollen. The redness is receding, and that gross green stuff is gone. Based on what Master Mira told me, you¡¯re healing up nicely.¡±


    ¡°Erin.¡±


    She turned to him and forced a smile. ¡°Look after Callum while I¡¯m gone, okay?¡±


    ¡°Where are you going? What in the God-Lord''s name is going on?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just going away for a bit. Like I said. I¡¯ll see you soon. Just promise me you¡¯ll look after Callum.¡±


    Dober had been told about what happened to Callum. Unlike Dober, Callum still rested in Mira¡¯s cabin, while Dober had spent most of his recovery in the cabin the four acolytes shared.


    ¡°How¡¯s he doing, anyway?¡±


    ¡°Dunno much,¡± Erin frowned, her gaze drifting back down to the wound as she prepared a clean bandage. ¡°They still won¡¯t let me see him.¡±


    ¡°So, that¡¯s it? You¡¯re not going to tell me what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find out,¡± Erin¡¯s lips curled into a bitter smile. ¡°Anyway, I¡¯m done here.¡±


    ***Imperator***


    Gathered by the fort¡¯s gates, the acolytes crowded around Mark, Henric, and Erin. At the back of the crowd, Mira stood watch, and Radic leaned on an acolyte¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°I¡¯ve gathered you all here to witness my law. The law of the Imperium,¡± Mark said to the crowd. ¡°The punishment for a crime must equal the weight of the crime committed. I have deliberated on this. Caring for another wounded is the last thing we need. Therefore, the punishment I shall bestow on Acolyte Erin is a month of banishment from the fort. She will be provided with basic supplies as this is not a death penalty.¡±


    The crowd fell quiet as Mark¡¯s gaze swept across the uneasy visages. It was obvious that the kids would rather be shot in the leg than banned from the fort. This was what he had hoped for¡ªan end to the mounting tensions and, hopefully, a resolution to one of his problems.


    ¡°Anything to say for yourself, Acolyte Erin?¡±


    Eyes locked to her feet, she shook her head.


    ¡°Master-At-Arms,¡± Mark nodded.


    Henric waved to the two acolytes that remained at the gate, and the timber groaned as the gate pulled open.


    Mark stepped to Erin¡¯s side and reduced his voice to a whisper, ¡°I know I¡¯m asking a lot from you. But be careful out there. I wouldn¡¯t ask this of you if it wasn¡¯t important.


    Erin lifted her gaze and nodded, ¡°I will be.¡±


    ¡°Are you sure that was wise, Imperator?¡± Henric said as the crowd dispersed. ¡°She¡¯s just a kid. Sixteen if the records are correct, and her attribute tests aren¡¯t anything special. She¡¯s going to die out there.¡±


    ¡°Have some faith. There¡¯s a strength to her, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s still a kid, and frontiers are known to take the lives of experienced, grown men.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. But we can¡¯t keep increasing the number of our wounded. We¡¯re going to have to start being more creative,¡± Mark said, patting Henric¡¯s shoulder as he passed him.


    ***


    Allowing Erin to take a crossbow would have likely been seen in bad taste after what happened. But Mark wasn¡¯t about to leave her to the wolves unarmed.


    Back in his cabin, Mark took a leather sleeve and placed a crossbow, quiver of bolts, a dagger, and deer jerky into it and wrapped it up. Minutes later, Erald knocked on his door, and he handed it to the boy.


    ¡°Remind her if she needs anything, she only needs to ask.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Erald saluted and took the leather wrap.


    ¡°Alright, off you go.¡±


    ***Acolytes***


    ¡°You¡¯re standing!¡± Clay said, rushing over to Dober as he hobbled out of the cabin with a wood stick under his arm.


    ¡°What do you want?¡±


    Clay stopped, ¡°Dober?¡±


    ¡°Leave me alone.¡±


    ¡°I was just¨C¡±


    ¡°Just what? I know what you did,¡± Dober bent his brow at Clay and shook his head. ¡°I always knew you were soft, but this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not how it looks¡­¡± Clay trailed off.


    ¡°Like the God-Slave, it isn¡¯t. Word travels fast in the fort. Everyone¡¯s talking. Erin and I might not have agreed on everything, but at least she¡¯s not a coward.¡±


    ¡°Where are you going?¡±


    ¡°Where is she?¡± Dober growled as he struggled to walk, pausing to catch his breath as he leaned on one crutch.


    ¡°She¡¯s already gone. It happened this morning.¡±


    ¡°Where?¡±


    ¡°Imperator Atlas banished her from the fort for a month¡­¡±


    ¡°He what?¡± Dober¡¯s eyes widened. ¡°She¡¯s out there alone? What are we standing around for? We need to do something,¡± he added, almost falling as he pushed himself into a crippled jog.


    ¡°Take it easy,¡± Clay rushed forward. ¡°You¡¯re in no shape to go anywhere.¡±


    ¡°If I don¡¯t, who will?¡± Dober snapped. ¡°Not you, obviously.¡±


    ***


    Hiding beneath the shade of an evergreen, its wiry green leaves piercing through the blanket of snow that covered it, Erin eyed the fort.


    Even though she was barely outside the view from the fort¡¯s walls, she felt more vulnerable than ever. She didn¡¯t doubt that if someone attacked her and she ran toward the walls, her fellow acolytes would take aim at them, but it helped little to overcome her own feeling of helplessness.


    Slipping through a side gate, she spotted the tall, lanky form of Erald.


    About time.


    Her gaze followed him as he awkwardly trudged through the snow and the deceptively hidden undergrowth beneath it that swallowed every second step.


    As he neared, she could hear him muttering curses beneath his breath and panting.


    ¡°Erin,¡± he called, somewhere between a whisper and a shout. ¡°Erin!¡±


    ¡°Shh,¡± Erin hissed from beneath the tree. ¡°Over here,¡± she mouthed with a wave.


    Erald nodded and fought through the snowy foliage, falling against the ground and rolling to his back as her chest heaved.


    ¡°Trying to get us caught? And seriously, you need to exercise more.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Erald panted. ¡°And sorry. I don¡¯t get out much.¡±


    ¡°Cushy being one of the master¡¯s apprentices.¡±


    ¡°It comes with its perks.¡±


    ¡°So, what¡¯d he give you?¡±


    ¡°One moment,¡± Erald grunted and pulled himself up. Unbuckling a strap from beneath his robes, he produced the leather wrap and a bottle. ¡°From the Imperator and Master Mira,¡± he added, passing them to Erin.


    ¡°Rum?¡± Erin tilted her head as she brought the bottle up to her eyes.


    ¡°More valuable than you might imagine out here.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± she said, placing it against the tree trunk and unraveling the leather wrap. ¡°A crossbow, really?¡± A smile creased her lips, drilling dimples into her cheeks.


    ¡°Best make sure nobody sees that. Radic and the others won¡¯t be happy.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not an idiot,¡± Erin shot him a half-lidded glance. Taking the dagger, she tightened it into her belt and stowed the jerk in pouches beneath her robe.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m done here. Good luck,¡± Erald said, but as he climbed to his feet, Erin¡¯s hand shot out, grabbing his wrist and pulling him back down. A shriek attempted to escape his lips but was shortened into a muffled cry as Erin¡¯s hand cupped his mouth.


    ¡°Shh, look,¡± she whispered, and Erald went quiet.


    Through the trees opposite the fort, a figure shrouded in torn, dark rags and mismatched furs sat atop a horse. Several ferals gathered around, and they appeared to be talking. The figure nodded, turned its steed, and whipped on its reigns, galloping off into the snowy forest.


    ¡°What was that?¡± Erald muttered as Erin released her grip.

 8. Freedom

    ¡°Wh-where am I?¡± Callum croaked.


    ¡°Erald?¡± Mira said, stepping out of the kitchen.


    ¡°M-master Mira?¡± Callum groggily rubbed at his eyes.


    ¡°Acolyte Callum, you¡¯re awake. No sudden movements, please. Your body is in quite a state,¡± Mira said, collecting a bowl, a bottle and picking leaves and berries from several hanging reagents.


    Memories of the beating flooded back to Callum as Mira placed several bowls on the bed¡¯s edge to his side.


    ¡°Drink this,¡± she said, handing him a small wooden bowl.


    Wincing, Callum drank the chunky, bitter substance.


    ¡°It might not taste great, but it¡¯ll work a number on you. And this,¡± she added, passing him a cup of something.


    ¡°Give me a moment,¡± Callum moaned as he swallowed the saliva gathering in his mouth.


    The door creaked open, and Mira turned to spot Erald, ¡°Erald, go get the Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Master Mira, I need to tell¨C¡±


    Mira stared unwaveringly at her apprentice, then turned to the weary-eyed Callum.


    ¡°Right, I¡¯ll get the Imperator,¡± Erald gritted his teeth and stepped back out the door.


    ¡°Alright, ready to drink?¡± Mira said, inching the cup toward Callum¡¯s lips.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Callum muttered under his breath and took the cup, groaning as he downed it in one. ¡°What in the Daggers was that?¡± he shivered.


    ¡°Ground roots and berries. It¡¯ll bring your strength back. And just one more,¡± she added, turning to him with a smile as she took the cup and replaced it with a knuckle of root. ¡°This one¡¯s for the pain. And it doesn¡¯t taste too bad.¡±


    Sighing, Callum took it sheepishly, placed it in his mouth, and chewed.


    ¡°Not so bad now, is it?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not horrible,¡± he said between chews of the chalky root.


    A knock rattled the door, and it swung open as they turned. Erald stood aside, holding the door open as Mark entered.


    ¡°Mira,¡± Mark acknowledged before looking to Callum. ¡°Good to see you¡¯re up and awake, Acolyte Callum.¡±


    ¡°Imperator Atlas,¡± Callum said, groaning as he forced his arm up to salute.


    ¡°Relax, Acolyte. I want to see you heal.¡±


    Callum lowered his arm, grasping at his side as he fought back another moan.


    ¡°I¡¯m not here for ceremony. I just wanted to see you healthy with my own eyes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing okay, Imperator. Thanks to Mira,¡± Callum said, flashing her a quick smile.


    ¡°Good to hear. Let our master healer know when you¡¯re feeling up to the task of a longer conversation. I have a few questions I want to ask.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I c¨C¡±


    Raising a hand, Mark shook his head. ¡°I said, relax, Acolyte. Take your time. It was quite a beating you took. Recovery comes first. We¡¯ll have plenty of time to talk later.¡± Mark needed time as much as he was interested in hearing Callum¡¯s confession. Not only was the boy already injured, but he was the strongest acolyte in the fort. As much as Mark hated it, he needed the kid. He needed time to come up with a punishment that would be suitable but also mitigated.


    Callum nodded.


    ¡°Mira, come see me when you have a moment,¡± Mark added, turning for the door.


    ¡°Will do, Imperator.¡±


    ***Acolytes***


    Keeping low, Erin followed snow-covered thickets, using them as cover as she trailed the ferals that spotted talking to the strange horseman.


    There was nothing particularly interesting or unusual about them. Dirty faces and dressed in rough rags and the occasional fur¡ªand she doubted she could point them out in a crowd.


    The straw-mounted hovels continued into the woods, albeit far more sparsely than the number of feral homes dotting the clearing beside the fort.


    The ferals she followed seemed entirely oblivious, but Erin took care not to be spotted by others in the passing homes¡ªdarting between trees when she had no other cover.


    Soon, they stopped at one of the homes. Erin watched from between a few leafless birch trees a dozen meters away. A chimney protruded from the thatch roof, which appeared to be piled atop the ground, and a trail of smoke rose from it.


    The half dozen ferals formed a line outside the home as one approached a short, dugout trench that led into the hut. At its end was a door of tightly packed sticks, which the feral kicked and yelled something in a foreign, guttural language.


    As the door pushed open, the feral stepped back, and a big, bearded man with dark dreads down past his shoulders stepped out. He wore a two-headed wolf pelt over his back and tattoos over much of his exposed, muscular body.


    The two argued, and the big man pushed the feral, almost toppling him over and sending him scurrying back toward the other ferals.


    As the big man walked toward the group, the other five ferals drew axes and daggers. The one he pushed hurried to his comrades and swung around, whipping out a dagger.


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    One of them pointed past the big man toward the hut at his back, yelling more barbarian gibberish¡ªnone of which Erin understood.


    A couple meters away, a hatchet lay dug into a stump. The big man¡¯s eyes wandered over to it, and in response, two of the ferals stepped forward¡ªtheir weapons held shakily at the ready.


    The big man stepped backward, hands held high as he spoke.


    What¡¯s going on? Why are they attacking each other?


    Erin shook her head as she tried to make sense of it all. Everyone knew the barbarians fought¡ªfinding feral corpses wasn¡¯t particularly unusual. But ferals on horseback? That wasn¡¯t something you saw often. These people were outsiders, clanless. To own a horse meant status.


    It has to be related to that guy; Erin shook her head as she watched. Raising the crossbow, she aimed at the ferals, a mote of steam escaping her lips as she exhaled.


    ¡°What are you doing, Erin? Have you gone crazy?¡± She breathed. She felt irrational for wanting to help this stranger, but something told her it was the right decision. Not just morally, but that the horseman played a role in whatever was happening, and she needed to stop it.


    As her aim hovered over one of the ferals, it lunged forward, threatening to strike the big man with its axe. Reacting to the sudden movement, Erin pulled on the trigger. In a blink, the bolt whizzed through the air and stabbed into the heart of the man¡¯s back.


    Confusion followed as the ferals watched the man fall to the ground. As their eyes caught the protruding bolt, they turned, scanning their surroundings for sight of their attacker.


    The large man acted immediately, pouncing for his axe and swinging back around. His lunging movements covered the ground in an instant, cutting one of the dagger-wielding ferals down with a slash across his jugular, kicking the man back as blood fountained freely. Following his momentum, he slammed his hatchet into the face of the next man, splitting his jaw in two and sending him gargling to the ground as he pulled the axe free.


    A feral to his side stepped forward, spearing his dagger toward the man¡¯s midsection, but a clumsy parry from his axe sent the weapon flying, and the feral grasped at his hand, which had been mutilated¡ªfingers bent in all directions. The man¡¯s jaw dropped as his eyes glanced up just in time to see the axe as it drove into his forehead. And then stilled.


    Two remained. One man ran, and the other charged the big man with his axe held high. With a flick of his wrist, he sent the hatchet twirling toward the man¡¯s face. His eyes went wide as it thudded into him and fell sideways into the snow, twitching.


    Erin turned her gaze to the running man. She hurriedly took a bolt and began rewinding her crossbow, watching as the man dashed through the trees. Her fingers trembled as she lined the bolt and raised her weapon, closing an eye to aim. Following his path, Erin waited for a gap in the obstructing trees and fired.


    The man slowed to a stumbled walk, patting at his neck where the bolt jutted out, and fell to his knees as blood spurted. He sat there momentarily in shock before faceplanting the snow.


    ¡°I did it,¡± Erin mouthed with a cloud of steam. What about the big one? She swung around just in time to catch the blurred shape of a fist.


    Pain. Dizzy breathlessness.


    ¡°Ow,¡± she gritted her teeth as she tasted copper.


    The icy ground met her as she fell back. Her head thumped with pain and spun as the blurred figure grabbed hold of her robes. She grunted as he yanked her up off the ground. She felt her lungs emptied as she was thrown against something hard and coughed. Wolf furs met her eyes as shapes realigned, followed by the crunches of steps in the snow.


    Furs? The big feral¡­ he¡¯s carrying me?


    ***Mira***


    ¡°Imperator?¡± Mira said as she stepped into the cabin. ¡°You wanted to talk?¡±


    ¡°How¡¯s the boy?¡±


    ¡°Pretty good, all things considered. Waking up was the hard part. Thankfully, most of his injuries are bruising, and the swelling around his face has greatly reduced. Now that he can drink and eat, I should be able to get him back into his own cabin in short order.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s good to hear. I appreciate your efforts in all of this, Mira.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Star Maiden, Imperator. Healing the broken is as important to me as upholding the Imperium¡¯s law is to you. There really isn¡¯t any need for thanks.¡±


    ¡°That might be so, but we¡¯ve got a rough road ahead, and keeping my acolytes alive is something I can¡¯t help but be grateful for.¡±


    ¡°Well, if you really want to thank me, see us through it.¡±


    ¡°Ha,¡± Mark chuckled and sighed. ¡°Trying.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s all we can ask for. So, was there anything else? I¡¯ve got a pot boiling, and I don¡¯t entirely trust that boy not to burn the cabin down.¡±


    ¡°One more thing. When you feel he¡¯s ready, send Acolyte Callum here. Since he sounds to be in good enough health, I¡¯d rather speak to him in private.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Mira said.


    ¡°Oh, and Mira.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The other Acolyte, Radic. How¡¯s he doing?¡±


    ¡°The wound was clean. It didn¡¯t hit anything important, and we¡¯ve cleaned it up nicely. I¡¯d say he¡¯s in the best shape out of the three injured boys. But it will be a few weeks before he¡¯s back to his normal self, at the very least.¡±


    ¡°Good news. Carrying on, Star Maiden.¡±


    ***


    ¡°That Imperator,¡± Mira said, closing the door behind her. ¡°It¡¯s good to see him taking our survival seriously again, but he just doesn¡¯t seem himself. Or maybe I¡¯m the one going crazy,¡± she continued, passing through the cabin into the kitchen.


    ¡°Master Mira,¡± Erald said with a raised hand as he followed after her.


    ¡°Can¡¯t it wait, Erald? Today¡¯s been long,¡± she sighed, taking a ladle from the bench and stirring her pot.


    ¡°No, it can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Erald?¡± Mira turned with a raised brow.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, but it can¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, take it easy. What¡¯s on your mind?¡±


    ¡°Outside, beyond the walls. I saw something. When I went out to give Erin the supplies¡ªI think she¡¯s going to do something stupid. Or she is.¡±


    ¡°What did you see, Acolyte?¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Erald shook his head. ¡°A man. A feral, I think. But he was on horseback. And I don¡¯t remember ever seeing ferals on horseback around here.¡±


    ¡°And what is this stupid thing you think Acolyte Erin is going to do?¡±


    Erald swallowed, ¡°The feral on horseback¡ªit was talking to a bunch of other ferals. She said she was going to follow them.¡±


    ¡°What? Follow them? Why in the Daggers would she do that?¡±


    ¡°I dunno¡­ well¡ªI think. She was mumbling about the Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I see. Listen, Erald. Just like with the supplies, don¡¯t mention this to anybody besides me, okay? I¡¯ll speak to the Imperator myself.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Master Mira.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Mira?¡± Mark looked up from his desk as she burst through his door.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Mira said, letting the door shut at her back. ¡°I¡¯ve heard something troublesome.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°My apprentice, Acolyte Erald. He and Erin saw a feral on horseback outside the walls. Apparently, this feral was meeting with others. And the girl¡ªAcolyte Erin¡ªshe decided to chase after these ferals.¡±


    ¡°You sound worried, Mira.¡±


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t I be? When was the last time a feral, or any barbarian for that matter, was spotted on horseback around here?¡±


    Mark rose from his chair. ¡°Point taken.¡±


    ¡°What are you thinking?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I should go after her.¡±


    ¡°Erin? The Acolyte?¡± Mira raised a brow. She often wished the Imperator cared more about those around him, but this? An Imperator chasing after a sole acolyte went against their code. It went against the law. It went against his very core.


    ¡°Who else?¡± Mark said, pulling his coat off of the hook beside the door.


    ¡°Shouldn¡¯t someone else?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a manpower shortage, Mira. I can¡¯t risk losing anyone else. And you mentioned a group of them.¡± Mark said, stretching his fingers with a crackle of energy as he made for the door. ¡°Keep this between us, okay?¡±

 9. Ferals

    Dropped on a bed of straw, Erin groaned. The hut was dark. Ribbons of light pierced through the poorly crafted thatch roofing, and embers glowed weakly beneath a pot.


    The big man turned his back to her, grabbed a bowl, and used it to scoop something out of the pot. Crossing his legs, he sat across from Erin and passed the bowl.


    ¡°Eat.¡±


    Erin looked at the bowl. It looked like porridge. Her gaze then shifted to the large man and the figures behind him. Resting on a bed of straw, a woman lay with two tiny babies, one of which suckled on her tit.


    Eyeing the big man, Erin pulled the bowl toward her bruised lips and cupped it as she gingerly brought it to her mouth. It was a starchy porridge with sweet, tarty, pickled berries. And the moment the food hit her belly, Erin¡¯s stomach rumbled.


    The man nodded, and she gulped it down in a hurry.


    ¡°You like?¡±


    Erin nodded.


    He reached out, took the bowl as she finished, and scooped more from the pot at his side. Then, he nodded and passed it back to her.


    Erin gulped it down again without pause for breaths.


    ¡°Sorry I hit you. Scared¡ªlittle ones,¡± he said, turning to the babies, then back to Erin.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, I guess,¡± Erin rubbed at her head. ¡°But what do you mean? Are you saying you''re scared for the babies?¡±


    ¡°Yes, for little ones. They take them. I not think¡­ sorry.¡±


    ¡°I get it¨CI think,¡± Erin groaned, grimacing as she patted her bruised lip. Something about the big feral made her feel bad for him. He seemed genuine. ¡°You speak weird. Not like the other ferals around here.¡±


    ¡°From west. Don¡¯t speak Cal¨¦,¡± He said and bent his brow as he stared into Erin¡¯s eyes, ¡°Trayox,¡± he added with a nod and extended a hand. ¡°Clanless Igmani. From west.¡±


    Shaking his hand, she replied, ¡°Acolyte Erin of Twines Keep. Daughter of Albert and Maria¡­¡± and murderer, she thought. But it wasn¡¯t murder she reminded herself. She had long excepted that she might have to kill people when she became an Acolyte, and almost certainly would if she managed to become an Imperator. But still¡­ doing it for real felt different.


    Trayox¡¯s brow twisted as he watched Erin trail off. Her gaze was distant.


    ¡°Sorry, my thoughts wandered. So, Trayox is it? Why would anyone want to take your babies?¡±


    He nodded. ¡°Not babies. Just girl. Virgin.¡±


    ¡°What? You mean they want her because she¡¯s a virgin? She¡¯s a baby. Barely a couple of months old!¡± Erin said, eyeing the tiny babies wrapped up in brown cloth.


    ¡°They don¡¯t care. Age not important. Just need virgin girl. Offering for the wargs.¡±


    ¡°Seriously, you ferals really give virgin girls to the wargs?¡±


    ¡°We ferals?¡± The man shook his head. ¡°Not ferals, as you say. Cultists. Servants of Seven-Headed Wolf God. Coming from north. More every day.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s who the man on the horse was? A cultist from the north?¡±


    Trayox nodded.


    ¡°Why are they coming down here? I don¡¯t remember hearing stories of cultists traveling this far south last winter.¡±


    ¡°They say the wargs leave the mountains.¡± Trayox shrugged. ¡°Now, the clans leave¡ªno one to stop cultists. More come.¡±


    ¡°Wait, you mean that because the clans have headed south, there¡¯s no one to stop the cultists from taking over?¡±


    Trayox nodded again.


    ¡°And now that they¡¯re taking over, they can force you to give virgin girls to them?¡±


    ¡°Yes.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s disgusting. What about the rest of the ferals? The ones living around here? Do they just do what the cultists ask them?¡±


    ¡°They scared. But many leave. Not safe here. Go south to clans. But clan protection not free, either.¡±


    ¡°What about the ones that don¡¯t, though? There must be hundreds of ferals living around here.¡±


    ¡°Pay tribute. Give virgins.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ that¡¯s horrible. They give their own children away,¡± Erin held her mouth as if about to gag.


    ¡°Some do. Most don¡¯t have virgin. If they stay. They help cultists for protection. Find girls.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s¡­ gross,¡± Erin crinkled her nose. ¡°So what now? How will you keep your daughter safe?¡±


    ¡°Go south. Cultists will be back. Must work for clan.¡±


    ¡°South? To where the clans are gathering?¡±


    Trayox nodded.


    ¡°That¡¯s far, you know? Like weeks across the snow. And with winter so close. It¡¯s going to get cold¡ªway too cold. What about your babies?¡±


    ¡°I know. But no choice. If cultist return, he kill us both,¡± Trayox said, pointing to his wife. ¡°Then he take boy and girl.¡±


    ¡°But-but¡­ there has to be other options,¡± Erin slowly shook her head, looking down at the bowl in her hands. ¡°I¡¯m sorry¡­ for you know,¡± Erin mumbled.


    ¡°No. You save daughter. Me sorry for hitting. Thank you. You good person,¡± he added, pointing at Erin.


    Good, useless person who can¡¯t even help, Erin gritted her teeth.


    ***Imperator***


    Imagine Dad seeing me now; Mark thought as he pushed through the forest growth.


    He felt a little guilty. Neither of his parents had entered his thoughts much since arriving, but he''d been busy.


    When was the last time we even spoke?


    It was, at most, half his fault; after all, they were the ones who decided to move to Vermont. Who the hell retires from southern California to Vermont, anyway? Aren''t old people supposed to like the warm? He remembered a conversation with his mom about how beautiful the leaves were. Leaves. It almost made him laugh¡ªthe irony of it. Mark looked up at the skeletal trees. Sure, the bare oaks and birch were dotted by the occasional pine and other evergreens, but their growth barely constituted leaves.


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    You¡¯d hate this place, Mom. One more thing they could disagree with.


    Even though Mark missed his creature comforts, he couldn¡¯t help but feel relieved that he was no longer paying downtown San Francisco rent. And he had things to do. Things that might kill him if he failed, but still¡ªthey were important¡ªand it made him feel alive.


    This was who he was, and having things to do was why he had found himself where he had¡ªpart of a three-man team trying desperately to be the next big thing. He had always sought out a challenge. The difference was he felt like it meant something now. People¡¯s lives relied on him. Not just another stupid app that did something nobody ever asked for.


    First, I¡¯m going to survive this winter. Then, we¡¯re doing something about those creature comforts. And a shower. No, a freaking bath. Wait¡­ they might have hot springs in this world. Why didn¡¯t I think about that earlier? I¡¯mma make a spa out here.


    A smile giddily curled his lips as Mark pushed back a pine branch, revealing the spot Erald had told them about¡ªtwo sets of tracks led from beneath the tree. His eyes settled on the tracks leading away from the fort and pushed through the branches.


    The tracks passed through dense foliage, and soon, the trees thinned where feral homes dotted the forest. Unfortunately, tracks lined the snow in all directions here, and Mark stared around aimlessly.


    He crunched forward, hoping to find some sign of Erin, when he spotted hoof marks. Only two horses were in the fort, and he was pretty sure nobody rode them through this area.


    I¡¯m guessing that¡¯s the mounted feral Erald told Mira about.


    Mark glanced over the other tracks momentarily. Erald had told them that Erin didn''t follow the one on horseback, but he had no idea where else to go.


    ¡°Damn it,¡± he muttered, pivoting through the snow. ¡°At least the horse tracks are something to go on.¡± Erin, stay safe for me, okay? I¡¯m doing my best.


    The horse tracks led Mark away for several minutes before he stumbled toward a tree and leaned against it. Shooting lightning bolts was great, but the suit got hot quickly¡ªespecially when crunching around in the freaking snow.


    Pulling on his collar, he tried letting some cool air in. He could feel his undergarments growing moist.


    ¡°Where the bloody hell is she,¡± he breathed. ¡°Or this stupid feral. Why couldn¡¯t they make it easy for me?¡± Mark grinned, reminded of the challenge.


    To his right¡ªseveral dozen meters away, he heard a scream and swung toward it. He saw blurred figures through the trees and ran toward them.


    Panting as he pressed against a tree, Mark spotted two ferals pulling a young girl through the woods. Against every step, she kicked and thrashed, screaming out. He didn¡¯t understand what she said, but at a guess, he would have gone for ¡°help!¡±


    He raised his palm and pointed it at the ferals in a moment of poor judgment. What are you thinking, idiot? Mark lowered his hand and followed after them. A couple of weeks in a primitive world, and you have already forgotten how lightning works? Mark cussed himself. He couldn¡¯t believe he had been seconds away from charring all three.


    He followed them for several minutes through dense, hilly woodlands, climbing up and down mounds of snow.


    A clearing broke the trees¡ªa horseman sat mounted at the clearing¡¯s end¡ªtrees at his back. He wore a wolf pelt, but his arms were bare, save bracelets and tattoos. A short sword hung sheathed at his side, and a bow hung from his saddle.


    That¡¯s no feral. Even I can tell that much. Those poor bastards call a sharp piece of metal a dagger. Mark eyed that man¡¯s saddle. Its workmanship was on par with the couple they had within the fort. Not only that, but the short sword''s bronze handle and the metal jewelry he wore were not the kinds of items he''d seen the ferals with. Iron was rare in the frontier, and worked iron was even rarer. The horseman¡¯s items were smithed by someone who knew what they were doing.


    Mark raised his hand. He could probably take the one on horseback out, he figured. But he then glanced back at the other two dragging the girl. How would they react? Some hero he would be if they slit her throat.


    Come on, what are you going to do? I can¡¯t just let them take her.


    Mark tapped his fingers across the tree he took cover beside as the ferals approached the one on horseback.


    One feral pushed the girl while the other walked ahead, extending his arms as he approached the rider. Suddenly, the girl spun, breaking the feral¡¯s weak grip and running.


    Now!


    Mark turned his palm on the feral who chased the girl. Thunder crackled, and lightning sparked across the snowy landscape in a flash, slamming into the feral with a deafening, echoing pop. Feral¡¯s furs burned, and his skin blackened as he fell smoking.


    Mark''s gaze rose as he heard the horse''s neigh. The rider kicked his heels and sent his horse galloping into the trees.


    Shit!


    Mark aimed for the rider, but he was already disappearing into the dense line of trees. Through the corner of his eye, he spotted the second feral giving chase to the girl and turned his aim on it, sending out another crackling blast a second later that blasted the man back several feet. He didn¡¯t get back up.


    He looked back toward the rider, but he was long gone. Barely a blur lost to the foliage.


    Mark¡¯s gaze returned to the girl frantically running through the woods.


    Chasing after the girl wasn¡¯t the wisest decision. He didn¡¯t want to scare her. She had no doubt been through enough. But who were the ferals that had seemingly kidnapped the girl, and why?


    Sighing, Mark took chase, making sure to remain hidden from afar.


    Cutting through the trees, he followed her to a grouping of straw hovels barely a hundred yards from the fort.


    The girl¡¯s sobs brought ferals from the nearby homes out. By their doors, they stood and watched her. A weatherbeaten, gray-haired man appeared as she approached one of the huts. Her arms rose, and she cried out as she spotted him, but the man angrily barked something that slowed her run to a crawl as she dropped her arms.


    What? Mark moved closer, pushing through the trees to get a better look.


    The man was waving her away, and as she stepped closer, he drew a dagger from his belt.


    Seriously? What the hell is going on here?


    The girl said something. Her voice sounded scared and broken. She raised her hands defensively and backstepped.


    The man walked toward her, holding the dagger threateningly. He pointed back toward the hut, shouting something as he continued toward her.


    The girl began to shake her head, tears tracing her cheeks. She turned and began to run through the snow. The man watched for a second and took chase.


    Not again. Mark raised his hand as the man closed on the now exhausted girl. Going around killing ferals was the last thing he needed to be doing. But he couldn¡¯t just leave her to die.


    The flash sparked across the forest floor, eliciting gasps from nearby ferals. It hit the man with a roaring clap that brought down a dusting of snow.


    The girl stumbled as she ran, panting and turned. Her sobs burst into a flood of tears as she began to wail. Her cries grew louder as she sat in the snow, looking at the man¡¯s smoldering corpse. Staggering to her feet, she walked toward him and dropped to her knees. She tried to touch him and recoiled at the heat, so she sat sobbing at his side.


    More ferals continued to gather around. A few spotted Mark watching the girl, and their eyes glued to him in a mixture of fear and curiosity.


    What have I done? He didn¡¯t need anyone to explain it. Her tears said it all. That man had been important to her.


    A woman stepped forth from the hut, followed by two other girls. One looked maybe four or five, and the other barely a day over sixteen, but she held her protruding belly like an expecting mother.


    The woman rushed to the girl beside the steaming corpse. She was marked by gray knotted hair and deep creases along her forehead. As she reached them, she dropped to her knees and crawled. Through her tears, she began to shout something and crawled up to the girl and pushed her.


    The girl didn¡¯t resist. Instead, she shuffled back as the woman continued to scream and point at the old man¡¯s body.


    ¡°What is going on here?¡± Mark said as he walked toward them.


    ¡°Murderer,¡± the woman sneered with dirty, gritted teeth. Her wild eyes stared into Mark¡¯s soul as she hovered over the corpse.


    ¡°What do you mean, you crazy woman? He was attacking her. What on earth is going on here?¡± Mark snapped, pointing at the girl.


    ¡°It¡¯s the price. The wolf needs flesh,¡± she began to rock and laugh. ¡°Wolf needs flesh. Virgin flesh.¡±


    The surrounding ferals moved closer, and Mark turned to find them surrounded.


    ¡°They need flesh, they do. Virgin flesh,¡± feral from the crowd said, eyes locked on the girl.


    ¡°Yeah, flesh for the cultists. Virgin flesh.¡±


    ¡°Back, the lot of you,¡± Mark hissed, raising his palms at the ferals, sending them recoiling back. ¡°Stay close, girl.¡±


    The girl looked up at Mark, still crying, and then around at the ferals. The crowd looked determined but fearful of Mark¡¯s power.


    ¡°This is madness,¡± Mark shouted. ¡°She¡¯s safe with me, you understand,¡± he continued, spinning around and making his hands crackle with power as he pointed his palms across the crowd.

 10. Safe

    Erin sat sipping on something that was meant to make her feel better as they packed.


    She couldn¡¯t believe, just like that, this family was going to pick up and travel south for weeks because of the cultists.


    She felt guilt, even if she had already done plenty to help them. A knot formed in her gut. Something told her they wouldn¡¯t make it.


    The babies were only a few months old, and she had little doubt the mother was still recovering. She watched Trayox pack their belongings. As strong as he was, taking a vulnerable family so far south would be dangerous.


    ¡°What if you stayed?¡±


    He turned a tilted gaze toward her.


    ¡°You have to know the road will be dangerous with your family. Why don¡¯t you stay here,¡± Erin hastily added.


    ¡°I tell already. Too dangerous. Cultists be back.¡±


    ¡°Well, what if they couldn¡¯t get to you?¡±


    ¡°Not possible.¡±


    ¡°Why? They can¡¯t get into our fort. Not with the Imperator around.¡±


    ¡°Lucky you.¡±


    ¡°And if you could. Live in the fort, that is.¡±


    ¡°Ahaha,¡± Trayox fell forward, snorting. ¡°In fort? With Imperator?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true,¡± Erin bounced up. ¡°The Imperator. He¡¯s extending the fort¡¯s walls. He plans to let you and the other ferals live there.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Trayox nodded with a smile. ¡°Help from Imperator. Funny girl.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not joking. It¡¯s true. I know you¡¯ve seen us working. What do you think it''s all for? We don¡¯t have enough numbers to man even the walls we already have. Not properly, at least.¡±


    ¡°I know Imperator, girl. They not help us. We all the same in their eyes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re wrong. The walls,¡± Erin said, using her hands to create squares to visualize the construction. ¡°They¡¯ll be safe. I swear. It is way safer than crossing to the south with babies. What point was saving them from the wargs if you just let them die to the frost? Come on¡ªthink¡ªbig barbarian man.¡±


    ¡°Not safe.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re being stubborn, damn it,¡± Erin said, stepping in his way. Up close, Trayox looked even bigger. His high cheeks, thick, black dreads, and square chin.


    He turned, walked around her, and began shoving a pile of primitive tools into a straw sack.


    ¡°Hey, where do you think you¡¯re going?¡± Erin trailed, shoving her face between Trayox and his packing and clicking her fingers. ¡°Trayox, stop ignoring me. And stop being stubborn. Think about your babies.¡±


    ¡°I AM!¡± His pupils dilated, and Erin squealed as she fell backward. ¡°Everything for babies. EVERYTHING. South for them. Trusting Imperator foolish. You foolish.¡±


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Erin whispered, curling up against the hut¡¯s straw roof wall.


    ¡°It''s fine,¡± Trayox waved dismissively. ¡°You mean well. Just very stupid.¡±


    **Fort Winterclaw**


    Erald held the door open as Callum gingerly stepped inside. He had offered the injured boy help, but that had never been his style.


    ¡°Callum!¡± Dober said, hobbling over with the help of his walking stick, leaving Clay behind at the back of the cabin. Clay¡¯s gaze avoided Callum¡¯s as he fiddled with his thumbs.


    ¡°She¡¯s really gone, isn¡¯t she?¡± Callum said as Dober¡¯s arms wrapped around his shoulders and squeezed.


    ¡°What do you have to say?¡± Dober turned to Clay as he released his grip.


    ¡°Sorry, Callum. I didn¡¯t¨C¡±


    ¡°Whatever. It is what it is. Don¡¯t hang yourself up over it,¡± Callum shook his head as he made for his bunk.


    Clay raised a hand as if to protest but lowered it as Callum passed him.


    ¡°How¡¯s your leg?¡± Callum said as he reached his bunk, dropping a bag of medicines prepared by Mira atop it.


    ¡°Seen better days,¡± Dober smiled as he glanced down at the bandage. ¡°Mira stitched me and got me the good stuff. And Erin. She helped a lot,¡± Dober said, glaring at Clay.


    ¡°The wound was deep. It can¡¯t be healed yet, can it?¡±


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    Dober shook his head. ¡°No, it¡¯s not. But I can walk around. Long as I don¡¯t put any weight on it.¡±


    ¡°Suppose that¡¯s good news.¡±


    ¡°Well, I better¨C¡±


    ¡°Yes, you should,¡± Dober cut Clay off. ¡°You¡¯re no use to us. May as well go help build the wall.¡±


    Clay nodded at both of them, his eyes fixated on his boots¡ªwhile Callum looked away, pretending he didn¡¯t exist.


    ¡°Coward,¡± Dober said beneath his breath as Clay closed the door behind him.


    ¡°Is it true? You know, what happened to Radic?¡±


    ¡°Yeah. You know how Erin is. Acting before thinking is kind of her thing.¡±


    ¡°But shooting another acolyte? I thought she was smarter than that. There goes any chance of her becoming an Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Most of us have long lost hope of that ever happening. They don¡¯t drop real candidates out here. Left to the wolves like us.¡±


    ¡°Still, you never know. Besides, there are still apprenticeships,¡± Callum said, easing himself onto his bunk.


    ¡°Yeah, like I wanna be a cook.¡±


    ¡°Mightn¡¯t be so bad for you,¡± Callum eyed Dober¡¯s leg.


    ¡°You¡¯re one to talk. Look at you. All beaten up,¡± the acolyte looked up at the bandage wrapped around Callum¡¯s head.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ that will stay on for a while. But Mira said the rest is mostly just bruising, which isn¡¯t that bad. Reckons I¡¯ll be more or less back to normal in a couple of weeks. You on the other hand¡­¡± Callum said, creasing his brow as he looked at Dober¡¯s leg.


    ¡°Hey, keep your eyes to yourself. I¡¯ll be fine, thank you very much!¡±


    A playful grin creased Callum¡¯s lips, and the boys chuckled softly. It was relieving to have a little normalcy returned.


    Callum¡¯s smile faded as he looked into his friend¡¯s eyes. Joking around was fun but only allowed him to momentarily forget the truth of his wound. It was likely to scar. And even if it was explained, doubt would linger with anyone who cast their gaze upon it. He would need to hide his forehead for the rest of his life. Being seen as a heretic was just too risky, regardless of how many people believed the message.


    **Imperator**


    The circle of ferals moved with Mark¡¯s steps. One lunged for the girl, and Mark made energy crackle around his hand. The man¡¯s eyes widened, and he fell over himself as he scrambled back to the disheveled line.


    ¡°Back,¡± Mark shouted as he shuffled closer to the girl without lowering his hand. ¡°I don¡¯t want to hurt anybody. But I will if I have to.¡±


    He still wasn¡¯t entirely sure how much the barbarians understood him, but they seemed to understand the threat, and the crowd pushed back with a wave of ¡°ahhs.¡±


    ¡°Up,¡± Mark said to the girl, extending a hand.


    Big brown eyes looked up at him. At a guess, he¡¯d have said she was nine or ten. Her mousy brown hair was scruffy and knotted. And she wore rags with some kind of fabric wrapped around her feet.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Mark hissed, shoving his hand toward her.


    Her eyes darted between Mark and his hand, then to the crowd before she finally reached out.


    She gasped as Mark effortlessly lunched her up to her feet. ¡°Just follow me, and you¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    Trembling at his side, the girl nodded.


    ¡°Damn it, you mad people,¡± Mark shouted at the gathering crowd. ¡°This girl, and everyone like her, is now under my protection, got it? If those cultists have a problem, they can come and see me. And the rest of you, don¡¯t give yours or anyone else¡¯s fucking kids to those insane cultists. I¡¯m extending my fort¡¯s walls, and I invite everyone needing security. Whatever it''s from. Cultists. Other barbarians. Wolves. The freaking cold. It doesn¡¯t matter. But you will follow my law.¡±


    They didn¡¯t seem to be listening. Edging forward with their eyes locked on the girl.


    ¡°Let¡¯s go,¡± Mark grunted loud enough for the girl to hear as he walked toward the fort. Not for a second did he lower his hands, pivoting as they walked.


    Greedy, bent glares followed them, but that wasn¡¯t all. Mark spotted confusion, maybe even hope, etched on some of their faces. He wanted to yell out to them. But understood that in a crowd, they would likely turn down his offer, maybe even find themselves made a target. He had to resist for now. Hopefully, they would come into his fort and seek his protection later.


    The crowd of ferals followed them back to the fort, occasionally sneaking closer only to scatter backward as Mark aimed his palm with a crackle of thunder at them.


    He walked in reverse as they reached the gates. The heavy timber doors were being worked separately and hadn¡¯t yet been fitted. Not that it mattered much; several small openings across the extended palisade still had yet to be completed. However, if pushed, it was only a couple of days from completion. And had become a source of rumor¡ªit didn¡¯t take a genius to wonder why the ferals hadn¡¯t been cleared out yet.


    Ferals from the hobbles that dotted the clearing rose from their homes at the commotion. Watching.


    ¡°What¡¯s going on, Imperator?¡± Henric said, rushing to Mark¡¯s side with sword drawn.


    ¡°The girl. Saved her from cultists,¡± Mark said, pulling her toward Henric. ¡°Watch her.¡±


    ¡°Imperator¨C¡±


    Mark stepped toward the following crowd of ferals and sparks crackled around his hands. ¡°I warn you all. Unless you¡¯re here for my protection, back up.¡±


    The crowd hesitated for a second, but a shuddering blast of energy that blew snow into the air sent them reeling backward.


    ¡°This area is officially locked down. Now get back!¡±


    The crowd of ferals pushed against one another, fighting to return to the treeline behind them. Within minutes, the crowd had cleared out, but they remained. Watching from the trees.


    ¡°What¡¯s the plan now?¡± Henric said, stepping up to Mark¡¯s side, who stood within the gate entrance.


    ¡°We finish it today.¡±


    ¡°Even if we do¡ªit¡¯s not like we have manpower to spare guarding this thing.¡±


    ¡°Just do as I say, Henric. The acolytes can be afforded extra rest afterward!¡±


    ¡°Imperator, but¨C¡±


    ¡°Figure it out,¡± Mark snapped. He knew it was a tall ask, but what choice was there? Those ferals would either flee or join sides with the cultists if there was no other alternative. He needed to prove to them that the fort was safe. And he needed to do it as soon as possible. He had the girl now. It was a test. If he could keep her safe, others would believe in him. That¡¯s how humans worked. That¡¯s how they always had. Being a hero was new to Mark, but understanding people wasn¡¯t. He knew how to win investors. If he had managed to raise millions for that shitty app no one needed, he could sure as hell convince a few barbarians to trust him. They had every reason to. He just needed to prove to them that he had what they needed.


    ¡°Imper¨C¡± Henric bit his tongue. ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark waved. ¡°Then get them to work. And make sure they¡¯re armed. No ferals enter unless I say so.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Henric nodded, turned to the acolytes already working, and began barking orders. Exasperated sighs and dropped shoulders rippled through the group. They weren¡¯t happy, and they¡¯d be even less happy knowing that their work was going toward sheltering ferals. But Mark would have to make that up to them later.


    His thoughts drifted back to the injured boy. Heretic. They had written it on his forehead for following his orders. He knew this was the correct path forward, but that didn¡¯t mean it wouldn¡¯t be bloody.


    Please, don¡¯t force my hand. He grimaced as he watched the acolytes. They were only kids, but he knew what they were capable of.


    Light snow began to fall around him as he stood vigil within the gate. Watching the ferals.


    I hope you¡¯re doing okay out there, Erin¡­

 11. Raise the Walls

    The acolytes hauled logs late into the night. Torches and lanterns sat on posts, dotting the clearing and lightening it for the exhausted teens as the snowfall intensified.


    ¡°I hope your plans are worth it. Don¡¯t be surprised if your acolytes wake with fevers.¡±


    ¡°That depends on how much you want to survive the coming winter, Henric. Personally, I¡¯m not ready to die.¡±


    ¡°If the God-Lord wills it.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so stubborn,¡± Mark smiled at the grim-faced man. ¡°Besides, isn¡¯t it my job to test them?¡±


    ¡°It''s also your job to uphold the law and teach the next generation of hopeful Imperators. Yet it''s been almost a month since their last lesson. And don''t try telling me this is a lesson.¡±


    ¡°How many of them do you think will make it? You know, to become Imperators?¡± Mark asked. It was a trick question. He knew from reading Atlas''s notes that he doubted any would earn their suits and had only recommended two candidates for evaluation. Acolytes Callum and Radic.


    ¡°That''s not my¨C¡±


    ¡°I know. Just give me your opinion. I won''t hold anything to it.¡±


    ¡°That''s hardly the point, Imperator. The kids and their families are fully aware of how unlikely it is that they''ll earn a suit when joining up. Yet here they are.¡±


    ¡°And how does being sent to an outpost at the edge of civilization to die fit into all that? Don''t get me wrong. Lessons will resume, but my priority is surviving what''s coming.¡±


    ¡°Still believing barbarian tales, I see.¡±


    ¡°Tales or not, the cultists are here. Even if the stories are all fantasy, that doesn''t change the fact that the ferals believe them. We need to react to that, whether we like it or not.¡±


    The final bolts were screwed into hand-drilled holes, and a resounding thud echoed as the gate doors were closed.


    ¡°Alright, remember your tools. If the tool count is down when we get back to the store room, you''ll be sent back out here to find whatever was left,¡± Henric yelled with his hands beside his mouth.


    ¡°We¡¯ll need to reward them,¡± Mark said as he walked toward the palisade gate.


    ¡°Where are you going, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°You all need rest. I''ll guard our new wall through the night. We can figure the rest out in the morning.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve been out here as long as we have.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. But someone needs to uphold the law.¡±


    Henric¡¯s stern gaze seemed to pass through Mark as he watched him momentarily before nodding.


    ***


    The only thing that kept Mark¡¯s eyes open was the biting cold. His nose had started to drip through the night, and now ice wrapped around his mustache hairs.


    The ferals that had followed them had long since left, but yesterday¡¯s commotion had brought fresh sets of eyes to the wall. Not that it mattered. He wasn¡¯t about to let down his watch. The ferals might be primitive, but they spoke, which meant they shared rumors. And Mark had little doubt that those living in the nearby region would hear of his night-long vigil.


    As dawn crept across the trees, Fort Winterclaw¡¯s gates pushed open, and Henric led three acolytes across to the outer wall.


    ¡°You made it through the night,¡± Henric waved.


    ¡°Suprised you didn¡¯t sleep in.¡±


    ¡°Go relieve your Imperator,¡± Henric waved to the acolytes. ¡°Sleep in? Wouldn¡¯t think of it. Now come on, go get some rest for yourself.¡±


    ¡°Not yet,¡± Mark said, climbing the rickety wooden ladder they built down from the narrow palisade wallwalk. ¡°With any luck, some of our neighbors will come looking for protection. I intend to be here for that.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to start inviting ferals into our fort immediately?¡±


    ¡°Look around, Henric. There are plenty already here. Besides, this isn¡¯t Fort Winterclaw, that is,¡± Mark said, pointing toward the fort. ¡°This is the outer wall. A place where ferals loyal to my law will be invited to live.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    ***


    Hours went by as Mark stood at the gate. He had reduced the wall watch to just two acolytes since the fort¡¯s walls also needed to be manned.


    Sighing as snow fell around him¡ªa reminder that the real winter wasn¡¯t far behind¡ªhe shook his head. Perhaps he had overestimated his chances of appealing to the ferals.


    He turned to head for Winterclaw. He had spent long enough in the cold and could feel his body yearning for rest. But stopped as he saw shadows in the tree line a dozen meters from the palisade.


    Squinting through the snowfall, Mark¡¯s lips loosened as he saw a man step out. He looked around and then waved someone forward. A moment later, five other figures came running across the snow. Most carried sacks, and Mark¡¯s eyes widened as he spotted a baby wrapped in cloth held to a woman''s chest.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Mark waved, but the ferals remained silent until the man caught up.


    ¡°Your invitation. We take offers¡ªkeep girls from the cultists.¡±


    Mark looked across the figures, meeting their blue eyes. Cowls hid them, but up close, he could see they were just kids: four girls, their blonde-almost white hair tied back and hidden beneath their cowls.


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    ¡°Your daughters?¡±


    The man nodded. He was thin but muscular, with a scar across his face and a patchy, blonde beard.


    ¡°And you agree to abide by my law?¡±


    The man nodded, and his wife looked up at Mark with unwavering eyes and mouthed, ¡°We do, yes.¡±


    ¡°Swear it.¡±


    ¡°I swears it,¡± the man said and looked into his eyes¡ªleading the woman to echo the pledge a second later.


    ¡°Alright, in you go,¡± Mark said, stepping aside and waving them through. He had little means to test the ferals and, for now, would have to hope that saving their daughters from the ferals was enough to make them loyal.


    The family followed his instructions, passing through the gate, but the man remained still, his eyes glued to Mark.


    ¡°Where we go now? Got no home, we do. No long straw, all gone wiff the winta. Where you spect us ta live?¡±


    Right. There certainly isn¡¯t any straw growing around here, and it won¡¯t be coming back with the snow pouring down like it is.


    ¡°Perhaps we could make a deal.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°Collect rigar bark, as much of it as you can, and I¡¯ll provide you with logs in return. I don¡¯t have the manpower to assemble it into something livable for you. But I could get my acolytes to pull a cloth from our walls and prop it up with posts. It won¡¯t be something you¡¯d want to brave the winter in, but it¡¯ll keep most of the snow off your kids until you can assemble a cabin.¡±


    The feral-eyed Mark suspiciously for a moment, ¡°Shelta and timba for some grub? You got yourself a deal, Southie. And I even got payment,¡± the feral added, dropping one of his sacks at Mark¡¯s boots.


    With a raised brow, Mark leaned down and peeled the burlap back a little. It was completely packed with the bark.


    ¡°Looks like I need to get to work,¡± Mark said, and immediately walked out from the fort and raised his hand. Within a minute, his thunderous blasts had downed several smallish trees, and he turned back to the wall.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have my acolytes prep them for you. If you need more, get me more bark.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Mr. Imperator man,¡± the feral nodded as he stared at the downed trees with a broad, yellow smile.


    ¡°Already creating more work for us, I see,¡± Henric said, approaching from a couple of acolytes he ordered to work.


    ¡°Find out who knows how to process this bark. Someone with a big pot, preferably.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re ferals, they probably all know.¡±


    ¡°Humor me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Henric said.


    If we can provide a reliable source of logs, maybe the others will be interested in upgrading or building new homes as well. Then, if we have people to process the bark, we¡¯ll have completed the first step in providing a reliable food source.


    Mark¡¯s thoughts drifted back to Erin. He needed rest and had no idea where to start looking for her. Don¡¯t get yourself killed, girl. I haven¡¯t forgotten.


    ***Acolytes***


    Erin stood by the hut as she watched Trayox carry the bags he¡¯d packed outside as he piled them.


    She had given up trying to convince the stubborn man, but that only did so much to cure the guilt she felt. A bad feeling stirred within, and she hoped to the God-Lord she was wrong. She hoped the babies would survive the journey.


    She couldn¡¯t blame him. If someone had asked her only a few weeks ago what she thought about such a plan, she would have called them crazy. Callum was right. The Imperator was behaving strangely. He was putting the lives of these people before the law. And it filled her with pride.


    She ground her teeth as invasive thoughts entered her mind. She remembered the lashings she had received from her uncle. Her parents had been kind. Knowledgable and adventurous. After they died, she found herself working in her uncle¡¯s inn. And he didn¡¯t take too kindly to discovering her stealing food scraps to give to the poor. The first time she was whipped. The second time, she was beaten. And the third, sold to the Imperium. They brushed it off like it was some kind of honor. That she had a chance to make something of herself, but she knew the truth. She saw the sack of crowns her uncle got.


    Her charity had become too annoying, and they had decided that a one-off payment from the Imperium was more valuable than keeping her for free labor.


    ¡°You¡¯re too weak-hearted. Maybe being an acolyte will harden you up. Teach you what real life in the Imperium is like.¡± She remembered her uncle berating her as the wagon to take her away arrived. It did harden her; he was right. But she had never lost her desire to help people.


    As a tear welled in her eye, she wondered if she was just weak, as her uncle had told her so many times. She barely knew these people, yet she felt like crying at their departure.


    It didn¡¯t make things any easier that Arinie¨Cthe mother, had let her hold the bubs. They were so pure and innocent, she had thought. Too innocent for this world. But that wouldn¡¯t stop the cold or any other scoundrel that might catch them on the road.


    She wondered how you told a man who knew better through his own experiences that he was wrong. The Imperator was different. He had changed. But she had no idea how to convince this stubborn-headed brute.


    Her gaze shifted as she spotted several ferals chatting loudly. They walked through the trees several meters from them and took no notice that she was watching them. They laughed about something¡ªtheir tone sounded mocking.


    ¡°Nekello rathma, tam su dan. Tu damar, Trayox,¡± one of them waved and started laughing almost immediately, nearly tripping as a feral pushed him from behind.


    Trayox shouted something back, and one of the ferals smacked the man across the back of his head and yelled back apologetically.


    ¡°What was that about?¡±


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Trayox grunted and passed Erin back into the hut.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t sound like nothing. Just saying,¡± Erin called out after him. ¡°Kinda sounded like they were being assholes, if you ask me.¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t ask you. Girl.¡±


    ¡°Well, I know, but¨Cit¡¯s just something you say.¡±


    ¡°Imperials, maybe. Not us.¡±


    ¡°Fine, something Imperials say. Happy? So, you going to tell me what it was about then?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°Oh, come on. I thought we were like friends now. I even held your babies.¡±


    ¡°Stupid rumor. Nothing else.¡±


    ¡°Rumors?¡± Erin¡¯s brow perked. ¡°What rumors?¡±


    ¡°Stupid ones.¡±


    ¡°Like?¡±


    Trayox¡¯s gaze fell half-lidded as he passed her with a grunt.


    ¡°You''re seriously not going to tell me?¡±


    ¡°No.¡±


    ¡°So, you are going to tell me?¡±? Erin grinned.


    ¡°Shut mouth. Girl.¡±


    Erin followed him out of the hut as he dropped a sack among the pile, sighed, and stretched.


    ¡°Oh, come on. I can see you¡¯re dying to share. It¡¯s just that big, fat, stubborn head of yours getting in the way.¡±


    ¡°Why so annoying, girl?¡±


    ¡°They said something important, didn¡¯t they? What was it? What''d they say?¡±


    ¡°So annoying. Girl. You trust Imperator?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes. That¡¯s kinda what I¡¯ve been saying this entire time. Look, I get that it¡¯s hard to believe, but he''s changed. He doesn¡¯t do things like normal Imperators.¡±


    ¡°Take me.¡±


    ¡°Really? To the fort?¡±


    ¡°Don''t make me repeat. Annoying. Girl.¡±


    ¡°Sure, sure, sure,¡± Erin nodded and jumped into action.


    ¡°Where you going?¡±


    ¡°What, didn''t you just?¡± Erin turned, halting her hurried march.


    ¡°Now?¡±


    ¡°Sooner the better, isn''t it? What about the cultists?¡±


    ¡°Need things. Can¡¯t leave babies.¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Erin nodded. ¡°Well, let¡¯s get packing then.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Trayox grunted.


    ¡°You still don¡¯t want to go, do you? Delaying it won''t make it any easier,¡± Erin wagged a finger.


    ¡°Shut mouth. Annoying girl.¡±

 12. Lessons

    Mark wiped sweat from his brow, returning from another search for Erin. He had found no evidence of any harm coming to her, but that did little to calm his nerves. If she died out there, it would hang heavily on him.


    Henric trailed as he entered the fort, breaking his pursuit as Mark waved him away. He knew what Henric wanted. Since the wall had been completed, Henric had been hounding Mark more than ever about the training sessions.


    Unfortunately, there wasn¡¯t much demand for logs yet, and delimbing a couple of trees didn¡¯t take the acolytes very long. He had no more excuses. At least some form of lesson would be required to keep them happy.


    Sighing as he closed his cabin door behind him, Mark made for his desk. He couldn¡¯t run from his responsibilities forever.


    Flicking through Atlas¡¯s notes, he had a pretty good idea of what the Imperator had spent his time teaching the acolytes. It was a combination of Imperium law, hand-to-hand combat involving a variety of weapons, and other duties expected of an Imperator. He had read the laws himself, but there was no way he felt confident enough to lecture a class yet.


    Before dying, he had been taking Brazilian jiu-jitsu classes twice weekly. He always told people it was because he wanted to get into shape¡ªwhich was partially true. His shape had deteriorated quite a bit from his younger years, but the truth was, he never invested much effort in that. Mark had been almost entirely business-minded. At least since college, which was why he was as good as he was at what he did. BJJ classes were an extension of that. He had been hoping to ¡°accidentally¡± bump into a well-known Silicon Valley billionaire with a penchant for BJJ. That hadn¡¯t happened. However, he had been doing it for several months, traveling from gym to gym in the hope of bumping into said Silicon Valley figurehead, and in the process, had picked up a few skills.


    Mark had no idea what level of martial arts was taught in this world. But that didn¡¯t matter. He might not have been an expert, but his mediocre BJJ and Judo skills far surpassed his knowledge of swords and blunt weapons. He supposed he could show them a baseball swing with a smirk¡ªyeah, that was a dumb idea. He might have seen a fencing match once or twice when flicking channels but had never even held a sword¡ªattempting a lesson like that would probably end with him stabbing himself.


    If only I had focused on Atlas¡¯s swordfighting memories¡­ I wonder if I¡¯d be a trained fencer now.


    A knock came at the door.


    ¡°Come in.¡±


    Henric stepped through, closed the door, and walked up to Mark¡¯s desk.


    ¡°Imperator, I just came to ask about the¨C¡±


    ¡°I know, Henric,¡± Mark raised a silencing hand. ¡°I¡¯ve just finished working out my lesson plan. Gather the acolytes. Oh, and Henric, how¡¯s the girl doing?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s umm¨Cwhy Imperator? Did you really think inviting a feral behind our walls was wise? The outer palisade you built is one thing¡ªbut inside Winterclaw proper?¡±


    ¡°She hasn¡¯t anyone she can trust. And I didn¡¯t go cause a stir over her just to let some cultists kidnap the poor girl when I¡¯ve got my back turned.¡±


    ¡°I understand, but what about the Law of Hierarchy?¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s staying at the back of the warehouse, right? As I understand the law, that puts her beneath the acolytes¡ªwho are housed in proper accommodation.¡±


    ¡°Yes, I suppose¡­¡±


    ¡°Look, just keep her safe. I¡¯ll worry about the rest.¡±


    ***


    Sitting up on his bunk, sipping at a cold tea Erald had brought him an hour ago, Dober creased his brow as Callum huffed and rolled out of bed. ¡°What are you doing?¡±


    ¡°Getting some fresh air,¡± Callum said as he grabbed his robe from the bed¡¯s foot.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t Mira tell you to rest?¡±


    ¡°Mira tells me a lot of things.¡±


    ¡°And for good reason.¡±


    ¡°And what about you? Walking around with that stick? How many times has she caught you and brought you back here this week?¡±


    ¡°Well¨Cmaybe I should be. And stop deflecting,¡± Dober pointed. ¡°Barely been a couple of days since you woke up.¡±


    ¡°So what?¡± Callum shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m feeling pretty good. Besides, it¡¯s mostly just bruising. Even Mira said so. You keep walking around on that leg, and you¡¯re going to have serious problems. I¡¯ve heard what she says. Permanent injury¨Cor doesn¡¯t that thick farmer skull of yours understand that word?¡±


    Dober slumped.


    ¡°Yeah, like I thought. It¡¯s you who needs to rest up.¡±


    ¡°What about the bandage?¡± Dober said, gaze steadily climbing to Callum¡¯s bandaged head.


    Callum paused and gingerly touched it. He hadn¡¯t seen it himself, but he had overheard Mira talking about it. He knew what had been written and how likely it was to scar.


    ¡°It¡¯s not going to kill me.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not what I asked¡­¡±


    ¡°What can I do, Dober? The wound has already closed. No infection, according to Mira. Just a high chance of scarring¡­ and you know what that means.¡±


    Enjoying this book? Seek out the original to ensure the author gets credit.


    Dober blinked and tilted his head.


    ¡°The scar,¡± Callum tapped his forehead¡ªa little too hard as he made himself wince. ¡°You know what it says, don¡¯t you?¡±


    Dober shook his head.


    ¡°Heretic. They carved it into me.¡±


    ¡°Radic?¡±


    ¡°And those other three cowards.¡±


    ¡°--And? Just tell people what happened. You were just doing what you were told. Who cares what those bastards claim?¡±


    ¡°Thanks, but you know that¡¯s not true. If it scars, that¡¯ll be the end of it. One look and people will judge me. But you know what, it doesn¡¯t matter. It¡¯s not like I was going to become an Imperator or anything. So what, I¡¯ll have to cover my forehead. Worse things have happened.¡±


    ¡°Callum¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Just drop it. I¡¯m alive, aren¡¯t I? And I haven¡¯t forgotten about your leg,¡± Callum said as he walked toward the door. ¡°I¡¯m serious. No more walking around, or Mira will be the least of your concerns. The last thing I need is to be looking out for a cripple.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Alright, line up for your Imperator,¡± Henric commanded as most of the acolytes gathered in an open patch of the fort¡¯s ground, caked by an inch of snow. Not everyone could take lessons together. A couple were still sleeping from night watch, and five were scattered across the walls.


    The acolytes stood stiff in a line, chins held high, as Mark walked a lap, up and down their formation, and stopped at the center.


    ¡°Apologies for missing so many lessons. Sometimes, our immediate concerns rise above our daily duties. Today, I¡¯ll attempt to make up for that. I¡¯ll be conducting a lesson in unarmed combat. With any luck, you¡¯ll never need to use the skills I teach you today. However, one can¡¯t assume they¡¯ll always have access to a weapon. Things can happen, like a night ambush or even losing your weapon during the heat of combat. You need to be prepared. The last thing you want is to be staring down a blade poised to strike at your neck, waiting for the end as you¡¯ve no idea how to defend yourself.¡±


    What the hell am I thinking? This is going to be embarrassing, isn¡¯t it? I¡¯m a clown pretending to be a combat expert. Please, let this be over quickly.


    ¡°Alright, everyone, partner up,¡± Mark said, twirling his index toward the sky.


    The acolytes did as asked¡ªforming Six groups of two.


    ¡°Extend your arms out and face each other. I want you to take hold of each other¡¯s sleeves.¡± Once Mark had the acolytes take hold of one another, he demonstrated the basics of balance¡ªgetting kids to step forward while pulling their partners with them. The act immediately sent several unexpecting acolytes falling over as their center of balance was shifted. The demonstrations were as basic as they came.


    Okay, good. Mark smiled as acolytes sprawled on the ground. Looks like they don¡¯t know the basics of judo throws. At least I¡¯ve got something going for me. If I keep this up, I might even get through this.


    As Mark passed, a skinny boy pulled a much larger acolyte toward him. The boy''s stump-like legs stood straight, and the moment the smaller boy stood past them, the big acolyte¡¯s weight followed¡ªsending him crashing to the ground.


    ¡°You got lucky,¡± Radic sneered from the snow-covered ground as Clay extended a hand. ¡°Get that away from me.¡±


    The large boy climbed back to his feet and dusted himself off. ¡°My turn.¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t mean anything by it, Radic. I¡¯m just doing what the Imperator asked us to do.¡±


    ¡°Just get over here.¡±


    Clay swallowed as he moved back into position.


    ¡°Raagh!¡± Radic roared the moment he took hold of Clay and threw all his strength and weight into sending Clay flying over his shoulder to the ground.


    ¡°Oww,¡± Clay groaned, rubbing at his lower back from the ground.


    ¡°That¡¯s how you do it,¡± Radic brushed his hands off.


    ¡°Bad form,¡± Mark said as he paced down the line. ¡°Follow your partner''s lead¡ªhe did it perfectly. You used strength, which only worked because he¡¯s smaller than you. Against a larger opponent, it wouldn¡¯t have done anything. The purpose of the lesson is to learn how to manipulate weight. To learn how to use your opponent''s own weight against them. Now, try again.¡±


    Radic¡¯s eyes bore into Clay as he pointed at the ground before him.


    ¡°Take it easy, okay?¡± Clay said as he sheepishly approached.


    ¡°Trying to embarrass me in front of the Imperator?¡± Radic growled beneath his breath as he took hold of Clay. ¡°How¡¯s this?¡± he added with a grunt, heaving Clay back to the ground.


    ¡°What did I just say?¡± Mark said, pacing back from further down the line. ¡°Use weight. Not strength,¡± he shook his head. ¡°And please, try not to send each other to the infirmary. Mira is busy enough as it is.¡±


    ¡°Are you okay, Clay? I didn''t almost send you to the infirmary, did I?¡± Radic whispered as they resumed their position, grabbing each other¡¯s robes.


    ¡°I''m fiiiii¨C¡± Clay squealed. Radic had pulled him off balance again as he positioned himself, flinging him back to the ground.


    ¡°Okay, better,¡± Mark said. ¡°Still room for improvement.¡±


    ¡°See that? Took me barely a second,¡± Radic said, turning to the acolytes beside them as Mark walked away.


    ¡°Of course it did, Radic,¡± an acolyte to their right said, chuckling as he watched Clay brush the snow from his face. ¡°Did Radic give you a boo-boo?¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Mark said, pointing out flaws in footwork and positioning as he paced the acolytes. ¡°You''ve seen the basics. Now I want you to practice these moves when you get the chance. Hopefully, you¡¯ll learn enough for it to come in handy someday¡­ should you ever be unfortunate enough to need it. Dismissed.¡±


    ***


    ¡°Thank you, Imperator. It might not seem like much, but that lesson will help raise their spirits. It helps remind them that you haven¡¯t forgotten about them. And that the bullshit they endure out here isn¡¯t a pointless waste of time.¡±


    ¡°I hope so,¡± Mark said as he stepped to Henric¡¯s side, looking out across the new section of the fort from the wall. ¡°How are the ferals taking it? Any problems?¡±


    ¡°Err¡ªwell¡­¡±


    Mark¡¯s brow rose.


    ¡°They¡¯re on edge. Everyone knows what¡¯s happening out there and in here. A little wooden wall with some kids carrying crossbows to guard them isn¡¯t going to magically change anything.¡±


    ¡°Right. That makes sense. Well, we¡¯re going to need to change that.¡±


    ¡°And how exactly do you plan on doing that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping that as more families come to protect their children from those cultists, a sense of security can be established. Reach out to any man with a daughter taking refuge behind our walls. Tell them that I would like to meet with them.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re meeting with ferals now, Imperator? To what end?¡±


    ¡°I need warriors that I can trust. And not just warriors but enforcers. We can never do it alone. I plan to elect these fathers as tribune.¡±


    ¡°Imperator¡ªyou can¡¯t be serious¡ªrecruiting barbarians as tribunes?¡±


    ¡°We need guards and law enforcers. People we can rely on. But we have nothing to offer. That is, except for office. This is something I can give them that holds value. Something worth protecting. And in doing so, it gives them the Imperial authority to keep the others in line.¡±


    ¡°Barbarians don¡¯t think like us,¡± Henric spat.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s true, Henric. They understand hierarchy and power perfectly fine, just as any man does. See the way they behave. They don¡¯t attack the walls. They respect our laws, even if they don¡¯t believe them. The reality is, they fear us.¡±


    ¡°Of course they do, Imperator. We carry with us the authority of the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°Exactly. And they are clanless ferals with nothing besides what they carry on their back and horde in their little huts. By elevating them to tribunes, I will grant them the power of the Imperium. If I fall, they go back to being nobodies. That is what will give them the courage to fight and defend this land.¡±


    ¡°And you will be committing an act of heresy.¡±


    ¡°No, I won¡¯t be,¡± Mark said matter-of-factly. ¡°The law clearly states that the title of tribune is detached and does not affect one¡¯s place within the Holy Hierarchy. Granting this power to a feral is both legal and within the teachings of the God-Lord.¡±


    Henric gritted his teeth.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. I will grant this power with the proviso that it cannot be enacted within the inner walls of Fort Winterclaw nor against Imperials. Only I will command the Imperium¡¯s law over you and the others.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s something, at least,¡± Henric hissed.


    You might not see the wisdom in this yet. But you will.

 13. Acolyte Virgin

    ¡°Come in.¡±


    Callum stepped in and closed the door behind him. ¡°You wanted to see me, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°I did. I wanted to ask you about what happened to you.¡±


    ¡°About what? I already told Master Mira and Master Henric. I really don¡¯t remember anything.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Mark swirled on his chair to face the stiff-faced boy. ¡°What about the wound on your forehead? Do you have any idea why or who might have done that to you? It seems rather deliberate.¡±


    ¡°Imper¡ª¡± Callum swallowed. ¡°You¡­ you know¡­¡±


    ¡°Huh, know what?¡± Mark raised a brow.


    ¡°Wh-what you asked. About the feral. You know.¡±


    ¡°So, you believe this attack was related to lying about the feral who attacked Dober? And what reason do you have for believing that?¡±


    ¡°I¨Cuhh,¡± Callum gritted his teeth.


    ¡°Speak plainly, Acolyte. Don¡¯t forget that you¡¯re talking to your Imperator.¡±


    Callum nodded. ¡°It¡¯s just a theory. Please, I don¡¯t know,¡± he trailed off into a whisper.


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark held his narrow gaze on the boy for a moment before waving him away. ¡°Fine. Dismissed then.¡± He knew he was lying. But it didn¡¯t seem like there was much to gain from pushing the matter¡ªand ultimately, Radic healing up was in the best interest of everyone. As long as he didn¡¯t attack another acolyte, Mark was perfectly happy with his punishment, remaining at a crossbow bolt to his thigh.


    ***


    Mark stood by the gate as another family shuffled through the snow. It was the fifth family they had accepted into the walls in the last couple of days.


    Just outside the walls, eight acolytes were busy preparing trunks and branches that Mark had felled. So far, the exchange had worked well for them, and they had collected a considerable amount of rigar bark.


    At first, the barbarians struggled with log cabin construction, but Mark allowed a couple of the older boys alongside Henric to assist¡ªmostly just instructional, though. He didn¡¯t want to risk dissuading any of them. The most important thing was that they kept building since downing trees with his Imperator suit was his only available commodity.


    Thanks to this, groups of gathers coming and going from the fort had become a regular occurrence. It is evident to Mark that it wasn¡¯t just because they wanted to trade. The ferals understood what was coming, and they wanted to stay here. That meant a food supply was vital, not just to fill their stomachs. But to keep the peace.


    No one had been left out of this arrangement. All day and all night, pots boiled away¡ªfilled with rigar bark. Just about every hut with a nursing mother now held one of these boiling pots. Conditions were rough. The glowing embers and small fires they cooked over were usually placed at the center of their huts, beneath a narrow gap they left at the top of the thatch roofs. Thanks to the rather shoddy construction of the simple homes, when the wind blew, it came in through the sides. That same wind then funneled up and through the center of the roof, taking with it most of the smoke from their fireplace. There was still a layer of soot over anything that wasn¡¯t regularly moved within the homes, but it was surprisingly smoke-free, considering their lack of chimneys.


    Once the rigar bark was drained and ready to eat, the processed bark resembled mashed potatoes, unfortunately, only in appearance.


    Mark had local women prepare a bowl of it for him. The texture was rubbery and had almost no flavor. Thankfully, It turned out that while the ferals around here didn¡¯t have fletchers or bow skills¡ªalthough Mark had heard many barbarian clans did¡ªthey were decent trappers. The ladies made a rabbit stew, mixing root vegetables and cooking it from bone broth for several hours. He had forced himself to try the processed version of rigar bark by itself first, for science, and was more than glad for the stew once it was added. The texture still wasn¡¯t great, but the salty broth and tender meat more than made up for it.


    Not that taste mattered all that much. He knew the biggest hurdle would be the perceived disrespect of eating barbarian food rather than the taste. But wheat was running dangerously low, and they wouldn¡¯t have much choice soon.


    Sighing, Mark scooped up the last of his plate and pushed the thoughts aside. He wouldn¡¯t force it on the other Imperials until they were completely out of wheat and flour. Saving some for the sake of variety would be nice, but it wasn¡¯t worth the potential uproar. Not when he knew people would eat whatever was given to them when they didn¡¯t have any other choices.


    As important as food was, it often seemed to come second to his other troubles. Rumors had spread across the acolytes and possibly even the other masters. Everyone knew what he was up to, even if he didn¡¯t openly admit it, and sour expressions often followed him through the fort.


    If it wasn¡¯t for the same laws and religion, he was perceived as breaking¡ªsometimes correctly and other times not¡ªupholding his own authority; he guessed he would already be in shackles. Still, he knew he couldn¡¯t rely on that forever. He either needed to convince the majority of other Imperials that his decisions were correct or find a counterbalance.


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Leaving his cabin, Mark made for the wall. Staring out across the outer wall, where the ferals lived, had become his hobby. It had only been days, but the outline of a basic economy was already forming.


    But he knew they needed more. There was still plenty of feral manpower in the surrounding region he could leverage if he played his cards right. But they wouldn¡¯t just continue to feed his retinue for free once they built their cabins. Perhaps he could force them, but he not only found that morally reprehensible but inefficient. The ferals would work far harder for their own gain than they ever would as slaves or hostages of the fort. However, there was a sliver of hope. Unfortunately, it was almost fifty miles south.


    There were dozens of Imperium forts dotted across the frontier, but they would all have Imperators in command, and that was something he absolutely wanted to avoid. But to the south, there was also The Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post¡ªor just Frostwind. It was a combination of a relatively large inn, a trading post, as the name suggested, and a gathering spot for anyone trying to make a few crowns out in the frontier. And this was where Mark hoped to find some skilled individuals to recruit.


    Hiring outsiders was another decision he would no doubt be castrated for¡ªeven if they were Imperials. Imperators took pride in not requiring outside assistance. And while he couldn¡¯t find any legal reasons he wasn¡¯t allowed to hire what amounted to mercenaries, he knew Henric and others wouldn¡¯t be pleased with the news.


    Stubborn bastards. Mark sighed as he watched kids play between the huts as smoke trailed up from the center of their roofs.


    Saving people from themselves shouldn¡¯t be this hard. The tense atmosphere in the fort was getting on his nerves, and he would need to stabilize the situation before he could even think about going anywhere. One girl. That was it. Out of everyone in the camp, Erin had been the only person he felt he could trust not to make things worse with the very people they needed if they wanted to survive the winter. And he had no idea where she was.


    ***Acolytes***


    ¡°Come on, stop dragging your feet,¡± Erin whined as she waved Trayox on.


    His wife Arinie carried a bub in either arm and followed a few steps behind. Several bags hung from Trayox¡¯s muscular form, and he held his hatchet in one hand.


    The snow was getting deeper. It had gone from barely ankle height to halfway up their calves within a month.


    Snow rained from branches as they pushed through, and Trayox nodded to his wife as they reached the last trees before the fort. He turned to face the eyes that followed them. Dozens of ferals gathered in the distance. They had been watching for a while now. Probably sent someone for the cultists, but they were just clanless cowards. None were willing to risk attacking them, and half of them only watched for entertainment.


    ¡°Quick. Go,¡± Trayox gestured toward the wall and tightened his grip around his axe.


    Arinie dropped her head and ran across the clearing between the treeline and the fort, passing Erin, who hastily followed.


    As they neared, a smile brightened across Erin¡¯s face as she spotted the broad, undeniable figure of Mark¡ªlike a stonewall against the snowfall. Imperator Atlas, you did it. You finished the wall.


    Trayox watched their backs, scanning the horizon with axe in hand. But no one tried anything.


    ¡°Halt,¡± Mark said, raising his right hand as Arinie reached the gate. ¡°Are you seeking shelter beyond my walls?¡±


    The pretty but gaunt-faced woman nodded, clutching her babies tightly.


    ¡°That¡¯s your husband?¡± Mark said, eyeing Trayox as he turned from the trees and ran toward them.


    Arinie nodded.


    ¡°Good to see you again, Erin,¡± he added as Erin reached them panting.


    ¡°Same to you,¡± Erin nodded.


    Mark¡¯s thick brow curled as he watched the six-foot-something hulk charge toward them.


    Slowing to a trot, Trayox rolled his shoulders and locked eyes with Mark. ¡°Imperator,¡± he growled.


    ¡°Welcome to Fort Winterclaw, feral. Entry is quite simple. Swear to follow my law, and you shall be granted access and safety. Now, please, let me hear you swear to me.¡±


    Trayox and Arinie turned to each other and nodded.


    ¡°We swear.¡±


    Mark eyed the large man shrouded in dark dreads. He must have stood at least six feet five inches, and his wife, masked by soft, brown hair and delicate features, looked almost the complete opposite.


    ¡°You have a daughter?¡± Mark said, craning to see the babies held by the woman.


    ¡°We do,¡± Trayox grunted.


    ¡°Alright, in you go,¡± Mark said, stepping aside. ¡°See one of my acolytes if you need materials to build a home. But it¡¯ll come at a cost. As the family passed into the walls, he turned to Erin. ¡°You bought us a big one. He¡¯s going to be your responsibility.


    ¡°He¡¯s a softy,¡± Erin grinned.


    ¡°Seems you¡¯re in good spirits. Are you okay for supplies?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I think so,¡± Erin said. ¡°Guess that means I can¡¯t come back in¡­¡±


    ¡°I wish I could let you. But there would be consequences. People need to know there are punishments for their actions. Without that, chaos will quickly take over this little fort.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I understand,¡± Erin slumped.


    ¡°Sorry, kid. Know that I look forward to having you back behind the walls,¡± Mark said.


    ¡°Yeah¡­ same.¡± Erin stepped back toward the treeline.


    ¡°Keep yourself alive. And if you¡¯re worried about anything, come find me.¡±


    Erin just waved as she turned back to the trees.


    ***


    With nowhere else to go, Erin returned to the hut. They''d taken the pot and just about everything else of value, but a few food scraps remained. She picked at them, but they only made her stomach rumble.


    ¡°This sucks,¡± she sighed, leaning back against the thatch roof.


    Footsteps crunched in the snow.


    Erin¡¯s eyes darted to her crossbow laying against a sack at the other end of the hut, and leaped for it.


    She felt something hard and heavy slam into her, stealing her breath as they tumbled to the ground.


    Filthy, rotten breath assaulted her senses as she felt hands wrapping around her wrists. Reflectively, her knee shot out, crashing into the man¡¯s groin and sending him groaning to the ground beside her.


    ¡°Watch it,¡± a man sneered, and she turned her gaze upward.


    He stood over her, dagger pointed menacingly, and behind him was another¡ªdraped in dark furs.


    ¡°I can smell it,¡± the man in furs said with a deep, long sniff. ¡°She¡¯s a virgin,¡± he sniffed the air again and shivered. ¡°A perfect tribute to the Wolf God.¡±


    ¡°Come ¡®ere!¡± the other man sneered and lunged for her.


    Erin tried to resist, but the first man was upon her a second later. They took her wrists and bound them with ropes. And then her ankles.

 14. The Road Away

    Mark had been pleased to see the acolytes practicing the moves he had shown them, even if it was mostly to show off to one another. At least they seemed to have learned something. And more importantly, he hadn¡¯t made a complete fool of himself.


    His thoughts trailed back to their supplies. Meat was running low again. The rigar bark had been coming in faster than he could have expected, but when winter came, they would need to feed everyone and keep morale up, which would be hard if he expected them to get by on the bark alone.


    Pulling his coat over his wire-lined Imperator suit, Mark made for the wall. It had become his morning routine. As the sun crept over the horizon, sending streams of light piercing through the surrounding treeline, Mark watched the ferals and acolytes alike rise.


    The thin, barely visible motes of smoke that trailed up from the huts puffed with renewed vigor as their occupants threw fresh fuel on their fires, and the cries of waking babies joined the cacophony of chickens and dog barks.


    Pets and livestock were of great value here. Unlike towns of the Imperium, owning a couple of chickens, and or a dog made you wealthy for a feral.


    The new arrivals, taking refuge under the sheets of cloth stretched from the outer walls, huddled together and ate breakfast. They would be the first to work, pushing themselves to finish their cabins before the weather got too bad.


    Mark sipped a tea Mira had prepared. The taste was foreign but not bad¡ªa little bitter and tangy. It was meant to be invigorating. And while it was no coffee, it gave him enough of a kick to start his day.


    He eyed the gate on the outer wall. It was almost time to head out. Every morning was the same. He stood by the gate for a few hours. By now, it seemed most ferals knew what the deal was. If you wanted to get in quickly, you came in the morning while Mark was on watch.


    For now, only he was to permit ferals into the walls. But if ferals did come after he had retired for the day, the acolytes would call for him. However, that meant standing around in the open. While no incidents had yet occurred, it obviously made the ferals¡ªseeking shelter and protection¡ªuncomfortable because, after the first few times, they made sure to come during Mark¡¯s watch.


    Their moods were completely different when the males went out searching for rigar bark and other resources. With their children secured behind the walls, the men confidently marched out to work. This surprised Mark, seeing the fear in their eyes as they came to the fort. However, even though hiding your children from the cultists often came with death threats, it had been made clear to Mark that the average feral was quite cowardly. These people were, after all, outcasts.


    Many ferals were not born without a clan. They were thrown out for various reasons.  Failing to uphold honor and duty was the most common among them. So, even if there were ferals loyal to the cultists spying on the fort, armed men without prizes were poor targets. Anything short of a virgin girl wasn¡¯t worth the risk.


    Three men prepared to head out, were waiting beside the gates. One carried a small hatchet for defense, while the other two had daggers¡ªwhich were closer to shivs. It was a reminder that he needed weapons. Especially if he was going to recruit tribunes with authority.


    They had spare crossbows, swords, and spears in the fort, but he didn¡¯t want to risk creating another uproar with the acolytes and masters by giving away equipment meant for Imperials to feral barbarians. No, that wouldn¡¯t do. He would need to source new weapons and maybe even armor for them if he could.


    If only a merchant would wander by and solve his problem for him, he thought. Then again, he probably didn¡¯t have enough spare supplies to trade for quality weapons, even if that did happen.


    They had plenty of timber, though. Unfortunately, iron was beyond hard to come by in the frontier. And supplies from the Imperium seemed unlikely.


    He could probably get spears crafted¡ªat least their shafts. Daggers were also common among the ferals, and he could smelt them down if he got hold of a bunch. Still, he¡¯d rather iron. And he didn¡¯t want to disrupt the work going into the new cabins right now, anyway. When there was more free manpower, he would revisit this idea.


    He watched the acolytes on the wall open the gate for the ferals and sighed. I guess it¡¯s time to get down there.


    ***Acolytes¡ªErin***


    Erin squinted as she tried to make sense of the blurred shape before her eyes. A groan escaped her lips, and her head rang.


    The chuff and snort of a horse awoke her senses, and she realized she bounced atop the back of a saddle. She looked down at her bloodied hands and realized they were bound and tied to her legs by a rope that hooped beneath the horse¡¯s belly.


    She blinked, closed her eyes, and opened them¡ªtrying to force the blurred shapes around her into solid figures. Hooves crunched through the snow, and she recognized footsteps among them. Her gaze shifted to her right.


    ¡°Huh?¡± She made a pained grunt and raised a brow. Two ferals followed after the horse. One¡ªa bent-nosed man with wiry hair¡ªwas staring at her, while the other seemed lost in thought.


    ¡°Where are you taking me? Please, stop,¡± she said. Her voice was weaker than she had ever heard it.


    ¡°Ahh, ye gone and waken back there, have ye?¡±


    ¡°Please. I didn¡¯t do anything.¡±


    ¡°No, no¡­ ye haven¡¯t.¡± the feral shook. ¡°But I can¡¯t. It ain¡¯t gonna happen. I¡¯ve been blessed by the wolf; I have. I can smell it a league away. Floatin¡¯ on the wind. Ye, a virgin, yes you are. A sweet, sweet offerin¡¯ to tha warg, you¡¯ll be. Gonna get rewarded, I am. Maybe they¡¯ll make me a priest. Fancy that. Old Jinghorn, a priest of the wolf.¡±


    ¡°The warg,¡± Erin mouthed. ¡°No¨Cno, please. I¡¯m not a feral. I¡¯m an Imperial. This is a mistake, please!¡±


    ¡°No mistake, missy, now shut it. Warg don¡¯t care where ye from. Warg just want virgin. And ye a virgin. Get it? I don¡¯t be making mistakes with me nozzle,¡± Jinghorn, the feral hiding the horse, said, tapping his nose.


    What happened? Erin thought back to the hut. It took a moment to shift through the blackout and her hazy memories, but then she saw.


    ¡°Lucky wargs,¡± one of the following ferals said, running his tongue over his dry, purple lips. ¡°I¡¯d love a taste of that, I would.¡±


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    ¡°Keep ye filthy hands off. Virign goes to tha warg, or I¡¯ll slit ye throat.¡±


    The feral snorted and shook his head, his creepy eyes burrowing into Erin.


    Crinkling her brow, she looked away¡ªin a way, glad for the warg.


    They continued to march silently through the forest. And gradually, her gaze drifted back to the ferals following them. There was something interesting about the feral walking beside the grotesque man. He seemed nobler than the others, not that it was hard. A high-held, square chin. Plaited, blonde braids. A strong brow. And, if she wasn¡¯t mistaken, pride. He reminded her of the young, noble boys who would visit the inn on occasion, looking to escape the rules of their station. Not only that, but the wolf pelt he wore over his shoulders was far nicer than most ferals¡ªwith an iron button holding it tight.


    He¡¯s not a normal feral, is he? Her gaze narrowed on the iron buckle that held the fur around his shoulders. What is that? As they stepped through a sparse patch canopy, through which light pierced, she caught it. Wolf heads. Seven of them.


    ***Acolytes¡ªCallum***


    Callum approached Erald as he skittishly looked around, hidden at the back of the cabin beneath the shadow of its eave.


    ¡°What do you want? You know you¡¯re not meant to be walking around yet,¡± Erald said, glancing over his shoulder again.


    ¡°I just wanted to know what you told the Imperator. I need this, Erald. It¡¯s my fault she¡¯s out there,¡± Callum said, pointing across the wall.


    ¡°Says who?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Erald. You know as well as every other acolyte who beat me. And you know why she did what she did. Now, just tell me what you know.¡±


    Sighing, Erald took another look around and inched closer. ¡°Look, I don¡¯t know where she is, okay? There¡¯s a tree not far from the wall. It''s a big oak. That¡¯s where we were. But that¡¯s all I know, swear it. And even the Imperator couldn¡¯t find her when he went searching, so what chance do you have? And I shouldn¡¯t need to remind you again that you need to be healing. How many times does Master Mira need to tell you?¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Callum kicked the log cabin beside them. ¡°That¡¯s it? So, she¡¯s gone then?¡±


    ¡°Are you even listening to me? You¡¯ve got yourself to worry about. Let the Imperator figure Erin out.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say.¡±


    ¡°Well, you can always ask the ferals if you¡¯re deadset on running yourself into trouble,¡± Erald softly chuckled. ¡°I hear she was staying with one of them.¡±


    Callum looked at the gangly boy with a raised brow and turned.


    ¡°No¡ªwait, I wasn¡¯t being serious,¡± Erald extending his hands. ¡°It was a joke, Callum!¡±


    ¡°Gotta go. Thanks, Erald,¡± Callum gave a two-finger salute as he ran off.


    ¡°What have I done... Master Mira¡¯s going to kill me.¡±


    ***


    Callum had already heard about the ferals that Erin brought to the fort. Everyone was talking about it. They didn¡¯t say much about the woman, but the man was said to be a giant with thick, black dreadlocks.


    It didn¡¯t take long for him to spot a man who stood a foot above everyone else, with round shoulders and thick arms, pulling a log into position for a small cabin.


    That¡¯s got to be him.


    He pushed through the crowds, dodging children as they ran around with wooden sticks in their hands¡ªwhich they used to balance a third stick. It was a game they played. A combination of a balancing game with tag. You had to balance the stick as you ran, and if you dropped it, you had to pick it back up before you could continue. The game took tag to the next level.


    Callum stood out like a sore thumb as he waded through the ferals in his dirty but still mostly white robe.


    The large man hammered a stake to hold the log in place. And his furious blows caught Callum¡¯s breath as he went to speak. Waiting seemed like a better idea than interrupting the man.


    The moment he finished, the big man bounded down from the cabin roof and headed to collect another log. Callum chased after, waving the man down.


    ¡°Hey, hello, hi!¡±


    ¡°Acolyte¡ªwho you?¡±


    ¡°Acolyte Callum,¡± he grinned.


    ¡°I no know Callum.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Callum bobbled, intimidation sinking in from the man who looked like he could choke him out with his pinky. ¡°But I believe we know someone in common.¡±


    ¡°Do we?¡±


    ¡°Yes, a¨Ca young girl. An acolyte, to be precise.¡±


    ¡°Eeerin?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure she¡¯d appreciate you pronouncing her name that way, but yes. I¡¯m actually searching for her. And I was told you might know where to find her.¡±


    Trayox grunted and shrugged. ¡°Maybe.¡±


    ¡°Maybe?¡±


    ¡°I think she go cabin. Mine. But I no find when return. I see tracks,¡± his dark, forboding eyes turned on Callum, reflexively causing him to shrink backward. ¡°Ferals¡ªcultists. They take her.¡±


    ¡°How do you know? Are you sure?¡±


    Trayox nodded. ¡°They tell me. The ferals. Many eyes around. I would go. She help me. But babies need me. She good person. But very annoying.¡±


    ¡°The ferals told you that cultists took Erin?¡±


    Trayox nodded soberly.


    ¡°Where, which way did they go?¡±


    ¡°North. They all go north. Go to warg.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re taking her to the wargs?¡±


    ¡°Yes. All virgin go to warg.¡±


    Right, of course. I¡¯m an idiot.


    ¡°Thanks, big guy,¡± Callum said, already running off as he waved.


    What do I do? I can¡¯t just leave her¡­ The Imperator? Callum thought about telling him. But the Imperator was the one who had punished Erin with banishment in the first place. What if he had wanted something like this to happen? What if he had someone keep an eye on him or, even worse, lock him up?


    Callum shook his head as he made his way back toward the inner wall. He couldn¡¯t tell the Imperator. It was too risky. If he was kept from leaving the fort, Erin would be left to the wolves.


    Sneaking back into their cabin, he grabbed a small store of dried meat he kept as a backup, a knife, and his crossbow. He also had a bag of medicines Mira had left him with to help his recovery, which he took.


    Stretching, he let out a sigh. He felt pretty good, all things considered. A little bruising wasn¡¯t going to stop him, and his head only hurt when touched.


    I¡¯m not leaving you out there alone, Erin.


    He pulled the cowl of his robes up over his head and looked down as he passed through the gates. It wasn¡¯t unusual for acolytes to get around like this. The wind blew cold, and many always kept the cowls up. While acolytes rarely traveled far, many left the fort for various reasons.


    Once he had created a little distance, Callum turned to look around. No one was watching. He eyed a line of dense trees and took a deep breath.


    One, two, three.


    He broke into a sprint, running for the trees without looking back. Acolytes wandering around the grounds surrounding the fort was one thing, but heading out into the forest would no doubt garner suspicion. But if he ran fast enough, he would only be out in the open for a few seconds.


    Dashing through the trees, Callum swung around a thick oak and pressed his back against it as he panted. It took a minute before he could hear his surroundings over his heaving breath and pounding heart, but soon, silence filled the air.


    I did it. Callum grinned. He could be considered a deserter for this, but he was fairly confident that he would be absolved of the crime for returning Erin from the cultists, and if he wasn¡¯t, he didn¡¯t really care.


    Gingerly, he touched at his bandage. There was no going back. No station of any worth would be offered to a man with ¡°heretic¡± scarred on their forehead, regardless of whether pardoned or innocent of whatever they were accused of. The peasants would see it as a sign, and officials wouldn¡¯t care enough about some nobody to risk promoting someone like that. An outsider¡¯s life was what had been handed down to him, but at least he could still do some good.

 15. In Search

    A knock came at Mark¡¯s door as he rubbed between his eyes. ¡°Come in.¡±


    Mira opened the door and gestured for Erald to enter. ¡°Go on, boy.¡±


    ¡°So?¡± Mark said, looking up from his desk.


    ¡°Tell the Imperator what you told me.¡±


    Erald nodded at Mira and then stiffened into a salute, his lip trembling as he spoke. ¡°I-it¡¯s Acolyte C-Callum, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I figured. Go on.¡±


    ¡°I-I-I t-told him a-about¨C¡±


    ¡°Calm down, take a deep breath and continue. I¡¯m not going to hold you responsible for whatever stupid thing Acolyte Callum has decided to do, okay?¡±


    Erald swallowed and nodded. And after a long pause, continued. ¡°Acolyte Callum asked me about my meeting with Acolyte Erin¨C¡±


    How did the boy know that I sent Erald to meet Erin? It really is impossible to keep anything a secret in this place, isn¡¯t it?


    ¡°¨Che wanted to go looking for her, and I told him that he wouldn¡¯t find her. And then¨CI-ah¡­ it was just a joke. Like I didn¡¯t think he would¨C¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Acolyte Erald. Just tell me what happened.¡±


    ¡°Yes, right¡­ well¨Cumm,¡± Erald nodded. ¡°Like I said, I was just joking. All I did was tell him how she brought a big feral into the fort. Everyone already knew that, anyway. And then, he¨C¡±


    ¡°He went looking for the feral, right?¡±


    Erald nodded.


    ¡°You¡¯re dismissed, Acolyte Erald. Take it easy, alright? Remember to breathe. You haven¡¯t done anything wrong. A little stupid, maybe, but if I punished you for that, I¡¯d have to punish every acolyte in this fort.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, sir,¡± Erald saluted and turned for the door.


    ¡°Imperator Atlas,¡± Mira saluted and smiled fondly as she caught Mark¡¯s eyes before turning to follow Erald.


    She doesn¡¯t¨Cno¡­ Keep your thoughts straight, dumbass. You¡¯ve got plenty of bullshit to worry about; no need to go barking up that tree.


    ***


    Standing in the outer wall as ferals went about their business around him, Mark eyed the big man from a distance. He had grown several inches since taking Atlas¡¯s body and filled out substantially, but even his new body felt small compared to that man.


    Let¡¯s get this over and done with.


    ¡°Hello,¡± Mark said, waving as he approached the working man. ¡°I believe you¡¯re the one they call Trayox.¡±


    Trayox hammered a stake to hold up a log as he finished his small hut¡¯s roofing. He leaned back as he finished, wiped his brow, and then turned to Mark. The feral eyed him curiously for a moment before replying. ¡°I am. Yes.¡±


    ¡°Apparently, one of my acolytes came here earlier today. He was looking for a girl named Erin. You didn¡¯t happen to talk to him, did you?¡±


    Trayox nodded.


    ¡°And? Would you mind sharing the details with your Imperator?¡± Mark knew how he sounded. But now was a good opportunity to provide a reminder. Here, he was the law, and the ferals had better not forget that.


    ¡°I tell him cultists take Erin. Say go north.¡± Trayox said, moving past Mark to collect another log.


    ¡°That¡¯s it?¡±


    ¡°Kid impatient. Gone now,¡± Trayox shrugged.


    Better than nothing, I suppose.


    ¡°Right then. On your way,¡± Mark said, but his comment made little difference to Trayox, who had continued to work throughout the conversation.


    ***


    ¡°He¡¯s gone. Heading north in search of Erin,¡± Mark said, marching back into the fort.


    ¡°What?¡± Henric said, standing by the entrance and following Mark as he passed.


    ¡°The stupid kid went chasing her. Apparently, the big feral thinks the cultists took her¡ªheading north. Why do I always seem to be the last person to hear about these things?¡± Mark sighed. ¡°These damn kids are going to give me a migraine.¡±


    ¡°Migraine?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s nothing. Just an Imperator thing.¡±


    ¡°Right..¡± Henric¡¯s brow furrowed.


    ¡°Moving on. We need a plan. We can¡¯t afford to lose two acolytes right now,¡± Mark said. Not that his conscience would allow him to forsake the kids regardless of their value to the fort.


    ¡°I feel like reminding you that it was your idea to send Acolyte Erin out of the fort, but I suppose that would be distasteful.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not a funny man, Henric.¡±


    ¡°My mother told me the same thing every day. Thank you for reminding me of her bitter face, Imperator. But on a serious note, I¡¯ll take a horse and ride north. With any luck, I¡¯ll find at least one of them and bring them back.¡±


    ¡°See, you can be helpful without me having to ask. Thank you, Henric.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I just want you to understand what minding the acolyte¡¯s day-to-day activities is like. There¡¯s a lot you don¡¯t see.¡±


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    Right. Henric does plenty. He manages pretty much everything the acolytes do without me. Especially since I haven¡¯t been providing many lessons, this might be harder than I had thought. Please, if you¡¯re real, God-Lord, see to it that they return quickly. Mark felt weird praying to a foreign god he barely knew anything about. I¡¯m becoming one of them.


    ***


    The Arms-Master galloped out through the fort, crossbow hanging from his saddle and sword from his belt. It was a relief to see. From his glimpse into Atlas''s memories, he knew the man to be a competent soldier. And more importantly, he knew how to ride a horse.


    Wish I¡¯d been born on a farm. How am I ever going to learn everything I need to survive here?


    Mark turned his gaze to the half dozen acolytes watching Henric leave the fort. They¡¯re only kids; you can do this. They¡¯re just like interns. Nothing to worry about. It totally doesn¡¯t matter that you¡¯re from a different technological period and don¡¯t have most of the skills you are expected to have¡­ not at all.


    Breaking his thought, two acolytes came from the outer wall, pulling a small wagon filled with sacks of processed rigar bark.


    Mark nodded at the acolytes, and they saluted as they continued into the fort.


    Right, we still need more meat for all this rigar bark we¡¯re collecting¡­ or at least something with flavor.


    Turning back into the fort, he spotted an acolyte trying to make eye contact with him.


    ¡°Hello?¡± Mark curled a brow.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± the mousy girl saluted. Light brown¨Calmost blonde hair hung down by her shoulders, and big blue eyes took up most of her little face.


    ¡°Can I help you, Acolyte Elowen? Thankfully, he remembered most of their names from Atlas¡¯s memories.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± she barked with her hand against her forehead. ¡°I¡¯m informed you¡¯re taking over Master Henric¡¯s responsibilities.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s correct,¡± he groaned softly.


    ¡°Brilliant. I¡¯m in need of assistance carrying out my duties.¡±


    ¡°Relax, Acolyte.¡±


    Elowen dropped her hand, but her back remained perfectly straight.


    ¡°Better. So, what do you need exactly?¡±


    ¡°A lot of things. Managing the fort¡¯s supplies has become increasingly daunting. Equipment and supply requests have become a daily occurrence.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, backpedal a moment. What¡¯s changed?¡±


    Elowen raised a brow at the unfamiliar saying but continued as if she knew it. ¡°It¡¯s the ferals, Imperator. Ever since they began building cabins within the walls, trade requests have come in constantly. No one else seems to want to deal with this. So they just drop it all on me.¡±


    ¡°Wait, why is this the first time I¡¯ve heard about this?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s um,¡± Elowen twitched her nose.


    ¡°Henric?¡±


    Chin held high, Elowen nodded.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry about Henric; I¡¯ll talk to him later. Just try to explain what¡¯s happening to the best of your abilities.¡±


    ¡°They keep coming at me. The ferals follow the acolytes around whenever they are walking around the outer wall. Asking for things¡ªthis, that, and the other. Then, when those acolytes return, they come and hassle me. But no. Henric says we don¡¯t deal with ferals. But what am I supposed to do? I tell them the same thing every time. And guess what? The next day, they come telling me about trade offers again. Smoked fish, mushrooms, acorns? What God-Lord¡¯s name would we do with acorns? Every day it¡¯s the same. Some of them even offered me pig iron the other day. It has turned into a near-constant knocking at my door. I¡¯ve tried telling the Master-At-Arms. But nothing changes.¡±


    Of course, it hasn¡¯t. Trade has been opened to the ferals at my own order. And Henric has gone behind my back. That man will answer for this¡­ once I figure out how to do so tactfully.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound right. We¡¯ve intentionally opened trade with the ferals. Perhaps Master Henric is confused.¡±


    ¡°As you say, Imperator.¡±


    She doesn¡¯t agree, but she¡¯s too much of a stiff to say so.


    ¡°Do you have time to accompany me? Maybe we can fix this.¡±


    ¡°Of course, Imperator. Just give me the order.¡±


    ¡°Load up a cart. Grab some other acolytes to help you if you need them. Grab everything you¡¯ve had ferals request to trade for. But nothing we¡¯re going to need, okay? Just our excess.¡±


    ¡°Excess? That¡¯s hard to say with winter coming, sir.¡±


    ¡°Right.¡± Of course. ¡°Surely we could trim the top off of some of our supplies?¡±


    ¡°Yes. Most things. Salt, nails, soap, buttons, the list goes on. As long as we tighten our rations, we should be able to spare some of these items.¡±


    ¡°Good. We¡¯ll take what we can. And when you get a chance, provide me with a detailed plan for our new rations.¡±


    ¡°Will do, sir!¡±


    ¡°Great. When you¡¯re ready, meet me at the gate. We¡¯ve got some trading to do.¡±


    ***


    Ferals crowded around as the wagon rolled into a clearing between several huts. He hadn¡¯t even said anything about trading yet.


    And I thought they didn¡¯t want to trade with us¡­ at least not any more than they had to.


    Mark and Elowen kicked blocks against the wagon¡¯s wheels, bringing it to a halt and making it sway as they jumped atop it.


    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ll all get your turn. Everyone take a step back,¡± Mark shouted above the chatter of three dozen poorly-mannered ferals. And when nobody responded, he made lightning crackle around his hand.


    ¡°That¡¯s better,¡± he said as the crowd quieted. Catching the gaze of a nearby man, Mark pointed, ¡°You, you¡¯re up.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± the feral grinned with a near-toothless smile as he pointed to his chest. ¡°Look at me, boys. Ole¡¯ Bligel never gets lucky.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to trade or keep yapping?¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Imperator,¡± the man bowed. ¡°I¡¯m ¡®ere to trade. Promise.¡±


    ¡°Alright, what have you got, then?¡± Mark said.


    ¡°Mushrooms. Three bags worth,¡± eagerly nodded. ¡°The old ball and chain is needin¡¯ some salt. But what I could really do with, if ye got it, is some rum.¡±


    ¡°Elowen, we got salt to trade?¡±


    ¡°One moment,¡± Elowen replied, flicking through the pages of her ledger and running the butt of her pencil down them. ¡°I¡¯ve got three pounds of salt for trading. But it¡¯s valuable, Imperator. Can¡¯t get more without Imperial resupply.¡±


    ¡°You heard her. That means salt is rare. I¡¯ll give you a coin pouch bag of salt for what you got.¡±


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Elowen hissed.


    ¡°Sorry, half a coin pouch of salt.¡±


    Elowen nodded.


    ¡°Such a tiny little bag? And what ¡®bout me rum?¡± the man licked his lips.


    ¡°No rum. Take it or leave it.¡±


    ¡°Fine. Gimme the salt,¡± the man tried to snatch the bag, but Mark moved it out of reach. ¡°Alright, alright,¡± he grunted and handed Mark the sack of mushrooms.


    Mark tied the pouch shut and tossed it to the Feral. ¡°Alright, next up!¡±


    ***


    By the time they had finished trading, Mark had filled the wagon with mushrooms, smoked fish, pig iron, and even acorns. The more food he collected from the ferals, the more they would gather, or at least that¡¯s what he hoped. Starving ferals would not be ideal, and he still wasn¡¯t sure if the stockpile would be large enough for the fort¡¯s Imperials.


    He had hesitated to buy acorns, but apparently, they were edible¡ªthey just needed a few hours of boiling. And thankfully, their firewood supplies were overflowing with all the trees Mark had been downing.


    The pig iron was probably what he was most grateful for. It had cost him nails, salt, and even soap¡ªwhich had come as a surprise. Nothing about the ferals had given Mark any impression they cared about cleaning themselves.


    But thanks to that, he had well over a hundred pounds of the raw metal.


    The fort possessed a small smithy. It wasn¡¯t anything special, and they lacked an actual smith. But a couple of acolytes knew the basics. They only produced nails and horseshoes when needed. But how hard could a spearhead be? They just needed a sharp, pointy bit, right?


    Mark smiled as he looked down at the haul. Three boys from the fort jogged down at his command and helped them haul the wagon back behind the walls.


    Soon, he would be able to start building some weapons. And with that, arm the tribunes he had yet to select.


    Not to mention, trade was important in and of itself. And while he was no historian, he knew that if they were going to be self-reliant through this winter, they would need to develop some kind of an economy.

 16. The Chase

    Mark¡¯s eyes sprung open, and he shot upward, covered in sweat. Panting, he tried to calm himself from the horrid dreams that had assaulted him.


    He had seen Erin attacked by the wargs.


    They''re only dreams. Be rational. Mark wiped the sweat from his brow. These dreams weren''t the same as what he had felt when he saw the wargs. It was just his guilty conscience weighing on him. He had to remind himself that Henric was as capable as they came. His Master-At-Arms would do what was needed. He just needed to have a little faith.


    Rubbing sleep from his eyes, Mark wondered if he should have just shot her in the leg when he had the chance and been done with it. If she died, he wasn¡¯t sure he could forgive himself.


    ¡°She¡¯s just a kid,¡± he mouthed. The sixteen-year-old girl was strong for her age but not strong enough for what he had seen. No one deserved that.


    You¡¯ve got to be strong. You made a decision for the betterment of the fort. Have conviction in your actions. He knew deep down this was the right way to think. Winter hadn¡¯t even arrived, and if his visions of wargs were what was coming, then far more than just one girl would die. He had to accept that his decisions would lead to the deaths of others, even if Erin survived this ordeal.


    Closing his eyes, he lay back down. The bed felt stiffer, somehow, and he restlessly rolled.


    At least an hour passed before he sighed, threw his pillow across the cabin, and rose.


    ¡°Just let me sleep,¡± he groaned and climbed from his bed.


    Walking across his cabin, Mark passed his fireplace, threw a log into the embers, and rubbed his hands together. He then added two spoonfuls of Mira¡¯s mix to his metal cup, filled it with water, and placed it beside the glowing embers. It didn¡¯t take long to boil.


    Grimacing as he sipped on the bitter tea, Mark stared into the growing flames as they danced.


    It wasn¡¯t just the missing acolytes, Erin and Callum. He felt like he wasn¡¯t doing enough. He considered the wall and the growing relationship with the ferals a success, but there had to be more.


    His gaze drifted to the Imperator suit hung on a hook by his bed. Surely he could be doing more with its power.


    Accepting that his decisions may lead to the deaths of others was one thing, but if he could do everything in his power to prevent the worst from happening, then he would feel justified. And make the most of the power entrusted to him in the process.


    ***Erin***


    After an entire day, or maybe longer strapped to the back of a horse, every inch of Erin¡¯s body ached.


    The sun had long fallen, but they had continued. The snow reflected enough light from the stars to make navigating the forest easy.


    Eventually, though, even her captors grew tired. No bedrolls were laid out. And they slept on their packs beneath the stars. Erin was tied to the horseman and lay beside him.


    The man was out, snoring within minutes. Erin wasn¡¯t so lucky.


    She turned several times, trying to sleep, sighed, and opened her eyes. She stared at the silver blanket of stars briefly before raising her head.


    Erin shrieked as she locked eyes with two sunken, beady, brown orbs.


    ¡°It¡¯s sleepin¡¯ time,¡± Jinghorn groggily grunted, tugging on her bindings as he rolled away.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± the man brought a finger to his lips. ¡°Keep them pretty lips shut, girl. Me¡¯s only watchin'',¡± the feral smiled, his eyes tracing her form down to her legs.


    Erin followed his eyes and realized her robes were pulled to her knees. Her boots and pale legs were displayed. Hastily, she pulled her robe down past her boots.


    ¡°Wah, you¡¯re not a lot of fun, are ye?¡±


    ¡°Keep your eyes away from me. And your hands,¡± Erin sneered.


    ¡°Why the wargs got to have all the fun? I wanna taste,¡± he licked his lips and rubbed his hands as he rose from his spot and stepped closer. ¡°Pretty, smooth, soft girl,¡± the feral shivered as he spoke.


    As he stepped over Erin, she kicked out at him. Grabbing her boots, the man chuckled and ran his hands down them and onto her legs, eliciting another scream from Erin.


    ¡°What I say ¡®bout quiet? If ye don¡¯t shut ye gob, I¡¯mma really make you feel it.¡±


    The man lunged forward, grabbing hold of Erin¡¯s wrists as he fell atop her. Erin squeezed her eyes shut.


    ¡°Ye gonna¨C¡± the feral coughed.


    She felt splatter across her face and slowly opened her eyes. Blood spilled from the feral¡¯s throat as he tried to stop its flow with his hands, streams of it squirting through his finger creases. Fingers laced through his hair from behind, and a hand grabbed his shoulder and yanked him to the side, sending the feral rolling off of Erin into the snow.


    The man gargled as he cupped his neck, red quickly staining the snow around him.


    Erin''s gaze darted up. It was the noble-looking young man. He stood still, unfazed, looking down at Erin.


    The man jerked and coughed as the blood flowing from his neck calmed to a trickle. A low groan came from the back of his throat as he leaned back, and his eyes stared aimlessly into the sky.


    ¡°You killed him.¡±


    The young man nodded.


    ¡°Who are you?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not important,¡± he said, walking over to the corpse. He went through the man¡¯s pockets, picking at a few things, and took his knife. He eyed the knife under the moon for a moment and then dropped back down where he had been sleeping.


    She looked at the dirty corpse beside her and back to Jinghorn, who groaned and pulled on her bindings again. The friction rubbed at the red sores forming on her wrists.


    ¡°Quit worming. I¡¯m tryin¡¯ ta sleep,¡± the rider grumbled in his sleep and tugged on the rope again.


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    He was only inches from her, and as she breathed out, she shuffled back from his putrid breath; Erin froze as she remembered the corpse and looked back over her shoulder at the body.


    ¡°Don¡¯t even think about trying to escape,¡± the young man said as their eyes caught. He used his pack as a pillow, nodded at Erin, and pulled his cowl down over his face. ¡°Even if that idiot sleeps through it, I won¡¯t.¡±


    ***


    Erin was woken with a rough shake of her shoulder and forced to stand. The two ferals argued a little. It seemed to be about the dead man, not that Erin could understand when they spoke their own language.


    She was given a little mush to eat. Some kind of smoked version of rigar bark, she believed. And with that, they were off. Back to riding on the back of the saddle as they crossed forests and snowy plains and navigated around a ravine that plunged straight through the rock and into a shadowy abyss below.


    She lost track of time. The further north they rode, the harder it was to track time by daylight.


    The days were short, and the nights bright.


    As they ventured further north, the forests thinned, and so did the barbarian settlements. And not just because of the migration. Few barbarians cared to live this far north.


    The entire frontier suffered from a near-endless winter-like state. However, the further south you went, the warmer it got. Besides the miasmic fields that clung in the foothills that separated the Frontier from the Imperium, the south¡¯s weather resembled a typical temperate climate. And the regions north of it were somewhere between Nordic and Arctic.


    But all of that was south of where they were. In the north, permafrost covered the lands. Snow fell, and icy chills stung your flesh through your clothing and down to the bone. Nothing grew, and only the most hermit-inclined had any reason to try and brave this weather, except for the cultists.


    She could see them in the far distance when they rested that night. Giant, pointed, and snow-capped mountains that disappeared into the clouds. They extended on like a natural fortress of rock as far as the eye could see. They were the Daggers. The greatest mountains in the world. Home of the warg.


    A chill ran through her body and settled in her gut. Erin gritted her teeth. There was nothing she could do. She would be offered to the warg.


    Her gaze fell on the two sleeping ferals. There was no way she could take them, even if her wrists weren¡¯t bound. And she wasn¡¯t sure the young one was even asleep.


    ***Callum***


    Callum had found the tracks days ago. It was easy. Horses were already rare within the frontier, and with all the notable clans gone south, they were unheard of.


    And the moment he spotted hooves, he took chase.


    Panting, he fought through the increasingly thick snow, staggered toward a pine, and let himself slide against its trunk as he fell to the ground.


    He had thought himself fully recovered, but the road quickly reminded him of his wounds. The strain on his body increased every day, but it wasn¡¯t about to stop him. Nothing short of death would prevent him from going after Erin.


    You¡¯ll be fine. Stop being such a sook. That¡¯s what Pa would say, right?


    ¡°Yes, Arms Master.¡± Callum chuckled at the memory of their exchanges. An old man whose shaky hands had no business wrapped around the hilt of a sword, forcing his son to remind him of his former glory.


    Incoherent ramblings and the stench of ale on his breath were what he remembered of his father. Pathetic.


    It was kind of funny thinking back on how proud he had been as a child of his father¡¯s accomplishments. And he had looked up to him. But that had long changed. The man was weak and filled with self-pity. Daydreaming of his past. He wouldn¡¯t let that become him. He touched the wound on his forehead again.


    I¡¯m not like him. It doesn¡¯t matter what happens. I¡¯ll find my own path. One way or another.


    Callum forced himself to his feet and brushed off the snow. It was time to get moving again. He couldn¡¯t sit around and rest if he wanted to catch them before the Daggers.


    He could see the silhouettes of the giant mountains in the distance. They brought on uneasy thoughts, but not for himself.


    Gritting his teeth, Callum stubbornly pushed on. If it wasn¡¯t for the boot prints trailing the hooves, he likely would have given up by now. But if the horseman kept pace with someone on foot, he could catch up. He¡¯d just have to push himself a little harder.


    Grasping his side as pain twitched out across his body, he stumbled forward¡ªfalling into the snow.


    ¡°Curses,¡± he mouthed. Annoyed at his damaged body. But he felt something against his fingers through the snow.


    He raised a brow and wrapped his hand around it. With a tug, he pulled the buried stick free. It was about as tall as his shoulders and solid. Tapping it against the ground, Callum curled his lip. The snow hadn¡¯t thawed up here in months, and thanks to that, the wood hadn¡¯t rotted.


    It was a small win, but he felt like it was a sign. Just being able to take some of the weight off of his bruised body as he marched through the snow was a relief. And his pace quickened as he used the stick to lead him in pursuit of the tracks.


    ***Imperator***


    The acolytes lined up in the fort as Mark patrolled them. It was time for another lesson. He had been surprised by how much they got into practicing the moves he taught in the first class. And even if it had mostly turned into a game where they competed to see how far they could throw each other, he didn¡¯t see a problem as long as they were learning something.


    As with the first lesson, the moves were simple. Mostly positioning. It would take them a while before everything became natural, but they now knew how to throw somebody. Now they needed to know how to manage being on the ground.


    If they thought throwing each other was fun, Mark shuddered to think how they would react to learning how to choke each other out. But that was a lesson for another day. Today, they would just learn positioning and control.


    In reality, it was all an attempt to distract. Keeping himself busy was the only way to keep his mind off things and make himself feel useful.


    After lessons, he would head out with Elowen again for more trading.


    Mark was quickly establishing Fort Winterclaw as the only place to trade in the region. And ferals outside of the fort had already begun gathering at the walls, asking to join in.


    He hadn¡¯t planned this but wouldn¡¯t turn away an opportunity. So far, trade with ferals outside the wall had been minimal, but he was organizing a market day, and he intended to include them.


    As many food stocks had exceeded what Elowen believed was needed for the winter, she suggested that they set a buy-and-sell price for all goods in a way that they could make a profit, even if they didn¡¯t need the goods.


    Mark hadn¡¯t expected her idea to work as well as it did. But ferals weren¡¯t particularly business savvy and had a habit of trading or buying whatever they needed as they needed it¡ªexcept food, of course. It wasn¡¯t their first winter, after all.


    Unfortunately, there were two problems. The barbarians often ran out of goods they wanted to trade, and it was impossibly complicated to set trade values for dozens of goods in a way that would make every trade profitable.


    What they needed was a currency. There lay another problem. The currency they already used¡ªcrowns¡ªwas in limited supply, and ferals had rarely seen one, let alone possessed any. Mark couldn¡¯t just flood the market with the crowns he did have since he wanted to save their crowns in case he got the opportunity to hire mercenaries or buy high-quality products from Imperial traders.


    In the end, they decided to mint their own iron coins. Iron was rare enough that they weren¡¯t worried about any ferals knocking their fledgling economy out of whack but also common enough that the wild barbarians could get their hands on it.


    The coins were basic, with no face. The only thing that mattered was that they weighed roughly the same amount.


    The effect was immediate. Once the coins went into circulation, trade boomed. Suddenly, ferals could sell things that outvalued anything they needed. And once they had spare coins, they could buy the things they needed when they didn¡¯t have goods to trade for them.


    The best part about it all was that Fort Winterclaw had all the skills and equipment that were scarce.


    Ferals would bring old, blunt knives and axes to trade and walk away with half their weight in iron coins, which allowed them to mint more coins. Even goods like rigar bark, which the fort had been buying at a deficit, soon turned a profit. With massive stockpiles of the goods, Fort Winterclaw could sell the excesses in retail quantities at good margins without raising a brow.


    However, it also created more work. Which put a strain on their already strained manpower. The fort had gone from an acolyte occasionally banging out some nails or horseshoes to essentially needing a full-time smithy. And boys that were running it had barely a year or two of apprenticeship experience before being sent to work for the Imperium.


    It wasn¡¯t just smelting, either. The smithy was constantly at work minting coins, smithing nails, and axeheads¡ªall of which were in high demand by the ferals. Demand that would only intensify as trade with ferals outside of the fort increased.

 17. Tribunes

    Manning the walls had become increasingly difficult with every passing day. And there was no way Mark would roll back what he had started. Trading with the ferals wasn¡¯t just filling their supplies; it was bringing their communities together.


    He had all the fathers of daughters gathered outside the gates leading into the inner wall. Mark had hoped he would have more time to get a feel for their new neighbors before making any important decisions. The last thing he wanted was to promote the wrong people to the station of tribune, but he felt he couldn¡¯t put it off any longer.


    Surveying the group, Mark nodded and took note of the most intriguing members.


    Just about every influential man within the walls had applied to become a tribune, with the sole exception being Weedy Eye. Since he didn¡¯t have any children, he didn¡¯t qualify.


    He had eighteen men to pick from¡ªno, seventeen¡ªhe realized. She was as broad, tall, and as muscular as most of the men with a shaved head, but there was no doubt that the stern-faced woman was, in fact, a woman.


    Interesting, Mark thought, eyeing the pitbull of a woman. He had invited fathers, but perhaps that was sexist. He chuckled at himself for the oversight. He was the one who was meant to be the twenty-first-century man here. He thought back to his home, San Fran. Whoops.


    Mark¡¯s plan was to elect eight tribunes to start with. These tribunes would report directly to him, and he would both pay them for their service and provide them with authority. At first, he had intended to only provide them with authority, but now that the fort¡¯s trading had grown as lucrative as it had, Mark figured they could spare a few iron coins every month. And that by doing so, he would gain more loyal and competent underlings.


    He would use three tests to measure the ferals and decide who to elect as tribunes. The first test would measure their combat prowess, the second, their intelligence, and the third, their character.


    While intelligent and strong tribunes would be valuable, Mark was undoubtedly most interested in their personalities and character. This would all turn out horribly wrong if he couldn¡¯t rely on loyal, upstanding individuals to uphold his laws.


    Mark looked over them again, spotting Trayox with his mop-like hair in the second row, towering above the others.


    There were a few others that caught his eye. A rather clean-looking man¡ªfor a feral. He was older than the others with mostly gray hair, wore robes and a fur cloak, and had two iron rings¡ªa sign of wealth.


    Another man stood barely five feet, but his brow pointed fearsomely, and unlike the others who were mostly armed with shivs and dodgy old hatches, he carried a sheathed short sword.


    Turning to Elowen, Mark nodded. He was again relying on her skills. She read and wrote well¡ªsurprisingly rare traits¡ªand he needed a scribe.


    All of Elowen¡¯s new duties had her constantly running short on time, so Mark had arranged for her to train another acolyte to assist. And since Dober was still unable to walk long distances, he was volunteered to help keep track of the warehouse.


    The boy complained about it to no end. He was a farmer who had never read a word. But that was easily overcome. So far, they traded only about two dozen items, and Elowen simply drew pictures of them for him. And the rest was numbers. Which he also struggled with. But she allowed him to strike lines and then wrote down the proper numbers afterward when she reconciled his work.


    With the ferals lined up in front of them. Elowen sat at a table covered in scrolls and ledgers. They had dragged it out from the fort for her to take notes, with a chair beside her for Mark to discuss the details. She had already begun scribbling down notes on the tribune wannabes,noting everything from posture to clothing fabrics.


    The acolytes had also brought a dozen or so logs for the ferals to use as props since timber was by far their cheapest resource.


    Mark lined the candidates up when she nodded back and explained what they wanted. The first test wasn¡¯t specific; he just wanted them to demonstrate their combat prowess¡ªthe display could be anything they wished it to be.


    The first man to step forward was a buck-toothed, bald-headed, skinny man. He didn¡¯t look like much at all. But Mark¡¯s jaw quickly slackened as he watched the man remove several knives from his belt and held them between his fingers. He then lined up with a log they had placed as a prop and accurately flung the knives toward it with barely a second between each throw. Six daggers protruded from the center of the log. They weren¡¯t particularly deep, and a few looked as if they were ready to fall out. But flesh wasn¡¯t as hard as timber.


    Mark clapped, and Elowen wrote.


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    The skinny feral nodded, smiled, and went back to the line¡¯s end.


    ¡°Alright, next up,¡± Mark waved.


    Trayox stepped forth. He had big expectations for the huge man but found himself a little disappointed. First, he took logs and split them with single strikes from his axe. Then he started picking up the largest logs he could find and hurling them through the air. His strength was undeniable. He was almost certainly the strongest person in the fort and maybe the entire region. But nothing he did seemed particularly skilled.


    Mark¡¯s brow curved when the bald woman stepped forward. It wasn¡¯t just that she was the only woman participating. There was a fierce bent to her brow and curl to her lip. Somehow, she looked both mean and gentle, with soft cheeks and big eyes.


    As she stepped forward, she threw back her long, fur cloak, revealing a short, curved bow strapped to her back. The act sent whispered chatter through the gathered crowd.


    This was the first bow Mark had seen a feral in possession of. He knew that Frontier barbarians used the weapons. But from his understanding, they were reserved for clans¡ªusually high-standing clans that hoarded the knowledge of both their crafting and usage. And while many ferals were former clan members, they were typically stripped of anything of worth when expelled from their respected clans.


    Narrowing an eye and closing the other, she peered down her bow in line with the log. As she loosened, the arrow whistled through the air and embedded itself an inch into the log¡¯s heart.


    Mark clapped before thinking. The knife throwing was impressive, but they looked like wounding attacks only. That bow could kill.


    The other ferals watched her and whispered among themselves, and Mark realized something else. She had exposed herself for the sake of this display.


    I like her. I like her a lot.


    There were a few others of note. The man with the short sword danced around with finesse. Unfortunately, Mark was no swordsman, so getting a good idea of his skill level was hard. However, he was fairly certain he had some kind of formal training.


    The clean, almost noble-looking feral was probably the least capable. He almost felt bad for the old man as he stumbled around with a knife in one hand and an axe in the other. He was clearly winging it. But the man¡¯s soft hands and office-worker vibe had never given Mark the impression he¡¯d be any good with a weapon. And there was more to what he wanted from his tribunes than just warriors.


    Mark leaned into Elowen as he mumbled his thoughts, her quill never leaving the paper. So far, he had been quietly impressed. The standard these ferals had displayed seemed higher than what he expected of the average barbarian. But then again, the people he had invited into the fort were the ones who had the courage to stand up for themselves against the cultists. There was a good chance that this act had already provided him with the cream of the crop.


    Rising from his chair, he waved the ferals over. He wanted to go over their performances a little more with Elowen and pick at her thoughts before his impression was clouded by the next test. Besides, he figured they could use a rest and would get the most out of them that way.


    Mark had Treff cook stew and vegetables for their break to reinforce the value of their newly proposed station. He knew that ferals rarely ate things like deer, and who could resist the lure of a slow-cooked red meat stew when snow falls all around?


    ¡°So, what do you think so far?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s your decision to make, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware of that. Just curious what your thoughts were.¡±


    ¡°Well, in that case,¡± Elowen cleared her throat and flicked through her notes. ¡°The woman¡ªReida¡ªshe¡¯s got skill with a bow. She¡¯d make a fine addition to the wall watch. The big one¡ªTrayox¡ªwould make for an intimidating lawkeeper based on strength and size alone. Trumus,¡± she said, double-checking the name in her notes. ¡°Has clearly been trained with a sword. At the very least, he¡¯d make for a good instructor if you intend to put more ferals to use on a battlefield.¡±


    ¡°Good answers,¡± Mark stroked his chin.


    ¡°And then there¡¯s the knife thrower. Unfortunately, it won¡¯t do much against an attacking force, especially if they come armed with shields. But if the knife thrower¡ªJaryox¡ªcan produce similar results with a throwing axe, he could also be quite valuable.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s likely?¡±


    Elowen shrugged. ¡°Axes are bigger; they require more iron to make. Ferals are poor. It¡¯s not inconceivable that he uses throwing knives because they are more¡ªaffordable.¡±


    ¡°Any others you have thoughts on?¡± Mark''s brow rose. The girl was smart and had insights into many things he hadn¡¯t considered.


    ¡°No, not really. They were the only standouts, in my opinion. I have listed the strengths and weaknesses of the others as I saw them, though,¡± she added, pushing one of her ledgers toward him.


    ¡°Good stuff,¡± Mark mumbled as he flicked through the pages. She had rated things like speed, strength, and skill on a scale of one to ten¡ªfor all of them. ¡°Think you can do something similar for the intelligence and personality tests?¡±


    ¡°I had planned to.¡±


    He eyed the notes. Most were fairly similar to what he had thought, save that they were broken down into numbers. With one test, the numbers weren¡¯t overly important, but it would help weigh their strengths once all three had been completed.


    Every candidate had been rated out of a possible maximum score of 30 for each test, and interestingly, Trumus¡ªthe sword-wielding feral¡ªhad been giving the highest score of 25, despite her verbal praises sounding higher for Reida. But it was clear why when he read through the notes. As for combat value, the female archer had actually rated the highest of all. However, a lack of bows and no fletchers around meant that she had only scored a 2 for her potential as a trainer, and even that had only been given to recognize her potential if they managed to get more bows somehow. Despite his size, Trumus scored highly as a trainer and a warrior, and he even scored decently for strength. Much further down the list was Trayox. He had scored a 10 for strength, but everything else was abysmal.


    ¡°Okay, are we ready for the next test?¡±


    ¡°I have been for a while, sir,¡± Elowen said without raising her eyes from the ledger she scribbled on.

 18. Intelligence

    The intelligence test went about as well as one would have expected. Most of the ferals were comparable to modern children. No¡ªthat was unfair to the children. They had never been to school or studied. For most of them, the closest thing to an education was listening to yarn weavers tell stories. That, and whatever their parents had taught them. Most ferals could tell you what mushrooms were safe to eat. How to find rigar bark. How to skin a corpse. And so on. Just don¡¯t ask them to read or solve a puzzle.


    There was one exception¡ªthe old feral who wore iron rings. His name was Venjimin. The man was lanky with a belly. He had grayish-white curls with remnants of brown fading out. And deep creases lined his eyes and forehead.


    After talking for a few minutes, they discovered that Venjimin was from the Frontier¡¯s most prominent temple. While many barbarians and ferals were mostly concerned with survival, and prayer was often reduced to carrying trinkets, they did have a few standing temples scattered around. Especially where bigger, more established clans were. And the biggest of them all was the Temple of Samuuda¡ªThe Wind God. This was where Venjimin was a priest until a little over a year ago.


    The way he told it, the clan chiefs had banished or killed many of the priests and their underlings to make way for their own clan members. Apparently, it was part of a consolidation of power. Something the warlord who acted as a quasi-king of the barbarians had used to gather the clans under his reign. It was a form of power trading. For example, you swear allegiance to me, and I¡¯ll elevate you and your family members to powerful positions within this new nation we¡¯re building.


    The priest explained how he had joined the temple as a child and was taught to reason and read Cal¨¦¡ªthe text used by the few barbarians who could write¡ªand even some Vane, or Imperial text, as most people called it.


    Banished to the cold wilderness of the Frontier, Venjimin fled the region surrounding the temple, not wanting to risk their continued leniency regarding his life. And it hadn¡¯t taken him long to meet his new wife.


    Having spent his life hidden behind the temple walls, the man was no doubt lacking in a lot of skills most ferals possessed, but there were plenty of skills he did have. He explained how he got his hands on a balancing scale and provided his services to other ferals trading with one another. It made him useful and somewhat wealthy for a poor, hut-dwelling feral. Which in turn grabbed the attention of his younger wife.


    As Venjimin told his story, he pointed out his wife, who must have been only in her mid-twenties and held a small baby to her chest.


    He went on to explain how temple priests had long been the only educated people within the Frontier, save the Imperials. He added that there were three main groups of people whom Imperials referred to as barbarians. The Dhamajiri, the Cassundri, and the Igmani. The south was predominantly populated by the Cassundri, making them the largest of the groups by population¡ªbecause the south was the only region of the Frontier with proper towns and not shrouded by permafrost and freezing winds year-round.


    Then there were the Dhamajiri, who made up most of those around Fort Winterclaw and whose territory stretched over the largest geographical region. They made up the majority of ferals and barbarian clans throughout the heavily forested central and northern regions. In comparison, the Igmani hailed from the western highlands. There were dozens of other smaller groups scattered across the Frontier. Still, Venjimin estimated that the three main races¡ªas he called them¡ªrepresented as much as ninety percent of all men in the Frontier. This estimate was based on the clans, towns, and villages recorded by the temple. Apparently, they had books recording the number of homes in every recorded village (which they used to estimate the population) and even a rough idea of how many feral huts were scattered around each region.


    Mark found himself engrossed in listening to the man while Elowen furiously transcribed. He got the impression that the Imperials, for all their technological advantages, knew little about the barbarian people.


    ¡°So, what do you think,¡± Mark said as they finished with the last of them.


    ¡°Unfortunately, most of their intelligence ratings will do little to affect their overall score. Except for the priest. I have him tied with Trumus¡ªthe swordsman¡ªnow.¡±


    ¡°I suspected you might. He was quite interesting, don¡¯t you think?¡±


    ¡°I would say so. Unfortunately, I¡¯ve never been able to set foot in the Imperial Library since I¡¯m only an acolyte. So, I can¡¯t verify most of what he says. However, I have never heard of such detailed written knowledge of the Frontier. And that¡¯s just what he stores in his head. And his mention of stone tablets¡­ that was most intriguing. I wonder what the extent of their knowledge is¡ªif they still have them in the temple.¡±


    ¡°And to think it¡¯s probably going to waste now.¡±


    ¡°My thoughts exactly. If they really have cleared the temple out of its wise men, perhaps there¡¯s an opportunity to get our hands on that knowledge. I doubt they appreciate its value.¡±


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    Mark nodded. She was right. But he doubted they would be in a position to trade with the barbarian alliance anytime soon. Even if they could, items like bows would likely be preferred.


    Mira sent Erald with tea as Elowen finished her notes. They needed a bit of a pick-me-up before the final tests, and he wanted to give the young acolyte a break anyway, as she had been pausing to stretch her fingers every few minutes. Still, she protested. Elowen didn¡¯t seem like the kind of person to want to leave a job half done, even if it was just for a short break. But Mark, being from the twenty-first century, had knowledge about things like RSI and carpal tunnel, and the last thing he wanted was to burn his only scribe out.


    Tapping the butt of her quill against the table, Elowen peered from the corner of her eye at Mark¡ªher gaze evasively darting away as he looked at her.


    ¡°Take it easy. We¡¯ll start soon. How are your hands feeling?¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re fine,¡± she turned to him with a smile.


    ¡°Then why are you stretching your fingers?¡±


    Elowen looked down at her woven, outstretched fingers. ¡°No reason.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s okay to get tired, Acolyte.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not tired. It¡¯s just my fingers¡ªprobably the cold.¡±


    ¡°Sure,¡± Mark rolled his eyes. ¡°Take a deep breath, finish your tea. And then we can continue. Okay?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Elowen sucked in a big breath, blew out, grabbed her cup, and gulped it down. All within a couple of seconds. ¡°Ready.¡±


    ¡°I should have seen that coming,¡± Mark groaned. ¡°Alright, whatever.¡± He raised a hand and waved the candidates over.


    The personality tests were a bit of a mixed bag. Trumus, who had been sitting at the top of the list, was not just short with words but gave off an uncomfortable vibe, which was worsened by the fact that he kept looking at Elowen in an unsavory way. And Mark just didn¡¯t like his smile¡ªit sent chills down his spine.


    Once again, Venjimin overperformed. His family was young¡ªa single baby daughter¡ªthe one he had with his wife after leaving the temple. He spoke of virtues and morals in a way few others could understand within the Frontier, giving off a cozy, nurturing, older-man vibe.


    Reida was an interesting character. Her husband had died two years ago, as had her sister¡¯s. Now they raised their children together¡ªher sister taking on a more motherly role while she hunted and guarded the family of six. And as expected, they were from a clan. Quite a famous clan. Reida had been scarce with the details, and Mark wondered if it was related to their husband''s deaths. The clan was known for its archery prowess, and its bows were said to be the best in the world¡ªnot that the barbarians knew anything beyond the Frontier.


    Jaryox was scruffy-looking, even for a feral. His beard was patchy, and he had hair just about everywhere but the crown of his head. But he seemed genuine. His answers often trailed back to his family. Whenever they paused to check their notes, Mark caught him looking back at the spectating ferals, trying to catch his children¡¯s eyes.


    Trayox fell in a similar bag. The man was short-worded and appeared uninterested and sometimes even disgruntled when talking to them, although it was obvious that it was only partially personality, there was an undeniable language barrier. But he was Igmani, meaning he was from the far west. People out there rarely learned the Imperium¡¯s language of Vane-Impora or Vanish Imperial.


    Even though Mark struggled to learn much about the man, the fact that he was foreign to this land interested him. From his basic understanding, it was mostly the Dhamajiri that had allegiances with the cultists, and to some degree, the Cassundri. And If his goal was to maintain safety in the fort, then recruiting ferals that were not loyal to his enemies was far more important than anything else.


    Once they had finished the interviews, Mark reviewed Elowen¡¯s notes again. He was continuously surprised by the girl''s intellect, especially since she had yet to reach her seventeenth birthday.


    ¡°You thought Trayox was concealing something? You don¡¯t think it¡¯s possible that it was just the language barrier?¡±


    ¡°I marked both down as being potential reasons for his elusiveness.¡±


    ¡°I see that. But don¡¯t you think they could be related? What if he just comes off like that because of the language barrier?¡±


    ¡°Sure. That might be the answer,¡± Elowen shrugged. ¡°But it¡¯s not just what he said. He held his arms crossed, avoided eye contact, and on more than one occasion appeared agitated by your questions.¡±


    Mark had noted the same. But meeting and reading people had been a significant part of his career, not to mention the countless videos he had watched on body language and similar topics. For a teenager to make such astute observations was seriously impressive.


    ¡°I agree,¡± Mark frowned. ¡°I still like him, though.¡±


    ¡°Right. He¡¯s a westerner. Unlikely that he has links to the cultists. And even less likely he trusts them,¡± Elowen paused. ¡°I agree, he¡¯s a good candidate.¡±


    ¡°And Trumus?¡±


    Elowen¡¯s gaze fell for the first time.


    ¡°So, he made you feel uncomfortable. That¡¯s understandable.¡±


    Elowen nodded. ¡°But that doesn¡¯t mean he¡¯s a bad candidate. Reida and Venjimin took the lead by my score, but I still have him placed third.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t you think it¡¯s a little risky having him instructing ferals? What if his¡­you know¡ªvalues¡ªrub off on them.¡±


    ¡°I sense concern in your voice, Imperator. And I appreciate it. But these are ferals we¡¯re talking about. I¡¯m more surprised that we found so many good recruit choices than that we found a few questionable ones. More importantly, I don¡¯t think we have the luxury to be picky about it.¡±


    She was right again, Mark mused. Even if he was a bit of a creeper, he had valuable skills they could use. If the man could get the ferals trained up enough to be somewhat useful in a fight, they might yet survive what was coming.


    ¡°You¡¯re right about that,¡± Mark sighed.

 19. Cut them off

    Once he had finished going through the interviews, Mark lined the ferals up and went over the notes from Elowen¡¯s list.


    He had already chosen who he wanted to elect. But the ceremony was important. Mark had long understood the importance of social standing and intended to make the most of it. He saved his former company almost forty million dollars in payroll by removing mandatory pay raises that they provided junior developers after the first, second, and third years. And It had been quite easy. Instead, he promoted the best performers. He had always thought it amazing how much a new title would affect someone¡¯s performance over a small monetary gain. He had felt a little guilty at the time and, ultimately, convinced himself it was okay because it was what was best for the company.


    Working as a Silicon Valley executive had always felt like he was walking a morally gray tightrope¡ªthis place was different. And even the threat of death and torture at the hands of monstrous half-man-half-wolf monsters wasn¡¯t enough to make him wish he was back home.


    There was nothing morally ambiguous about this. Even if he took advantage of these people, it was in defense of the fort and their lives. This was a fight for their survival¡ªall of them.


    He wasn¡¯t even sure if the gathering tribes in the south would be okay without him. The visions had been blurred, but all he had seen within the Frontier was death and destruction. Mark didn¡¯t want to gain a savior complex, but a part of him couldn¡¯t help but shake his importance in all of this. A feeling that if he failed, so would all life independent of the warg¡ªat least within the Frontier.


    His thoughts turned back to the gathered ferals. Seven men and one woman stood in a line, and behind them, just about every feral that lived within the walls had gathered. The ferals faced Mark, who was flanked by several acolytes, including Elowen.


    Taking a step forward, Mark cleared his throat. ¡°Thank you all for coming today. You do both me and your future tribunes an honor. This is a tremendous day for us all. It brings me and my fellow Imperials one step closer to you all. Building a bridge that will not just see us survive the coming winter together but thrive,¡± Mark roared. He had to exude confidence; there was no room for doubting himself in front of the crowd.


    He had studied hundreds of rousing speeches when he practiced public speaking in his previous life and had run these through his thoughts as he prepared his speech¡ªeven the one''s history remembered less fondly.


    It was manipulation. Or at least attempted manipulation. There was no doubt about that.


    ¡°Upholding the Imperim¡¯s law is a most holy duty. One that should be embraced and honored. These men and women here today transcend their former selves and begin their new lives with a mission to uphold the greatest authority the world has ever seen,¡± Mark threw his fist into the air, but the response was lukewarm at best.


    He turned to his acolytes with a bent brow, and seeing his glare, he saw that they had broken into a forced cheer.


    Better than nothing. But it needs a lot of work.


    Half of his new tribunes then joined with mediocre cheers of their own, but most remained silent, or whispering among themselves. He even heard a few awkward coughs as his acolytes cheers petered out.


    This could have gone better. A lot better. It¡¯s a pity I didn¡¯t have any rousing feral speeches to study.


    Mark raised a silencing hand, but everyone had mostly fallen quiet on their own by then. He then turned to Elowen who stepped forward, and a second acolyte passed her a spear, wooden shield, and red cloak.


    ¡°Come forth as I call you, my tribunes, and be honored. Tribune Trumus of the Sentinel Range,¡± Mark said, taking the spear and cloak from Elowen.


    The sketchy feral stepped up to Mark as he raised the cloak in the air, showing off the iron badge that they had etched a spearhead into. He placed the cloak over the feral¡¯s shoulder.


    ¡°Your weapon, Tribune,¡± Mark added, handing him the spear.


    He then turned back to Elowen and took the shield.


    ¡°And finally, your shield. May you hold it high in your defense of Fort Winterclaw.¡±


    The spears were a combination of utility and status. Since most of the ferals had very basic weapons¡ªsharp metal or even wooden shivs¡ªgiving them all a real weapon would elevate them from their peers. Shields were also rare. However, they were used by the clans. Made of wood, they held far less monetary value. But he hoped the symbolism wouldn¡¯t be lost on them.


    ¡°Be proud of this achievement, Trumus. You may return,¡± he gestured toward the lined-up ferals.


    Trumus nodded and did as instructed.


    Continuing, Mark went through the list, calling out names and handing them their new equipment.


    He couldn¡¯t help the dumb smirk that creased his face as he looked over the red-cloaked tribunes.


    ¡°From this day on, you will adhere to the laws passed down by your tribunes.¡±


    Of course, none of the tribunes had any idea what Imperial laws were at this point. That would require some training. But the basics could be passed down rather quickly. As long as people weren¡¯t killing, stealing, or assaulting one another, and the walls were safe from cultists, the law was being upheld well enough, at least for Mark¡¯s interests. Following actual Imperial law was a pain he put up with for the sake of his acolytes and masters.


    Before dismissing the crowd, he provided the tribunes with a summons¡ªtomorrow, they would gather here. It wasn¡¯t just about laws, though. He had bigger plans for these tribunes. Mark needed to build the foundations.


    **


    Elowen had already written up a list of all the families within the fort. Their meager population made the census rather easy to conduct. Even without the feral¡¯s willing participation, she could count them from the walls. There were eighty-four ferals living in the fort in total. Of that, Twenty-two were adult males. Twenty-six were adult females. And there were thirty-six children.


    They could probably double the population in a day if they wanted to. But Mark wanted to stay in control of the situation.


    Ever since the cabins started going up, and trading with the fort had begun, the number of ferals desperate to migrate within the walls increased. With new outsiders requesting entrance at the gates every day.


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    Unfortunately, Mark knew he needed to be stricter now if he wanted to keep the place from falling into chaos. A lack of any kind of control was exactly the reason the lands outside of the fort were the way they were. And unless he had a much bigger force to patrol and enforce law, there was no way he could extend his peace to everyone.


    The only exception to this was families with young daughters. After all, he didn¡¯t want the locals to turn on him. And letting cultists steal their daughters to give to monstrous wolves sounded like the perfect way to achieve that.


    All of this had caused increasing urgency. Numbers were vitally important, and he didn¡¯t have the luxury to risk losing them. As great as walls were, without an army, survival was unlikely. What he needed was to increase the speed that they could bring new ferals into the fort without risking the security he currently had.


    This was, of course, the entire reason he had recruited the tribunes in the first place. But waiting made him anxious.


    For now, acolytes would remain in control of the wall. But he intended to give control of the governance within them to his tribunes when they met tomorrow.


    Elowen had cautioned him on this. Even with the tests they had conducted, it was hard to be certain. But she hadn¡¯t seen the visions he had.


    Sighing, he rubbed his temples and hoped this would go smoothly for once.


    In three days they intended to hold a market day outside of the walls. The plan was to have his tribunes patrolling outside of the walls, and his acolytes atop them.


    It hadn¡¯t been long since ferals ran to his gates fearing for their lives, and now he was inviting them to openly trade with the man who was intentionally defying the cultists they were so afraid of.


    His head could spin for hours, thinking of all the things that could go wrong. In an attempt to quiet it for a bit, he poured a rum.


    Downing the drink in one, he leaned back in his chair. No more curve balls, okay? If anyone is listening, just let things go to plan for once.


    ***Acolytes¡ªErin***


    The air thinned as the ground became increasingly rocky. Steep ledges peered over rocky descents, and winding paths were carved into the rock by the countless steps that had come before them.


    They were still a long way from the Daggers, but the land was starting to change, mimicking the foothills of the awe-inspiring mountains.


    It wasn¡¯t just Erin who struggled. Marching had grown difficult even for the cultists.


    Days back, both Erin and the rider had been forced to dismount. Climbing the increasingly steep hills had grown too burdensome for the animal.


    Blizzards whipped up around them, and a few trees managed to survive. The ones they passed looked more like sticks protruding from the ground.


    Erin held her robes tight, but it did little to hold out the lashing, icy winds. And for two days, her jaw had chattered endlessly.


    The feral rider wasn¡¯t doing much better, constantly sneezing and blowing his nose. But somehow, the young man who always walked a couple of feet back from them seemed relatively okay with the sub-zero weather.


    Eventually, they pulled to a stop, tying the horse down to a depressing-looking tree.


    ¡°Friggin¡¯ snow,¡± the feral rider hissed. ¡°Got worse it has. What¡¯s it been? I swears its been barely a month.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t like the cold?¡± The young man smirked.


    ¡°Shut ye mouth, you. We can¡¯t all be bless¨Ced by the wolf.¡±


    Ignoring the two who seemed to bicker whenever they weren¡¯t walking, Erin found a spot to coil up beside her pack. Not that it helped much. The icy wind seemed to pierce through everything.


    They took any dry or rotting wood they found along the way and put it into pouches carried by the horse. The young man took it and piled it up. Erin didn¡¯t get a good look at what it was, but he held something in his palm. He used it to start the fires. Had done since they left. And she had been desperate to get an eye on it. But the man had been careful. Always turned away from her before starting a fire.


    Frustrated, Erin pulled her robes over her face. Like every other day, she wasn¡¯t going to see it and may as well try to keep warm.


    ***Acolytes¡ªCallum***


    Creeping closer as he saw the fire light up, Callum eyed the camp. This was where the tracks led. He had finally caught up with them.


    He eyed Erin curled over a brown leather pack. The white robes disappeared into the surrounding snow, but as she had moved against the leather, he spotted her.


    Calming his breaths, Callum moved closer, using both rock and snowy hills to conceal himself.


    He stopped to eye a ledge of rock that looked over them and continued. None seemed to notice as he shuffled toward the ledge¡¯s edge. His crossbow was already in hand, and he rested it against the rock as he pushed over the edge to spot his targets.


    Luckily. The two cultists stood out better than Erin. Their black wolf pelts easily spotted in the snow.


    There was no doubt in his mind that the one who rode the horse was important. Horses were one of the highest status symbols in the Frontier.


    Which one is it?


    The younger-looking one worked the fire while the other shuffled through pouches hung from the horse. There was no guarantee that was the rider, but being beside the horse was all he had to go on. Besides, he was the older of the two. And seniority often meant importance.


    Blowing out a steam funnel, Callum aimed at the man¡¯s back.


    Easy, easy¡­


    He pulled on the lever, and the bolt flew.


    The man grunted and stumbled to his side as the bolt stabbed just below his shoulder blade.


    ¡°Got him,¡± Callum said and turned to the second as he pulled a bolt from his quiver and lined it with his crossbow. ¡°Wait, where is he?¡± he scanned his surroundings as panic soared.


    His hands trembled as he began winding back the crossbow.


    Where, where is he?¡±


    *Crunch* *Crunch* *Crunch*


    He swung around to a hatchet descending toward his head and whipped his crossbow up, squeezing his eyes shut.


    The strength of the blow rattled his arms as he blocked it, and Callum forced his eyes open to see the hatchet embedded in the crossbow''s side.


    The young, blonde man grunted and pushed forward, tumbling atop Callum as they both fell to the ground and continued to roll down the bank of the ledge he had been perched atop.


    Bouncing as they thudded to a stop, the cultist lost grip of his axe and was sent sprawling across the ground.


    Groaning, Callum forced himself up, but the cultist was quicker, leaping toward him and throwing him back to the ground.


    Hissing something in his barbarian language, he stole Callum¡¯s breath as he kicked his sides.


    Rolling over as pain cut through his ribs, Callum spat blood and moaned.


    ¡°Pathetic,¡± the young cultist said and turned for his axe, walking calmly and confidently toward it. ¡°Weak like all southerners.¡±


    Callum tried to force himself up, groaning at the pain. He would be dead if he didn¡¯t do something now, though. But then, through thinned vision, he saw the cultist swing around and bring a hand up to his brow.


    ¡°What now?¡± the cultist growled. He turned back, glared at Callum then shook his head and ran in the opposite direction, charging for a craggy section of rock.


    ¡°A horse?¡± Callum murmured as he focused on the sound of galloping hooves. ¡°Th-that¡¯s¡­¡± he stammered as he focused on the figure.


    The rider charged straight through the camp and after the cultist, but the man was fast. He leaped over rocky terrain and passed over a treacherous ravine that cut through the scarred earth. The horse neighed and reared, almost sending its rider toppling from its back as it pulled up against the ravine.


    ¡°Curse the Wolf-God!¡± Henric shouted at the cultist¡¯s back as he darted away.


    Sheathing his sword, Henric pulled out his crossbow and aimed at the cultist¡¯s back but lowered it a second later. The shot had been lost.


    Pulling his reins, Henric turned his horse to the two acolytes, his face etched with a deep scowl. ¡°Grab the barbarian¡¯s horse, Acolyte Erin. And anything else of value, Acolyte Callum.¡±


    Standing by the horse, Erin nodded, wrists still tied to the dead cultist.

 20. New Guard

    Yawning and stretching, Mark¡¯s new tribunes stood in a crooked line. They were hardly an example of discipline, but at least they all showed.


    ¡°Alright, listen closely, tribunes. What I¡¯m going to say is important. And while I have given you the power to pass down my law, remember that you are still subject to my law, and if you break it, your new status will not protect you,¡± Mark said, making energy flash and crackle around a raised fist for theatre.


    ¡°For now, I will keep the laws I expect you to uphold simple. Murder, theft, rape, assault, and treason are all corporal crimes¡ªthe severity of which shall be decided by a tribunal of us all. Majority rules. If the accused gets violent during arrest, you are permitted to use whatever means necessary to subdue them.¡±


    The tribunes whispered between themselves as they spoke, and Venjimin started to explain Mark¡¯s words to the others.


    Mark wasn¡¯t a fan of any kind of corporal punishment in his previous life, but the reality was that they didn¡¯t have the resources to throw people in jail. And he wasn¡¯t about to start getting pious when they had bigger things to worry about.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you¡¯ve all heard the rumors. The stories about what is coming this winter.¡±


    Mark was under no illusions about the difficulty of the task ahead of him, but at least this next part would should be a lot easier with ther ferals, he figured. They at least believed the stories about the wargs.


    ¡°We going to need numbers if we¡¯re to survive the coming winter. This isn¡¯t up for debate. It¡¯s a fact. And you¡¯ve also seen what happens in the lawless Frontier when there is nobody to uphold laws. Your kin have betrayed you. Even if they have not succeeded, they have sold your families and children out to the cultists by merely aligning themselves with those monsters.¡±


    As Venjimin explained, the mood soured. Angry grunts rippled across the tribunes, and several of them spat at the ground by their feet.


    Finally, I got a reaction out of them.


    ¡°They work with the cultists to kidnap your daughters for their own gain. And who knows what those monsters plan to do with them? Tell me, my tribunes. Just how vile must a man be to selling innocent girls to the wargs in the north? Girls who have committed no crime. The most pure of us all. Children?¡± Mark dropped to his knees, staring down at his hands as he made his fingers tremble. ¡°Pure, innocent little girls,¡± he blinked as he forced tears from his eyes.


    The tribunes roared, hissing words in a foreign language, took their spears and shields above their heads, and began to bang them together.


    Good, now this is something I can use.


    ¡°Together, we shall punish them for these crimes against humanity. We shall make these cowards suffer! We shall show them our pride and strength. We shall show them what it means to be a man of Fort Winterclaw!¡± Mark added the last bit as it came to him. This was what he wanted. He wanted to channel their anger toward the cultists into a sense of unity around Fort Winterclaw so that he could develop something more.


    The shouting continued as several of the tribunes began to thump their chests scream obscenities in their mother tongue. He had been managed to enrage the big man Trayox with his speech.


    ¡°Quiet now,¡± Mark raised a hand, and as Venjimin repeated it in the feral language, they gradually calmed. ¡°It¡¯s more than just vengeance that we need, though. We need good men. Honest, hardworking, proud, and decent men and women. People that are willing to stand up for what is right. Good people to stand together against these worms. Good people to enforce the law. Good people to bring justice to this land!¡±


    The tribunes roared again, cheering as Mark bowed to them.


    ¡°You really got them riled up,¡± Elowen said as the tribunes dispersed after burning their lungs out. Every one of them came up to Mark, bowed, and thanked him for what he had done. Most even insisted on kissing the flat of his hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s about time.¡±


    ¡°Just be careful not to go overboard,¡± Elowen said as she eyed the tribunes returning to their families.


    ¡°I don¡¯t think that¡¯s a luxury,¡± Mark smiled.


    ¡°Are you mocking what I said earlier?¡±


    ¡°Nope,¡± Mark tapped her shoulder. ¡°Just pointing out a reality. Besides, they love me.¡±


    ***


    The tribunes returned after taking a break. The mood was entirely different from the indifference they had shown before. A part of him was surprised at how easy it had been to win them over, but Mark reminded himself that everything he said was true. There really were people trying to steal their daughters. And he really had invited them behind the wall and given them security. Why wouldn¡¯t his words have gotten to them?


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    What¡¯s more, he had built them up and invited them to share the spoils of his success.


    Eagerly nodding, the tribunes tried to follow Mark¡¯s every word as he explained the market day. Unfortunately, no amount of enthusiasm would save Venjimin his job as a translator today.


    Ferals might have been rejected clan members and essentially the equivalent to the homeless he knew all too well from back home, but they still had some degree of community. Most tribunes still had connections to many ferals outside of the wall. And this gave him an idea. On top of patrolling and guarding the market, Mark wanted his new tribunes to look out for anyone they thought would make a good addition to his growing community and invite them to behind the walls.


    Prior to their last meeting, Mark hadn¡¯t been ready to give such a responsibility to his new recruits. But their reaction had changed his view of them. These men and women were ready to die for their families, even Trumus, who he still felt a little iffy about. And Mark felt confident that none of them would invite anyone into the walls they didn¡¯t wholeheartedly trust.


    When the wagons had been prepped and were ready, Mark had his tribunes form a line on either side of them and march alongside himself as they drew them out of the walls and lined them up against them.


    They brought four acolytes with them to man the stalls and several wives of his tribunes to help. There were also another four acolytes standing watch with their crossbows from the walls.


    Mark crossed his arms and watched from the sides as the stalls were set up.


    Even before they had finished, a growing number of ferals gathered in the surrounding forest. A few of the more curious ones stepped forward and began perusing the wares, and the moment a couple of his tribunes went to speak to them, a flood of dozens of ferals stepped forward.


    Crowding around the stalls, more and more of the barbarians marched through the woods to join them, and within an hour or so, hundreds had gathered around from the surrounding region.


    It got so rowdy that Mark had to order the tribunes to force them into somewhat orderly lines before they could be allowed to approach the stalls. And while he wasn¡¯t sure how prevalent theft was in this world, he figured that things would go missing if he let hundreds of the ferals press right up against the stalls. Especially considering how poor many of them were.


    Mark¡¯s brow curled as he watched feral after feral approaching the stalls with iron. It seemed they were all well aware of how to trade with Fort Winterclaw, but it did not come as much of a surprise. The community was small, and word likely traveled fast.


    However, most didn¡¯t hold coins yet. They carried iron scraps or bent and twisted metal that had once been something else.


    In total, they had set up four stalls, all of which were equipped with scales, measuring both goods and iron alike.


    Mark had allowed his acolytes to be a little more generous than they needed to be. If they could hand back a couple of his iron coins during a trade, they were encouraged to do so as long as the trade was still profitable. Which was easy since Elowen had provided value guides based on weight for just about anything they might possibly come across.


    And there was no need to worry about iron shortages. Because it wasn¡¯t just iron scraps and ore they brought to trade, but old axe heads and knives. Looking to trade for something better. Something sharp and worked by a skilled hand against a whetstone.


    The ferals sought all kinds of metal goods themselves. Needing axe heads, knives, and nails in abundance.


    If things got bad, he could reduce the amount of work metal left the fort, but for now, it was profitable to let the flow of trade continue uninterrupted.


    His gaze then settled on the tribunes. Several of them passed through the crowds, talking to ferals. With any luck, they would find good, reliable recruits to bolster their numbers.


    As trading grew to an end, seven families had been gathered by the tribunes. A couple were young, yet to birth a girl. There was an older couple without children, while the others either didn¡¯t have daughters or they were already married and with children of their own¡ªan act that sometimes occurred much younger than Mark was comfortable with.


    Nodding at the assembly, he called Venjimin over.


    ¡°You vouch for all of these people?¡±


    ¡°Me, personally? I don¡¯t know half of them. But the reasons for electing them as families to let into the fort all sound reasonable.¡±


    ¡°Good, that¡¯ll do. You can let them know to bring their possessions here. They¡¯re officially invited into Fort Winterclaw.¡±


    **Trading Post**


    Payon rubbed his mittened hands together in a desperate attempt to warm them. He was starting to believe he had made a terrible mistake.


    Taxes were bad, but was escaping them really worth all this?


    Finally, fed up with the ever-increasing taxes of the Imperium and, with them, the ever-increasing difficulty of keeping his smithy afloat, he closed up and left.


    Unfortunately, there weren¡¯t many places to go. Now, like an idiot, he found himself bouncing to the rhythm of the unpaved road leading to Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post, the only civilized plot of land in the Frontier.


    Cussing himself, he gripped his arms tighter. He had known it was going to be cold, but this cold? The trading post was still a couple of days away, and regret was already swelling up.


    You greedy bastard, you. What have you gotten yourself into? He sighed. He had let the thought of piles of untaxed gold get to his head. But there was a reason why men got rich in the Frontier¡ªno one wanted to be here.


    Payon listened to the mercenaries that guarded their caravan bicker about the weather. It sounded like even they regretted taking this job.


    At least I¡¯m not the only greedy idiot here.


    Peering through a gap in the cloth roof of the wagon, he watched as they passed the charcoal remains of a wagon beside the road.


    Another one.


    Caravan attacks had already started to increase this time of year. They were a standard feature of the Frontier when winter came. But they shouldn¡¯t be this frequent this early in the season. Not this far south, at least¡ªnot when last night¡¯s snow had melted by midday.


    If it had already gotten this bad, he could only imagine what it would be like when winter proper came and the place frosted over.


    Not that he could complain. He had been warned. And it was exactly that warning that had him leaving the Imperium in a hurry.


    The talk was that caravans into the Frontier might stop soon. The trip had become too dangerous, and caravan guards too expensive. And so, rather than miss his chance, Payon hopped aboard the next one leaving.


    Maybe it¡¯s not so bad. Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post should have an inn. Maybe it even has a good ale. If Smiths are paid as much as I¡¯ve heard, buying myself a well-deserved ale shouldn¡¯t be too hard, at least.


    The thoughts cheered him up a little, but a wailing gust sweeping through the wagon quickly shook the faint grin from his face. Why had he been so impatient?

 21. Returning Home

    Erin and Henric rode atop the horses as Callum followed closely behind¡ªa form of light punishment Henric had decided on until they could get back to Fort Winterclaw and punish the boy properly.


    The journey back wasn¡¯t as fast as they took time to rest. But Callum¡¯s sickly, white pallor increasingly concerned Erin. Henric didn¡¯t say anything and seemed defiant in his order to make the boy walk, but Erin had spotted a hint of concern in his eyes when he watched him struggle.


    They had only been traveling for about four hours through the snowy undergrowth¡ªsince their last rest¡ªwhen Callum slipped and fell to the ground. Henric immediately threw himself off of his mount and went to the boy¡¯s side.


    ¡°Are you alright?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Callum said weakly.


    ¡°Damn it, boy. Look at you. Hey, girl,¡± Henric clicked at Erin. ¡°In the left pouch on my saddle, there are some herbs from Mira. Get them for me.¡±


    Erin nodded and dismounted. There were only four little bags in the pouch, and they all appeared to be the same¡ªsmall bags of crushed herbs, not unlike a teabag.


    ¡°This it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, bring it over.¡±


    Erin hurried over and fell to her knees beside them.


    ¡°Open your mouth, boy,¡± Henric said and stuffed some of the herbs in as Callum complied.


    He coughed, but Henric held his mouth shut.


    ¡°Chew and swallow.¡±


    Callum did as asked.


    ¡°Water,¡± Henric held out his hand, and Erin loosened her own waterskin from her belt and passed it.


    ¡°Okay, drink slowly,¡± Henric said, pushing the bottle to his lips.


    Callum¡¯s lids fluttered dizzily as he drank, and after a few mouthfuls, he grabbed hold of the bottle and squeezed out the remnants.


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve been better.¡±


    ¡°It looks like we¡¯re going to have to rest again. Acolyte Erin, prepare the bedrolls.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    Callum lay facing the small fire Henric made. There were plenty of rotted tree stumps beneath the snow that could be harvested for dry wood after a little digging, and Henric carried a small bottle of lantern oil to help get it started.


    Erin held her hands out, warming them by the fire, but her eyes never left Callum. He was lying with a blanket and quite close to the fire, but that hasn¡¯t stopped his shivers.


    ¡°He¡¯ll be alright,¡± Henric said, noticing her concern. ¡°He¡¯s a strong boy. And Mira¡¯s a good healer.¡±


    ¡°I know¡­¡±


    ¡°Then stop looking at him like that. You¡¯re an Acolyte of the Imperium, remember. A candidate for the title of Imperator. Put your faith in the God-Lord, and let your mind rest.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± Erin forced a grimaced smile.


    ¡°Look, I get it. Talking about such things probably seems hopeless from where you¡¯re standing, but have some pride and faith in what you stand for. I mean, for the sake of the God-Lord, look at the ferals. Offering their own daughters up to those cultists.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right,¡± Erin whispered. ¡°At least my parents always loved me.¡±


    Henric opened his mouth to speak, but the rhythmic sounds of crunching cut him short. As Erin turned to him, he placed a finger over his lips and turned to the noise.


    Crouching low, he turned and snuck up through snow-capped thickets. Spotting a thick oak, he crept up to it and pressed himself against it.


    In the distance, he spotted them¡ªfigures moving through the trees. They were maybe three or four dozen yards away. His gaze narrowed as he counted their numbers.


    ¡°Twenty, twenty-five, thirty, forty,¡± he mouthed. There has to be at least fifty of them.


    A half dozen barbarians rode on horses ahead of the group. Unlike the ferals they were familiar with, these barbarians wore studded leather and thick fur and carried weapons and shields.


    These aren¡¯t ferals. Not armed like that.


    Squinting, he tried to make out the details of a banner carried by one of the barbarians.


    ¡°Some kind of hydra? No¡­ that¡¯s¡ªthat¡¯s a wolf,¡± he muttered to himself as his eyes widened. There could be no doubt. They carried the banner of the Seven-Headed Wolf God. Cultists.


    Henric turned to spot Erin tying down the horses.


    This isn¡¯t good. Why are there so many of them this far south? The stories¡­ Was that mad bastard Atlas actually right? Is there actually truth to those crazy tales the ferals tell?


    This story is posted elsewhere by the author. Help them out by reading the authentic version.


    Suddenly, all the doubt he held came crashing down, and thought that the feral¡¯s tales and Imperator Atlas might have been right about the coming winter stormed through his emotions, and his hands began to tremble.


    Dipping into his coat pocket, Henric pulled out a thin flask and unscrewed it. A little rum was something he kept in case things went south. If he was going to die out here, he might as well be drunk when it happened. But for the first time in years, he needed a mouthful to steady his nerves.


    He watched as they passed and then hurried up to Erin and whispered, ¡°Stay here and stay low.¡±


    Without pause for her reply, Henric shuffled away.


    Through the trees, he watched the line of cultists march two abreast through the snow. Many carried bows, along with axes and spears. He was nervous. They were too close to Fort Winterclaw. But even if it was a considerable size force, he wasn¡¯t sure they would be a match for their fortifications, especially not with an Imperator supporting them.


    A shudder coursed through his veins. All the strange things Atlas had done recently gave him pause to trust the man. But then again, maybe he was right.


    He had heard rumors of the occasional cultist in the central Vorg forests¡ªwhere Fort Winterclaw was located¡ªbut this was something else entirely.


    They were meant to be rare. Fifty-odd cultists with a half dozen horsemen made no sense. Before today, Henric wasn¡¯t convinced there were even fifty cultists alive throughout the entire Frontier. They had always seemed more like boogeymen than a real threat. Cultists were strange, evil people whose tales were told to scare kids or entertain crowds, but people rarely ever saw them, let alone knew any.


    He continued to follow them until they marched out from the forest and into a clearing that was at most a couple of acres. There were a couple of feral huts that dotted the land. And their occupants came out to greet the cultists with wide arms.


    The cultists began to spread out and create a perimeter around them as the leaders on horseback dismounted and spoke to the local ferals.


    He couldn¡¯t make out what any of them were saying, but he could see them nodding, pointing, and then embracing in hugs.


    As they spread out, some of the cultists began removing their packs and setting up a rudimental camp. Fires followed, and the horses were hitched.


    A couple of the horsemen then began barking orders, and several cultists, using a combination of tools and their hands, began digging lines in the snow around them.


    Trenches? Henric¡¯s brow curled as he watched.


    Others took their axes and began to cut down small trees and wittle down their edges into spikes. Once a group of the cultists had dug one of their trenches a few feet into the snow, they took the timber spikes and shoved them into the trench.


    Spiked trenches. They¡¯re building fortifications¡­ It''s not just any fortifications; they¡¯re building a siege camp. These cultists intend to attack Fort Winterclaw!


    Up until recently, Fort Winterclaw had been just another little outpost of the Imperium. Meaningless. But now that the Imperator was working with ferals¡­ no it wasn¡¯t just working with them, Henric realized. He was providing them security. Undermining the control and fear these cultists held over this land and its people.


    This wasn¡¯t a coincidence. They were coming for Imperator Atlas. They were coming for this upstart who intruded on their plans.


    This isn¡¯t good; Henric shook his head as he crept back into the shadow of the forest. He needed to get back. As soon as possible.


    **Elowen**


    Dober¡¯s sighs filled the air as Elowen called out stock counts. It would be faster if they swapped places, but he needed to get faster at writing¡ªespecially since Mira had sounded uncharacteristically pessimistic about his likelihood of walking again without a cane last she checked his wounds.


    She had her rosy curls tied back and clear glasses hanging off of the bridge of her nose as she inspected the wagons.


    They had hauled two wagons of iron ore alone into the storehouse. Ore was one thing, but the acolytes were struggling to work it. They were barely apprentices, having been recruited as acolytes far before finishing their apprenticeships, and keeping up with Fort Winterclaw¡¯s demand for worked iron was just too much.


    They¡¯re not going to like this; she thought as she got done counting up the raw iron.


    Sighing, Elowen turned to a wagon filled with sacks of rigar bark. Her eyes danced across them, and her hands pierced into the gaps to count the bags buried beneath the ones on top. ¡°Sixteen bags of rigar bark,¡± she called out and moved to the next wagon.


    The next wagon had a variety of different items, and she removed them and weighed them separately. ¡°Twelve pounds of mushrooms,¡± she added and pulled the sack off of the scales and grabbed a bundle of rabbit furs. Running her finger across the bundle, she flicked through it, counting them in seconds. ¡°Twenty-two rabbit pelts.¡±


    ¡°Hold up a damn minute, would ye?¡± Dober sighed as he stretched his fingers.


    ¡°Keep up, farmer boy.¡±


    ¡°Easy for you to say, bookworm. But some of us have better things to do than sticking our noses in parchment all day.¡±


    ¡°Well, you shouldn¡¯t have gone and gotten yourself injured then, should you?¡±


    ¡°Why you,¡± Dober gritted his teeth and snorted. ¡°Aren¡¯t you meant to be nice to injured people or something?¡±


    ¡°Bah, priests and star maidens, maybe. But out here, everyone''s got to prove their worth,¡± she said, flicking through one of her ledgers. ¡°And you¡¯re failing. Just look here: Dober of Tibbits Way. Consumes one and one-half rations daily. Work rate¡ªpoor. Medical needs¡ªhigh. Risk of untimely demise¡ªhigh,¡± she said, matter-of-factly as she narrowed her glare on Dober.


    ¡°Wait, what¡¯s all that? You keepin¡¯ notes on me?¡±


    ¡°I keep notes on everyone. How else am I supposed to rate your value to the fort?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not?¡± Dober shook. ¡°Like, is that even one of your duties?¡±


    ¡°Not officially,¡± Elowen shrugged. ¡°But since the Imperator doesn¡¯t seem to mind¡­¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s seen that,¡± Dober said, pointing at the ledger held tightly to Elowen¡¯s chest. ¡°And he¡¯s okay with it?¡±


    ¡°Of course he has. He was quite intrigued as well. He¡¯s big on efficiency,¡± Elowen stuck out her tongue. ¡°He gets it.¡±


    ¡°Gets what? That¡¯s as creepy as the Dead Gods, and you know it! You know what? You¡¯re creepy. Can¡¯t believe I thought you were cu¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m what?¡± Elowen¡¯s brow perked.


    ¡°You¡¯re nothing. Forget I said anything!¡±


    ¡°Fine, whatever. But don¡¯t call me creepy, mister. Mr. I don¡¯t carry my weight around here.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s not fair!¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯ll find it is. It says so right here,¡± she said, opening the ledger and pressing down on the page with her index.


    ¡°I mean, my injuries and all that. I bet I was high on your list beforehand. I¡¯ve always been a hard worker. That¡¯s what we men of Tibbits Way are: hard workers. It¡¯s in our blood.¡±


    ¡°Is that so.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Dober glared.


    ¡°Okay, then prove it. Your hands aren¡¯t injured. It shouldn¡¯t be too hard for you to scribble a few barely legible notes¡ªIf you¡¯re a hard-working man from Tibbits Way, as you claim. And stop complaining. It¡¯s hurting my ears.¡±


    ¡°B¨Cbut¡­¡± Dober trailed off. ¡°Fine then. If that¡¯s how it¡¯s going to be, I¡¯ll show you,¡± he added, rolling up his sleeves.


    ¡°I hope you do. Carrying both of our weights is more than I signed up for. And who knows, if you don¡¯t, I might have to talk to the Imperator about lowering your rations.¡± Elowen smirked.


    ¡°Hey! I get the same rations as everyone else. It¡¯s not my fault if others leave food on their plates. Better than it going to waste.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got chickens now, thanks to the ferals,¡± Elowen mused. ¡°I¡¯m sure I can find a more useful home for those scraps than your oversized belly.¡±


    ¡°Hey, that¡¯s just mean now.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m nice to resources that prove themselves.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a resource now?¡± Dober muttered as he went back to his ledger.

 22. Cultist Threat

    An early knock came at Mark¡¯s door. The hurried acolyte spat out words at a hundred miles a second as he explained Henric had returned with the two acolytes in tow.


    He didn¡¯t waste time, throwing on his coat and reaching the gates as Henric led the acolytes and their horses into the inner walls. His gaze first panned to the weak and sickly-looking Callum, but he was hauled straight through the gates and to Mira¡¯s healing cabin.


    ¡°What happened?¡± Mark said as he watched them carry Callum away.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Henric saluted. ¡°More than I wish to discuss out here. Can we talk in your cabin?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mark nodded and turned his gaze to Erin. ¡°Are you okay, Acolyte Erin?¡±


    ¡°I am. Thank you for your concern, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Considering the circumstances, I hereby commute the rest of your sentence. I believe everyone will be in agreement that getting kidnapped by Cultists is more than enough of a punishment for the crime you committed.¡±


    ¡°Maybe not everyone,¡± Erin said under her breath, but Mark let it go.


    ¡°Henric,¡± he turned from the girl, gesturing for him to follow as he turned for his cabin. Acolytes were already taking their reins and leading the horses away as Henric followed.


    ***


    ¡°Okay, Henric, what¡¯s so important is that it requires privacy?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the cultists,¡± The Arms-Master said, rubbing his face with a warm, damp towel Mark had been provided for refreshment and sipping from a tea Mark had boiled. ¡°They¡¯re building a fortified camp barely a mile from here. And they¡¯ve got a small army of about fifty well-armed men. Not to mention a half dozen horses.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re sure we¡¯re their target?¡±


    ¡°Positive. There¡¯s nothing else around. Not to mention they were greeted by friendly ferals. They¡¯ve likely been told all about what you¡¯ve been doing here.¡±


    ¡°Me? I suppose I do deserve the blame,¡± Mark chuckled.


    ¡°This is serious, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. They acted faster than I had expected. But fifty men is a number I can work with. Besides, much worse is coming, and we need to sharpen up.¡±


    ¡°Y-you¡¯re excited about this?¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t go that far, Henric. But we¡¯re certainly not ready to deal with wargs. Preparing this place for winter will require baby steps. A small cultist force should do nicely. At least after I¡¯ve weakened it a little.¡±


    ¡°So, you knew this would happen? I sure hope you¡¯ve got a plan,¡± Henric ground his teeth.


    ¡°Not quite. But I did suspect something similar. Besides, a lot has happened while you¡¯ve been gone. I¡¯ve recruited tribunes, as I said I would. And now they are recruiting people to help them. I think I¡¯ll call it an Atlas Pyramid.¡±


    ¡°Sir, please. Be serious¡­ They might not be alone.¡±


    ¡°Lighten up, Henric. I¡¯m being perfectly serious. If we can¡¯t defeat this little band of cultists, we¡¯ve got no chance of surviving what¡¯s ahead. Perhaps this is a blessing from the God-Lord in disguise.¡±


    Henric took out his flask, poured the remnants of its contents into his tea, and gulped it down. ¡°Praise the God-Lord, I dearly hope you¡¯re right. Even if my wife doesn¡¯t speak to me anymore, that doesn¡¯t mean I don¡¯t want to taste a real woman again before I die. And please, tell me you have a plan.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ve got a few ideas. You haven¡¯t forgotten I can shoot lightning from my hands, have you?¡±


    ¡°Of course not,¡± Henric huffed. ¡°But there¡¯s a small army of them.¡±


    ¡°Even better. That means this is a chance to really prove ourselves. Show the ferals around here that not only do the cultists not scare us, but we can kick their butts.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re really high on these feral tribunes, aren¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°Look around, Henric. That¡¯s what we have available to us. Ferals. We prove to them that we aren¡¯t going anywhere, and we¡¯ll have a lot more loyal to us than the handful I¡¯ve recruited so far.¡±


    ¡°And what about the cultists? What if they recruit more men to their cause.¡±


    ¡°One big difference between us, Henric. We¡¯ve got a just cause. They¡¯ve got a sick god that preys on innocent girls.¡±


    ***


    Mark sat stiffly on the horse, his legs gripped tightly and his grasp on the reins firm. He had ridden a horse a couple of times when he was a child¡ªat a petting zoo his parents had taken him to a few times. And never touched one since.


    You can do this. Just don¡¯t fall off.


    He held his breath as he rode. Mark was fairly certain that Atlas knew how to ride a horse and really didn¡¯t want to make a fool of himself.


    ¡°Here,¡± Henric jerked his head as he pulled up to a patch of pines and dismounted.


    Alright, steady now.


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    Mark slid to the side, keeping his foot on his stirrup, and lowered himself down. Wait, that¡¯s it? I really rode a horse and didn''t fall off? He went to throw his arms up in celebration but stopped himself short as he spotted Henric¡¯s gaze.


    It¡¯s just dismounting a horse. Be calm. Act natural.


    Mark flashed a dumb, broad grin.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    ¡°Lead the way, Arms-Master,¡± Mark pointed, trying to pretend his awkwardness was imagined.


    Thankfully, it seemed lost on Henric for the most part. He was still noticeably jumpy and not entirely convinced Mark could deal with their cultist problem.


    Mark followed closely behind as they crept through the forest, their figures touched by ribbons of light passing through the snow-capped canopy above.


    He had been tempted to bring Reida¡ªhis new tribune¡ªalong for the raid. He wanted to see her in action. Not to mention that an accomplished archer would be a valuable asset for the mission he had planned. But had decided not to at the last minute. Not yet, at least. Once he had a better feel for what they were dealing with, then he could ease his tribunes into it.


    Henric held his crossbow at the ready and waved them onward, pointing out a couple of sentries in the distance as they neared.


    There were a couple of the cultists walking through the forest, but they were easily avoided. And soon they reached the oak Henric had sheltered behind.


    Most of them were hanging around their camp. Busy digging trenches and preparing more spikes for them. There was a lot of work to be done, but their pace was impressive. Especially considering they didn¡¯t have a cheat like Mark¡¯s lightning bolts to down trees.


    ¡°See what I mean?¡± Henric said, pointing out the workers. ¡°There¡¯s no doubt they¡¯re building a war camp.¡±


    ¡°This is perfect,¡± Mark muttered as he watched the group.


    ¡°I¡¯d rather be left alone.¡±


    ¡°You need more faith, Henric. And this little group of cultists have walked straight into our lap. They¡¯re almost making it too easy.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t go getting too confident, considering we¡¯re outnumbered twenty-five to one.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to sit here and fight them, though.¡±


    ¡°We can still turn back. Rally everyone we can and do this properly,¡± Henric pleaded as he whispered.


    ¡°No. Bad idea. We take them head-on in our current state, and even if we win, we¡¯ll take losses. And we can¡¯t afford to have what few numbers we have dwindled down further. We stick to the plan.¡±


    ¡°What you¡¯re suggesting¡ªthere¡¯s no honor in it. To use cowardly tactics against those beneath you makes me ill.¡±


    ¡°Melodramatic much?¡±


    Henric¡¯s lip curled into a snarl. ¡°We¡¯re officers of the Imperium, Atlas. And you¡¯re talking about using dishonorable tactics against a bunch of bottom feeders. Uncivilized savages. It makes us look weak.¡±


    Mark sighed. ¡°Wrong again. Getting half our forces killed or hiding behind our walls because we don¡¯t have the manpower to face them front makes us look weak. I¡¯m about to show every feral in the region that I¡¯m not afraid to go smack the big guy in the balls while all his buddies gather around.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± Henric grumbled.


    ¡°Just go ready the horses. When you see me running, get ready to book it for the fort.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, book it?¡±


    ¡°Run. Like, flee as fast as you freaking can.¡±


    ¡°You get stranger by the day, Imperator,¡± Henric stared into Mark¡¯s eyes for a moment. ¡°Ahh, bless the God-Lord. At least your insane antics are entertaining. And I¡¯m not about to die here listening to the endless preaching of some self-righteous Imperator whose only words are memorized passages from the Book of Laws,¡± Henric said.


    ¡°Sounds like I touched a nerve.¡±


    Henric just shook his head as he crept away.


    I really can¡¯t tell if that man hates me or loves me. Maybe both. Alright, back to work.


    Mark turned his eyes to the camp. He needed to find the right target. The horses were tied together, and if he aimed for them, he could probably take their mounts out in one shot. But he was trying to avoid a siege, not an open battlefield, and he doubted a few horsemen would make much of a difference.


    The men chopping trees were too spread out. Maybe he could take a couple of them out, but there had to be a better target.


    Curiously, he eyed the heart of the camp. There were a couple of ferals that he easily distinguished from the cultists. They wore tattered rags and rough furs as they stirred a huge clay pot. Walking by, a couple of the cultists came, and the ferals filled bowls from the pot and handed them to the men.


    Mark remembered what Henric had said. The ferals seemed to know the cultists. They had greeted them like old friends when arriving, even hugging one another. Which made sense, they were likely the contacts that had called the cultists to come here.


    There was no doubt that the cultists could be considered combatants, Mark thought, or worse, terrorists¡ªconsidering the tactics they employed. But what did that make the ferals helping them? Did feeding and spying for the cultists make them accomplices? Or did they deserve to be considered civilians?


    The thought was stupid, Mark realized and berated himself with a shake of his head. He wasn¡¯t a green beret on foreign soil in the twenty-first century. These were freaking insane cultists trying to kidnap freaking babies so that they could give them to monstrous wolves that wanted to kill everyone. If these ferals were helping the cultists, then fuck ¡®em. They deserved to die.


    I wonder¡­ He mused, staring at the pot. It sat atop a rather large pile of embers and a small flame at the heart of the camp. He counted sixteen cultists within a few yards of the pot. Some were sitting around, others talking and pointing at the fortifications. These men were clearly important.


    You brought this on yourselves when you helped those bastards. Sorry, not sorry.


    Mark raised his palm at the pot. In a flash, the crackling white and blue energy shot forth, snaking arcs of energy that whipped across several cultists as it thundered into the pot. The blast roared through the camp, sending a combination of searing stew and burning embers bursting throughout like hotpot shrapnel.


    Two ferals who had been chopping trees only a couple dozen yards away turned to Mark and charged.


    He narrowed his eyes for a second to make sense of the destruction, then turned to the two charging ferals and sent another blast of lightning thundering toward them. A flash and an angry crackle followed, sending the charcoal corpses ragdolling across the snow.


    Two quick succession shots had already heated up the suit, and he knew several cultists were scattered throughout the forest. He had to leave now, so he swung into a sprint.


    Charging around a pocket of trees, Mark came sprinting toward Henric who was already mounted, holding onto the reins of the spooked horses.


    ¡°Go, go, go,¡± Mark shouted, and Henric kicked them into a slow trot.


    Okay, you can do this. You¡¯re an Imperator now. Not some soft-handed tech kid!


    Mark lined by beside the horse as it trotted through the snow and jumped. Through mostly luck, he managed to lace his boot through the stirrup and pulled himself up, sliding across its back.


    The horse kicked into a gallop as it felt his weight, and all Mark could do was grasp hold of the saddle for dear life as it sprung toward the fort.


    ¡°Imperator, are you alright?¡± Henric shouted as he raced after.


    ¡°Not really,¡± Mark hissed as he tried to pull himself up and onto the saddle. ¡°I¡¯m barely hanging on here!¡±


    Nearing the fort, they heard hooves at their back. Four cultists chased on horseback. Bows in hand.


    An arrow whizzed past Mark¡¯s head as he pulled himself upright, panting. Bastards!


    Closing in on the fort walls, a couple of bolts flew back toward the chasing cultists, shot from acolytes stations on the walls. But Mark was pissed off now and gave a forceful tug on the reins¡ªforgetting for a moment that he barely knew what he was doing. His horse neighed as it bucked back and turned sideways, rearing as Mark faced his pursuers.


    Raising a hand, he shot an arcing beam of energy as one of the cultists loosened an arrow.


    Thunder flashed through the sky, shattering the incoming arrow and flinging two of the cultists from their horses. The smoking remains of the two cultists rolled across the snow.


    Seeing their comrades crisped, the two remaining horsemen pulled on their reins and turned in retreat.


    Bolts followed them, impaling one of their necks, and the cultist fell limply from his horse as it ran. Stuck in his stirrup, the dead man¡¯s body was dragged at the horse''s back as it turned for the forest.


    With the threat gone, Henric had slowed and pulled up beside him.


    ¡°Shall we collect these horses before they get away?¡± Mark grinned.

 23. In Camp

    Word had already spread of Mark¡¯s assault on the cultist camp. He wasn¡¯t sure how many he had managed to take out, but the results spoke for themselves¡ªthe camp was abuzz.


    Mark would have paid a lot of money for this kind of good press back in his old life.


    Venjimin had come to him immediately upon his return. There were always plenty of eyes around. And it was obvious that the ferals knew about his raid well before he even returned.


    It seemed like the rousing speech he had given to his tribunes was continuing to pay dividends. And when they heard that Mark wasn¡¯t just talking the talk, but also walking the walk, an almost frenzied spirit had flooded through Fort Winterclaw¡¯s feral population.


    Most weren¡¯t even sure how many he had taken out. The fact that Mark was willing to ride out and face an army of the bastards alone was all they needed.


    But rumor had it that the psychological effect of the attack spread well beyond their walls. Venjimin had explained how many ferals knew people in contact with the cultists. Most didn¡¯t give names, even if they personally hated them since they didn¡¯t want Mark going out and killing their friends and even family. But after his attack, they were scared. Scared to associate themselves with the cultists in any way.


    He hadn¡¯t just weakened their numbers, but their entire ability to resupply themselves and gain support from the local population.


    Back inside the fort, but went straight back to preparing the next assault squad. He figured they needed at least one or two more attacks before they had weakened them enough to take them head-on without large casualties.


    The first thing he did was recruit Reida and Jaryox to his raiding party. Mark wasn¡¯t quite confident enough to put all his trust in his tribunes yet, but these two seemed like a good place to start.


    They had provided Jaryox with throwing axes when he was recruited into the tribunes. It had taken a couple of days for him to get accustomed to the different weights, but once he did, he proved his skill with them in an impressive display of accuracy.


    After the previous attack, they had increased their stable to six. Unfortunately, the ferals had never ridden before. Save Reida, who had a little childhood experience.


    Henric was given the job of teaching them the basics. And Mark made an excuse about wanted to see their progress, so that he could spy on the lessons and try to learn as much as he could himself.


    After a couple of days of training together and the basics down for the most part, the group set out for their first mission together.


    The cultists were essentially sitting ducks in the clearing they had decided to build their camp in. Some spikes were not going to stop Mark¡¯s lightning bolts. But they didn¡¯t have a lot of options. And fortifications built in the forest were seen as suicide by barbarians, who knew just how easy it would be for your enemy to sneak up while you slept.


    The only counter was to vastly increase their patrols and hope they caught any attack before it happened.


    Unfortunately for them, Mark had backup this time. And they were skilled.


    Reida had been hunting deer and rabbits in the forest for weeks now¡ªsomething that had made her rather well off within the camp, as good meat sold at a premium. It also made her a bit of a stealth expert.


    She easily snuck within range of the cultists, silently picking them off.


    Jaryox was a little rougher. One of the cultists got off a yelp as he ambushed them, but an axe to the face made short work of their cries for help.


    And then there was Henric. His crossbow was bulkier and slower than Reida¡¯s bow, but it was plenty deadly. And the man had a methodical way of working through his enemies. Clearing patrols in a way that almost reminded Mark of modern spec ops.


    When they reached the camp, they counted a similar number of cultists as before. And spotted two new horses. Mark realized Henric¡¯s theory had been correct. The camp was set up as a staging ground, and more cultists were gathering here for their attack on the fort.


    Well, that was fine, he figured. As long as they kept cutting them down before their numbers could grow larger, this plan worked fine.


    The fervor created by the last attack was priceless. If they wanted to send him more canon fodder, then so be it.


    Unfortunately, they had gotten better at something. Grouping up. Mark couldn¡¯t spot a single gathering of more than two cultists across the entire camp, and most were standing alone and at a decent distance from one another. That wouldn¡¯t do.


    He eyed the three huts that belonged to the ferals. For all he knew, they were empty. However, there was something that caught his eye. Besides one of the huts near the center of the camp, three of their five horses were hitched. And the other two were beside another hut barely a few yards away.


    Stolen story; please report.


    Not only is that where they¡¯ve got all their horses, but it¡¯s located roughly in the middle of camp. I could be wrong, but if I had to guess, I¡¯d say that¡¯s where the higher-ups rest. Screw it, it¡¯s not like I¡¯ve got a better target.


    He raised his hand and fired. The flash sparked across the clearing and exploded with a roar as it tore the thatch hobble apart, sending flaming debris flying across the camp.


    Mark fired another electric shot seconds later, hitting the second hut.


    Within moments, cultists charged out from the burning wreckages. Their bodies were smoldering, and some even had live flames dancing upon their backs.


    Gotcha! Mark smirked as he fired again, sending a crackling blast into the group of cultists as they poured out.


    He almost felt bad until he thought of the kids.


    You deserve it, you freaks!


    Swinging around, he ran, waving the others on as he caught up to the positions where they covered him.


    Mark wiped at his brow as he ran through the forest. Three shots in such quick succession had already turned his suit into a furnace. But the chaos he had wrought was absolutely worth it.


    He could hear the cries of cultists at his back as they ran. A couple of them had chased the group into the forest but were shot down by Reida and Henric, who covered the retreat.


    Hastily mounting, they charged back to the fort. Smiles plastered across their faces.


    A couple of mounted cultists galloped out on horseback, but when they spotted the four raiders riding back to Fort Winterclaw, they didn¡¯t even bother and turned back.


    He wanted more horses, but they had remained too close to their own camp. If Mark turned and took chase, they likely would have led them into an ambush. And victory tasted too good to throw away over a couple of horses.


    Bursting through the already open gates, the raiding party was greeted by a cheering crowd of ferals and acolytes alike.


    Mark sent a fist into the air as the crowd rushed up to their horses, singing the names of their triumphant heroes.


    And to think, I was starting to worry that I might not be able to get them on my side. Look at me now, Mark smiled, gazing at the jubilant crowd.


    Venjimin pushed to the front of the crowd, hailing Mark.


    ¡°Hello Tribune, what do you think of all this?¡± Mark said, his arms extended as the crowd reached for him.


    ¡°Most impressive, Imperator. But I¡¯d like a moment of your time when you have the chance.¡±


    ¡°Have it now,¡± Mark slid from his horse, landing beside it as it trotted through the crowd. ¡°Take the horses back for me, Henric. I¡¯ve got a little business.¡±


    ¡°What about those two?¡± Henric jerked his head toward the tribunes.


    ¡°Take them with you. They deserve a couple of extra irons for their contribution today. Maybe even some hearty stew if Treff has anything ready.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡± Henric saluted and whipped his reins softly to send his horse into a trot toward the inner wall.


    ¡°Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Venjimin. I haven¡¯t forgotten.¡±


    ¡°In my cabin, if it isn¡¯t too much to ask.¡±


    ¡°On this day? Of course!¡± Mark brimmed as he patted the elder man¡¯s back.


    Venjimin¡¯s cabin was basic. It had one finished room¡ªbarely big enough for his family¡¯s shared bedroll. There was another larger room halfway through construction, which would double as a living area and kitchen, which they currently stood in.


    ¡°So, Venjimin, how can your Imperator help you?¡± Mark said, barely able to contain his excited energy.


    ¡°Look here, Imperator,¡± he said, pulling out a stone tablet he had been carving names on. ¡°I¡¯ve been busy going over the candidates for retainers. There are quite a few men and families that the other tribunes and I trust in the nearby region. I believe they are all suitable recruits for the fort.¡±


    ¡°Recruits?¡± Mark laughed. ¡°I thought he had something serious to ask me about for a moment,¡± he shook his head and patted the man on the back as he went to leave. ¡°I trust in your judgment, Tribune. Have the list forwarded to me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going to let them in?¡±


    ¡°Of course. You know the kind we¡¯re trying to keep out. I don¡¯t think I have to remind a smart man like you. Let them come in and share our victories with us.¡±


    ¡°Right, will do Imperator!¡± Venjimin waved as Mark made his way through an alley that split between a couple of partially built cabins.


    ¡°And take it easy,¡± Mark called back.


    The crowds met him again as he stepped back into the streets, some of the ferals even lifting their infant children to watch Mark as he marched up to the inner wall and waved.


    You know, I think I could get used to this.


    **Acolytes**


    ¡°Is he feeling any better?¡± Erin asked at Mira¡¯s door.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a fever, but it¡¯s improving,¡± Erald said.


    ¡°Just let her in, boy. I can hear the quiver in her voice from here,¡± Mira called out from the kitchen.


    ¡°Thank you Master Mira,¡± Erin bowed as she entered.


    ¡°I hope there¡¯s no funny business between the two of you,¡± she said, pointing her ladle at Erin and Callum as she entered. ¡°You know that¡¯s both against the law and the God-Lord¡¯s tenets as an acolyte, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°No, nothing of the sort,¡± Erin waved her hands as she reddened. ¡°We¡¯re just friends."


    ¡°Just checking,¡± Mira said with a raised brow and went back to her pot. ¡°Carry on then.¡±


    ¡°Are you going to¡­¡± Erald said, awkwardly eyeing Callum, who had a damp towel over his forehead and blankets pulled up to his neck.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Erin hurriedly nodded and turned to the bed.


    ¡°You came to see me,¡± Callum weakly murmured as she approached.


    ¡°You came all the way to the Dagger foothills for me, you idiot.¡±


    ¡°You shot another acolyte for me, you even bigger idiot.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I suppose I did,¡± Erin chuckled softly, causing Callum to join in until he started coughing. ¡°Take it easy, dummy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, my bad,¡± Callum groaned.


    ¡°Well¡­ is there anything I can do for you?¡± Erin said, pressing her thumbs together.


    ¡°Can you heal a scar?¡±


    Erin shot back an unimpressed glare.


    ¡°Just kidding.¡±


    ¡°I mean it, Callum. I want to repay you.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and I mean it when I say you already have. I mean, what you did is like the dumbest thing I¡¯ve ever heard, but at least you tried to step up for me.¡±


    ¡°And look where that got us¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine. If you¡¯re gonna be this glum, I¡¯ll think of something,¡± Callum¡¯s eyes fluttered shut.


    ¡°Callum?¡±


    ¡°His right eye peeked open, ¡°quiet, I¡¯m thinking.¡±


    ¡°Oops, sorry,¡± Erin cupped her mouth.


    ¡°Okay, I got it. One of Treff¡¯s venison pies. That¡¯s what I want.¡±


    ¡°A venison pie!¡±


    ¡°Well, you asked.¡±


    ¡°Fiiine,¡± Erin sighed, slumping her shoulders. ¡°I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡±

 24. Prepared to Fight

    Sat under a candle lamp in the main room of her three-room cabin, Reida peeled streaks of wood from a stick with her carving knife.


    Two ferals worked for her outside, putting together the last parts of a small courtyard under instruction from one of the Imperial acolytes.


    It was the third bow she was attempting to craft. The other two were serviceable but a disgrace compared to those that her former clansmen carried. Hopefully, the third wouldn¡¯t be.


    A bend formed in her brow as she glanced over to the two poorly made bows. She might let someone use them if it was desperately important, but she would rather no one else ever saw them. The poor craftsmanship left a bad taste in her mouth.


    But if she could get bowcrafting down, it would not just make her a lot of money but also help the fort survive. Even if her bows were only as good as the worst ones crafted by her clan, they would be among the best found within the Frontier.


    As her knife hit a knot in the wood, it flicked outward, sending a split running down its length. ¡°Argh! Curse the winds,¡± she hissed, throwing the bow away.


    Another failure.


    Exhaling and curling her hands into fists, she shook her head. Carving bows was eating into her hunting time. And that meant less meat to sell. And that meant less money for her family. But the stakes were too high to give up now.


    She was no fletcher, but she had wasted away countless hours of boredom watching the clan bowmakers when she had nothing better to do, and she swore she could do it herself.


    ¡°This time, Reida. You¡¯ve got this,¡± she muttered under her breath as she took another piece of yew from her pile.


    **Imperator**


    Mark stood on the wall, watching the new ferals coming into the fort. He counted at least forty all up, including their family members.


    With all the new ferals within the fort and his elected tribunes, Mark guessed he would have over forty willing fighters amongst them now. A figure he could likely double if he opened the floodgates to those who wanted entry. But that would have to wait, especially with the cultist army still outside.


    Stemming the flow of ferals into the fort wasn¡¯t just about security. They needed homes. And the activity of ferals building log cabins already filled the tiny, narrow alleys they called streets every day.


    Nonetheless, his attacks had reached the ears of the ferals in the surrounding area, and they had swelled their confidence. Or destroyed their confidence in the cultists¡ªit was hard to tell. But the result wasn¡¯t.


    Several feral families had also begun moving their huts beside the fort¡¯s walls, and a small community was developing outside of the main gate.


    Mark mused how it wasn¡¯t that long ago the ferals had literally run to his wall when they had wanted shelter. They were skittish and scared. Now, they proudly lived beside it.


    He considered expanding the wall again to encompass these new huts, but there were still many cabins that needed to be finished and they just didn¡¯t have the free hands to complete all that work.


    He turned his gaze in the direction of the cultist''s camp. From here, all he saw was a forest. But he knew they were out there. Likely planning something. And as good as raiding them and building up his legend was, he knew that it was risky to leave them for too long. They were, after all, humans. And humans could be ingenious when put to the test, he reminded himself.


    Not only that, but the other tribunes had been begging him to let them join the raids. And it wasn¡¯t just them. More and more of the ferals wanted to join the fight.


    But what did he expect? His raiding party had become legendary within the fort. They were literally going out and killing the boogeyman; these people had spent their entire lives fearing. And they made it look easy. That was the kind of glory everyone wanted a slice of.


    Trumus had been training ferals in combat for close to two weeks now. But after the raids, the number of volunteer students had doubled in size to over twenty.


    And it wasn¡¯t just war his people were developing. Venjimin was no fighter and had never been expected to join his army. Instead, he had started transcribing and explaining Imperium Law to the other tribunes and ferals. It was needed since Mark was still claiming to be upholding said law, regardless of how much he might have hated being bound by it.


    It did, however, worry him a little. And it wasn¡¯t just that he didn¡¯t like the backward Imperial laws. The thought of Venjimin learning the laws better than he understood them himself intruded. That could be embarrassing if it got to that.


    Still, as long as Henric and the other Imperials liked it, he thought it best to keep up the charade. Hopefully, when they saw how much better off they were working with the ferals rather than against them, they might come around.


    Increasingly, everyone seemed to be finding use for themselves in the fort. Even Trayox had been more social recently. And had ended up as the fort¡¯s muscle, hauling around and positioning logs for others when levers and pulleys were unable to do a jump for whatever reason.


    Two of his other tribunes, Culla and Damox, had taken to patrolling outside the wall with a couple of others they had recruited into their personal retainers. Both men had scored quite high during the combat exams, and armed with shields, spears, and hatchets, they were a decent little show of force.


    The genuine version of this novel can be found on another site. Support the author by reading it there.


    Mark was increasingly impressed at his tribunes'' quick adaption to their roles, and new tasks were constantly added to their roles. Security within the outer walls had been their responsibility from the start, but now he expected them to keep the huts huddled against the outside of the walls safe as well.


    This was all part of his plan. It was great that the ferals chose to live here, even if they weren¡¯t allowed in yet, but Mark wanted them to feel like they were a part of society. That way, when he did extend Fort Winterclaw¡¯s security branch to them, they would already be accustomed to their way of doing things.


    And finally, there was his tribune, Gorzox. The man¡¯s main attribute was his speed, and damn, did he run fast.


    The Imperials had some basic maps drawn of the fort and its surroundings, but Mark realized they needed something better.


    It wasn¡¯t just details they were lacking, but distance. He wanted every yard paced out and recorded. Not only would this make logistics easier, but it would provide them with a better idea for range finding if they found themselves under siege for real in the future.


    What he needed Gorzox to do, was run marked strings to the surrounding landmarks. With these strings they could measure the distance between the fort and points of interest around it that would be both easy to mark on a map, and easy for the user to make sense of.


    The lack of good maps had almost made Mark laugh when he first looked at them. He knew that the Imperials were arrogant, but the more time he spent here, the more that sunk in. It was just one more example of the disrespect and overconfidence they had for the region. Elowen even confirmed this and explained that they just didn¡¯t really care about their surroundings all that much.


    ***


    Riding back through the gates after another successful raid, Mark raised his hand as the crowds gathered around to cheer. They had taken out another ten cultists. Things were getting bleak in the enemy camp. They hadn¡¯t managed to replenish their losses again like last time, and bodies had been left to lie where they fell.


    ¡°How much longer are we going to keep doing this?¡± Henric asked as they rode through the crowd. ¡°I doubt they even have thirty abled bodies remaining in their force. We could easily cut them down in a frontal attack.¡±


    ¡°I think you¡¯re finally right about that,¡± Mark replied as he waved.


    ¡°Seriously? You¡¯re ready to actually fight them now?¡±


    ¡°Sure, don¡¯t act so surprised.¡±


    Mark was certain they could continue with their raids with little risk. The enemy hadn¡¯t gotten smart. Just a depressed shell of what they once were remained. But he couldn¡¯t lose sight of why he wanted to fight them, to begin with.


    It was easy to get caught up in the heroics, but when the wargs came, he knew he would need to rely on others. If his people didn¡¯t get some real experience, it would be a bloodbath.


    All I need to do is prevent anyone from dying, right? Mark cringed at the thought. Even if he could easily defeat the remaining cultists, making sure not a single person screwed up and got themself killed was almost impossible.


    ¡°What made you change your mind, if you don¡¯t mind me asking?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s always been the same plan, Henric. We need to turn these people into warriors. We need them to be people you would trust to watch your back. And they¡¯re not there yet. I just wanted to weaken our enemy. But the time has now come for everyone to show us what they¡¯ve got. It¡¯s time for a real battle.¡±


    ¡°I trust your ways, Imperator. But I¡¯d be lying if I said I wasn¡¯t overjoyed at your change of heart. Soldiers should face each other down before fighting.¡±


    **Acolytes**


    Callum eagerly slurped up a special stew that had been prepared by Treff at Mira¡¯s request to make him feel better. But in truth, it was just the fort¡¯s regular stew with ginger added to it. And he wasn¡¯t sure it even made him feel any better. But everyone else had been on rations, which involved increasingly large portions of rigar dough. And increasingly less stew. So he wasn¡¯t about to complain.


    Grinning, he brought the bowl to his lips and poured the last of it down; he jumped in his bed, splattering his face as Erin slammed through the door.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± She bent a brow as Callum cleaned his face with his shirt.


    ¡°What are you doing,¡± he hissed.


    ¡°Duties. Stupid, stupid duties,¡± Erin let out an exasperated sigh. ¡°Whatever happened to getting pardoned?¡±


    ¡°Making you clean again?¡± Callum said as he finished cleaning his face.


    ¡°Everything is cleaning. Clean this, clean that. It¡¯s never-ending,¡± she whined and threw herself onto her bed. ¡°And I hate cleaning.¡±


    ¡°They still won¡¯t let you on the wall?¡±


    Erin shook her head as she pressed her face into the blanket. ¡°Apparently I still can¡¯t be trusted with a crossbow,¡± came her muffled groan as she talked into the blanket.


    ¡°Well, to be fair¡­¡±


    ¡°You didn¡¯t forget who I did it for, did you?¡± Erin turned her face.


    ¡°Hey, I never told you to go shoot Radic. How was that supposed to help me anyway?¡±


    ¡°Vengence!¡±


    ¡°You need help.¡±


    ¡°You need help,¡± Erin mocked, trying to imitate Callum¡¯s voice.


    Callum opened his mouth to reply but turned as he heard footsteps. It was Clay, silently entering the cabin. It was obvious he didn¡¯t want to. But he still shared the same cabin as them, and if he needed something, then, well¡­


    ¡°Look who it is,¡± Erin muttered.


    ¡°Sorry, I¡¯ll be quick. Just need to grab a few things.¡±


    Callum locked eyes with Erin. This was uncomfortable for all of them.


    ¡°It¡¯s whatever, Clay. You can be normal now. What¡¯s done is done,¡± Callum said.


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s done is done,¡± Erin agreed pointedly.


    ¡°I know,¡± came Clay¡¯s sober reply as he shuffled through his drawer.


    ¡°Ease up,¡± Callum mouthed to Erin.


    ¡°Fine,¡± she mouthed back.


    ¡°Look, I¡¯m not angry anymore. It¡¯s not like you did this to me. If anything, we should be angry at Radic.¡±


    ¡°Okay.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious, Clay. We¡¯ve seen things out there,¡± Callum said, thinking back to the Daggers. ¡°If those feral cultists really do serve the wargs¡­ who knows what¡¯s going to happen? We might not make it through this. And I don¡¯t want this¡­ whatever it is, to continue. It¡¯s too uncomfortable. Let¡¯s just move on.¡±


    ¡°Well, we¡¯re probably going to need brave people to survive the wargs, aren¡¯t we?¡± Erin added.


    ¡°Ease up, I said,¡± Callum mouthed.


    ¡°Yeah, I get it. I¡¯m a coward.¡±


    ¡°Sooorry,¡± Erin rolled her eyes at Callum.


    ¡°I really just don¡¯t want this feeling to be the last thing between us, okay?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Callum,¡± Clay said, rising as he packed the last of his things. ¡°It¡¯s not like any of you are going to trust me again,¡± he shrugged and turned for the door.


    ¡°Wait up. That¡¯s not true.¡±


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it?¡± Erin interjected.


    ¡°Shh, you.¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Clay shrugged again. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it. It is what it is. I was never meant to be a fighter anyway. If I¡¯m lucky, I¡¯ll get a nice, safe apprenticeship,¡± Clay said as he left the cabin.


    ¡°Alright, bye,¡± Erin called out.


    ¡°Would you quit it?¡±


    ¡°What? He¡¯s right. Like I can trust him to have my back against wargs, or cultists, or whatever else is out there if he couldn¡¯t even stand up to Radic?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that. People change. Besides, do you really enjoy this dynamic? Seeing him moping around like this every day.¡±


    ¡°I dunno,¡± Erin shrugged. ¡°I don¡¯t hate it.¡±


    ¡°I thought you were the nice one.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Erin tapped her lip. ¡°Am I the nice one? Maybe that changed when I was kidnapped and almost murdered. Maybe. I dunno. Just a thought.¡±


    ¡°You know I¡¯m just¡­ actually, don¡¯t worry. Forget it.¡±


    ¡°Jeez, Callum. I¡¯m just being real. Tell me, would you really trust him to have your back?¡±


    Callum clenched his jaw. He hated this, but she wasn¡¯t wrong.

 25. The Battle

    Wanting to make his followers a proper army was one thing; seeing their sorry state lined up in formation was another.


    The acolytes stood straight at attention, but they were kids. Meanwhile, the ferals slumped in every direction, wearing mismatched rags and furs and picking at their teeth and nails as they waited for Mark to address them.


    They had managed to gather a force of just over forty troops¡ªtwenty of which were acolytes led by Henric, while Jaryox led the rest.


    Mark had wanted to make Reida a commander but had been advised against it. Sexism was a strange topic among the ferals, Mark thought. They were okay with her being recruited as a tribune, working for her to build her cabin, and even fighting beside her. But making her their temporary commander was a step too far. Actually, it wasn¡¯t that strange.


    Trumus had been fuming ever since the decision had been made, but his influence was already becoming a little concerning. Of those training under him, eight men had taken to following him around when he walked the streets and were behaving like his own little retinue.


    If it wasn¡¯t for his own growing status and renown within the fort, Mark would have probably had to put a stop to it. But for now, decided just to keep his eye on it. Besides, he wasn¡¯t actually doing anything he hadn¡¯t asked him to do.


    Mark had watched them on occasion from the walls when they approached and interrogated ferals. The entire purpose of the tribunes was to enforce the law on the ferals, but Trumus¡¯s swagger and the way he and his men marched around the fort reminded him of some kind of mafioso, which sent cautionary shivers down his spine.


    But Jaryox''s appointment to commander wasn¡¯t just to undermine Trumus¡¯s growing influence. The man was as good a fighter as any. He also had plenty of his own skills that could be shared and passed down to others.


    None of this reassuring stopped Mark from grating his teeth, though. And he prayed that Jaryox would win some influence through the coming battle to offset Trumus.


    In a perfect world, all of his tribunes would remain equal. It wasn¡¯t that he was necessarily scared of them. But he had little doubt that ruling Fort Winterclaw would be easier if he remained the obvious number one. And ultimately, he wasn¡¯t a barbarian but an outsider.


    As he scanned the swaying group of ferals, his eyes settled on Trumus momentarily. He stood at the center of his little posse.


    He¡¯s certainly got a way about him. But it¡¯s too early to tell if he¡¯s actually going to be a problem.


    Walking along the formation, he nodded at Jaryox and Henric and moved to the middle to address them. ¡°Commanders, are your units ready?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡± Henric and Jaryox barked. The feral tribune still lacked Henric¡¯s disciplined shout, but he was getting better.


    ¡°Alright, we march out,¡± Mark said, pulling himself atop a black horse and leading them through the narrow street of partially built cabins. Crowding along the alleys that led from it, the women and children gathered to cheer and wave their husbands and fathers off to battle.


    All but four acolytes were recruited to fight. It was the bare minimum they needed to guard the walls. Mark could have spared extra, but he wanted as many of the young acolytes to experience a real battle as he could.


    Of the four within the fort, Dober was left to rest and work in the warehouse. Callum and Elowen were on the walls. And Erin was still banned from carrying weapons at Henric¡¯s request.


    Henric had pleaded with Mark to keep Erin banned from weapons after a few acolytes came to him saying they feared for their safety around her. It was likely a play by Radic. The big boy often got his way; an aimed fist was often all it took. But Mark and the masters had enough on their plate as it was and decided to go along with it for now.


    To free up manpower for the battle, Mark had ordered the two acolytes to remain on the inner wall and had the wives of the tribunes guard the outer wall. They weren¡¯t armed with much¡ªmostly rocks and hatchets, but it was just a backup measure. If any luck, the main battle with the heretic force would be over quickly, and a detachment could be sent back to the fort while they finished up.


    Radic marched proudly alongside his fellow acolytes. For all the commotion Erin¡¯s attack had caused, the boy had healed up nicely. The wound had been easy to clean and patch up. And with the help of Mira¡¯s medicines, he had been walking for over a week now.


    Marching two abreast through the snow, Mark kept an eye on their surroundings. The plan was relatively simple. Set up near their base and force them to attack. And even though most of the ferals carried bows from what they had seen, he was confident that between his lightning bolts and the acolyte¡¯s crossbows, the enemy would choose to engage in a melee as soon as possible.


    Mark and Henric planned to line up their forces so that the acolytes could fire off two volleys of bolts and then fall behind a row of spears held by the ferals. This meant horses wouldn¡¯t play a part in the battle. Not that either side had the numbers for them to make much difference. The result was that the only two following the army on horseback were Mark and Mira. This way, Henric could command the acolytes at their side.


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    As they reached a snowy clearing not far from the cultist encampment, Mark brought them to a halt with a raised fist.


    The mostly flat clearing of snow led straight to the cultist camp, with dense forest covering their flanks on both sides.


    ¡°Alright, prepare your forces, Commanders,¡± Mark shouted over the bustle of activity as he rode out in front.


    ¡°Good luck, Imperator,¡± Mira said as she caught his eyes and retreated behind the line of troops.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I¡¯ll make your job easy today,¡± he called at her back as she galloped away.


    It took several minutes for the small force to organize themselves, and both Henric and Jaryox nodded to Mark as their forces were readied into their rehearsed positions.


    Mark glanced back at the readied row of crossbows and spears behind them and kicked his horse into a gallop.


    Motes of smoke trailed up from the scattered camp as Mark rode toward it. Scanning the desolate war camp, he spotted only four raggedy guards moping about.


    This place really went to shit, didn¡¯t it?


    They had killed quite a few cultists during the raids, and he knew their strength had taken a hit from it, but this seemed like too much.


    Bodies had been left wrapped in cloth around the camp, blood soaking through. The huts had been blown apart, and the charcoal remains left untouched.


    Only two horses, he counted. That wasn¡¯t good. There should have been four, based on their last count. Maybe they fled¡­ or went to try and recruit replacements for their dead.


    Mark¡¯s thoughts rushed through the possibilities as he pulled back on his reins.


    His brow rose further when a couple of the cultist guards spotted him. They didn¡¯t attack, call for reinforcements, or even warn their comrades. Instead, they just dove behind whatever fortifications they could find and cowered.


    This isn¡¯t right. What the hell is going on here?


    Mark raised his hand to fire at the hiding cultists but curled it back into a fist and shook his head.


    No, no, no, something¡¯s up.


    Pulling on his reins, he turned the horse back around and whipped them as he tapped his heels into its sides.


    They¡¯re up to something. Those men¡­ they were waiting for us.


    Fort Winterclaw!


    His eyes widened as he drove his steed faster. They must have spotted their attack.


    Mark realized he had let himself get caught up in his success. Most of the ferals that hadn¡¯t yet moved either into the fort or to huts surrounding it probably still held allegiance to the heretics. It was only natural. They were the ones outside the walls, after all. And they probably had spotters all over the place.


    We¡¯ve narrowed our influence to a tiny area by containing ourselves to our walls. We need to expand. Become part of the wilderness¡­ it¡¯s the only way.


    Murmurs sounded across the line of troops as they saw their Imperator galloping toward them, waving his hands above his head.


    His eyes narrowed on the formation as he rounded the blocking line of trees that shielded it from the cultist camp and began waving an arm above his head.


    The acolytes raised their crossbows.


    Wrong hand signal, idiots. They still needed more training.


    ¡°Go, go, prepare to march!¡± He shouted, but none could make out his words from here. ¡°Pack up, we march!¡± he shouted again as he neared, and the acolytes lowered their crossbows with confused expressions twisting back to Henric.


    ¡°Imperator, what¡¯s going on?¡± Henric pushed to the front of the line as Mark reached them.


    ¡°Gather everyone up now! We march for Fort Winterclaw immediately.¡±


    ¡°Imperator?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a trick. They knew we were coming.¡±


    ¡°You heard him, we march now!¡± Henric swung back around to the acolytes.


    ¡°Get ye damn spears, ye all,¡± Jaryox barked, pushing the slowest ferals. ¡°Come on, come on.¡±


    Jumping back atop her horse, Mira whipped it toward Mark, ¡°What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°The camp¡¯s deserted.¡±


    ¡°Maybe they fled?¡±


    Mark shook his head. ¡°No chance. The guards knew I was coming,¡± Mark said with a crossed brow and shouted at his army to hurry up.


    Bursting into a disorderly march, they did as they were commanded, and Mark rode up beside Henric.


    ¡°You think they¡¯re going to attack the fort?¡±


    Mark opened his mouth to reply, but his breath caught as they marched around a line of trees.


    A fire climbed a section of the inner wall on the other side of the fort. It looked to be only a couple of yards wide, but it would quickly spread across the timber palisade.


    ¡°We have no time. Take the acolytes and secure the walls. And put that damn fire out!¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Henric turned back. ¡°Acolytes, with me.¡±


    ¡°Jaryox, we ride around,¡± Mark said, turning his gaze on the feral commander.


    The two groups split, and he led the shielded and spear-wielding feral army along the outside of the wall toward the fire.


    As they rounded the walls and spotted the fire. The cultists had built a literal fire beside the wall itself¡ªwhich its flames were now climbing up.


    Three bodies lay around the fire with bolts protruding from them, no doubt shot dead by the acolytes as they built the thing.


    Mark looked up at the wall and spotted one of his acolytes running toward the fire. When they reached the fire, the acolyte threw a bucket of snow at it.


    Good, focus on the fire. We can deal with this scum.


    He turned to the forest. He could see them. Dozens of cultists jeered from beneath the trees as if they were chanting for the fire to grow quicker.


    ¡°Today, we teach those sick, child-thieving cultists a lesson. With me!¡± Mark waved the ferals to follow as he turned to the forest.


    ¡°You ¡®eard him, move ye asses,¡± Jaryox shouted.


    With his feral army at his back, Mark steadily marched toward their enemy, giving his troops time to reform their formation at his back.


    ¡°Burn,¡± he sneered at the taunting line of cultists as they approached, raising and pointing his palm at them.


    Lightning crackled out, arcing a bluish light and bursting into a tree. It didn¡¯t directly hit them, but the thunderous clap sent several flying backward. ¡°Charge!¡± he roared, kicking his startled horse onward.


    Arrows whizzed past as lightning burst free from his hand again, slamming into several cultists as they nocked their next volley. The blast was deafening, causing several cultists to duck and cower.


    He fired again, and the horse bucked widely, sending Mark crashing down into the snow. But it didn¡¯t affect the snaking beam of energy as it crashed into its target.


    Spitting snow, Mark jumped back to his feet and shot again¡ªand again¡ªas his suit turned into a furnace.


    The dizzying heat blurred his vision as he stumbled forward. ¡°Stupid, annoying, scumbags!¡±


    Ferals charged past him as he fell forward. The building spark in his hand fizzled as darkness enveloped and he fell face-first into the snow.

 26. Overheated

    Hot, bitter liquid invaded his mouth, and Mark spat as his eyes came into focus on Mira¡¯s gentle eyes, barely a foot from his face.


    ¡°Drink up, you stubborn mule. It¡¯ll bring your strength back.¡±


    Mark took the cup from her hands and gulped it down.


    ¡°Cultists,¡± he coughed.


    Dozens of bodies littered the forest floor before him as ferals walked around kicking and looting them.


    ¡°It¡¯s over?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, the battle didn¡¯t last long.¡±


    ¡°Why, what happened?¡±


    ¡°You overdid it, that¡¯s what happened.¡±


    ¡°The fire!¡± Mark¡¯s eyes widened as he turned to the fort.


    It was calm. A couple of acolytes were on the wall, and snow remnants capped the palisade''s burned edges.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡­¡± he raised a tentative finger.


    ¡°Everything¡¯s fine. Henric and the acolytes got to the fire and put it out before it did too much damage. The wall is weakened, though, and it looks like it will require repairs. I think they¡¯re still assessing it.¡±


    ¡°And the battle?¡±


    ¡°What battle,¡± Mira huffed. ¡°They were basically broken by the time your little feral army reached them. Thanks to your lightning bolts. And when the line of spears crashed into the cultists¡­ well, it wasn¡¯t much of a battle. I¡¯ll say that much. And thanks to the shields, the few arrows they did get off didn¡¯t do anything. And at the end of it all, our side barely took a few scratches and bruises.¡±


    ¡°Really,¡± he muttered, surveying the carnage. ¡°There¡¯s a lot of corpses.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well,¡± Mira grimaced. ¡°That¡¯s war. Once they broke, your men had a field day. It was a massacre.¡±


    ¡°Better them than us.¡±


    ¡°If you say so.¡±


    Mark curled his brow as he watched Mira¡¯s sunken and sober expression. ¡°You don¡¯t think so?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a Star Maiden, Imperator. My god tasks me with healing and helping. We might serve the Imperium, but we don¡¯t take sides in the matter of life and death. And we certainly don¡¯t celebrate them.¡±


    ¡°Did you try and save any?¡±


    Mira shook her head. ¡°Nothing to save,¡± she breathed. ¡°Your little army was pretty riled up.¡±


    ¡°I see.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. Your job is to protect and train the next generation of Imperators while upholding the Imperium¡¯s law. You did what you were supposed to. Understand that I don¡¯t hold that against you. I¡¯m just not going to celebrate death.


    ¡°That¡¯s fair enough, I suppose.¡±


    He might not have agreed with her, but he understood her perspective; after all, many people from back home would undoubtedly feel the same. However, he didn¡¯t have the energy to empathize with people trying to kill him anymore. If it had ever existed, he had left it behind on earth. But it was nice speaking to someone with conviction in their morals. Henric was all law this and law that, and Mark wasn¡¯t sure if the man even possessed the ability to differentiate between law and justice, let alone morals. And the ferals, well¡­ they were¡ªhe watched as one of them stabbed a corpse¡ªa little rough.


    I should talk to Mira more often. I think it¡¯ll be good for my heart.


    Groaning, Mark pushed himself up.


    ¡°You should probably head back to the fort and take it easy. We¡¯ve got everything sorted. Go take a moment to recover for once. I¡¯m sure your God-Lord will forgive it.¡±


    ¡°Rest? Who do you think you¡¯re talking to,¡± he scoffed. ¡°They got way too close with that little maneuver. I¡¯ve got a lot of work to do.¡±


    ¡°I figured you¡¯d say something like that. But don¡¯t go straining yourself too much. And if you do, don¡¯t go expecting me to be feeding you at your bedside,¡± Mira pushed her blonde braids out of her face as she shook her head. ¡°I¡¯ve enough to worry about as it is.¡±


    ¡°Feeding me at my bedside, you say? Perhaps I¡¯ll have to break my hands next time,¡± Mark joked and waved as he turned for the fort.


    He eyed the ferals in the forest as he walked toward the fort. It would have been nice to get their hands on as much of the cultist loot as possible for the warehouse, but he didn¡¯t want to go confiscating from those who had fought for it.


    Besides, trade with the ferals had been filling their coffers enough as it was. And there wasn¡¯t much he could do with more wealth right now. And he figured the gain in morale would more than pay for itself.


    As he passed through the gates, ferals crowded around and cheered him. A couple of young girls even ran up to him with a wreath of evergreens and handed it to him, followed closely behind by a couple of kids that looked three or four years old carrying some prickled branches dotted by tiny yellow flowers. I guess that these are what pass for flowers in the Frontier.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mark dropped to a knee, accepting the gifts.


    ¡°Imperator!¡± A feral called. ¡°Saviour. Carry me daughter. Ye know, for luck,¡± the feral said, pressing up against Mark with his five or six year-old-daughter by his side.


    ¡°Want to ride on my shoulders?¡±


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    The girl brimmed and nodded.


    ¡°Alright, well, get on,¡± Mark lowered for her, and she hopped on his shoulders. The crowd cheered as they rose. ¡°We won today. This is all for you and the other kids. To keep you safe,¡± Mark said as he waved at the crowd.


    He spotted Venjimin and Jaryox waving from the crowd, and Venjimin waded through it until he was beside him.


    ¡°Imperator, another moment of your time if it isn¡¯t too much to ask.¡±


    ¡°Speak. There¡¯s no need for privacy on this great day.¡±


    ¡°Marvelous, marvelous, and I agree. The people of Fort Winterclaw are overjoyed today. You¡¯ve given them real peace of mind. At least as much as is possible with what is gathering in the north. Some even whisper that you should lead the people, not that wannabe king gathering the tribes in the south¡ª¡±


    People of Fort Winterclaw? They¡¯re already calling themselves that, are they? Well, that¡¯s one less thing to worry about.


    ¡°¨CNow they want to celebrate your achievements. Most of the people around here have grown up in fear of the cultists. It may seem small to you, but they can barely believe what you have managed to achieve. To stand up to them like you did¡ªno, it¡¯s more than that,¡± he shook his head as they walked. ¡°You crushed them. It wasn¡¯t even a contest. Quite frankly, they¡¯re amazed. And they¡¯re proud. Some have even taken to affixing Winterclaw to their name already.¡±


    Seriously? Jumping the gun a little, aren¡¯t they? But this certainly works in my favor. In fact, I should probably lean into it. Atlas Winterclaw? No, I¡¯m the boss; that doesn¡¯t work.


    The whole thing reminded him of someone talking about tribalism. He was pretty sure it was one of the thousands of podcasts he listened to during his daily commute. They had been comparing sports and nationalism. They talked about how they tap into a person''s innate tribalism and funnel said tribalism into their cause to build supporters. And that sounded like exactly the kind of thing he could use.


    Flags. That¡¯s what I need! Fort Winterclaw needs its own flag. And colors. Heck, we could come up with some local traditions, like games and food. The list is endless.


    His thoughts had already spiraled off as he imagined all the ways he could indoctrinate the people into the cult of Fort Winterclaw.


    ¡°Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Sorry. Yes, that sounds like a brilliant idea. Do the women know how to sew around here?


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°You know, like knitting.¡±


    Venjimin curled his grayish-white brows curiously. ¡°Some do. Yes. Though it isn¡¯t the most common skill. Threads that can be worked with a needle are quite expensive in the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°Well, if they can sew a flag¡ªwith whatever materials are available¡ªI¡¯ll reward whoever comes up with the best one. I want something that celebrates Fort Winterclaw and our victory here today. Make it colorful. And iconic,¡± Mark waved a finger as he thought on the spot. ¡°The winner gets twenty iron coins.¡±


    ¡°Twenty?¡± Venjimin¡¯s eyes bulged.


    ¡°Yes, it¡¯s important. And a dish,¡± Mark added as he nodded thoughtfully. ¡°Like a competition. Whoever comes up with the best, unique dish that represents Fort Winterclaw wins. And It should incorporate ingredients found locally.¡±


    ¡°All dishes incorporate ingredients that can be found locally¡­¡±


    ¡°Oh, right,¡± Mark cringed. You¡¯re an idiot. It''s not like trade wagons or semis are chugging through the forest with bananas from Costa Rica. ¡°Okay, scrap that part. The dish just has to be unique. Something to represent Fort Winterclaw.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Venjimin nodded and stroked his beard. ¡°I¡¯m sure there will be many people interested in that.¡±


    ¡°And there¡¯s twenty irons in it for the winner as well.¡±


    Venjimin almost fainted at that. Twenty iron coins was a fairly serious amount of money. It wasn¡¯t a fortune by any means, but it was a significant amount and enough to buy a highly desired item, like a new axe head.


    ¡°Was there anything else, Venjimin?¡±


    ¡°No, that¡¯s it,¡± he said, catching his breath.


    ¡°Good. You know what,¡± Mark said as he started walking away. ¡°Today is special. We need a name for this festival. And we should celebrate it every year!¡± he added, waving his finger in the air again.


    ¡°Is the Imperator fine, or someone got ¡®is yarn?¡± A feral asked Venjimin as Mark whirled away from them.


    ¡°Yes, everything is fine,¡± Venjimin nodded. ¡°It''s time for celebrations. Today is the first day of the new face of Fort Winterclaw,¡± he raised his hands triumphantly.


    This is working out better than I expected. Mark smirked as he walked toward the inner gate.


    Lowing himself, he let the little girl down and scruffed her hair.


    ¡°For you,¡± he flicked her an iron coin.


    ¡°Thank you, mister Imperator,¡± the little girl waved and ran off.


    ¡°Imperator!¡± One of the acolytes waved as Mark tried to pass into the fort.


    ¡°What now?¡± Mark twirled toward the voice.


    Running over to him, the acolyte froze and straightened into a salute.


    ¡°Relax, Acolyte. We¡¯re celebrating today.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°So?¡±


    ¡°Oh, yes,¡± he bobbed and stammered. ¡°It¡¯s the ferals, sir. They brought these horses that they took from the cultists. But they¡¯re claiming them as loot. They say they want to sell them to us.¡±


    Mark looked over to where the boy was pointing. Three ferals smiled, and Trumus gave a two-finger salute from beside the four horses.


    So he managed to get his hands on the remainder of the cultist¡¯s horses. I guess that means their war camp has already been looted as well. Damn it, not exactly how I wanted things to turn out. But now¡¯s not the time to sour our celebrations.


    ¡°How much are they asking for?¡± He finally said.


    ¡°I, uh¨Cfifty iron coins each.¡±


    ¡°Give it to them,¡± Mark waved.


    ¡°B-but sir,¡± the acolyte raised a tentative hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. They fought well today. They deserve to be rewarded.¡±


    He wasn¡¯t about to squabble over loot with his followers. It would have been nice if someone other than Trumus had gotten it, but the early bird had gotten the worm, and he wasn¡¯t about to look petty in front of his people. Especially not when they had proven themselves in battle. Today was going to be enshrined in Fort Winterclaw¡¯s mythology if he had any say on it. And that meant keeping everyone¡¯s spirits high.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the Acolyte saluted and turned to another, waving them off to the storeroom. They didn¡¯t carry coins on them.


    ¡°To victory,¡± Trumus cheered, and his men echoed.


    Mark nodded. ¡°To victory,¡± and passed into the inner walls.


    His body felt heavy and tired, but he made a stop at Mira¡¯s cabin before his own.


    Pushing through the door, he called, ¡°Acolyte.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Imperator,¡± Erald swung around from his duties.


    ¡°Mira¡¯s still helping outside of the walls. Can I get you to ask her to prepare as many bottles of rum as she can when she returns? Let her know that I¡¯ll have the storeroom provide whatever ingredients she needs to distill more.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir.¡±


    ¡°Alright, well, carry on,¡± Mark nodded and left.


    Mark practically collapsed on his bed the moment he reached it. He pulled his side drawer open, slid his hand into it, and removed a bag of dried meat. The meat was something Treff made and tasted similar to jerky but softer, like biltong. It was a combination of two of his favorite things before his untimely end and a comforting treat after the battle.


    ¡°So good,¡± he mumbled as he stuffed his mouth.


    He wanted to pass out but forced himself up with a groan. The suit needed to come off. And it wasn¡¯t going to be pleasant. He had come to call it the Sweat Generator 3000. And boy, did it build up a stink after prolonged use. Thankfully, Mira had provided some dried herbs at his request to freshen it up.


    They had a sweet, floral scent that left his suit smelling like a combination of lavender and strawberries¡ªafter smacking it with the dried up bunch of herbs.


    Hygiene wasn¡¯t an unfamiliar concept for Imperials, though. They had plenty of soap in the storeroom. But when he had asked about bathing¡ªeliciting a confused furrow from Elowen¡ªshe had pointed out the buckets in the courtyard. A tin pot and a fire would melt snow and boil water. Then, you just needed to fill your tub. Being an Imperator meant he had his own space within his cabin. Unfortunately, that was a lot of work, and he was exhausted.


    What I wouldn¡¯t give for running water. I wonder if these people know about pipes¡­ not that the acolytes pretending to be smiths are likely to be able to make them.


    Mark sighed as he pulled his suit off. It looked like he was sleeping in stink today.

 27. Festivities

    Alcohol wasn''t a novel concept for the ferals. But the booze they were familiar with was grainy and lumpy with a nauseatingly bitter taste. It was made from fermented berry nuts, which were normally poisonous prior to months of fermenting.


    The clear rum Mira made was like nectar of the gods in comparison to larka¡ªthe feral ale-like substance they consumed. And it was the cherry on top that sent the feral¡¯s excitement into overdrive for the festival.


    The event had been scheduled for early afternoon, and by midday, the fort was abuzz.


    Officially, the day would be known as Winterclaw Day. Mark had wanted to come up with something more creative but settled since the goal was to create a sense of identity and pride for Fort Winterclaw, and it seemed practical to keep it simple.


    He also planned to do something Henric Dawn was adamantly against: keep the outer walls'' doors open during the festival. Before making the decision, he had consulted with his tribunes. They had either agreed to the idea or remained silent.


    It was a bit controversial since security was the fort¡¯s only real selling point besides trading with its storeroom. This had been fairly easy to maintain with such strict control of people to and from its walls, but that needed to change.


    Of course, Mark had no intention of rushing into changing his closed-gates policy immediately, but the jovial atmosphere created by their victory over the cultists seemed like the perfect opportunity to test it.


    But he also had another plan, which he had not consulted his Master-At-Arms over. It was the name of their barbarian brethren. If he was going to foster unity between the people, they were going to need to stop calling them ferals.


    Citizens would be perfect. But that would no doubt cause too many issues with the Imperials since it was what they called their own and would contradict the Law of Hierarchy. So Mark had settled on commoners for their new name.


    It would no doubt still anger people, but since the term had no legal or religious significance, it should be manageable.


    If everything worked out as he hoped, the festival wouldn¡¯t just be a celebration but an opportunity to show off how good life was within the fort, and hopefully not just attract the ferals living around it but earn some loyalty from them.


    And not just that. The festival was likely to be a large financial boon. Mark intended to give his guests their first cup of rum away for free, but after that, they would be counting every coin.


    ***


    The night started with ferals gulping liquor and blowing balls of fire. Jaryox juggled knives surrounded by a crowd of spectators and acolytes handed out the free rums Mark had promised.


    Ferals from the surrounding areas streamed into the fort and joined early, most bringing their entire families. There was little doubt that some of the people were spying for the cultists within the walls, but that was a sacrifice he would need to make if he wanted to prove that he wasn¡¯t afraid of them.


    The people looked more upright than he remembered. Their faces beamed, and their guards were lowered. For the first time, he was seeing these ferals experience a more civilized version of life. One where they weren¡¯t constantly looking over their backs.


    As the crowd grew, Mark raised his hands to the sky and brightened the air with crackling bursts of thunder that cast a bluish glow across the faces of awe-struck spectators. Kids pointed at the spectacle and called to their parents as smiles bent across their dirty faces.


    Mark would have preferred fireworks, but their stores had no gunpowder and he wasn''t sure if it was even invented in this world.


    Smiling and waving at the crowd as the sparks of lightning left his hands, Mark stepped back and disappeared into the thong of activity.


    He made his way to the center of the festival, where, standing atop stacked crates, Weed Eye flailed his fingers as a crowd gathered around him.


    ¡°And that¡¯s when the big Imperator blast ¡®em,¡± he said, jumping for cinematic effect, causing several kids to squeal. ¡°And then again. He be blastin¡¯ ¡®em so hard he blast himself off of him¡¯s own feet. Fried little cultists rollin¡¯ through the snow. And then he got up he did. Wiped the blood from his gob and says, ¡°I¡¯ms tha King ¡®ere! Feel me thunda!¡± and blast ¡®em again¡ªhe did.¡±


    He¡¯s taken a little creative licensing on the story, but it works. Mark smiled and stepped away from the performance. As long as the man was making him look good, he wasn¡¯t about to interfere with the style of his performance.


    ¡°Don¡¯t think I''d forgotten,¡± Henric said, passing through the crowds as he approached, waving a pack of cards in one hand and holding a bottle of rum in the other.


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    ¡°Why did Mira give you an entire bottle?¡±


    ¡°What, this stuff?¡± He grinned with rosy cheeks as he raised the bottle. ¡°It¡¯s from my private supply. Been saving it.¡±


    ¡°What have I started,¡± Mark groaned.


    ¡°And it¡¯s all mine,¡± Henric pressed the bottle to his lips.


    ¡°Are you two finally playing that game of cards Henric has been hounding you for?¡±


    Mark turned to see Mira wading through the crowd with Treff a step behind.


    ¡°It looks like we¡¯ve got a party forming,¡± Mark eyed the two.


    ¡°It is your festival, Imperator. Surely you¡¯re going to enjoy it a little as well,¡± Mira smiled.


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry, I am. In my own way.¡±


    ¡°Fine, fine, I¡¯ll share. Come on, let me pour you one incy wincy little drink to get you started, Imperator,¡± Henric said, pushing his bottle toward Mark.


    So, this is what the steely-faced Henric is like when he¡¯s drunk.


    ¡°You¡¯ve got me for a game of cards. But no alcohol. Someone needs to remain clear-headed tonight.¡±


    ¡°No fun. But whatever, more for me,¡± Henric said, taking a swig.


    ¡°So, what''s the stakes?¡± Grunted Treff as he crossed his sinewy arms.


    ¡°Stakes?¡± Mark said as he turned to the butcher.


    ¡°We¡¯re playing cards, no?¡±


    ¡°Well, there¡¯s still a bunch of questions I¡¯ve been waiting for the Imperator to answer. We could start there,¡± Mira said. ¡°I¡¯d be happy to take those if I win.¡±


    ¡°Hey, let''s pull the breaks up a little.¡±


    ¡°You say the strangest things, Imperator. Can¡¯t we pick that curious brain a little? One minute, I think I know you, and the next, you go and¡ªwell, change. It¡¯s getting hard to keep up. I just want to get to know my Imperator a little better,¡± Mira¡¯s lips curled into a cheeky smile as she pulled another bottle from her robes. ¡°Besides, it¡¯ll be fun, and it¡¯s not often we get a chance to celebrate.¡±


    Henric pulled a table from one of the festival stalls, kicked a couple of stools into place, and slapped down the pack of cards. ¡°There, perfect.¡±


    ¡°So, that¡¯s the stakes? Just questions?¡± Treff grunted as he took a stool.


    ¡°I never agreed to that,¡± Mark said.


    ¡°Hmph, I prefer crowns,¡± Treff nodded.


    ¡°Wait,¡± Henric raised a hand. ¡°Questions aren¡¯t such a bad idea. As long as you tell the truth, I can work with that.¡±


    ¡°And what about me? What do I win?¡± Mark slumped. Fighting back too hard was likely to cause more suspicion than just answering the questions. Besides, it wasn¡¯t like he actually had to tell the truth. Not that they were likely to believe him if he said he came from Earth. They would be more likely to assume he had some kind of brain injury.


    ¡°Our unwavering loyalty?¡± Mira twirled a finger on the table.


    ¡°Don''t I already have that? And how much have you had to drink already?¡±


    Hic Mira blushed. ¡°Only a few rums.¡±


    I''ve got a bad feeling about this.


    ¡°Fine. But we play one of my games.¡±


    ¡°Yours?¡± Henric raised a brow.


    ¡°It''s just something I came up with. It''s fun, trust me.¡±


    ¡°Something you came up with? How would you know that it¡¯s fun? Come on, let¡¯s just play something normal like Togiwart.¡±


    ¡°Just give it a chance. Has everybody got a few iron coins?¡±


    The others nodded.


    Mark grinned, shuffled, and passed out two face-down cards.


    ¡°Now, don''t let anyone see those.¡±


    Mark had already seen Imperial playing cards. And they were remarkably similar to the ones on Earth. Not the same, of course. But close enough that he could bend the rules of Texas Hold¡¯em to make it work.


    The game took a little explaining, but Treff and Henri picked it up well enough. Mira, on the other hand, somehow managed to fumble her way into good hands despite seemingly not knowing what she was doing.


    They played the game with the coins, and Mark allowed them to spend ten to ask a question.


    ¡°So, how do you like my game, Winterclaw Hold¡®em?¡± Mark said after winning several straight hands.


    ¡°You just came up with that name, didn¡¯t you?¡± Henric chuckled.


    ¡°I¡¯d like it more if I won,¡± Treff grumbled.


    ¡°It''s my game. I get to name it,¡± Mark shrugged.


    ¡°Iiiiii like it,¡± Mira slurred, slumped over the table with a wide grin as she flipped pocket dragons¡ªthe face card Mark had assigned the value of ace to.


    ¡°She¡¯s the only one that can beat him,¡± Treff growled below his breath.


    ¡°Bad hic luck, boys,¡± Mira said, pulling the pile of iron coins toward her. ¡°That means I get another question.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t have to¡ªah, whatever. Alright, go for it,¡± Mark said as he flipped his cards over.


    ¡°Ever been married, Mr. Imperator?¡±


    Mark was quietly happy that Mira had only asked him questions. Henric probably would have had harder ones. And if she had ever been intending to try and figure him out, that thought had well and truly vanished with the last few rums.


    ¡°No, I haven''t.¡±


    ¡°May the God-Lord forgive us,¡± Henric palmed his face. ¡°We already knew that, Mira.¡±


    ¡°We did?¡±


    Treff waved his cloth coin pouch, ¡°And now, I¡¯m broke.¡±


    ¡°Nothing to buy out here anyway,¡± Henric gulped down the last of his rum. ¡°Been fun, at least.¡±


    ¡°I think I¡¯m going to be sick,¡± Mira cupped her mouth.


    Brushing his hands after taking Mira to her bed with the help of Henric and Treff, Mark walked back through the festivities.


    There had been a few fist fights, but not so much as a weapon drawn all night. Mostly thanks to Trumus'' boys, who patrolled all night. All of his tribunes now had at least one or two others that worked for them, but it was Trumus who had instilled a real sense of discipline in his.


    ¡°Weedy Eye,¡± Mark said, approaching the crates where the old man still spun his tales. ¡°Mind if I?¡±


    ¡°Here that, people? The Imperator wants to speak to ye. Be respectful and all that. He the one we owes for all this,¡± he said, flailing his arms through the air. ¡°All yous, Imperator,¡± he nodded and stepped down.


    Clearing his throat, Mark climbed atop the crates. ¡°Welcome to my Fort, good people of the Frontier. Today marks an important milestone in our relationship. One that I hope fosters a mutual understanding that helps us work through the tribulations ahead.¡±


    Mark noticed puzzled expressions twisting his audience''s faces.


    ¡°What I mean is¡ªworking together, we win! No cultists or baby thieves will scare us. No one will divide us! Together, we are strong! And to celebrate this fact, I henceforth dub all people of the Frontier that are loyal to Fort Winterclaw commoners of this land. You shall no longer be referred to as ferals!¡±


    The crowd cheered. Mark wasn¡¯t entirely sure how much of an effect the name had on them, but he was certain most of them were happy about where things were going, regardless of whether or not they understood every word he spoke. And even if they didn¡¯t realize it now, he was certain they would learn to appreciate what he did for them.


    Hopefully, my Imperials won¡¯t get their knickers into too much of a twist over this.


    Men cheered one another, women held up their children, and barbarian musicians blew horns and drummed.


    We¡¯ve come a long way, but this is barely the beginning.


    ¡°Now walk with pride, commoners of Fort Winterclaw!¡±

 28. Plans

    Picking a flag hadn¡¯t been hard. Mark had two to choose from: one made by the kids and another by the mothers.


    The kids had essentially sewed whatever they could find onto a piece of cloth. It certainly wasn¡¯t the kind of thing he could imagine an army marching beneath, but he did take it for himself and hang it in his cabin. Mark had never been a big kid person, but it filled him with joy to see how his actions had inspired them.


    The other flag was black, green, and white. The bottom half was white to represent the snow, the top half black to represent the night sky, and a green pine marked its middle. He thought it was a little ironic, considering how skeletal most trees around here were, but the flag certainly wasn¡¯t bad.


    The meals, however, left a little to be desired. Most were stodgy stews that almost tasted like he was chewing on glue.


    The closest thing to a standout was a porridge-like dish with little fried bits of meat that reminded Mark of bacon. Some earthy herbs had been added to it, and a slight sweetness touched on the mostly salty dish. Mark called it Winterclaw stew. And while it wasn¡¯t his favorite food, he could imagine it warming him on a cold, snowy day.


    Maybe with a little culinary magic, rigar bark can be formed into something that can be used as a dough¡­ Bringing pizza to this world would certainly be one way to turn my little fief into a cultural powerhouse.


    The crowd of his new commoners cheered throughout the competition, but grogginess from the night¡¯s celebration quickly chased them to bed once he had handed out the prizes.


    The fort became the sleepiest he had ever seen it, but it wasn¡¯t a big deal. The acolytes hadn¡¯t been allowed to drink and were awake bright and early to man the walls.


    It was one thing for sixteen-year-olds to have a couple of mouthfuls of rum when they were injured, but he wasn¡¯t about to let them get drunk on his watch, even if it wasn¡¯t an Imperial law.


    When they finally closed the outer gates, Mark was fairly certain some of the ferals from the outside remained in, but since his tribunes felt comfortable handling it, he decided not to bother getting involved.


    Time to get myself some sleep; he rubbed at weary eyes and turned for the inner wall. The sun was already creeping across the horizon, and he hadn¡¯t fully recovered from yesterday''s fainting episode.


    **Acolytes¡ªErin**


    Erin had taken the previous night easy, even though she was still barred from carrying weapons.


    She could hear the low groans emanating from several cabins as she passed through the outer walls.


    Reaching her destination, she hesitated. It was just a ¡°hello,¡± she reminded herself. Nothing to make a big deal over. Still, her hands refused to knock.


    Come on, stop making such a big deal of it.


    Just as she was about to knock, the door creaked open, and she came face-to-face with Trayox.


    ¡°Annoying girl, what are you doing here?¡±


    ¡°Hi, Trayox,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°How long are you going to call me that?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure,¡± he stroked his head.


    ¡°You sound different,¡± Erin scrunched her brow.


    ¡°You noticed? I¡¯ve been practicing my Imperial.¡±


    ¡°You, studying?¡± Erin leaned back.


    ¡°What do you mean, me?¡±


    ¡°Nothing important. But moving on, who even teaches you?¡±


    ¡°Venjimin,¡± Trayox pushed past. ¡°He runs lessons for anyone who wants to join in. Every day.¡±


    ¡°Free education? We don¡¯t even get that in the Imperium,¡± Erin grumbled beneath her breath.


    ¡°Get a better Imperium, annoying girl.¡±


    ¡°Hey, stop being mean already. I came all this way out to see you. And Arinie and the bubs, of course.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re inside,¡± Trayox waved. ¡°I¡¯m busy; got work.¡±


    ¡°That sounds more like you,¡± she grated her teeth and turned for the cabin. Fine, whatever. I don¡¯t even need the big dumbo.


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    Stepping into the dimly lit cabin, Erin spotted Arinie lying at the far end, trying to feed the twins some porridge.


    ¡°Need a hand?¡±


    ¡°Erin, so glad to see you safe,¡± the mother smiled.


    ¡°At least someone¡¯s glad,¡± Erin said as she approached. ¡°How do you always look so beautiful? Your skin is flawless.¡±


    ¡°Please, Erin,¡± Arinie blushed. ¡°You too kind.¡±


    ¡°I bet it¡¯s the babies. I heard a Star Maiden say something like that once. Being a mother gives you a special energy or something like that. Can even make your skin glow.¡±


    ¡°Maybe. I not know such things,¡± Arinie smiled gently and turned back to her babies as she directed a spoon to their mouth. ¡°Come on. Eat up.¡±


    The baby licked the spoon and turned away, making a whining noise as it scrunched its face.


    ¡°Oh, come on, baby,¡± Erin said, lowering herself to the baby¡¯s eye level. ¡°Eat a little; it¡¯ll make you big and strong like that idiot outside.¡±


    ¡°What Trayox say now?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Erin shook. ¡°He¡¯s just being his big dumb self.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Erin. He say mean things sometimes.¡±


    ¡°Sometimes? You mean like always?¡±


    ¡°I guess he is. But that just Trayox. It¡¯s all he show outside. But he soft here,¡± she said, patting her chest where her heart was.


    ¡°Maybe with you,¡± Erin scoffed. ¡°He certainly ain¡¯t like that with me. But I guess it''s nice to hear he treats you and the babies well,¡± Erin huffed.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°Please, Arinie, don¡¯t keep apologizing. I¡¯m just a little frustrated, and besides, it¡¯s not like you¡¯ve done anything. It¡¯s just that I wanted someone to talk to... There¡¯s always something going wrong in the fort. It gets a little tiring, that¡¯s all. And then Trayox¡ªyou know.¡±


    ¡°And he was an ass.¡±


    ¡°Exactly!¡±


    ¡°You can talk to me.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re so sweet. How you ever ended up with that brute amazes me.¡±


    **Acolytes¡ªCallum**


    ¡°Do you ever sleep?¡± Dober said as he waddled toward Callum behind the cabins with his walking stick.


    ¡°I can¡¯t. Not anymore.¡±


    ¡°You had a crazy fever and barely survived. I don¡¯t think you should be pushing yourself this hard.¡±


    ¡°What do you know?¡± Callum turned mid-swing and lowered the wooden sword. ¡°You¡¯ve seen what¡¯s below this scarf, haven¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°And that¡¯s a reason to get yourself killed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m a ghost now, am I?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean, Callum.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, and it doesn¡¯t matter. If I want to be anything more than fodder for the Imperium, I¡¯m going to need to prove myself twice as hard as anybody else. Unlike you, my future has been dictated for me.¡±


    ¡°Unlike me? You serious? I¡¯m never going to walk properly again. I can¡¯t even go back home. So retirement is out of the question. What worth does a farmer have that can¡¯t walk properly?¡±


    Callum broke his swing and looked down at Dober¡¯s leg. It was no longer bandaged, but that didn¡¯t change the damage that had been done.


    ¡°Sorry, I didn¡¯t mean it like that.¡±


    ¡°What did you mean then?¡±


    ¡°I suppose I didn¡¯t think. It¡¯s just that¡ª¡±


    ¡°That I never stood a chance? That¡¯s what you mean, isn¡¯t it? I was already fodder, as you call it. Wasn¡¯t I?¡±


    ¡°Come on, Dober. Don¡¯t be dramatic.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not. You¡¯re nice, so you won¡¯t admit it, but I know that¡¯s what you mean.¡±


    ¡°Dober¡­¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I¡¯m here to talk about you anyway. I don¡¯t want to see you train yourself to death. What are you even achieving swinging a sword around out here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m practicing. I¡¯ve still got the Imperator¡¯s old lesson plans. I¡¯ll work with those until he finally decides to give us another lesson. Whenever that is.¡±


    ¡°So, just keep doing the same thing over and over?¡±


    ¡°Yep, pretty much.¡±


    ¡°How are you still so stubborn,¡± Dober sighed.


    ¡°You either make the reality you want or accept the one you have. And I¡¯m done following whatever path fate had laid out for me¡ªfirst this stupid fort in the middle of nowhere, and now this injury. Nah, I¡¯m not doing that anymore.¡±


    ¡°Fine, whatever. Just try not to get yourself sick again.¡±


    It''s not like it matters. If I can¡¯t make it, then maybe getting sick isn¡¯t so bad. Whatever it takes, I¡¯m not settling for whatever future currently lies ahead; Callum gritted his teeth as he followed through with another practiced strike.


    He must have made the same swings over a thousand times by now, but that wasn¡¯t enough. He could feel the combination of strikes seeping into his muscle memory. All it took was a twitch to bring them out now. But it still wasn¡¯t enough. The moment anybody saw his scar, they would be thinking the worst. He only had one option: to become someone people couldn¡¯t ignore.


    **Imperator**


    A knock rattled Mark¡¯s door, eliciting a groan from him. He felt like he had closed his eyes and immediately opened them.


    ¡°Give me a minute,¡± he groaned and rolled to his feet.


    A headache had crept in, and his fireplace had a healthy glow.


    ¡°Someone stoked my fire?¡±


    I¡¯m not sure if I should be thankful or creeped out that I didn¡¯t notice them enter.


    His gaze then turned to his table where a spread lay waiting. There were sausages and rigar patties¡ªwith plenty for seconds. The rigar patties had been his idea. Something he had instructed Treff to try a couple of weeks back. It was basically just frying some of the stodgy Play-Doh-like stuff in animal fat. They were an imitation at best but close enough to hashbrowns to put a smile on his face.


    His stomach growled, and he made for the table but was interrupted by the intrusive knock he had almost forgotten about.


    ¡°Damn it, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Henric sent me, Imperator. It¡¯s important. He needs you now.¡±


    ¡°Now? Seriously? I¡¯m starving. Can¡¯t it wait a little?¡±


    ¡°Ahh¡ªbut, Imperator¨C¡±


    Exhaling, Mark grabbed a sausage and an imitation hashbrown and threw on his suit.


    No rest for the wicked, huh?


    Grumbling with every step, he made for the door and swung it open in a huff. ¡°This better be important, Acolyte. Now, out with it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a¨C¡± the acolyte swallowed. ¡°Im¨CImperator¡ªpeople are coming.¡±


    ¡°People? What do you mean, people? Calm yourself and speak plainly, Acolyte.¡±


    The acolyte nodded. ¡°Sorry. I¨CI didn¡¯t mean to¡ªwhat I meant¨C¡±


    ¡°Calm,¡± Mark lowered his voice. Poor kid didn¡¯t mean to break the boy. Mark sighed, realizing his tired irritation had gotten to him. ¡°It¡¯s alright. I¡¯m not angry. Just tell me what¡¯s going on.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± the boy nodded, relaxing a little. ¡°A dozen people are marching toward the fort. Imperator, they are acolytes from another fort, and they are being led by one of their masters.¡±


    Mark''s brow rose. Imperials didn¡¯t just go marching to each other¡¯s forts, not unless there was a gravely vital reason to do so. And Mark hadn¡¯t requested help from anyone.


    Great, now what?

 29. Fort Frostwarden

    A dozen acolytes marched through the snow, split into two rows. As they marched, they flanked a horseman who rode several paces ahead.


    Mark watched his feral commoners gather as the procession of Imperials passed through the outer gate.


    His acolyte wall watch had only spotted them fifteen minutes prior when they noticed movement through the forest.


    What now? I can already tell this is going to be trouble.


    ¡°Orders, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Open the inner gates,¡± Mark waved and made his way down. Refusing entry to other subjects of the Imperium likely wasn¡¯t a good idea. Not only might it suggest to others that he is a deserter¡ªin the sense that he wasn¡¯t following Imperial mandate¡ªbut it would likely piss off every Imperial working for him. And he certainly didn¡¯t want to see how Henric would respond.


    Mark made it down to the gates as the outsiders reached them. The horseman dismounted as the acolytes came to a halt just outside the gate.


    Brushing himself off, the gruff man dressed in studded leathers and a steel breastplate approached. ¡°Imperator,¡± he saluted. A dark beard traveled halfway down his chest, and deep creases lined his eyes. ¡°Afrig Culler, Master-At-Arm of Fort Frostwarden,¡± came a rehearsed bark.


    ¡°Greetings, Arms-Master,¡± Mark saluted. ¡°Fort Frostwarden is quite a distance away. Perhaps you need something to warm your bones.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯d appreciate it if you fed and warmed my acolytes, but I can wait. I¡¯ve come for your ear¡ªif you would do me the pleasure?¡±


    ¡°You heard him,¡± Mark snapped his fingers. ¡°Make sure the good Arms-Master¡¯s acolytes are well fed and stoke the eating hall¡¯s fire well. Now, shall we talk in my cabin?¡±


    Afrig nodded. ¡°It would be my pleasure, Imperator.¡±


    The man made Mark feel uneasy. He had been constantly eyeing the ferals on his way in, and the way he looked around the fort seemed as if he was weighing the place up.


    ¡°So, what brings you all the way to Fort Winterclaw?¡± Mark said as they took opposite seats at his desk. He had seen Fort Frostwarden and the two dozen other Imperial forts dotted across the Frontier when he studied the maps left behind by Atlas. And the forts were a good fifty miles apart.


    ¡°Rumors,¡± Afrig said, straightening the coat beneath his cuirass.


    ¡°Rumors? Care to elaborate?¡± Mark said as he poured tea for the both of them.


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Afrig waved. ¡°I¡¯ll drink something later.¡±


    ¡°As you wish,¡± Mark stopped just before pouring the Arms-Master¡¯s cup and put the pot aside. ¡°So, these rumors?¡±


    ¡°With all due respect, Imperator¡ªdo I need to elaborate? People are calling you the Feral Imperator. And it¡¯s obvious why. Inviting those people into your fort?¡± he said with disdain as a scowl bent his face in disgust. ¡°You live with them now. Do you not have any respect for yourself?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, Arms-Master? They¡¯re out there, and we¡¯re in here,¡± Mark said, pointing toward the outer wall and then to the ground.


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb, Imperator. It¡¯s beneath you. And more importantly, it¡¯s beneath your station. Now, come on, you built those walls. It¡¯s plain as day to see what you¡¯re doing. People are even saying you trade with them. Even fight alongside them,¡± he snarled.


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t be the first.¡±


    ¡°You speak heresy! It is one thing to send ferals charging your enemy as fodder for their blades, but you stand shoulder-to-shoulder with the scum!¡± Exhaling, Afrig tried to calm himself. ¡°Pardon me, Imperator. I lost my calm. I respect your hierarchy,¡± he pressed an army across his chest and bowed. ¡°But I have been sent here by my Imperator. He accuses you of heresy for consorting with ferals in a way unbefitting of a servant of the Imperium. But Imperator Eamon is a flexible man. He extends an olive branch to you. Hand yourself over. Allow him to arrest you, and he will plead your case to the Legate. He will ask that you are not dealt with too harshly. Perhaps even banishment to an Imperial island is still within reach for you if you make the right decision now.¡±


    To arrest a heretical Imperator would be an honor, from what I understand. Maybe even enough for this Imperator Eamon to have his posting changed to within the Imperium. Mark knew there was no way he would get lenient treatment either. Atlas had already been sent to the Frontier. He would be lucky to survive the ordeal if he were found guilty of treason.


    ¡°And how exactly have I broken the law by doing what you accuse me of? The ferals do not live with us here within the fort. All the forts of the Frontier trade with the locals when necessary. And using them to win a battle to save this fort and the lives of the acolytes I¡¯ve been entrusted with is hardly heretical.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t play dumb, Imperator. You even made the barbarians tribunes, according to my informants. I give you one last chance to hand yourself in. Fail, and Imperator Eamon will drag you to the legate himself,¡± Afrig hissed.


    ¡°We seem to be at an impasse. You see, I''ve studied Imperium law as well as anybody,¡± Mark bluffed. ¡°And the way I see it, I haven''t broken any laws. For example, the power and station of tribune lies outside of the Law of Hierarchy, and therefore, no law has been broken by bestowing it upon the barbarians.¡±


    ¡°You might think you¡¯re smart. But let''s see how cocky you are when the legate comes asking questions. See how quickly your acolytes and masters turn on you.¡±


    ¡°I thought Imperator Eamon was going to take me in?¡±


    ¡°Bah!¡± Afrig snorted. ¡°You know what I meant.¡±


    ¡°Do I? Your ramblings sound like that of a madman.¡±


    Afrig clenched his fists.


    Go on, try it. If you attack me, I''m well within my rights to strike you down.


    ¡°If you refuse to see reason, then I suppose we''re done here. But know that you will regret this.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Arms-Master Afrig. Your acolytes should be waiting for you in the eating hall,¡± Mark waved.


    Maybe I should just strike him down and say he attacked me. Then again, that could bring this Eamon guy down on me faster. Not only did the risk of being accused of murder seem too great, but Mark wasn''t sure he wanted to kill a man in cold blood. Not yet, at least. He would not let someone get in the way of his mission for Fort Winterclaw, not after everything. Thanks to his decisions, kids had gone through hell, and he would see them through. If these Imperials from Fort Frostwarden forced his hand, he would strike.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Afrig scowled as he saluted. No matter how much he had annoyed and probably even insulted the man, he wouldn¡¯t break formality.


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    Mark watched the man leave. This wasn¡¯t good, but Imperator Eamon, regardless of how determined he was to be responsible for Mark¡¯s capture, was subject to the terrain of the Frontier as much as anybody else. And marching to Fort Winterclaw was no easy task.


    What do I do now? A smile crept across Mark¡¯s face as he thought. He certainly didn¡¯t want to get his new followers zapped, but perhaps they could set an ambush if Eamon decided to march on him. As long as it wasn¡¯t too close to the fort and conducted by the ferals, it could be blamed on vagrant barbarians. Of course, rumors of his involvement would follow after this encounter, but that would happen if Eamon died by any means.


    Unfortunately, Fort Winterclaw didn¡¯t have the manpower to have a force big enough to ambush the Imperator, just lying in wait. To pull this off, he would need scouts to spy the roads. It reminded him of the current limitations imposed on the fort in its current situation. The gates needed to be open, and his influence needed to spread beyond the walls.


    At least this makes what I need to accomplish painfully obvious.


    ***


    The procession from Fort Frostwarden didn¡¯t stay much longer. Afrig had been visibly agitated the entire time, fidgeting and unable to stay still as he waited for his acolytes to ready themselves. But it was clear that the acolytes were not too happy about it. Marching forty miles through thick snow and blizzards was no easy task, and this was likely the first time they had a roof over their heads since leaving their fort.


    ¡°They''re leaving in a hurry. What did you talk about?¡± Henric said as they watched them leave from the wall.


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated. Suffice to say, Imperator Eamon doesn''t like me.¡± Mark said. He didn¡¯t have to say that but wanted to gauge his second¡¯s reaction.


    ¡°Oh?¡± Henric¡¯s brow rose. ¡°It¡¯s not related to them, is it?¡± he added, thrusting his chin toward the outer walls.


    ¡°And what if it is? I¡¯ve broken no laws and kept my people safe. Isn¡¯t that what I should be doing?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t have to tell you how Imperials will see your actions, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°And what about you? How do you see my actions?¡±


    Henric exhaled. ¡°I¡¯m confused. I won¡¯t go against the legate, know that. But I can¡¯t lie, you¡¯ve surprised me. Maybe you haven¡¯t broken the law, but I don¡¯t doubt for a second that you¡¯ve gone against holy scripture. Maybe not directly, but the God-Lord himself can be quoted as condemning the use of loopholes. However, I can¡¯t argue that it has worked. Those ferals¡ªthey¡¯re surprisingly loyal to you. If even ten percent of their stories are true, then I can¡¯t see any other solution¡­ any other way to survive what lies ahead for us. And our watch here¡ªit¡¯s as sacred as anything else. Keeping the walls of this fort standing has been entrusted to us by the College of Legates itself. And the law dictates that no measure is too great to save the lives of the acolytes we educate. So, I¡ª¡± Henric stammered.


    ¡°You trust me then?¡±


    Henric turned to Mark. ¡°Don¡¯t break any laws. Don¡¯t make me pick between my Imperium and you. And don¡¯t make me pick between my god and you.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± Mark shook his head. He wasn¡¯t sure it was a promise he could keep, but it would do for now.


    ¡°Then you have my loyalty. Keep our walls standing and the kids alive, for the sake of the God-Lord. Do that, and you can trust me to follow your orders.¡±


    ¡°I have every intention to,¡± Mark nodded.


    **Venjimin**


    Bookcases had been hurriedly put together and lined up in the would-be log cabin that Mark had built for the priest to use as a library. It wasn¡¯t much, essentially just an extra room attached to Venjimin¡¯s own cabin, but at least they had somewhere to store knowledge.


    Mark promised the old man that once he was able, he would provide paper, but for now, he was still etching everything down on stone tablets.


    Paper was just too rare. What little they did have was saved for use within the inner walls.


    A couple of ferals¡ªor rather commoners¡ªcopied from tablets on a table at the center of the room. It would be a long time before they were comparable to the students he had back in the temple, but it was a start.


    Venjimin mused at the delight of Mark¡¯s statement during the festival. He believed changing the name the Imperials used to refer to the ferals was an important stepping stone to bring the two communities together.


    Barbarians generally thought of each other as whatever clan they belonged to. If they had no clan¡ªsuch as ferals¡ªthey were clanless; that was it. The priests separated them into three major groups based on language and tradition, but none of the people cared for such terminology.


    None of the commoners could see it, but Venjimin could. What the Imperator was doing was creating a new identity for these people, something to replace what had been taken from them when they were expelled from their clans. And once it settled in, it would be a force to be reckoned with.


    Clans were the blood of the people from the Frontier. It was why being expelled was such a dishonor. People died for their clans. And for many, it was more important than their own families.


    This is the start of something great; I can feel it, the old man hummed as he ran a hand across his newly minted tablets.


    Excitement welled within as he realized he would get a front seat as this page of history was written.


    It was barely a little over a year ago that he thought his life was over. And now it was blooming again. A family, a beautiful young wife, and a place within what he believed would grow into something great. He just needed to make sure the others stayed in line now. He needed to help them see the bigger picture for all of their sakes.


    He needed them to realize they were living through a monumental change and pivotal point in history, just as he did.


    **Callum**


    ¡°Hey, move it. Who do you think you are?¡± Radic barked as he pushed past a small girl.


    The girl flinched, almost falling backward as he barged by.


    ¡°Take it easy, Radic. That''s the feral girl the Imperator saved.¡±


    ¡°Oh, so that''s what I smelled,¡± Radic said, stepping closer to tower over the girl.


    The girl had been allowed to stay in the inner walls since she had nowhere to go, and her parents never came looking for her. Not that Mark would have trusted handing her over if they had. Because of that, she was dressed in a robe similar to the acolytes. Save it had been dyed with a streak of red down its middle to differentiate them.


    ¡°Cat got your tongue?¡±


    ¡°N-no, sorry¡ªfor being in your way.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough, feral. You see, you inconvenienced me. That kinda thing requires punish¡ª"


    ¡°Hey, Radic. Leave the girl alone.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± The oversized acolyte turned to see Callum. ¡°Didn''t I beat you badly enough last time, heretic? Or have you come for another session?¡±


    ¡°It was hardly a fair fight. Besides, how''s your nose?¡±


    ¡°What was that?¡± Radic growled and stepped closer. A hint of bruising was still visible, and his nose had felt stuffy and clogged ever since.


    ¡°Not out here, Radic. The masters could see, or worse, the Imperator,¡± the boy beside him said, pulling on his robe.


    Radic swung around to the sound of footsteps in time to catch the girl¡¯s back as she rounded the nearest cabin.


    ¡°Damn it. Always sticking up for them, aren''t you?¡± Radic spat. ¡°You''re a disgrace. You''re just lucky we have witnesses,¡± he added, glancing up at an acolyte watching from the wall. ¡°You won¡¯t be so lucky next time. Trust me. Come on then, let''s go. Don''t want to be infected by whatever this one has,¡± Radic glared at Callum as he gestured for the other boy to follow.


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Callum said under his breath as he watched them leave. "Any time."


    ***


    As midday came, the acolytes gathered in the fort''s courtyard for another lesson and stood in a line waiting for their Imperator.


    Thanks to Mark''s orienteering days, he had been teaching them how to read a map properly and some first aid basics. For the first time, he was glad that he had been selected as his old office¡¯s first aid officer. It was just basic stuff: how to use a tourniquet, mouth-to-mouth resuscitation, and so on. Nonetheless, these were skills the kids could use. And while the Star Maiden no doubt had healing skills, they weren''t a mirror of Earth''s techniques.


    Although useful, it was clear which acolytes preferred what. The judo and jiu-jitsu sessions were everyone''s favorites. Not that Mark had any problem with that. Defending the fort was their most urgent requirement. If anything, he was desperate to come up with more ideas for their defense.


    As Mark arrived, the acolytes stiffened into a salute. He eyed them as he walked down the formation, catching Callum''s gaze.


    The boy had missed a few lessons, but he knew that he was training in his own time. He even went as far as to get other acolytes to show them what he missed in other lessons. There was no doubt the boy was determined. He had been practicing anything and everything he could get his hands on. Even without seeing his Imperator''s instructions firsthand, he was regularly beating his peers when they tried to trip one another.


    The boy didn''t just have talent. He was determined. And Mark knew that it would be a shame to waste. He was confident that it would pay off if he could get his hands on anything to help him.


    He noticed Acolyte Radic''s bent glare focused on Callum. His fists were clenched, and he looked ready to hit the boy. Under any other circumstances, he would keep them apart. But this was an opportunity with their training session.


    Not only would raw emotions help these boys get a more real fight¡ªwhich would be good experience. But Mark had a feeling who would win, and he felt it was his job to let the boy get a little revenge after the beating he had received.

 30. The Strongest Acolyte

    World¡¯s Edge Citadel was perched upon the mountains that split the Imperium from the Frontier, overlooking the miasmic fields covering most of the foothills.


    It was the seat of power for Legate Athriel, Commander of the Frontier. From here, he ruled as de facto king of the wild lands known as the Frontier, and his decisions made within them were subject to no higher authority.


    Strategically located, the citadel didn''t just command a view that stretched hundreds of miles of foothills on a clear day but protected the only walkable pass into the Imperium.


    However, surrounded by sharp rock on one side and poisonous miasma on the other, it held no land for farming or industry. But that didn''t matter for the legate who commanded a small fleet of throne ships.


    The flying ships worked day and night, bringing supplies over the towering, dark walls and into the citadel to feed its several thousand inhabitants.


    At the center of the citadel was Ironhide Keep. And at its side, the legate¡¯s office looked out upon the paved courtyards filled with training acolytes and the walls that protected them from the unwieldy lands beyond.


    Taking one look at the report in his hands, Legate Athriel threw it aside. Imperator Eamon had a knack for talking his ear off, and besides, he had enough to worry about.


    The barbarian confederacy was growing every day as more clans and ferals streamed into their ranks. At present, his scouts estimated that about three hundred thousand barbarians had gathered, which was made even more impressive by the estimate that they could likely raise an army a fifth of that size.


    On the other hand, the legate would struggle to put more than a thousand troops into combat since his manpower was largely made up of various support units. With more clerical stuff under his command than Imperators.


    Of course, if one of his Imperators truly were heretical, it would need to be dealt with at some point.


    Sighing, Legate Athriel pulled a stack of reports from the front of his desk and began to skim through them. It seemed there were never enough hours in the day.


    **Acolytes¡ªCallum**


    Callum waited as Radic lined him up. He could already see his victory. Radic might have been strong, but the large boy carried himself poorly. His center of gravity swayed forward, and his stance was horrible.


    Too easy, Callum thought as the large acolyte roared some kind of macho growl and charged him.


    In an instant, he lowered his center of gravity and widened his stance, extending his hands to grab the larger boy as they collided. The formidable force and weight pushed him back, but after sliding through the snow several feet, he halted Radic¡¯s momentum.


    ¡°Argh, I¡¯m going to hurt you,¡± Radic hissed through gritted teeth, but his eyes widened as the sudden sensation of weightlessness took over.


    He had fallen straight into Callum¡¯s trap, and with his leg extended past Radic''s base, it only took a little strength to send him crashing to the ground.


    ¡°Damn you,¡± Radic grunted as he glared up. ¡°I¡¯ll make you pay for that.¡±


    ¡°Alright, come on then,¡± Callum taunted.


    Huffing, Radic got to his feet and turned to step back into position, but as he walked, he suddenly stopped and swung into a charge. It didn¡¯t work. Callum stepped aside as if he predicted the boy to try and trick him, and his charge''s extra speed only helped him throw him further into the snow.


    ¡°Was that how you intended to make me pay?¡±


    ¡°You... I¡¯m going to¨C¡±


    ¡°Alright, alright, move on to somebody else,¡± Mark said as he walked past. ¡°It¡¯s best to match you with someone of equal skill.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean? You think he¡¯s better than me?¡± Radic hissed as he climbed back to his feet. ¡°I can take him!¡±


    ¡°Your stance, footwork, and technique¡ªthey all need work. Acolyte Callum, pair up with Acolyte Clay,¡± Mark said with a disinterested glance and continued walking.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Callum said and made his way across to where Clay was.


    ¡°Hey, get back here. I¡¯m not done with you yet!¡±


    ¡°Acolyte,¡± Mark growled. ¡°Do as you¡¯re ordered.¡±


    Radic¡¯s nostrils flared as he bit his tongue.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure that was wise,¡± Clay said, eyeing Radic as Callum approached. ¡°Everyone¡¯s going to be talking about it now. He¡¯s not going to live that down.¡±


    ¡°Think I care? He¡¯s been getting by on his strength and intimidation. If anything, he should thank me. He¡¯s going to get himself killed if he thinks he can intimidate the cultists like he can us.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure he¡¯ll see it that way.¡±


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    ¡°Whatever. I don¡¯t care if he does or doesn¡¯t. If he wants to fight me, let him come. I¡¯ll be ready for him this time,¡± Callum shrugged and got into position.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how you do it. I could never be brave like you.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s the alternative, Clay? Look where we are. The warm breeze and clear beaches of the Imperium are nowhere to be seen. We don¡¯t have time to keep doing whatever we¡¯ve been doing. I dunno what changed in our Imperator, but it woke me up. That and everything else I¡¯ve been through. We¡¯re not ready for what¡¯s coming. Look, I¡¯m not angry with you. I¡¯m going to say this for your own good. Get over your fear, or you¡¯re going to get killed out here.¡±


    **Payon**


    Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post had turned out to be even worse than the smith expected. Jobs were easy enough to come by, but like the Imperium itself, status meant everything.


    If he wanted to hammer out nails and horseshoes all day for twice what he could back home¡ªhe could. But he was a master, not some apprentice with unsteady hands.


    On the other hand, good jobs, like crafting a fine blade, went to the Imperial Masters working out of the Imperial barracks¡ªone of the largest buildings in Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post.


    In fact, of the two dozen buildings that made up the camp, only a few were of any significance. The barracks, the tavern and inn, and the three guilds.


    The Widow¡¯s Bane¡ªthe tavern and inn¡ªwas just about the only place for independent fortune seekers like Payon to go. And he sat at a table shoveling extremely overpriced eggs down his throat.


    Payon shook his head. He didn¡¯t come here to get even poorer, but the thought of starting his day and getting to work didn¡¯t excite him. Not when he had an endless number of nails on order.


    He already wanted to leave, but it wasn''t like he had any other real choices besides the Trader¡¯s Post. And trying to find a wagon back into the Imperium wasn¡¯t particularly easy, even if he was ready to accept his losses.


    And the only other permanent settlements were the forts, which would no doubt be even worse. At least the Imperial troops only ruled over their barracks here.


    As shitty as the Trader¡¯s Post was, it did have a feeling of independence. In fact, everyone watched their own backs. The guilds guarded their interests with hired guards. Even the Widow¡¯s Bane had their own muscle¡ªgoing as far as to run their own caravans for supplies.


    But with independence came self-reliance, and outside of the guilds, the Frontier¡¯s vagabond population consisted of trappers, bounty hunters, and fortune seekers¡ªnone of which the smith had any interest in throwing his lot in with. And as happy as he was to work, he wanted a hot furnace, a warm cabin to rest his head in, and jobs that were at least halfway fulfilling. And maybe even an apprentice to hammer out nails and other shit-kicker jobs, he mused.


    Payon even considered the barbarians after a few drinks the other night. If only they hadn''t had such a penchant for betraying and murdering Imperials, he¡¯d have been half tempted to go looking for this mighty federation he kept hearing about.


    ¡°You hear the rumors?¡±


    Payon tweaked his head as he heard the words. He wasn''t normally much of a gossip, but there wasn''t a lot to do out here¡ªbesides work¡ªand he was happy for an excuse to procrastinate.


    ¡°You mean about that crazy Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Aye, that''s it. People saying he sleeps with ferals. Has massive orgies, that''s what I heard.¡±


    ¡°Bah, you need to stop listening to drunkards telling stories.¡±


    ¡°No, he''s right,¡± another man nodded enthusiastically. ¡°I heard it too¡ªmassive orgies. Any woman or girl wanting entry into his fort can come in. That''s what everyone says.¡±


    ¡°Nonsense! He''s hiring the ferals to do his dirty work. If the Imperators around here had half his brains, the roads would still be safe, and we wouldn''t be paying three times as much for an ale as we did two months ago. It''s all just stupid pride. Pride that they''ll take to the graves with them.¡±


    ¡°You believe that, or are you just growing an eye for them feral girls?¡±


    ¡°Hey, watch your mouth!¡±


    An Imperator that works with ferals? Regardless of who''s right, that''s interesting. Payon rose to leave the tavern before the argument escalated into a fight¡ªwhich wasn''t uncommon and often turned deadly in the Frontier settlement.


    He wanted to learn more about this Imperator, but good info wasn''t cheap in the Frontier. He groaned again; for now, it was back to banging out nails.


    **Imperator**


    Mark went over new plans he had Elowen and Venjimin create for him.


    The wall extension had been impromptu and barely thought out, but continued growth would require planning.


    The fort, which was quickly turning into a small town and, hopefully, one day, something much more, was to be divided into sections.


    The innermost section¡ªThe Imperial District¡ªwould be the original fort, which would house the Imperials and their most important buildings, such as the main storeroom, and eventually a proper keep.


    What was currently the outer wall would become their High District. The plan was to have their most important non-imperials live here, along with any important craftsmen they were able to recruit and any important buildings operated by their new commoner class.


    Finally, the Low District would require another wall. But instead of being an extension of the main wall that extended in one direction, it would encompass the entire fort.


    Part of this plan would be to push the surrounding forest back.


    The attack on the fort had proven that the trees were too close and, by being too close, provided cover to an attacking force.


    The plans also included the ambitious addition of a new building in the inner walls. It was to be the first bank that serviced both barbarians and Imperials alike.


    Mark had identified a need to keep the gates open and unite them with their surroundings, but for now, he kept them closed; however, they were already making inroads into changing that.


    His tribunes had been busy recruiting their own retainers, and most had at least two or three. And soon, they would be expected to maintain peace with the gates open. Not to mention the patrol around the fort. At first, these were scheduled walks along the wall¡¯s edge, but now, they encompass several hundred yards in all directions.


    But it was becoming quickly apparent to Mark that his tribunes would require more tightly defined roles as they grew.


    For example, Venjimin was no fighter, and keeping his official role as a glorified policeman made little sense.


    He marked suitable roles for his tribunes to be elected into. Venjimin was to be his educator. Jaryox, the commander of his warriors. Reida, the commander of the wall. Trumus his chief enforcer. Trayox, his head of development. Gorzox, the commander of his scouts. Meanwhile, Culla and Damox were made guard captains and tasked with patrolling their surroundings.


    Mark ran his hand down the list. It all looked good, but he wouldn¡¯t enact anything just yet. He wanted to learn more about the threat that Imperator Eamon posed before making any more changes to his relationship with the barbarians. After all, he couldn¡¯t ignore such a thing. If he were to make an enemy of the Imperium, it would likely be an even greater threat than the wargs. And he was already walking a tightrope as it was.


    Mark made for his coat hanger and slipped his arms through the heavy sleeves. It was time for a meeting. And hopefully, the barbarian he planned to visit would have the contacts he needed to gain the information he wanted.


    Pulling his door open, he stepped into the blizzarding weather. It was the perfect environment to visit a certain seedy feral beyond the walls; Mark smiled as he pressed on into the icy night. The hiccups thrown his way seemed never-ending, but the pieces were falling into place.

 31. Spy

    ¡°They always come lookin¡¯ for ole Weedy Eye when they needing a hand,¡± the old feral flashed a dirty smile.


    Mark nodded as he approached the man shrouded by forest. He was invisible under the night sky, but the snow reflected enough of the moon¡¯s silver glow to illuminate Mark as he crunched along the snow toward him.


    ¡°You¡¯re helpful, what can I say.¡±


    ¡°Pleasure to be of ye service, Imperator. So, whatcha needing then, big fella? Something only Weedy Eye can help with?¡±


    ¡°Have you heard of Fort Frostwarden?¡±


    Chuckling, Weedy Eye shook, ¡°Who ye take me for, big fella? Of course, Weedy Eye knows. I know all.¡±


    ¡°Good. And I suppose that means you know Imperator Eamon.¡±


    The feral nodded.


    ¡°Great. I need to know everything about the man, the fort he rules over, the resources at his disposal. Everything. Also, if it¡¯s possible, a spy that can keep an eye on him for me.¡±


    ¡°Easy as. Yous Imperials don¡¯t leave ye fancy walls enough. Spyin¡¯ on a fort is all too easy.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark said, handing him a sack of irons. For your troubles and to pay whoever you need to. Just get it done.¡±


    Weedy Eye weighed the sack in his hand and nodded. ¡°It¡¯ll do. Go see yous priest man in about two days. I give ¡®em all the info. But the spyin¡¯ take a little longer. If I sends them now, the boys¡¯ll be back in a couple weeks. At best.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine. I expected as much. Remember, this is important, Weedy Eye. Don¡¯t let me down.¡±


    ¡°Wouldn¡¯t dream of it, Mr. Imperator. Wouldn''t dream of it.¡±


    **Elowen**


    For days, Elowen and Venjimin had been going over maps of the region at Mark''s order.


    It was part of his plan to expand their influence over the region. And to do that, they would need outposts.


    And their job was to find sensible strategic locations to help these outposts¡ªplaces that were easily defendable.


    If they were going to command influence over the region, it meant that they were going to need to be able to project their power across it. There was only so much they would be able to accomplish in a harsh land like the Frontier while hiding behind Fort Winterclaw¡¯s walls.


    Not only were the patrols that they had started to run limited in distance, but there was nothing stopping heretics in the area from simply leaving when they came by, and returning when they left.


    Building outposts and providing security wasn¡¯t about marching armies around the area either; they didn¡¯t have the manpower to do that, even if they wanted to. They just needed to police the region.


    Since most of the cultists hunting virgins in the area were either in small groups or alone, all they needed was to provide a small presence to counter their intrusions into the region.


    This was the next step toward creating a presence in the region. And once it was completed, Winterclaw would go from being just a little fort to something much more.


    The duo picked stockpile spots as they marked potential outpost locations on their newly drawn map.


    The plan was that Mark would visit these locations, down a bunch of trees with the help of his suit, and leave them for the ferals to put together.


    ¡°How about this one?¡±


    ¡°Not my first pick,¡± Elowen shook her head. ¡°Look, the sun rises in the east. Meaning that this forest coverage here would be shrouded from the morning light. Perfect for an attacker.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Venjimin nodded. ¡°To think I spent all my life studying just to never pick up a book on war.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re still one of my highest ranking fer¨CI mean¡ªcommoners,¡± Elowen said matter-of-factly.


    Venjimin curled his brow but let her continue.


    ¡°This is where it should go,¡± she added, pointing to the map. Gorzox had noted the spot as a landmark when he scouted¡ªit was essentially a small rocky hill.


    Barbarians didn¡¯t build on rock. Hill forts weren¡¯t unusual for clans, but they were generally built of earthy hills that weren¡¯t too hard to dig into.


    ¡°You think we should build atop rock?¡¯ Venjimin gave a puzzled glance.


    ¡°Yes. It is cleared from the forest from all sides and elevated views of the area. It¡¯ll give our patrols the perfect vantage point.¡±


    ¡°And be hard to build. And we have so little time.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. But is it worth risking the lives of our people over?¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Venjimin stroked his chin. ¡°I see your point. You''ve got quite the eye for this. I concede we put it on the rocks. Shall we move on to the next?¡±


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    **Imperator**


    Figuring out what he wanted to train the acolytes was no easy task for a modern man in a primitive world. Sure, there were plenty of skills he had that they didn¡¯t, but they weren¡¯t going to help win a fight against oversized, humanoid wolves.


    He needed something else. Something that would give them a real edge. Filtering back to the countless hours he spent listening to podcasts, Mark remembered one about the Byzantine Empire¡ªin particular, the part about greek fire.


    Apparently, it was made using pine sap, petroleum, and sulfur, although the exact recipe wasn¡¯t known. Thankfully, they had sulfur in the storeroom. And while they didn¡¯t have petroleum, they did have lantern oil.


    Mark scribbled down his ideas. It required a fire stoker, a pot, and a pipe, and no doubt a lot of testing.


    Sighing at his increasingly large to-do list, Mark gazed over his other notes.


    He was trying to make the most of the resources they had at hand. And while flamethrowers were at the top of his list, steam-power ranked a close second.


    Unfortunately, he was no engineer, and figuring out how to build a steam engine would be no simple task. But he figured he understood the basics well enough. Steam rose, and it could be harnessed to create pressure and, from there, energy.


    Writing his ideas down on paper was fine, but they were useless without skilled craftsmen to help bring them to life. And Mark certainly wasn¡¯t about to learn blacksmithing and other skills that might help.


    There was only so much he could achieve by hiring the local population. Sure, numbers were what he needed to build walls, trenches, and militias to defend his growing sphere of influence, but they weren''t going to construct a basic engine for him.


    Mark pulled out one of Atlas''s old maps and ran a finger down to the only real settlement labeled on it. It seemed that a trip to Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post was well overdue now.


    Unfortunately, with the threat of Imperator Eamon looming over him, he couldn¡¯t just grab a horse and head down there. He also couldn¡¯t send any ferals. The Trader¡¯s Post was an Imperial settlement, and they weren¡¯t about to let any barbarians in, even if they did conduct some gray-market trade with them on the side. And while he felt his bonds with Henric strengthening, he wasn¡¯t confident in handing him this mission. It needed someone who had a forward-thinking view of Fort Winterclaw.


    Sighing, he rubbed at his temples. It pained him that he kept returning to Erin after all he had put her through. But she was the perfect choice. Of course, he wouldn¡¯t send her alone. He had learned his lesson, and unless she took a husband¡ªwhich he certainly wasn''t going to pressure a sixteen-year-old girl into¡ªhe wouldn''t send her out of the fort without guards again.


    His mind wandered to Trayox and the retainers. Just because barbarians wouldn¡¯t be allowed to enter the trading post didn¡¯t mean they couldn¡¯t escort Erin.


    ***


    Mark led Erin from the inner walls, passing through a couple of tight-turning alleys, and stopped at Trayox¡¯s house.


    ¡°Excuse me, Imperator, but¨C¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll find out soon enough,¡± Mark said and knocked on the door.


    A moment later, the large, dreadlocked man opened it.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Trayox gave a sloppy salute. He was still a little rough, but at least he was trying.


    ¡°Tribune Trayox,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°I have a mission for you.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± he remained stiff as he had rehearsed.


    ¡°I want you to escort and protect Acolyte Erin to Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post. Take a couple of retainers with you. If you lack your own, ask Venjimin. He should be able to get you the help you need. Make sure no harm comes to her. And you¡¯re to follow her orders throughout the mission, understood?¡±


    Trayox nodded, and Erin stuck her tongue out from behind Mark¡¯s back.


    ¡°Leave as soon as you can. Completing this is of the utmost importance,¡± Mark turned to Erin. ¡°Supplies, trading goods, and coins will be prepared in a wagon for you. I''ll give you two horses to help with the trip. Make sure they come back alive, okay? And good luck out there. Just remember what I told you. The most important thing is that we find willing and dedicated help. If it costs a little extra for the right people, that isn''t a concern.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Erin saluted.


    "Trayox," Mark turned to the feral and nodded before turning back to the fort.


    Erin watched Mark disappear into the distance for a moment before turning to Trayox with a brimming grin. ¡°Who¡¯s the annoying girl now?¡±


    ¡°You?¡±


    ¡°Hey! You¡¯re not meant to speak to your commanding officer like that!¡±


    "Mission hasn''t started yet."


    **Acolytes¡ªErin**


    Trayox recruited two men to join them. They had taken on roles as building laborers helping him, and the three of them had gotten quite close since moving behind the walls.


    Erin wasn¡¯t sure how skilled they were with their weapons, but they were probably big enough to give most would-be brigands second thoughts about picking on them, regardless.


    It wasn¡¯t until they were ready to roll out through the gates that Callum came running and waving.


    He had spat out a thousand words a second as Erin stared at him wide-eyed. But eventually, he got his request across when he calmed down.


    "You want to come?"


    "Yes," Callum swallowed as he nodded¡ªstill catching his breath. "Please."


    "And what about the Imperator? And your injuries. Do you really think you''re up to this?"


    "I''m fine. Fit as a fiddle. Besides, when did you become my minder?"


    "You''re my friend. It''s my duty to look after you. Especially when you''re not too crack hot at doing it yourself."


    "Come on, Erriiin. You know how hard I''ve been working to get stronger. This is my chance."


    "Fine. Don''t slow us down," Erin narrowed as she pointed at Callum.


    "I won''t promise."


    "Alright, I guess I''ll ask the Imperator. If he says no, there''s not much I can do, though," Erin shrugged and started walking toward the inner fort.


    "Thank you," Callum called at her back.


    It didn¡¯t take long to convince Mark. He nodded along at all of Erin¡¯s points. And they were good points. Even if she wasn''t entirely convinced about taking Callum herself.


    The fact was that Callum was a great shot with a crossbow and was better than any other acolyte with a sword, not to mention the fact that he had proven that he was no coward. And he was an Imperial. If Erin had gone alone, she would have had to enter the trading post alone. And while that shouldn''t be too dangerous for an acolyte of the empire, Mark seemed all to keen to avoid more accidents as he hurriedly agreed.


    A short while later, the party was heading back through the walls and into the snow-blanketed wilderness.


    Mark had filled their wagon with furs for trading. Furs were one of the few resources that were actually easier to get in the Frontier than the Imperium, and with all the hunting that had been taking place around Fort Winterclaw now that ferals could freely trade with the storeroom and were in constant need of iron weapons and tools, meaning that their fur supplies were in constant growth.


    In fact, if they could gain a proper blacksmith or two for the fort, their fortunes would only increase. And continue to do so as their borders expanded with the outposts he had planned.


    And it was all thanks to Imperial stubbornness. There were thousands of ferals willing to strip the resources of the land away and overpay for low-quality smithed items if only there was someone willing to trade with them, and Mark was more than happy to fulfill that goal.


    He had even given the trade wagon a couple of buckets of axe heads, some hammers, and nails in case they came across ferals willing to trade more pelts along the way.


    The fortunes they could make if they played their cards right meant building wealth wasn''t a priority right now. They just needed to hire as many skilled craftsmen for Fort Winterclaw as possible and return with them.

 32. Frostwind Trader鈥檚 Post

    Blizzarding snow whipped up around the party as they pulled ropes tied to the wagon.


    The Frontier had informal roads that ran through its great expanse. It was a time-honored tradition to carry a rock with you when going long distances and placing down on soft ground. Over time, this resulted in semi-paved roads. Of course, there was a blanket of snow across the land, but with winter proper still a month or so away, the snow on heavily walked paths was broken and compacted enough for decent travel.


    But not today.


    It had started snowing almost as soon as they left the fort¡¯s walls and continued every step since. And now a powdery topping lay atop the ground, swallowing the wagon¡¯s wheels as they struggled to press on.


    Every hand was needed to help the horses pull, and the group followed Trayox¡¯s lead as he heaved to a count of 1-2-3.


    By midday, they had to stop. Sweat formed patches beneath their arms, and their muscles tightened.


    The Imperator had packed plenty of meat, at least. And they ate salted steaks by the roadside as they recovered.


    ¡°Never got a chance to ask you what you think about all this,¡± Callum said as he chewed.


    ¡°About the Imperator¡¯s plan?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, what else?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s better than anyone else''s,¡± Erin shrugged.


    ¡°Perhaps¡­ But what are a bunch of craftsmen going to accomplish? Like, I mean, I get it. Kinda. We hadn¡¯t had a fresh supply from the Imperium for months, and he filled our storeroom by trading with the ferals. Gotta give the man credit where it''s due. But what now? It¡¯s obvious we can already make whatever they need. What¡¯s this going to achieve?¡±


    ¡°You mean, what are we going to achieve by recruiting skilled craftsmen? Do you even listen to yourself talk sometimes?¡±


    ¡°You know what I mean. It¡¯s more mouths to feed. Not to mention the furs.¡±


    ¡°What are we going to do with all these furs?¡±


    ¡°Well, winter is coming, isn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°What? Just how many layers do you think you¡¯ll need?¡±


    ¡°I dunno. Just thinking aloud.¡±


    ¡°I mean, really. Have you forgotten about the battle already? You know, the one that the ferals won for us?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not. I was on the wall, unlike someone.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t remind me,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°I can¡¯t believe they still wouldn¡¯t let me carry weapons. At least the Imperator had enough sense to let me sneak a crossbow out in the wagon.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that¡¯s something.¡±


    ¡°Something? Why did you insist on coming if you¡¯re going to be so mopy?¡±


    ¡°To test myself.¡±


    Erin leaned back, a smirk playing on her lips. ¡°What? Are you some badass now? I came here to test myself,¡± Erin mocked, putting on a deep, tough-guy impersonation.


    ¡°What, it¡¯s true?¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Erin rolled her eyes as she held in a giggle.


    Callum snorted and shook his head. ¡°You know what? You are annoying.¡±


    ¡°See, told you,¡± Trayox said, nodding as he ripped a mouthful of meat away.


    They stopped several times as they traveled to trade with ferals along the road. Most were more than willing to, even running back to their camps to collect furs in exchange for an axehead or a few nails.


    **Trolls**


    Deep within the Dagger Mountains lived the trolls. Towering a foot above men on average, their frames are strewn with muscle, and their bodies heal unburned wounds capable of killing a man in mere minutes.


    These proud and deadly creatures are held back only by their meager numbers.


    With lifespans of about one hundred and fifty years, they spend two years in gestation, five years as infants, thirty as children, and don¡¯t reach adulthood until their fifty-fifth birthday.


    Hidden away in their mountaintop caverns, the trolls pray to the stone god, Rockharden¡ªas it is translated from their language¡ªand pride themselves on their traditions and customs.


    So when the warlord Vargh Tok united the ten great tribes and subsequently betrayed them by bowing a knee to the wargs and declaring The Seven-Head Wolf God as their own, many rebelled.


    But with numbers against them, they were cut down by the combined forces of Vargh Tok and their warg allies.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    However, not all were so cowardly as to surrender their traditions or too rash to challenge a superior foe. Tath Gorak, a proud chieftain held up in the far western edges of the Daggers, delayed his correspondence. He promised to meet soon and bow to his new warlord and god as he prepared his people.


    With supplies packed, they marched out of the warmth of their volcanic mountain, laden with hot springs, into the blizzard in search of an honorable future.


    Raised with faith, Tath Gorak believed that he would find the answers to his questions, that his gods would not betray him now, and that it was his duty to lead his people to greener pastures.


    Pulling carts by hand, his small tribe of eleven trolls began their descent from the treacherous mountains in broad daylight because the night was the warg¡¯s ally.


    They would have to move fast and cross the foothills before night came. Thankfully, the trolls made large, powerful strides, covering land at remarkable speeds.


    Tath Gorak looked back at his ancestral home as the tribe passed across a winding edge of the mountain. It would be the last time he would see it unless he managed to save his kind from Vargh Tok¡¯s sacrilege.


    He made a silent prayer to his ancestors, begging them for forgiveness. His actions were just, but he couldn¡¯t say whether or not they would accept the loss of their home, the caves his people had lived in for a thousand years. They traded and married into other tribes as they participated in the troll council. And now they would leave that all behind to seek help from ancient enemies in the hope that they could find an ally against the wargs. In the hope that they could survive without surrendering everything they cherished.


    There was no doubt it was controversial, but he saw no other way forward. It was either this or giving up on everything they believed in.


    **Trade Caravan**


    Determined to keep pace, they barely slept. After a few hours of shut-eye, they were dragging the wagon through the snow again.


    It got easier as they reached some well-trodden paths that led to a couple of small camps¡ªmostly trappers.


    Trayox and the other barbarians found a spot not too far from the path but well hidden by trees to hide in, and Callum and Erin drove the wagon the last few hundred yards.


    Unlike Fort Winterclaw, they approached open gates. However, they were far from unsecured. Men stood on the walls with crossbows, and several figures were standing by the entrance. And they weren¡¯t all in the employ of the Imperium. In fact, most weren¡¯t. They lacked the Imperial crests that acolytes, masters, and Imperators alike wore. Instead, they were gowned by leathers, furs, and cowled cloaks.


    The men eyed them warily as they approached, but no one said anything or tried to stop them. The trading post was known to be open to all who wished to enter, like a free fort, except for barbarians, who were likely the only people these guards were here to keep out.


    Inside, wagons were pulled up to most of the log buildings, and a few people¡ªmostly men¡ªstood around.


    Erin spotted a hanging timber sign and nudged Callum. ¡°There it is, The Widow¡¯s Bane.¡±


    ¡°Alright, lead on, boss.¡±


    ¡°Ooo, boss. I like how that sounds.¡±


    ¡°They are looking at us,¡± Callum said, ignoring her remark as they walked toward the inn and tavern.


    ¡°Ignore them. We might be in a free zone, but no one is going to try anything against a couple of acolytes with an Imperial barracks in sight.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Callum nodded as he tried to avoid the stares of fortune seekers.


    ¡°Okay, you watch the wagon,¡± Erin said, gesturing to the hitching post beside the Widow¡¯s Bane. ¡°I¡¯ll visit the Merchant¡¯s Guild first. See if I can¡¯t get them to offer a decent price for these furs. Then we can visit the Widow¡¯s Bane together.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that sounds as good as any plan,¡± Callum nodded.


    "Good. And if something does happen, I guess you should scream."


    "I''m not screaming for your help, Erin," Callum deadpanned. "I have too much pride for that."


    "Men and their pride," Erin shook as she turned for the Merchant''s Guild.


    The Merchant¡¯s Guild looked no different from the other cabins except that it was bigger, and a timber sign was nailed above its entrance¡ªthe abundance of logs and little else meant that they were used to build just about everything.


    A guard stood beside the door, and she watched his eyes glance down at the Imperial emblem stitched into her robe and looked away.


    Citizens and free people didn¡¯t necessarily treat the Law of Hierarchy with as much respect as direct employees of the Imperium. Still, they knew well enough not to cause anyone above them trouble.


    Erin eyed him a moment as she entered. While she might not have chosen this life for herself, she at least saw the light at the end of the tunnel, being an acolyte. It was hard to rationalize why a free person would intentionally choose to come here.


    Inside, the main room was mostly filled with barrels and chests, and a single bench, partially hidden behind a stack of barrels, was stuffed in the corner.


    Another guard was inside, but he didn¡¯t pay her much attention as she approached the bench.


    ¡°Hello, anyone?¡±


    ¡°One moment,¡± came a reply from somewhere beyond. The building didn¡¯t appear to have many or even any walls. Just one big storeroom with thick logs dotted through to keep the roof up. But aisles zigzagged through the rows of barrels and chests that formed their own makeshift walls.


    ¡°Imperial, what can I do ye for?¡± a goateed man appeared, eyeing her robes as he wiped his hands with a cloth.


    ¡°I¡¯m looking to sell furs.¡±


    ¡°Furs?¡± The man¡¯s brow rose. ¡°You don¡¯t look much like a trapper.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m here on behalf of my Imperator. He¡¯s looking to sell out our stock.¡±


    ¡°Is he now,¡± the man stroked his chin. ¡°Got a sample?¡±


    Erin nodded and pulled a pelt from her robes.


    ¡°Hmm, decent enough,¡± the man said, taking hold of it and rubbing it between his fingers. ¡°How much do you want for it?¡±


    ¡°Bounty out front says six crowns per pelt.¡±


    ¡°For guild-employed trappers, it is. I never seen you in my life.¡±


    ¡°Why should that matter? The goods are the same.¡±


    ¡°How many you got, Acolyte girl?¡±


    ¡°Forty high-quality pelts and another sixty not-so-high quality.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll give you five each for the lot of them. Take it or leave it.¡±


    The Imperator had asked her to make sure she made enough to hire the help they needed and any supplies the craftsmen might need to get started. And five hundred crowns was far more than they had expected to get.


    Erin considered trying to push the man, but the deal sounded too good to screw up. Besides, even though she doubted they would do anything here, there wasn¡¯t anything stopping the guild from sending a couple of mercenaries to follow them out of the trading post and deal with them.


    ¡°Alright, you¡¯ve got a deal,¡± Erin nodded.


    ¡°One more thing,¡± the man raised a finger.


    ¡°I thought we had a¨C¡±


    ¡°Shh, we do. But I¡¯d like to know how your storeroom got hold of so many furs. Imperators aren¡¯t exactly known for being skilled trappers.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, but I¡¯m not in the mood for a discussion.¡±


    ¡°Wait. It¡¯s fine. Keep your secrets,¡± the man rushed after Erin as she turned to leave. My clients back in the Imperium are always in need of more furs. It feels endless sometimes. Really. If you can get furs in large numbers, I¡¯ll be happy to keep paying. And if your Imperator needs coin¡­¡±


    ¡°For six crowns a fur?¡±


    ¡°Clever girl,¡± the man chuckled. ¡°Deal. Next time you bring me furs, I¡¯ll pay six crowns each.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll have to talk to my Imperator. But I¡¯ll tell him your offer.¡±


    ¡°Please do. There¡¯s a lot of money to be made if you go looking in the right place. I¡¯m sure if your Imperator is astute enough to send you here in the first place, he will understand the opportunity that presents him.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps,¡± Erin nodded as she left.


    He¡¯s quite the salesman, Erin sighed as she stepped back into the cold.

 33. Hired Help

    Mark felt like a mad scientist mixing different concoctions for his homemade Greek fire. His recipe included sap, lantern oil, sulfur, and charcoal. And after many failures, he mixed up a fresh batch and poured a little into a metal bowl.


    Passing across his cabin, he took a candle and gradually lowered it down to the mixture. It caught immediately.


    Perfect!


    There were many steps he had to get right for this to work. Burning for a long time and not going out was just one feature. To use the substance in a flamethrower-like device would require it to catch as it passed through a flame. That meant it needed to catch fast¡ªvery fast.


    The flames continued to burn, turning clear blue after a second. From a bowl at his side, Mark took a little snow and dropped it atop the flame. It flickered but remained alight. He took more snow and dropped it, receiving the same result.


    I¡¯ve done it. He still needed a delivery device, which would require a skilled craftsman. But at least he was one step closer to a weapon that could turn a battle against the wargs in his favor.


    Leaning back as he watched the fruit of his labor burn clear, Mark¡¯s thoughts about the throne ship burrowed back to the forefront.


    The current situation made him feel stuck, and he had been applying himself to anything that would keep him busy while he waited for news on Imperator Eamon. And it was starting to frustrate him.


    Despite their rather small numbers of around a couple hundred or so people living in and around the fort, his scouts were fairly confident that no new threats from the cultists were brewing and were unlikely to appear before winter. And with only a few weeks remaining until the real winter arrived, Mark knew that his time to go exploring for this lost treasure was running out. He just needed to confirm that Imperator Eamon had no immediate plans to attempt to arrest him.


    Atlas might have given up toward the end, but Mark was fairly certain he was no fool. Retrieving the throne ship before winter had to be a priority.


    **Acolytes¡ªErin**


    Downtrodden gazes fell upon Erin as she entered the inn and tavern flanked by Callum. They had sold all of the wares they brought with them. Both of them now carried heavy sacks of crowns. But they weren¡¯t particularly worried about someone directly robbing them with an Imperial barracks outside. However, it still wasn''t wise to leave goods unattended in a wagon. Many of these people were struggling, especially with how much prices had increased, thanks to the danger on the frontier roads. The situation would make easy loot too tempting for many.


    At the far end of the drinking hall was a noticeboard with all kinds of jobs posted¡ªwritten on scrolls nailed to the board.


    Most turned away once they realized they were just a couple of acolytes, returning their attention to their ales.


    ¡°So, do you or the Imperator have a plan for what¡¯s next?¡± Callum whispered from the side of his mouth.


    ¡°Kinda,¡± Erin said and made for the bar. ¡°Barkeep,¡± she said, tapping a crown against the bench.


    A middle-aged man with a naturally crooked brow and spotted skin stared silently at Erin as he dried a mug with his apron.


    ¡°Hello?¡±


    ¡°Eh, order?¡±


    ¡°No order. I¡¯m after information.¡±


    ¡°Oh,¡± he grunted and turned away from her.


    ¡°Alright, fine. Food. Stew or something. As long as it comes with a few questions.¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± he turned and nodded, then banged the wall several times and yelled a barely intelligible mumbled sentence into the kitchen. ¡°Questions? He turned back to Erin.¡±


    Erin smiled, ¡°For you.¡± She held up the crown.


    The man eyed it briefly and then slowly made his way over.


    ¡°All yours, big guy,¡± Erin said, handing the coin over. I¡¯m actually looking for craftsmen¡ªall trades. Do you know any?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± he nodded and pointed a stubby finger. ¡°Tailor, weaver, mason, fletcher,¡± he said, moving his hand to point at each of them as he spoke.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Erin said, turning to Callum and nodding toward the craftsmen. "See, that wasn''t so hard, was it?"


    "We haven''t hired them yet," Callum grumbled.


    **Payon**


    His hammer collided with a rain of sparks against the glowing metal in the little. He worked in a little rented smithy, and as Payon straightened the little piece of metal, he threw the nail using his tongs into his finished pile.


    With that, he reached his nail quota and picked at the partially worked sheet of metal he had saved at his aside.


    Unlawfully taken from Royal Road, this story should be reported if seen on Amazon.


    The metal was a project he had started to keep himself from going insane¡ªbanging out nails every day. It was to be a fine long sword. He continued the process he had already begun¡ªheating and folding the metal as he worked carbon into it. It was to be a great blade. Great enough that he wasn¡¯t too worried about finding a seller with or without a contract. Someone would be interested. That much he was confident about with a sword of this quality.


    He hammered at the metal until the muscles in his forearms tightened to the point of paralyzation and dropped it into a bucket of water with a mighty hiss and flush of steam.


    ¡°That¡¯ll do,¡± he exhaled, wiping the sweat from his brow. ¡°You¡¯re coming along nicely,¡± Payon added as he used his tongs to pull it free from the water and inspect it beside a lantern. "A fine blade like you is going to need a name."


    He placed the cooled blade in leather, wrapped it up, and then tied his bag of nails closed.


    It was a short walk to the guild. And he got a handsome sum for dropping the commissioned nails off. But there were plenty of vices in the trading post hungry for the wages of the men living here.


    But as much as Payon had a taste for ale, he steered clear of the working girls. In fact, he found it amusing. Men came in search of wealth, but regardless of how hard they worked, most left poor. On the other hand, the girls offering their services to these men were some of the wealthiest inhabitants of Frostwind Trader''s Post.


    Finally, it¡¯s time for a drink.


    **Acolytes¡ªErin**


    ¡°Who¡¯d have thought negotiating with craftsmen at the edge of the civilized world would be so hard,¡± Erin sighed as she and Callum took a table.


    ¡°At least the mason sounded like he might be interested.¡±


    ¡°Great, we might be able to bring the Imperator back someone who can carve rocks we neither have nor need,¡± Erin slumped. ¡°Second mission. Failed.¡±


    ¡°Lighten up. At least he picked you to lead. I basically had to beg him just to let me leave the fort.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, well, this time. Who knows what he¡¯ll be thinking when we come back empty-handed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not going to come back empty-handed. Stop being so melodramatic. For one, the mason isn¡¯t useless¡ªassuming we can get him. The Imperator said any skilled craftsmen, remember? If he said that, there¡¯s likely a reason. Secondly, people come and go from this place every day. Just because we haven¡¯t found exactly what we¡¯re looking for straight away doesn¡¯t mean we won¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°I just wanted to impress him. That¡¯s all. You know, after everything that¡¯s happened. I did kinda shoot Radic, remember?¡±


    ¡°Think I don¡¯t?¡± Callum chuckled.


    Erin smiled and shook her head. ¡°This is serious, Callum. They still don¡¯t want me carrying a weapon. And I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯m going to sit through the winter and whatever monstrosities are coming from the Daggers with empty hands.¡±


    The door to the tavern sounded, and the two of them perked their heads as they twisted to see who had entered.


    A short, stocky man with the thickest, muscle-rippled forearms either acolyte had ever seen entered. His face was tough and grizzled like rock, and sweat-matted hair clung to his forehead.


    ¡°Look at him. Reminds me of Old Willy from back home. Except meaner,¡± Callum aimlessly remarked. ¡°He was a good smith, though.¡±


    ¡°Smith?¡± Erin¡¯s brow rose.


    ¡°Yeah, made just about everything in town¡ªeverything that was made of metal. That is.¡±


    ¡°Why?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, why? Jacom¡¯s Reach is a tiny little town. We don¡¯t get many merchants visiting. You know, most of our stuff is made locally.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Erin shook. ¡°Not what I meant. Why does he remind you of Willy.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Callum turned to look at the man as he ordered ales at the counter. ¡°Hmm, I dunno. Similar build, I guess¡­ Actually, I know. Those forearms. They¡¯re huge. Never seen anybody with forearms like that save Old Willy. That¡¯s got to b¡ª¡±


    Erin got up mid-sentence and started walking toward the man.


    ¡°Rude,¡± Callum said.


    ¡°Excuse me,¡± Erin cleared her throat.


    Pushing coins toward the bartender, the man took his ale, drank from it, and turned to Erin with foam filling his beard. ¡°An acolyte?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I am,¡± Erin nodded. ¡°And you, you wouldn¡¯t happen to be a smith by any chance, would you?¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± the man curiously nodded.


    ¡°Acolyte Erin, a pleasure to meet you,¡± she said, sending a hand shooting forth.


    ¡°Payon, the Smith,¡± the man said, taking her hand with a vice-like grip that felt like solid stone.


    Grimacing, Erin rubbed her hand as she removed it. ¡°Would you have a moment to speak with us?¡±


    Payon looked over her shoulder at their table, where Callum was waving with a dumb grin. ¡°Mind if I drink?¡±


    ¡°Of course, be our guest.¡±


    ¡°Fine. I''ve got time for a few words.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Erin stepped aside and gestured for him to make for their table.


    ¡°Acolyte Callum,¡± Callum extended a hand as the smith reached the table.


    ¡°What do a couple of acolytes want with a smith?¡± Payon said as he crumpled Callum back into his chair with a sturdy shake.


    ¡°We¡¯re actually looking to hire a smith for our fort. You would be reporting directly to our Imperator,¡± Erin said, emphasizing who he would be reporting to. And while the Law of Hierarchy didn¡¯t change without official promotion, reporting directly to someone at the station of Imperator for a mere citizen was a great honor.


    ¡°And why would I want that.¡±


    ¡°Why would you want what?¡± Erin gave a befuddled furrow.


    ¡°To report to an Imperator. Those guys have a habit for draconian rule-following. What makes you think I want that for myself?¡±


    ¡°I ah,¡± Erin stammered. She hadn¡¯t expected this. But maybe it was for the best. If he wasn¡¯t a fan of how Imperators usually behaved, perhaps he would fit in perfectly at Fort Winterclaw. ¡°Well, he¡¯s not like that¡ªnot exactly,¡± she said, lowering her voice.


    Callum just nodded.


    ¡°Not like an Imperator?¡± Payon said. It was his turn to be confused now.


    ¡°Right,¡± Erin nodded. "Not like an Imperator¡ªnot most, at least. He¡¯s reasonable and willing to find compromise and pragmatic solutions¡ªeven when they are questionable¡ªfrom a law perspective, that is.¡±


    ¡°An Imperator that doesn¡¯t follow the Imperium law?¡± Payon curled his brow.


    ¡°I didn¡¯t say he doesn¡¯t follow the law. He¡¯s just a little more compromising than most.¡±


    ¡°Oh¡­¡±


    ¡°She¡¯s right,¡± Callum butted in. ¡°Erin even shot another acolyte, and look, she doesn¡¯t have a scar on her,¡± he added, bouncing his brows.


    ¡°Callum!¡± Erin dug her elbow into his side.


    ¡°Oww, what was that for?¡±


    ¡°You know,¡± she hissed between gritted teeth.


    ¡°You shot someone?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s complicated,¡± Erin forced a cheezy smile and laced her fingers. ¡°The point is we¡¯re telling the truth. The Imperator is a good man. I think you¡¯d like him.¡±


    ¡°How does letting you shoot people make him a good man?"


    "It''s a long story. The important part is that he found a solution that worked for everyone."


    "I see," Payon stroked his beard.


    "So, are you interested?"


    "I have never met an Imperator I liked,¡± Payon growled. "However, I¡¯m willing to hear what you have to offer.¡±


    ¡°Crowns,¡± Callum beamed.


    ¡°Exactly," Erin added. "Come work for us. You¡¯ll get paid. Run your own smithy and even get a couple of apprentices.¡±


    Payon coughed as he drank ale. ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s true. We can even offer a fifty crown signing bonus.¡±


    ¡°Fifty crowns,¡± Payon sprayed ale across the table as he blurted. ¡°And accommodation?¡±


    ¡°A cabin. You¡¯ll have to share at first, but the Imperator has promised that master craftsmen who join his fort will eventually have private cabins built for them.¡±


    ¡°I ah¡­ can you do seventy-five?¡± Payon said sheepishly.


    ¡°Seventy-five?¡± Erin looked up briefly, crinkling her brow. ¡°Yes, okay. Fine. But that¡¯s the final offer. 75 crown signing bonus, and you can leave with us as soon as we''re ready. Deal?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve got yourself a deal, las,¡± Payon boomed and extended a hand.


    Grimacing, Erin took it, bracing for what was to come.

 34. Job鈥檚 Not Done

    Mark marveled at the mage heart¡ªas he had learned its name. It was the power source of his suit and powered much of the technology within the Imperium. From what he understood, it was technology greedily hoarded by the Imperium.


    He wanted to tinker with it, even if he didn¡¯t really know what he was doing. But the risks were too great. Damaging it would probably condemn his mission and everyone within Fort Winterclaw. Besides, if the Imperium hadn¡¯t found better uses for the mage hearts, it was unlike some outsider would.


    Shelving his thoughts, Mark ran a hand across the glowing, rune-covered heart and slid back into the suit.


    His tribune Reida had requested a meeting with him, and it was time he got going.


    It still felt strange passing through the outer walls as his recently minted commoners regularly stopped and thanked him for all he had done.


    Many men now carried bows, thanks to looting the cultists'' attackers. But he knew very few could handle the weapon and carried it more as a status symbol. But if they could be trained then the fort¡¯s chances of defending against a siege just became a lot higher. Mark hoped that his little meeting with Reida would be related to this.


    Mark reached the tribune¡¯s impressive residence. It was a large cabin with a spiked log wall around a small courtyard at its front. Mark raised his hand to knock, but the door was opened before he reached it by one of the widowed women that Reida had taken as a retainer.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± she attempted a sloppy salute. ¡°Tribune Reida tis waitin'' for ye inside.¡±


    Mark nodded and passed through the small courtyard and into the cabin. Unlike most of the poorer residents, she had impressive pelts and trophy heads¡ªboth bears and wolves¡ªhanging from her walls.


    ¡°Come in, Imperator,¡± Reida called as he entered, and Mark walked in to see his tribune standing over a table with several bows strewn across it.


    ¡°Loot from the cultists?¡± Mark raised a brow as he stepped up to her side.


    ¡°Please, Imperator. These bows are not like the trash used by those cultists. I carved them myself. They''re the best you¡¯ll find outside of Clan Eadok¡ªwithin the Frontier, at least. A well-trained archer can shoot volleys up to three hundred yards away with a bow like this and pick targets off at around one hundred yards. Of course, we¡¯ll be lucky to achieve half of those distances if we start training now. But once the people know how to use them...¡±


    ¡°Impressive. And what about arrows?¡±


    ¡°Easy. But I¡¯ll need more hands. I need to spend as much time training the others as I can. I carve bows in the evening hours, which I barely find time for. I have no time to fletch arrows. I need assistants¡ªas many as possible.¡±


    ¡°Happy to do so. But that¡¯s not exactly easy. Not unless you can see people around here to hire.¡±


    ¡°Around here? No. But down south. What I¡¯m about to suggest is risky, but I think it¡¯s worth it, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Speak freely, Tribune. We''re long past the point of avoiding risk.¡±


    ¡°Many of my people are upset in the Clan Federation of the South. The fool who wants to be King of the Frontier promises whatever he needs to gain power. He elevates the station of some and demotes others without consultation. He takes titles and hands them to others on his whim. Entire branches of some of the most influential clans have been demoted to nobodies, and their positions have been handed over to the next clan willing to bow a knee to him. He¡¯s a short-sighted and stupid fool, surrounding himself with enemies. However, he is still far, far stronger than we are. If he were to take notice of us and decide to deal with Fort Winterclaw, then there would be little we could do about it. On the other hand, these disgruntled followers are ripe for our picking. And I promise, they have thousands of skilled and potentially loyal followers if we can convince them of our mission.¡±


    ¡°And I don¡¯t suppose you know of subtle ways to go about this?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps. I have someone I believe would be up for the job. But it¡¯d be dangerous to send her alone. But perhaps the other tribunes have some good retainers they could send with her.¡±


    ¡°And you haven¡¯t asked?¡±


    Reida shook her head. ¡°No. It wouldn¡¯t be right. They won¡¯t be happy about being dragged along with a plan of my creating. If they are to send their retainers willingly, the request will have to come from you, Imperator. And it¡¯s best we tell people it was your idea.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s not a problem. I¡¯ll see what I can do.¡± Mark was perfectly fine taking the credit for this idea. If it worked, it would only further cement himself as the savior of the Frontier, and such energy had already proven so valuable. "And Reida, what about the locals? Can we not train them to fletch arrows?"


    "We can," she paused. "It should be part of bow training anyway, as it was in my clan. But everyone is so busy."


    "Right," Mark nodded. Requesting arrows fletched from the people would slow down work on the walls and rigar production. And even though our food supplies are good now, we''re constantly taking in more people. To let them dwindle with winter approaching could be disastrous. "It sounds like we need to free up manpower as well."


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    ¡°I¡¯m pleased you see the importance of this, Imperator. I trust you''ll find a solution.¡±


    ¡°I see the value in all plans that help us survive what¡¯s coming. Make sure to seek me out if you have any others,¡± Mark smiled and turned to leave. ¡°Please, just try to focus your efforts on training archery for now. I''ll find a way to figure the rest out.¡±


    ¡°Will do, Imperator,¡± Reida saluted.


    **Acolytes¡ªErin**


    When they met up with the mason again after hiring Payon the Smith, he was far more conducive to the conversation. Having already hired someone seemed to ease the man¡¯s nerves, and he agreed to the fifty crown signing bonus.


    Unfortunately, they weren¡¯t able to convince any other craftsmen.


    Both men had requested a variety of tools to purchase for them, but afterward, they still had a decent amount of crowns remaining.


    Erin decided to hire a couple of sellswords and an experienced caravan master. The sellswords were experienced former soldiers of the Imperium, and regardless of what her Imperator decided to do with them, she was fairly certain they would come in handy defending Fort Winterclaw. The caravan master was a little riskier, but she had been advised she could spend all the crowns in her possession if she found the right help. And after her discussion with the Merchant Guild, she figured that a caravan master could be a great asset. Assuming the Imperator saw value in establishing a permanent trade route with Frostwind.


    Filling the last of the tools into the wagon, they prepared to leave with the mercenaries flanking them¡ªdressed in studded leathers, furs, and swords at their sides.


    She had already informed the group that they would be meeting up with ferals, not wanting a spectacle when they came face-to-face in the forest. She explained that they were hired to guard the wagon¡ªchoosing to withhold the real nature of their relationship for now. As long as they got to Fort Winterclaw, the men were likely to at least give the place a chance. After all, the trek back would be precarious on their own.


    The value of their newly hired hands showed almost immediately. Payon, in particular, was great at helping pull the wagon through difficult terrain, and Erin wasn¡¯t sure who was stronger, Trayox or their new smith.


    **Acolytes¡ªElowen**


    Firewood stocks were getting out of hand. Every useful log they produced for cabins and walls left piles of scrap wood behind for fires, and the forests stretched on in all directions. And they had barely gotten started building the new wall, and then there were the to-be-completed outposts and seemingly endless need for cabins.


    ¡°We¡¯re also going to need a bigger storeroom at this rate,¡± Elowen mused as she ticked notes on a ledger.


    ¡°What are you mumbling about now?¡± Dober said. ¡°Not more work, I hope.¡±


    ¡°Quit complaining. I finally made you useful, and all you can do about it is whine.¡±


    ¡°Because you¡¯re obsessive. Look at all this stuff,¡± Dober said, throwing his arms through the air. ¡°And you want a bigger storeroom. What for? What in the God-Lord¡¯s realm are we going to do with all this firewood and mushrooms,¡± Dober said, pretending to gag. ¡°I hate mushrooms.¡±


    ¡°Note for Treff. Only cook mushroom stew for Dober,¡± Elowen said, turning to narrow her eyes on Dober.


    ¡°What are you talking about? Not like he would listen to an acolyte anyway,¡± Dober stuck his tongue out. ¡°You can¡¯t scare me.¡±


    ¡°Have you forgotten who supplies Treff with the food he needs to cook with? I think you¡¯ll find that I can get Treff to do many things. Including mushroom stew,¡± Elowen flashed a devilish grin.


    ¡°No¡ªyou wouldn¡¯t,¡± Dober shook his head. ¡°That¡¯s not fair. I¡¯ve been doing everything you ask! I can even read now¡ªkinda.¡±


    ¡°Precisely. Everything I ASK. I shouldn¡¯t need to ask. Storeroom assistant is your job; act like it. Do without being asked. And for the sake of all that is holy, stop complaining about it. It¡¯s grinding on my ears,¡± Elowen said, massaging just beside her ears.


    ¡°Fine. I promise, no more complaints,¡± Dober pinned his lips closed and nodded.


    ¡°You better keep that promise. Or you¡¯ll be eating so, so, many mushrooms.¡±


    "Please, stop saying that. I''m already imagining it. And it''s not good."


    **Imperator**


    Mark made preparations to gather all of his tribunes together. He would formally request that anyone with a good, suitable retainer for the mission place them in his service.


    He gave orders to one of the acolytes to inform the tribunes and went back to work.


    It was no secret that firewood supplies were growing far too large, as piles of the resources were stacked outside against the storeroom''s walls. But they certainly weren¡¯t in a position to waste good supplies.


    Mark just needed a plan to use them. His thoughts trailed back to steam-power. He had a series of poorly drawn scribbles that he wanted to try and build somehow.


    It would be a perfect use for his seemingly endless supply of firewood. He remembered a podcast about the Industrial Revolution and how ancient technologies like milling were some of the first to take advantage of new energy sources. It reminded him of the rigar bark.


    The dense and filling carbs took a lot of effort to produce, with multiple stages of boiling and grinding down into a paste or mash-like substance. And because of this, just about every woman within the outer walls spent a good portion of her day mashing rigar bark into something edible.


    If they could build a mill of some kind to grind the bark down, using steam power to operate it, a huge amount of the fort¡¯s workforce would be freed up. And that was exactly what they needed if they were going to produce enough arrows to defend the place come winter.


    They even had metal tubs and other items that could be used in the steam engine construction, but what he really needed was a skilled smith who could make pipes.


    There was also the mill itself, but Mark had already begun scribbling some plans for that. He just needed to build a stone mortar and pestle-like device that the steam engine could power in a circular motion as the steam pushed its gear.


    Making a few adjustments, Mark sighed and sipped from his tea. If Erin had been successful and had managed to hire him a decent smith, then this plan might just work.


    Come on, get back here already.


    He was increasingly impatient. Perhaps more so than waiting for news about Imperator Eamon. After all, having archers with plenty of arrows on and behind his walls would likely improve its security even more than dealing with the threatening Imperator. Then, he could see what could be done about securing the throne ship without having to worry about his fort falling to enemies while he was gone.


    There¡¯s nothing for it now besides waiting. And getting anxious certainly isn¡¯t going to help. It''ll, I''m sure...


    Mark gritted his teeth and poured a rum.

 35. Smithy

    With bows becoming commonplace within the fort, Mark had realized a need for a dedicated training area. It would be located outside the walls until the new wall could be built to encompass it.


    Lined up against the palisade outside, they had straw targets that the acolytes used for crossbow practice and wooden manikins.


    Mark watched his commoners fumble with their bows. It''d take a while before they were a feared fighting force, but a few standouts were already showing their faces.


    They didn''t have the required skills just yet, but when he had enough competent archers, he would form a new branch of his growing army: the Rangers.


    Reida had already been placed officially in command of the fort''s walls. Still, Mark decided that he wanted a more satisfying name for the archer battalion, which he intended for the tribune to command on his behalf.


    The archers halted their training as Trumus and a couple of his men walked out to them. He could see them talking but nothing more.


    What''s he up to now?


    The man walked around the outer walls and the surrounding lands like he owned the place. It made Mark a little uncomfortable, but crime had become almost unheard of. He couldn¡¯t deny that the man was good at what he did.


    Please, just don¡¯t cause me any trouble.


    His gaze shifted as he caught movement at his periphery and turned from the tribune.


    Are people coming through the forest?


    Mark narrowed his eyes on the treeline. There were a few of them moving in a close formation with larger figures he hadn''t made yet.


    His brow curled as he watched them near the forest¡¯s edge.


    Horses. The caravan. A smile bent his face and raised his cheeks as he spotted unrecognizable characters accompanying them.


    So, she did find people to hire, and there were five of them. That''s not bad. Here¡¯s to hoping they have the skills I need.


    Climbing down from the wall, Mark called up a few acolytes for a welcoming party and sent a runner to open both gates and wait for their arrival.


    **Caravan**


    ¡°What¡¯s with all the ferals?¡± One of the mercenaries sneered as they passed through the outer walls.


    ¡°As long as they keep the crowns coming,¡± the man beside him shrugged. ¡°Who cares?¡±


    ¡°Ye got a point. At least the girls are probably cheaper here than in that shithole Frostwind.¡±


    ¡°You know it,¡± the other mercenary chuckled. "I''ve always wanted to get me a taste of feral meat."


    ¡°Keep your voices down and be respectful,¡± Leonard, the caravan master, interrupted the two. ¡°These are our new employers, remember that. And if you¡¯re planning any unsavory acts, make sure that you do it somewhere else. I¡¯ll be damned if I have to go crawling back to the guild begging for work.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry yeself, Leo. We¡¯ll behave,¡± the mercenary said, and the both of them burst out laughing.


    ¡°I¡¯m being serious. Don¡¯t expect me to have ye backs if you get me in trouble with the Imperator. Now shut it, he''s coming.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re back,¡± the Imperator said¡ªthe broad, stony-faced man approaching the group with a soft smile and waving hand that belied his hardened outer shell.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Erin and Callum saluted at the caravan¡¯s head, and the tribune and his men attempted a disheveled imitation.


    ¡°You¡¯ve brought me five men, Acolyte Erin. I¡¯m impressed. And Acolyte Callum, thank you for keeping her out of trouble.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s my honor,¡± Callum barked.


    ¡°So, Acolyte Erin, what have you brought me?¡±


    ¡°We have a master smith, Payon,¡± she replied, gesturing toward the burly man who nodded at the Imperator. ¡°A master mason, Jaddrick.¡±


    ¡°It is a pleasure meeting you both. I hope you find my fort accommodating. Mason Jaddrick, you¡¯ll have to share one of my masters'' cabins for now, but I¡¯ll make the construction of your own cabins a priority. Payon, we should be able to make room for you beside the smithy. But we¡¯ll also need to construct a proper dwelling for you, and expand the smithy if you¡¯re to use it properly. I¡¯ve currently got two acolytes working within it most days. They were apprentice smiths back in the Imperium before being recruited as acolytes. They might be a little rusty, but they should make for decent apprentices, and we can use all the help we can get in the smithy.¡±


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    ¡°Aye. I ain¡¯t going to turn down good help,¡± Payon nodded.


    ¡°A generous offer,¡± Mason Jaddrick bowed slightly.


    ¡°Please, get yourselves settled in. If you¡¯re hungry, there are hot meals in the dining hall. Once you¡¯re feeling comfortable, I have a special request I¡¯d like to go over with the two of you. Other than that, I¡¯m sure you¡¯ll get enough work coming through your workshops. Most of it will come from Acolyte Elowen, who runs the storeroom and sets trading prices with the ferals, or commoners as we call them here in Fort Winterclaw. If you¡¯re ever looking for additional work, which I doubt, she¡¯ll be the person to go to. Any questions?¡±


    The craftsmen shrugged.


    ¡°Good. And what about these three?¡± Mark turned his attention to the men at the rear of the caravan.


    ¡°This is Caravan Master Leonard. Previously employed by the Frontier Fur Company. He comes with good credentials and a lot of experience. And these two are mercenaries specializing in protection. Not only that, but they¡¯ve all worked together previously doing runs between Frostwind and the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Mark clapped.


    ¡°There¡¯s more, Imperator. The local representative for the Merchants Guild wants as many furs as we can supply him with, and he¡¯s offering six crowns for each pelt we deliver.¡±


    ¡°I see, so that¡¯s why you hired the caravan master,¡± Mark stroked his chin. ¡°I¡¯m impressed, Erin. It gives our already busy workforce even more to do, but if we can find the people to do the work, a steady source of crowns would be more than useful.¡±


    Erin grinned, happy her gamble paid off.


    ¡°I¡¯ll also find cabins for the three of you, and new cabins will be built. Although, I can''t guarantee you''ll get your own. That offer was for skilled craftsmen.¡±


    "Perfectly fine, Imperator. It can''t be any worse than Frostwind," the curly-haired caravan master with a thin mustache said with a toothy grin.


    **Imperator**


    Mark mused over his new construction plans. Building a new cabin for every Imperial who joined his fort wouldn¡¯t be practical if he managed to keep hiring more, but he didn¡¯t think they were ready to live out with the ferals just yet.


    He decided to build one large cabin for mercenaries, realizing that the two they had hired to help with caravan runs likely wouldn¡¯t be the last. And it could double as the fort¡¯s barracks.


    Master craftsmen would continue to get their own cabins unless they reached a point where they had more than they needed and didn''t need to worry about attracting them into Fort Winterclaw.


    More work meant he needed more people, though. And they were barely getting done what they needed to as it was. He would let his new hires rest a bit but couldn¡¯t wait to brief them on his plans for an engine. However, even if they did manage to build a working prototype, it would take time to find ways to convert jobs around the fort into ones that could be powered by steam.


    The reality was that they needed to expand their efforts, attracting more ferals to Fort Winterclaw, which was the purpose of the wall extension and outposts. But time was running short, and he wasn¡¯t sure how easy it would be to draw people toward the fort once winter came.


    But Mark had an idea. Warehouse supplies were already overflowing. There was a lot ahead of them, so emptying it without gain wasn¡¯t a good plan. However, if he could get what the fort needed in return, giving away some of their excesses would be worth it.


    Mark went through their supplies with Elowen, taking excess axeheads, furs, and red meat and placing them aside. The goods were prized amongst the ferals, many of which struggled to get their hands on such items and had many uses for them.


    The plan was to use these items as bounties for the ferals. In return, they would ask the people to help erect logs and complete the new outer walls and outposts.


    Once the walls and outposts were completed, Mark mused that the manpower issues should be eased up somewhat. The completion of the outposts would also provide them with expanded control over the immediate surrounding region, solidifying their position and drawing more people toward them.


    The moment he cemented his plans, Mark sent scouts as runners to spread the news. With any luck, it would bring in a new flood of workers to help spring them along with their plans.


    Their chances of surviving the winter were looking brighter with every day, and even Henric had been easier to work with recently. It hadn¡¯t been easy, but Mark was fairly confident that the success of integrating the people so far was showing its value more every day, and his people¡¯s innate survival instincts were shining through thanks to it.


    It had been what he planned from the start. If he could convince them that his methods were their only means of surviving this, then they would be amenable to the changes he was employing.


    Easing them into this was a bit of a gamble, but it looks like it¡¯s finally paying off.


    But he couldn¡¯t relax. Even if people were finally easing up to the idea of working together, there was still a very long way to go. Not only would they need better, more sophisticated means of defending the fort, but they would need to continue to increase their numbers.


    The Greek fire was the plan Mark liked the most, but it couldn¡¯t be the only plan. Once the new walls were built, he wanted to add a trench. However, building a moat wouldn¡¯t be very effective if all the water froze. But what if he could keep a drained trench lined with spikes surrounding the fort? That would be different. Not to mention his new smith. Once he had caught up on work, instructing him to craft barbed wire surely wouldn''t be too difficult.


    Even if the wargs were their military superiors, how would the medieval monsters fare trying to pass through a trench filled with spikes and barbed wire while arrows, Greek fire, and blasts of lightning rained down on them?


    He knew what needed to be done. They just needed to get that wall built as quickly as possible, and then he would turn the area around the fort into a nightmare for anyone dumb enough to attack them.


    There was only one issue. What if they laid siege to Fort Winterclaw? The storehouse had plenty of resources if they could continue collecting more, but did they have enough for a complete blockade?


    Mark wasn¡¯t sure. He needed a bigger warehouse. He needed to produce rigar bark more easily. And he needed a backup plan.


    Another thought entered his mind. He wouldn¡¯t try to build it now, not when his men had more important tasks to complete, but it was something worth keeping in mind.


    What if they built a tunnel? There was one major issue with this idea. They needed to come out somewhere easily hidden. If they built a tunnel that the wargs could subsequently use to maneuver around his defensive constructs, it would be a major failure.


    For now, it was just a thought¡ªsomething that could resurface if the need became great enough or if they found a suitable location to connect to the fort via a tunnel.


    Not only that, but if he could get his hands on the throne ship¡ªassuming it did what he thought it did¡ªthen building a tunnel might not even be needed, anyway.


    However, Atlas, an Imperator with far more training than he had, died trying to recover this artifact. He had to be careful, and there was a real chance that he would have to call the mission off if, after he started, he found the task too dangerous. The possibility needed to be investigated, but he wasn''t confident betting on it.


    Mark stewed over his notes. He dearly hoped his newly employed craftsmen would be up for a challenge.

 36. Take their jobs

    ¡°So, what do you think?¡± Mark said, eyeing Payon as he attempted to read the broad man¡¯s expression. It was stony-faced and never seemed to change much, but he was confident the man''s slightly bent, bushy brow wasn''t a sign of hostility despite its crude appearance.


    ¡°Aye, I should be able to get this done. I''ve made pipes on a few occasions but in the Imperium. But what¡¯s all this?¡± Payon said, pointing to the diagram of the steam engine.


    ¡°Just a little something that will change life as we know it.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound like a little something to me,¡± the wide man¡¯s bushy brow curled.


    ¡°Intrigued, are you?¡± Mark grinned.


    ¡°Aye, you could say that.¡±


    ¡°Well, this is something I call the Winterclaw Machine. It funnels high-pressure steam through these tubes, which moves the pistons and, in turn, this crankshaft.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t know what half of that means.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s fine,¡± Mark waved. ¡°The point is, with the steam, we make something move.¡±


    ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Once you¡¯ve done that, you¡¯ve created power. And that power can be used to complete tasks. For example, our first task will be to connect this to the mill I¡¯ve designed. By turning this gear here,¡± he added, fingering points along the diagram. ¡°We can set the grinder into motion. It¡¯s simple, but that¡¯s all we need. As the rigar bark is ground down into its refined form, it will fall out through this grate here.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be no easy task to move that thing. Think this little contraption of yours will be strong enough?¡±


    ¡°Payon, don¡¯t you worry about that. This machine will have more than enough strength to do what we need it to do.¡±


    ¡°Impressive,¡± Jaddrick said. ¡°The stone parts should be quite easy to make. But I¡¯ll need good, workable stone.¡±


    ¡°Right. See my acolytes about that. They should be able to organize someone to find something for you.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, Imperator. But I¡¯ll need to go with them to make sure they get something of suitable quality.¡±


    ¡°That''s also easily arranged.¡±


    ¡°Okay, well, if that¡¯s a¨C¡±


    Knocks rattled the door of Mark¡¯s cabin.


    ¡°Enter," Mark turned to the door.


    An out-of-breath acolyte stormed in, panting. ¡°Imperator, it¡¯s that weird feral¨CI mean¨Ccommoner, Weedy Eye. He says he¡¯s got important news for you.


    ¡°Thank you. Dismissed, Acolyte. Payon, Jaddrick,¡± Mark nodded to the two men. ¡°I must be off. If you could build the requested items, I would be grateful. But please, if Elowen requests something urgently, see that it¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the craftsmen echoed.


    ***


    Passing out through the outer walls and into the surrounding forest¡ªwhich had been pushed back a couple of dozen yards thanks to intentional deforesting¡ªMark found Weedy Eye.


    ¡°Hello there, Imperator,¡± the man with knotted, graying hair flashed a smile crooked enough to make a child scream.


    ¡°Weedy Eye,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°You¡¯ve got news for me?¡±


    ¡°Aye, that I do. Good and bad. That little thorn in ye side, Imperator Eamon¡ªhe''s as unlikely as a drunken aunt to make any moves. Burdened with his own problems, as he is. Supply caravans have stopped almost entirely across the Frontier, from what I ¡®ear. Whisper has it the Federation got your big old Legate scared. Apparently, he''s been stocking up. Might even be plannin¡¯ an attack.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Mark shook. ¡°The Legate is planning on attacking the Barbarian Federation?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s what I ¡®eard. All rumor, of course. Nuffin¡¯ too trustworthy. But yous better be careful. All kinds a chaos gonna happen if he cuts off the head, so to speaks.¡±


    ¡°Damn it,¡± Mark gritted his teeth. ¡°We might not be allies, but humans killing each other when a horde of wargs is coming doesn¡¯t seem like the best decision-making.¡±


    ¡°Aye, but ye a strange one, Imperator. Not many yous fellas believes in us stories.¡±


    ¡°So, Imperator Eamon doesn¡¯t have supplies and, from the sounds of it, hasn¡¯t found alternatives like we have in Fort Winterclaw?¡±


    ¡°On the nose, Imperator. Not in a good spot he is. Doubt he¡¯ll be in a position to be attackin¡¯ a horde of chickens anytime soon. Let alone a fort.¡±


    That¡¯s good news, at least. But I¡¯ll still need to keep an eye on him. Just because he can¡¯t do anything about me right now doesn¡¯t mean he might not try later.


    ¡°Good. Thanks for the information, Weedy Eye. It¡¯s been helpful. But are you able to keep an eye on Eamon?¡±


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    ¡°Aye, I¡¯ve got a fella who can sort ¡®em out. Spyin¡¯ and all that.¡±


    ¡°Good. Who knows what he might try if he gets his situation under control? I want to know as soon as possible if anything substantial changes in his fort. I must go now. I¡¯ve important business to see to.¡±


    ¡°Aye, Imperator,¡± Weedy Eye gave a mock salute. ¡°Be seeing you.¡±


    ¡°Weedy Eye,¡± Mark nodded and turned for the fort.


    ***


    Mark immediately requested that Elowen stock a wagon for a journey to the miasmic fields and headed to his cabin.


    There was no time to waste. If he left now, he should be able to attempt the throne ship¡¯s retrieval and return within a week or so before winter proper.


    First, though, he had to make sure that his plans were laid out and simple to follow for his people while he was gone.


    Winter didn¡¯t necessarily mean that the wargs would be marching on Fort Winterclaw immediately, but he wanted to essentially treat it as such and have as much ready as he possibly could.


    The steam engine parts would come first, and he would attempt to assemble them on his return. He then set plans to have the smith start work on the barbed wire as a priority.


    He also requested that the moment the walls were up his people would start digging out the trench he wanted.


    Unfortunately, there really wasn¡¯t an appropriate alternative to putting Henric in charge while he was gone. He prayed that the man had come over to his side of thinking enough not to lead the fort astray, but he couldn¡¯t really see any way to confirm this. He just had to hope that the risk was worth it.


    Most of his valuable assets would also be required to remain at the fort, however, with a mission as important as this, he decided it would be wise to bring others with him.


    From the vague memory of Atlas¡¯s journey, he saw the Imperator head out alone into the foothills shrouded by miasma. He wasn¡¯t sure if that was because he wanted to protect his underlings from danger or if he just didn¡¯t trust them to be helpful.


    Either way, Atlas had failed. Bringing someone with him would no doubt endanger them as well, but if he died, then the fort was likely doomed, and all of the Imperials within it.


    Callum is skilled and hard-headed, and the fort will be fine without him. Some strength would be useful, as well, to help with the wagon.


    Mark scribbled notes as he thought. I hope they can get along¡­ But who else is there? Trayox and the other common laborers are too useful to help get the walls up. I can¡¯t take them. The only one who makes sense is Radic.


    The boys had a history, but surely they wouldn¡¯t do anything stupid with him around. And they were both competent.


    Mark hummed on the thought for a moment. They were the only suitable people to join him and who wouldn¡¯t take too much value away from the fort.


    They would also need two horses for the supply wagon, bolts, crossbows, and swords. He also requested axeheads, nails, and iron coins to be added to the supplies.


    If they found ferals along the way who could be persuaded to head toward Fort Winterclaw, it made sense to try to convince them. And iron goods were always a great way to do that.


    He also made a makeshift respirator. He didn¡¯t want to rely on his untrained handiwork, but some charcoal, cloth, and fibrous materials might be enough to save him from the toxic fumes if he had no other choice.


    Look, I wouldn¡¯t pay for it, but it¡¯s not half bad if I do say so myself. Mark thought as he held the homemade mask up. At least it''s better than nothing...


    **Acolytes¡ªCallum**


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe he picked you,¡± Erin whined as Callum packed his stuff in their cabin. ¡°You¡¯re actually going on a mission with the Imperator himself. That¡¯s so much cooler than hiring a few craftsmen.¡±


    ¡°And more dangerous. Not to mention he¡¯s bringing Radic along.¡±


    ¡°I thought you buried that hatchet.¡±


    ¡°I did,¡± Callum shrugged. ¡°But I don¡¯t think he¡¯s too happy about me. Although, I doubt even that dumbass is stupid enough to try anything with the Imperator around. Though, if I had a choice, I¡¯d be taking someone else.¡±


    ¡°Like me?¡±


    ¡°Maybe,¡± Callum teased. ¡°Depends how useful you could make yourself.¡±


    ¡°Hey! You know I¡¯m as capable as any other acolyte.¡±


    ¡°I dunno. You say that but¨C¡±


    ¡°Zip it, you. Before you say anything you¡¯ll regret.¡±


    ¡°Calm down. Besides, I think the true potential is staying back here, anyway.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Erin perked a brow.


    ¡°Isn¡¯t it obvious? Me and Radic are going along as glorified pack mules. But what happens in the fort while we¡¯re going will show the Imperator who he can rely on. It¡¯s a chance to prove yourself. Step up and show him that he doesn¡¯t need to do everything himself to keep this fort from pulling itself apart. He needs reliable people, and I have a feeling that he¡¯ll be deciding who he can rely on based on everyone''s performance while he¡¯s gone.¡±


    ¡°Wow, Callum. You¡¯re actually smart. I hadn¡¯t thought about it like that, but you¡¯re probably right. It¡¯s not like you¡¯re going to be able to do anything the Imperator can¡¯t. But we can while he is gone.¡±


    ¡°Right. And he¡¯s not going to take anyone away from the fort that is too valuable to it. Although, that probably doesn¡¯t include you.¡±


    ¡°Hey, I thought you were being nice!¡±


    ¡°I''m being honest. That¡¯s what you like, isn¡¯t it? Don¡¯t take it as an insult. Besides the boys in the smithy and Elowen, I¡¯m not sure any of the acolytes are vitally important. Well, maybe Erald. I¡¯m sure a bunch of new injuries will show up any time now.¡±


    ¡°He needs the tribunes to keep the ferals in order and get the walls built. And he needs the masters to keep the whole thing stitched together,¡± Erin mused aloud.


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Callum turned from his packing to wave a finger. ¡°But that gives a lot of room to prove yourself. If you really want to be favored by him, that is. Help make sure his instructions are followed and completed, and I¡¯m pretty confident he¡¯s going to put a whole lot more responsibility on your shoulders. Again, If that¡¯s what you want.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Erin said with a defiant nod. ¡°I don¡¯t just want to be furniture sitting around in this place. I want to be part of the solution.¡±


    ¡°Great. Well, here¡¯s your chance. Meanwhile, I¡¯ll be trying not to die from toxic fumes.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re joking,¡± Erin narrowed her gaze on Callum. ¡°But be careful, seriously. Plenty of people die out there all the time, even on the roads that are meant to be safe. All it takes is one powerful gust of wind and¡­ you know.¡±


    ¡°I know. I¡¯ll do my best and hope the Imperator knows what he¡¯s doing.¡±


    ¡°Good luck. You¡¯ll need it,¡± Erin flashed a sober smile.


    **Imperator**


    With his orders in place and the little party gathered and ready to leave, Mark officially placed Henric in control of the fort.


    ¡°Make sure everything goes to plan, Master Henric. Our lives will depend on it.¡±


    ¡°These plans you¡¯ve given us¡­ they¡¯re a little strange.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, Henric. But please, trust them. They¡¯ll improve the defenses of this fort more than you can imagine. And with them, we might stand a chance against what¡¯s coming.¡±


    Henric nodded. ¡°Don¡¯t get yourself killed out there. I¡¯ll be damned if I take responsibility for what this fort has become.¡±


    Mark smiled and shook his head. ¡°Never change, Henric,¡± he planted a hand on his shoulder. "And I have no intention of dying, so don¡¯t worry about that. I¡¯ll be back before you know it¡ªand well before any other Imperials come marching around here. You won¡¯t have to be the face of my decision-making.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll hold you to that.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you do that,¡± Mark turned and waved a hand above his head. ¡°Let¡¯s get moving then. There¡¯s no time to waste.¡±


    The two acolytes nodded to their Imperator and urged the horses on as the wagon began to rattle down the dirt path.


    Finally, Mark would get to see a little more of this new world he found himself in.

 37. Without a King

    Several days had passed since the Imperator had left, and work had reached a fever pitch around the fort.


    There seemed to be a general desire among the people to outdo themselves. The implication of the Imperator being gone and wanting to get as close to completing the tasks left behind had become seemingly infectious.


    The new palisade went up far quicker than the extension despite being considerably larger. For one, it had no wall walk; instead, it was just a spiked wall of worked trunks. It had been decided to keep it simple for now so that it didn¡¯t consume all the fort¡¯s resources and time. Once it was up and the outposts were built, and the additional fortifications were added; they could be expanded upon and improved.


    Commoners were already digging out the trench ordered by Mark, with Trayox at their lead. And several smaller groups had headed out to construct the outposts using the piles of logs left behind by Mark.


    Within the fort itself, the Imperial District and the High District still had strict people controls, however, the Low District had been opened up to all. And new ferals were streaming into it every day.


    However, they were expected to undergo an interrogation of sorts on entry. They searched for signs of wealth that wouldn¡¯t be expected to be found on cultists, weapons, and any religious symbolism. Of course, when Mark made this order, he realized the likelihood that some cultists would make it inside the fort¡¯s walls. But with that came the perception of confidence, which he knew they would need to keep attracting more people to their growing settlement.


    Even the new additions to the fort seemed to have been infected by the hard work taking place. Payon, the smith, worked tirelessly, crafting the more difficult parts Mark had requested for the steam engine, while the apprentices worked on crude axeheads and nails.


    Fort Winterclaw was different from what Payon had seen elsewhere in the Frontier since arriving. While it was still developing and finding its colors, there was a real sense of comradery here and even, dare he think it, hope.


    The people believed in their mission, and it rubbed off on him. He worked harder and longer than he had since he was a boy and an apprentice back in the Imperium, scared his master might fire him and take another. He wasn''t sure exactly why, but even though he barely knew these people, he wanted to play his part.


    Jaddrick, the mason, wasn''t much different, carving up the rocks needed for the mill within a couple of days. His workload was lacking, so he convinced Henric and Elowen to let him use their horses, assisted by a couple of acolytes, to collect more good rocks.


    The work was exhausting and slow, but they managed to pull a dozen or so good, large rocks with the help of the horses each day, stacking them inside the Imperial District. And in the evening hours, Jaddrick positioned them into the foundations for the fort¡¯s future keep.


    Before the first outposts had even been completed, their effects started to show. The timid ferals in the surrounding wilderness seemed to stand taller and more confident. Cultist sightings were becoming less and less, and thanks to the patrols run by Mark''s tribunes, there was a growing sense of security.


    They had even managed to fill another wagon full of furs and set it off back to Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post with a couple of Trumus¡¯s men to help guard, and Acolyte Clay had been picked to trade on behalf of the fort.


    The boy was skittish at the best of times, and he wasn¡¯t the strongest or smartest, which was exactly why he was chosen. They needed everyone to put in whatever they could, so Henric had chosen him despite a brief protest. With any luck, marching around in the wilderness would toughen the boy up. And he didn¡¯t yet trust the caravan master or his sellsword guards to trade on their behalf, believing that crowns would likely go missing if they relied on them. Clay, on the other hand, was a sworn acolyte with the God-Lord on his side. And Henric believed that regardless of how cowardly the boy might be, he would act with honor and transparency.


    As with the first trip to Frostwind, Henric had ordered Clay to look for more help to hire and was more than happy for him to return with more mercenaries instead of more craftsmen if they couldn''t be found. Since the Master-At-Arms trusted the ferals in combat far less than his Imperator superior, the more Imperials he had to help defend this fort, the happier he would be.


    Still, despite all these gains, it was hard to gauge the loyalty of the refugees flooding the Low District. And even with their additional numbers, the entirety of the fort and its immediate surroundings only numbered a little over three hundred souls¡ªa far cry from their adversaries.


    **Imperator**


    Mark might have been a stranger to these lands, but his orienteering days well and truly prepared him for following any map handed to him, and with the help of a compass had little issue keeping them on track.


    You could be reading stolen content. Head to Royal Road for the genuine story.


    Passing through forests and clearings between them, they found several abandoned feral hovels. It was evident that many had already left this region to go south.


    The empty feral homes were a little eerie, but Mark saw the bright side to it. It meant that there was less chance of running into cultist spies.


    There was only so much he could do with his suit before it would overheat. And if another small army of cultists tracked them down here with no fort to run to, they likely wouldn¡¯t have much chance.


    The thought of finding a means to help manage the suit¡¯s heat had been playing on his mind for weeks now, but if being in a snowy wasteland that often fell below freezing wasn¡¯t enough, he didn¡¯t know what would be.


    ¡°Looks like they¡¯re all gone,¡± Callum mumbled half to himself.


    ¡°You¡¯re not getting scared, are you?¡± Radic taunted as they helped pull the horse-drawn wagon through the snow.


    "No," Callum said. "I never said th¡ª"


    ¡°Look, over there,¡± Mark said, interrupting the acolytes. ¡°The Razor¡¯s Back,¡± he added, pointing out the impressive line of jagged mountains far in the distance that split the Frontier from the Imperium.


    The weather had been poor and foggy for weeks but cleared as if on purpose a few hours ago, allowing them to see the mountains almost a hundred miles away.


    Between them and the Razor¡¯s Back was a blanket of undulating hills, much of which still had green vegetation piercing through the patchy snow. Compared to elsewhere in the Frontier, the foothills looked positively inviting and even quaint. If not for the poison toxins that shrouded the land.


    ¡°It looks kind of nice, don¡¯t you think?¡± Callum said.


    ¡°If you like dying of poison, maybe,¡± Radic mocked.


    ¡°I see what you mean, Callum. It¡¯s quite pretty. It gives me a sense of serenity¡ªdeceptively so.¡±


    Mark¡¯s eyes caught a cloud of purplish fumes drifting up from a tiny valley between two hills, almost as if it were alive.


    What the¡­ I¡¯ve never seen anything quite like that.


    Radic backstepped at the sight.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Radic,¡± Callum said. ¡°The clouds never leave the foothills. Nothing to worry about until we get closer,¡± he added, pointing out a clear line between the dense, snow-covered land of the Frontier and the grass-speckled snow of the foothills.


    ¡°Come on,¡± Mark waved. ¡°Let''s make for that path through the hills there. Judging by the clouds, we should be safe.¡±


    They could see several clouds of toxins moving over the land from here, each looking to be roughly an acre or two in size. The path Mark had pointed out looked relatively easy to walk, cutting between a couple of the hills, with the toxic clouds gradually moving away from it.


    Another thirty-odd minutes passed before they reached the edge of the foothills, and it gave Mark a chance to study their movement further. Unfortunately, and somewhat predictively, they moved more erratically than expected.


    The clouds weren¡¯t exactly fast and could easily outrun on horseback or even at a consistent jog; however, the untamed terrain could easily pose issues, and the deeper they traveled, the harder it would be to escape. After all, clouds don¡¯t feel fatigued.


    Luckily, the often direction-changing clouds didn¡¯t turn toward his chosen path, and Mark urged them onward.


    At the edges of the foothills, the party met barren grasslands mostly covered in snow, but as they moved further in, the vegetation covering the land grew denser. They found trees with suspiciously purple apples, curled rows of thorny bushes sprouting flowers, and even pumpkin-looking vegetables along the ground, ominously red and marked by white dots as if they had an identity crisis with a wild mushroom.


    This place is like something out of a fairytale. If it wasn¡¯t for those roaming toxic clouds, it¡¯d be beautiful. Far better than the frozen waste of the Frontier.


    But it didn¡¯t take long for them to be reminded why this land was so precarious, coming across skeletal corpses caught in thorny bushes or sitting against tree trunks with notes in their hands.


    Mark made his way to one of the skeletons as the party traveled past and carefully removed the crumbling note held in its bony hands.


    ¡°It¡¯s a goodbye message to his family, with a will attached,¡± Mark soberly said. ¡°He injured his leg and couldn¡¯t keep up with his group. They left him here with a flask of rum.¡±


    ¡°Imperator?¡± Callum said as the two acolytes drove the wagon along the partially trodden path, their agitated gazes shifting around their surroundings.


    ¡°Sorry, coming,¡± Mark said, turning back to them. ¡°Let''s keep moving. We don¡¯t need to take any risks,¡± he waved them on, and the two boys pulled on the reins, leading the horses deeper.


    There were many hours ahead of them, and they wouldn¡¯t be able to rest in this land. They would need to find the throne ship and escape before danger reached them. And every wasted minute increased the inherit risks of being here.


    As they walked along a narrow ledge flanked by thorny vines, the mage heart at the center of Mark¡¯s suit thumped with power. His brow rose as he looked down, pulling his overcoat apart to reveal the lightly glowing source of power. It felt something.


    Mark glanced down at his map again. He was confident in his skills, and to his estimate, they were still several miles off.


    Could it be reacting to this throne ship?


    What could this artifact be that it drew forth such a reaction from his suit so far away? Mark wondered.


    ¡°Onward,¡± he shouted. ¡°I can feel our target. It''s near!!¡±


    The boys nodded and pulled on the horses, who grew increasingly stubbornly rooted with every step they marched deeper into the foothills.


    ¡°Imperator, but do you mind me asking, what exactly are we here for?¡± Callum said.


    Mark had told them they were going on a vitally important mission that could mean the difference between surviving the winter and not, but he hadn¡¯t told anyone besides Henric¡ªunder oath of secrecy¡ªwhat they were actually looking for.


    ¡°He¡¯s actually right, Imperator,¡± Radic said. ¡°We¡¯ve come this far. We ought to know why.¡±


    ¡°Fair enough,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°We¡¯ve come in search of an artifact that can secure our survival. We¡¯ve come looking for a throne ship.¡±


    The boy¡¯s eyes widened at word of the majestic vessels that were treasured within the Imperium. The mage cores that powered them were some of the greatest treasures among all of the great Imperium''s wealth and guarded jealously.


    Usually, throne ships were only employed by legates, princes, and the emperor himself. Both a power and wealth symbol, the admired ships came with a multitude of utilities and firepower. And even the acolytes knew the implications of Fort Winterclaw having one at its disposal.


    The fire of hope could be seen sparking in their eyes as Mark¡¯s distant gaze defiantly pointed toward their goal.

 38. Treasure in the Foothills

    Perched atop the western mountains, the stone facade of a temple lined the cliff face, its columns and roof cut straight from the rock it was built into. A platform sat at its mouth with several stone pillars arranged in a circle, and two paths cut through the stone leading up to the stone walls that surrounded it.


    For centuries the temple had been the Wamandy Clan¡¯s seat of power. The treacherous paths leading up to the stone temple, built into the cliff itself, were near impenetrable, providing the few hundred clan members that called it home the strength to defend against much superior foes.


    Inside, light pierced into the grand chamber at the temple''s heart through cuts in the earth made at angles. Through those angled holes light traveled down, reaching its destination below by the precise placement of mirrors.


    Basked in the warm, glittery light, a throne sat at the chambers far end, and before it a bear fur at least four times the size of the greatest grizzlies covered the cold stone tiles. On the fur several toddlers played with a gentle-faced, white-haired, and beautiful woman; whose soft, unblemished skin spoke of youth.


    Echoing taps of footsteps sounded through the grand hall and her head rose toward the figure marching toward them.


    He''s back already.


    ¡°News from the Daggers, Warmaster?¡± She asked and straightened as he neared.


    ¡°Yes, Body of the Goddess,¡± the gnarly man in thick furs with a double-axe over his back said, bowing to one knee. ¡°The wargs gather their numbers. More than even we predicted. They bide their time, waiting for winter. But they are ready. Soon they will be here and they will spread across the lands unopposed. We have seen the strength of all those in concern. None of the clans can resist this force.¡±


    ¡°And what of us here in the west?¡±


    ¡°There is a group gathering. They make crude siege equipment and position themselves to head toward us. But they wait for their brethren. The intent is to overwhelm all that could oppose them at once.¡±


    ¡°Can we defend against them?¡±


    ¡°With your powers, I believe we can.¡±


    Yelinda sighed and a gust of wind blew through the chamber, raising her up to her feet. ¡°Even I have limits, Warmaster.¡±


    ¡°The enemy will be forced to take the narrow paths through the mountains up to us. I believe your gift from the Wind-Goddess will prove deadly to our enemy in these conditions. And my champions will fight fiercely to keep the enemy rooted.¡±


    ¡°And what of the people outside of our domain?¡±


    ¡°There is no helping them, Body of the Goddess. My spies have seen the armies of the warg. They do not rush. Do not act foolishly, tempting fate. They are not willing to risk failure after all their efforts. I doubt even the great Imperium with all its wealth can defeat them now, at least not here in this frozen land. I fear the warbands of men stand no chance against them in pitched battle at this point. To attempt such a thing would be akin to suicide.¡±


    ¡°I understand. But if we hide away here, what¡¯s stopping them from building a new army and more siege weapons if you destroy their first efforts? Will they not keep coming until they wear us down and finally conquer us?¡±


    ¡°That is a problem we¡¯ll have to worry about when it arises. With time, we can look for opportunity.¡±


    ¡°Perhaps, but I fear our plans only prolong the inevitable. If mankind is to withstand this threat, then it needs to find a way to come together and challenge it as one.¡±


    ¡°But Body of the¨C¡±


    ¡°Enough. I know what you have to say, Warmaster. But I haven¡¯t been given the Goddess¡¯s gift just to see it wasted hiding away in our mountains. Send your best out across the land. Find worthy allies and propose to them our friendship. Perhaps it will be in vain. But we must at least try. To not do so would be to betray our young. Understood?¡±


    The bulky man nodded, ¡°Yes, Body of the Goddess¡±


    **Imperator**


    Pushing on through the foothills, the party spotted the gunmetal construct they were in search of nestled amongst blanketing vegetation and snow in the waning hours of the day.


    The crimson light that spread across the ground, reflecting off the snow made for a picturesque scene, betraying the land¡¯s danger.


    ¡°Our goal is in sight. Press on, acolytes,¡± Mark commanded.


    Taking hold of a spare rope, he helped the two boys pull the disobedient horses onward.


    Descriptions of what exactly a throne ship was were vague in the notes left behind by Atlas, and Mark couldn¡¯t ask questions about things he was supposed to know the answers to, thus creating a nervous energy in him as they neared the area where he expected it to be.


    Since it was called a ship, he believed it was some kind of vehicle. He prayed that if it was a vehicle they would be able to return home in it. Otherwise, they would have to make a hurried escape back across the foothills as night fell. And not only would that be exhausting, but they wouldn¡¯t be able to spot the dangerous clouds of toxins if they drifted into their path.


    The story has been taken without consent; if you see it on Amazon, report the incident.


    Pulling the wagon down into a gully, the horses reared and mud slid under the wheels.


    Furious cursing erupted among the three as they pulled and heaved up the adjoining bank and into a level patch of earth.


    ¡°We¡¯re almost there. Let¡¯s put our back into it,¡± Mark panted, but the exhausted boys didn¡¯t need any motivation. The fear of death drove their weary bodies on.


    Pushing through the shrubbery, they came face-to-face with the metal carapace of the ship. Plates of steel were layered atop the vehicle, giving it a an almost natural appearance, as if it moved like a living creature. Even the rounded ship¡¯s cockpit looked like the head of an insect, with antennae extending back from its roof. And dozens of pointed, metal legs lined its undercarriage.


    ¡°I¡¯ve never seen one so close,¡± Callum muttered as they neared the strange vehicle.


    So, this is the fabled throne ship. It¡¯s more amazing than I had expected. The work that went into this thing... the detail is exquisite . It''s as if a Swiss watchmaker took to building a magical ship.


    ¡°Behind me,¡± Mark raised a hand and carefully treaded forward, his obedient acolytes a step behind.


    Taking a step closer, Mark felt a softness beneath his foot and a click sounded.


    What?


    He looked down with a curled brow, and as he raised his foot the ground decompressed.


    ¡°Imperator!¡± Radic shouted at his back, stumbling toward him as he pointed toward their rear.


    Mark swung around to see a toxic cloud of purple diffusing through the surrounding trees. He swirled around, but their escape was cut off, and thorny rows of bush filled the undergrowth of the surrounding trees.


    ¡°Acolytes, to me,¡± Mark shouted, hastily rummaging through his pack. He had hoped it wouldn¡¯t come to this, but they had little choice.


    Finding the three respirators, he handed one to each of the boys and instructed them to watch as he pulled his own on.


    ¡°Do as I do. And be quick.¡±


    Whatever curiosity they might have felt toward the strange actions of their Imperator quickly dissipated in the face of their impending doom, and they followed the orders without a word, pulling the makeshift masks over their faces.


    ¡°Okay, with me,¡± Mark waved and continued toward the ship.


    The masks might save them for a short period of time, but Mark knew better than to rely on them. There was one chance remaining, boarding the ship and hoping it still functioned.


    Reaching the ship''s side, Mark wasn¡¯t sure what he was even supposed to do, but as he stepped closer, the mage heart in his suit began to hum.


    He could see the toxins filling their air around them. And he knew that it might already be too late. Atlas hadn¡¯t died immediately. He had weeks, maybe even months between inhaling the toxin and his death. And he assumed based on his vague visions of the man¡¯s life that he had consumed very little of the poison.


    Raising a hand up against the ship, lights glowed into action across its side and a gentle hum of energy emanated from the vessel.


    ¡°Imperator, it¡¯s all around us,¡± Radic said, his voice rising into a shaky panic.


    Mark raised a silencing hand, not sure how to comfort the boy. He had no idea what was going to happen next. And could only hope.


    A ding chimed and the glowing lights across the ship brightened. Mark¡¯s eyes widened as the back panel ground open, revealing the dark, partially lit interior.


    ¡°Come on, inside,¡± Mark waved, following the two boys into the ship as they boarded.


    The moment he entered, lights glowed to life. The ship was like a galleon that had flown out from the future¡ªa perplexing blend of modern and fantasy interwoven.


    ¡°What about the horses and the caravan?¡± Callum turned, pointing out their wagon that had already been enveloped by the toxins.


    ¡°It¡¯s too late. Forget about the wagon,¡± Mark replied, trying to figure out how to close the door. Come on, how the hell do you work? Just close damn it.


    Mark waved his arms around and banged against the wall beside the door. Come on, think damn it!


    He could see the clouds thickening outside, and with them, their chances growing thinner.


    Mark''s brow perked as he spotted glowing yellow button beside the door that he had somehow missed in his panic. Without a second to spare, he lunged for the button, slapping down on it.


    Metal ground against metal, and the door pulled shut with a plume of toxins blowing into the ship, but a second later, the ship hummed to life and the sound of exhaust fans filled the air.


    His eyes widened as he watched the visibly detectable gas drain from the ship.


    ¡°Do you think these things worked?¡± Radic said, inspecting his mask with trembling fingers.


    ¡°Keep it on,¡± Mark said, passing the boy. It was a question he wanted answered just as much as anybody else, but for now, he had to get them out of here.


    The metal door into the cockpit slid open as he approached, and behind it was a pilot''s chair that resembled a motorbike.


    Okay¡­ was not expecting that.


    Mark stepped toward it and lowered himself atop the strange seat. Cables and tubes lined the walls and dozens of curved, CRT-like screens were spread in front of him.


    As he touched down on the seat, his suit¡¯s mage heart thumped again, and he could feel the ship coming to life. The cables rose on their own, and nestled into his suit, connecting him to the ship.


    It was as if they had become one. And the fears that he wouldn¡¯t have a chance of piloting this alien ship quickly dissipated. It was as if it were an extension of his own body. And with a thought, he willed the dragonfly-like wings on the back of its carapace-like to life.


    Next, the screens flickered to life and Mark could see all of his surroundings, including the gasses that retreated as the wings created a gust of air blowing outward.


    Okay, let¡¯s see what this thing can do.


    ¡°Acolytes, grab hold of something. And take a seat if you can.¡±


    He could hear the two boys shuffling around and gave them a second before dipping his hands into the two arm-sized slots on either side of him. The moment he did, a tickling sensation danced across his hands and his control over the ship pulsed with increased command.


    Okay, I guess I find out what it¡¯s like to be a pilot now.


    Mentally pulling back on the ship¡¯s controls, he lifted it into the air with an angry buzz of the ship¡¯s wings. And to his continued surprise, it felt natural.


    Several yards were gained in seconds, and within a minute he had pulled it up into the clouds above, sending the foothills shrinking beneath them.


    Now this is seriously fucking cool!


    He pushed forward, and the ship obeyed his command, dipping slightly as it flew through the air pockets and clouds, and shaking the ship as he passed through them.


    But there was something else that sparked his curiosity, and Mark imagined shooting out a bolt of energy as he did with his suit.


    From an antennae under the ship, a bolt of lightning thundered out, slamming against the forest below with a rain of sparks and a booming roar that burst through its surroundings and left several small fires burning in its wake.


    That¡­ that had to be at least three or four times the size of my suit¡¯s attack. Yeah, that¡¯s freaking cool.


    A sense of weightlessness filled the ship as it suffered a sudden drop in altitude, recovering with a jolt. He heard the boys scream at his back, but Mark could sense what had happened. It was the lightning bolt. It had drained too much of the ship''s energy.


    Okay, I better be careful with that.


    Cautiously exhaling, he turned the ship, aiming it back toward Fort Winterclaw. He could sense the ships mage heart and the energy it held, realizing that there was a complexity to his new treasure. It had limits. And even the trip back to the fort would likely require a stop if he hoped not to crash.


    However, none of that mattered at this time. A smile curled across Mark''s face. They had done it. Retrieved the weapon that Atlas had failed to.


    They had a real chance now.

 39. Throne Ship

    Blizzard winds whipped up around the ship as Mark brought it down into a shaky descent.


    The ship''s mage heart needed a chance to rest and landed with a heavy thud, jolting Mark and the acolytes roughly, squeaking through branch claws as it passed through the forest canopy.


    I wonder if this thing scratches.


    ¡°We all alright?¡± Mark turned to ask, the ship''s lights dulling and flickering before brightening again.


    ¡°Yes, Imperator,¡± Callum groaned.


    ¡°Think so,¡± Radic added.


    I just need a little practice, that''s all, Mark thought as he stood up.


    ¡°Alright, let''s build a¨Cis it getting warmer?¡±


    The throne ship hummed softly, and Mark realized that it was heating them. There was no need for a fireplace tonight. Even guarding outside seemed unnecessary and likely to expose them to the dangers of the Frontier more than just staying inside the ship.


    ¡°Actually, scrap that. Just try to get some shut-eye if you can. We¡¯ll wait until sunrise to set off again.¡±


    The two boys wearily nodded. They had pushed themselves harder than either believed they could. They had met what they thought was their wall and pushed through it with determination, awakening a realization in both boys that they were more capable than either thought. But now that they had relative safety, fatigue hit like a sack of potatoes, and they went down almost as soon as their lids fluttered shut.


    Mark, on the other hand, was filled with anxious energy. This ship was far more than just a tool to help defend the fort; it gave him the ability to scout, map, and even create lines of communication with distant settlements. Even supplies they couldn''t get in the Frontier were within reach now.


    But an invasive thought lingered. If the Imperium had ships like this, why weren¡¯t they using them across the Frontier? As far as he was aware, wagons linked the forts and other settlements across the untamed land, exposing them to the dangers of the road; with something like a throne ship, it would be easy to keep the forts supplied and linked to one another.


    Although, the ship''s military use was clearly limited. Yes, the blast it fired was impressive, but considering how much energy it drained, it wasn¡¯t about to defeat an army.


    Mark¡¯s thoughts drifted back and forth about how he could utilize the ship deep into the night, and he finally slipped into sleep against its cold, metal floor.


    ¡°Imperator, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°What?¡± Mark groaned, rolling over to see Callum and Radic looking down at him as he rubbed his eyes.


    ¡°Sorry, it¡¯s just that morning came some time ago¡­¡±


    ¡°You did say sunrise, sir,¡± Radic added with an eager nod.


    Pulling himself up, Mark turned to the tinted cockpit. He could see the late morning sun casting its warm haze across their snowy surroundings.


    ¡°We didn¡¯t want to wake you, but we thought¨C¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mark cut Callum off. ¡°You were right to wake me. We should get back to the fort as soon as possible.¡±


    Climbing back into the pilot¡¯s chair, Mark stretched and felt the familiar jolt of energy as he merged with the ship. They had left all their supplies behind when capturing the ship, and without anything to eat for breakfast, Mark had little interest in wasting time.


    ¡°Alright, belt up.¡±


    Waiting a moment for the boys to take their seats along the back rows that looked similar to a helicopter''s passenger seats, Mark pulled the throne ship up and into the sky, violently shaking as it defiantly scraped past trees.


    Turbulence shook them as they climbed, and soon, they were among the clouds once more. From here, Mark could spot the trail they had taken. It had been a grueling trek, and the feeling of easily gliding across the landscape they had conquered with hard work and determination was an uplifting feeling. Mark got a sense of the Frontier having been opened up to him. The treacherous hikes that had been needed just to travel a short distance could now be flown across in hours.


    He watched a flock of birds flying beneath him as he soared across the land, and ferals climbed out from the hovels to watch the majestic vehicle and the whooping sound it sent echoing across the land.


    Fort Winterclaw! Mark''s eyes widened as he spotted their home.


    Elation flooded his veins as he spotted the timber-walled fort in the distance. He could see his people hard at work, and a smile crept across his face as he spotted the new wall¡¯s completion and the near-finished trench around it.


    It didn¡¯t take long for people to stop their work to look up and point at the ship passing through the foggy blanket that kept most of the sun out, some even fleeing into the forest or into their cabins as he got closer.


    Completing a circle in the air above the fort, Mark sent the vehicle swerving to its side as he picked a spot of flat snow within the Imperial District to bring the ship down. As he lowered, the snow flew back, clearing his landing spot down to the earth below, and the ship''s insectoid legs absorbed what little shock his much-improved landing had as it touched down.


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    ¡°We did it. Back safe,¡± Mark said, coughing as he got up from the chair.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Callum saluted, but when Radic tried to, he was interrupted by a long, mucusy cough that buckled him forward.


    The boy¡¯s eyes looked dark and heavy, and Mark realized that he felt stiffer than usual when he looked at them.


    We made it, but what if...


    ¡°Go report to Master Henric,¡± Mark said. ¡°I¡¯ll see you both soon.¡±


    Leading the march out from the throne ship, they found Henric and several acolytes lined up and ready to greet them.


    ¡°Henric, see to the boys. I have something important to do.¡±


    ¡°Imperator," Henric saluted, quickly hurrying after Mark as he realized he didn''t plan to stop and address them. "One moment, please,¡± he added with a raised hand.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure you have many questions. And trust me, I¡¯ll address them soon; just give me a moment.¡±


    ¡°But¨Cyes, sir,¡± Henric gave a deflated salute, turned to the acolytes, and began to bark orders.


    ***


    ¡°You¡¯re back, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Erald, do you mind?¡± Mark said, pointing to the door.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Erald saluted and left the cabin.


    ¡°I think I have a problem, Mira,¡± Mark exhaled.


    ¡°A problem?¡± Mira¡¯s brow rose as she mashed something in her mortar and pestle.


    ¡°I think that me and the acolytes were poisoned by the miasma in the foothills. Do you have the means to test this?¡±


    Mira slowly nodded. ¡°I can... but Imperator¨CI can¡¯t cure it,¡± she shook her head and her face twisted into a grimace.


    ¡°Just tell me if I¡¯m poisoned or not for now.¡±


    ¡°Please, take a seat,¡± she pointed to a timber stool in her kitchen with a sober nod. ¡°I see you managed to find a throne ship¡­ how is that possible?¡± she added as she collected items from the cupboards and hanging herbs.


    ¡°It was abandoned a long time ago in the foothills. Likely nobody was reckless enough to try and retrieve it.¡±


    ¡°And for good reason, so it seems.¡±


    ¡°I couldn¡¯t just leave it. Not with everything I¡¯ve seen,¡± Mark sighed. "It might be our only hope of surviving what is to come."


    Taking a seat beside him, Mira mixed a few ointments and herbs into a small bowl. ¡°I¡¯m not sure our chances against the winter will be any better without you. Even if we do have a throne ship.¡±


    ¡°Is there really no way to cure this illness?¡±


    ¡°Here? No chance,¡± Mira shook her head as she dabbed a fine brush in her mixture and then applied it to the inside of Mark¡¯s wrist.


    ¡°Here, as in Fort Winterclaw?¡±


    Mira gasped as the clear liquid slowly turned black. ¡°Imperator Atlas,¡± she murmured, barely loud enough to hear.


    ¡°Mira, please, what do you mean about here? Do you mean Fort Winterclaw, the Frontier, or the entire Imperium?¡±


    ¡°Y-you¡¯re¡­¡±


    ¡°Mira,¡± Mark took her shoulder and pulled her gaze toward him. ¡°What did you mean about here?¡±


    ¡°S-sorry, it¡¯s just that,¡± Mira swallowed. ¡°It¡¯s only rumor.¡±


    ¡°What rumor?¡±


    ¡°To the south, across the sea, in the Archbishopric of Deloise. But they are heretics. They pray to the Reborn God.," she said, shaking her head.


    "Just tell me, Mira."


    "They say the priests of the Archbishopric wield unparalleled magical powers capable of healing even the worst poison and diseases. It has long been rumored that they might have the power to cure the toxins from the miasmic fields of the Frontier. But you would be cast out if you sought their healing powers. But the Reborn God directly contradicts the God-Lord. To seek healing from his people is an unforgivable heresy."


    ¡°And if I don¡¯t, I die. And so do the boys.¡± Mark sighed. ¡°Tell me, what choice do I have?¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t even know if they¡¯ll be able to heal you. And I doubt the Archbishop would heal an Imperator of the Imperium. Our people are rivals and are at constant war. You would be seen as an enemy if you entered their land. Perhaps even killed on sight.¡±


    Damn, I wish I had these memories. It might give me a better chance of navigating this supposed enemy of my people.


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t matter. If this is our only chance, we need to try. I will not just let those boys die after all they have gone through. Neither do I particularly like the idea of dying," Mark said with soft smile. "I will stay long enough to ensure that the next steps in our plans for defending the fort are followed, and then I shall be off.¡±


    ¡°Imperator.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Mira. I understand the risks this poses. But I¡¯m not about to roll over and give up. If there¡¯s a chance we can survive this, I have every intention to try.¡±


    ¡°I should have guessed,¡± she whispered.


    ¡°And Mira, please, keep this between the two of us, okay?¡±


    ¡°I will,¡± Mira nodded. "I promise."


    She may be an Imperial, but at least Mira prays to the Star Goddess. Hopefully, that means she¡¯ll be able to keep this to herself.


    ***


    Immediately, Mark set off to inspect Payon¡¯s work. It was surprisingly clean. Unfortunately, he wouldn¡¯t have time to build the engines as he had planned, so he went over the instructions, the goal, and the purpose. The man had obviously never heard of steam power, but he seemed switched on enough to get the basic gist of what Mark was trying to explain. And he was somewhat confident that the man would pull it off. However, with time running short, he requested that the barbed wire be made the priority. As useful as steam power would be, it would all be for naught if they couldn¡¯t hold the fort.


    Next, he inspected the training. His people''s archery was getting better, and while they were far from being elite, he got the impression that they would be helpful in defending the fort now if they were able to craft enough arrows to feed their needs.


    He also made the difficult decision to halt the collection and processing of food for their supplies and focus entirely on arrow fletching. If this trip to the Archbishopric was successful, he was certain he would return well before they ran out of food, and once the throne ship was back, they had the means to bring food into the fort from afar. The sole priority had to be increasing the fort''s defenses for now.


    Mark then collected every crown and fur they held in the storeroom. Unfortunately, he was advised that a wagon with most of their furs had been sent to Frostwind, but he didn''t have time to wait for them to return.


    Taking what crowns and furs they had, he loaded them into the throne ship and prepared to leave. Hopefully, they would be valuable enough to pay whatever costs they might encounter trying to get healed, and maybe even a bribe or two, if needed.


    He then had Henric collect Radic and Callum for him. He didn¡¯t tell the boys of their likely sickness, but their sober expression told him they likely already suspected as much.


    His orders were simple for Henric: Make sure everyone gets their work done and do his best to bring more people into the fort. Every sword and bow increased their chances of surviving the winter, and he made sure Henric understood just how important that goal was.


    With that, he gathered up the unlikely party and boarded the ship. Mira watched, tears swelling at the sides of her reddened eyes. Mark wasn''t sure if they were for him, the boys, or the implications of their failure, but they touched him nonetheless.


    Waving goodbye, he slapped the button, closing the ship''s hatch and turned for the cockpit. It would be a long journey, treacherous not just because they were heading into enemy territory, but because ship would need to pass over the sea that separated the Imperium from the southern states. It would require careful routing and power management to survive.


    Hang in here, he sighed as he settled into his chair. He hoped that the wargs wouldn¡¯t descend immediately on Fort Winterclaw. To get back before winter would be threading a needle. But with any luck, they would at least return before the enemy descended on the fort itself.


    Mentally pulling on the ship, Mark sent its insectoid wings buzzing and lifted it into snowy weather, swinging it around to head south. With one eye on the map from Atlas¡¯s stash, he picked his landmarks and selected his flight path.

 40. It鈥檚 getting cold

    Callum stared down at the sword Henric had given him. Most acolytes didn¡¯t carry swords as weapons. Crossbows were usually the weapon of choice. The weapons were relatively easy to use. Considered students rather than soldiers, acolytes were generally not expected to fight on the front line, although they did carry daggers. For the most part swords and other melee weapons were primarily for use by Arms Masters and soldiers. And while graduating from an acolyte only to be made a soldier was seen as a demotion, Callum didn''t think that was Henric''s thought when handing him the weapon.


    Radic sneered across from him as they took off. The boy¡¯s attitude toward Callum had been softer since they left with the Imperator to go hunt down the throne ship, but it all came tumbling back down when Henric gave Callum the sword.


    He gets it. Callum smiled, running a hand along the blade before returning it to its sheath. His hard work was starting to pay off, even if only mildly so.


    His eyes lifted toward Radic''s crumbled expression and raised nose, and he gritted his teeth. Callum''s cheeks puffed as he held in a chuckle. His gaze had wandered down to the dagger at Radic¡¯s side; the little blade looked even more ridiculous against his large frame.


    Keep it in. You don''t want to stir trouble for the Imperator.


    **Imperator**


    Mark eyed out the journey he intended to take them on. He would travel down the Frontier, skipping the Razor mountains to the east and heading straight for the ocean.


    Not only would barbarian activity be in larger quantities to the south, but so would Imperials and possibly even the legate¡¯s direct subordinates, so Mark didn¡¯t want to land anywhere in the south.


    His plan was to fly high and slow, almost gliding for long stretches in an effort to conserve energy. By doing this, he hoped to reach the islands to the south without having to stop to let the ship recover.


    The Wraith Sea, which split the lands of the Imperium''s great expanse and the rival states to the south, was dotted by islands. One such island, the isle of Xaarn¡ªa pirate-infested cove¡ªwas where he intended to land first. The place was known for being wild and dangerous, but its reputation was also one that held no loyalty to the Imperium or other great nations, and thus, Mark had decided that it would make for a perfect stopover.


    Flying was something Mark had tolerated in his previous life, but not anything he particularly cared about or wanted to do. However, this was something else. Gliding across the snowy and forest covered landscape was freeing beyond measure, and when they met the coastline and continued out toward the ocean, a smile tugged at his lips.


    But he had to remain focused. There were no advanced navigation tools to keep him on track. He had to rely on a combination of landmarks to place him in the right direction when leaving land and a built-in sundial to help keep track as they flew over the ocean. There were also birds, and he could already spot seagulls flying out to sea. If they continued to travel in the direction of Xaarn, then he had every intention to keep following them.


    Craggy outcroppings lined the coast, and hazardous islets continued out for what seemed like a few hundred yards. He even spotted a few ships in the distance but doubted any were close enough to spot him or at least make out the throne ship as anything more than a dark blur.


    Bursting through clouds, he felt the metal frame around him tremble, but it wasn¡¯t frightening. If anything, it sent jolts of excitement reverberating through him. If he hadn''t had so many pressing matters, Mark would have been happy to joyride for hours on end.


    The sun was still high when he spotted land in the distance. Waves were crashing against sandy beaches lined with jetties and bobbing fishing boats tied to them, and there were a few ships that made Mark think of pirates tied up to a harbor at the heart of the sandstone town on the island¡¯s western side.


    I hope this is a good idea. Mark mused, but it was too late to go back. He could feel the energy of the ship''s mage heart waning. It wouldn''t make it back across the ocean without rest.


    Mark pushed on his control and brought the throne ship into a descent toward the island. He reminded himself that while the inhabitants might not be allies of the Imperium, but that didn¡¯t mean they weren¡¯t dangerous. However, at least the throne ship should be safely left on its own since it needed an Imperial mage heart to activate the ship, and to his knowledge, the artifacts were guarded as the greatest weapons and treasures of the Imperium, and it was an almost certainty that no one on this little island owned one.


    **Clay**


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    When the grisled men cast their gaze on Clay, he shied away. He knew it was a bad look, but their uncut, bent expressions were too much for him.


    ¡°We gonna be following this little one''s orders?¡± One of the men spat.


    ¡°You¡¯ll be following the orders of whoever pays you your crowns,¡± caravan master Leonard said. ¡°Or do you want to stay here? I''ve heard ale and bread are getting mighty expensive here in Frostwind.¡±


    ¡°Shut ye mouth,¡± a man beside him said, elbowing the greasy man. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to him. We¡¯re happy to serve whoever pays. Including the kid if needs be.¡±


    Leonard gave Clay a nod.


    ¡°Good,¡± Clay said, swallowing his fear. ¡°Then pack whatever gear you wish to bring. We¡¯ll be heading back to the fort at first light.¡±


    ¡°Whatever you say, young master,¡± one of the sellswords said, flicking out his tongue.


    ¡°Gruesome animals,¡± Leonard said as the dozen sellswords they hired cleared out. ¡°But you get used to them after a while. It comes with the job, after all. Besides, you won''t find any more civilized men out here on the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for that, Leonard. But you say civilized... I mean, If you don¡¯t mind me saying¡ªyou seem a bit more¡­ you know¡ªcleaner cut than the rest.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t mind you saying that at all. In fact, I welcome it. I''d be a little worried if you saw me the same as those unwashed brutes. That''s something I''m proud of. Father was an Imperator, actually. I like to think that wore off on me. Tidied me up a little. I did grow up in a big house in the capital with everything I wanted, after all."


    "It does. It shows," Clay nodded. "I had a feeling you were different than those sellswords. Even if you are just a citizen. I mean," Clay gritted his teeth. "No offense."


    Leonard chuckled, "None taken. Unfortunately, I was also born with half the skills I needed to follow in my father¡¯s footsteps. And now here I am,¡± Leonard threw up his arms. ¡°A poor caravan master at the edge of the world.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m¨CI¡¯m sorry to hear that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± Leonard shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve long come to terms with it all. It was made a lot easier when my father cut me off and expelled me from his home for failing to even gain the honor of being made a Master of the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s horrible.¡±


    ¡°Life¡¯s a journey, kid. Don¡¯t get too hung up on these things. You can make anything work for you if you try hard enough. A few years as a soldier taught me a lot about what it meant to survive in this world without wealth or station. It gave me the tools and a few coins to do my own thing. And as much as I might be complaining about this shitty Frontier, it wasn¡¯t all too bad until that damned guild screwed me over.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s why you don¡¯t want to work for them anymore?¡±


    ¡°Exactly. I have to admit, you and the others have impressed me, though. Imperator Atlas seems to have a grand plan in all this chaos. You know what, I¡¯m becoming quietly confident something good will come of it all. Heck, we might even live.¡±


    ¡°You think so?¡±


    "Yeah, I think. More importantly, I hope so."


    "That sounds less confident," Clay shrunk.


    "Well, it''s an honest answer, kid. I''ve long stopped caring about what might happen, and now I''m happily focused on what is happening. With that thought in mind, How about an ale? There''s a long, cold road ahead of us. Let''s warm ourselves a little before subjecting ourselves to that.¡±


    ***


    Clay, Leonard, and a couple of the sellswords sat at a round table in the cavern with cards and coins scattered across it¡ªfoamy ales at their sides.


    ¡°What¡¯s this game ye all playing?¡± A drunken man pushed through the crowd that had formed around their table.


    ¡°This?¡± Leonard turned with a raised brow. ¡°Winterclaw Hold¡¯Em. If you¡¯ve got a few crowns, you can buy in.¡±


    The man watched curiously as they played another hand.


    ¡°Winner winner chicken dinner,¡± Leonard smiled and pulled the crowns across the table to his growing pile. ¡°So? Want to join? Or are you happy watching?¡±


    The man shot Leonard a thinned, suspicious glance and pulled up a chair up beside him.


    ¡°Ten crowns, and you¡¯re in.¡±


    ¡°Steal from me, and I¡¯ll slit your throat,¡± the man sneered and counted out the coins from his pouch, then pushed them over to the blank-faced sellsword opposite him.


    ¡°Dealer, deal him in,¡± Leonard nodded and took a long gulp from his ale. ¡°Any others?¡±


    Several others grunted and grumbled as they watched, but none decided to join.


    ¡°Alright then, let us continue.¡±


    The dealer nodded silently and passed out the cards.


    ¡°Check,¡± Leonard tapped a finger against his cards.


    The drunken man glanced around and then said, ¡°Bet,¡± pushing a couple of coins across the table.


    ¡°A feisty one, huh? Alright then, I Call,¡± Leonard grinned at the man and matched his bet.


    The round continued, most folding save one other sellsword.


    Clay sat out, watching from the side. The larger men were too intimidating for him, and he didn¡¯t particularly like gambling. Nor did he know what he would do with the coin if he won anyway.


    ¡°Sorry, pal,¡± Leonard flipped his cards. ¡°Pocket princes. The pile is mine.¡± Leonard leaned forward and dragged the coins toward him. "Better luck next time."


    ¡°Again,¡± the dirty man sneered, throwing more coins from his pouch onto the table. "I''m watching you," his nostrils flared as his glare barreled into Leonard.


    ¡°Easy there. Wouldn''t want to walk away broke, now would you?"


    "Deal me in," the man sneered.


    "Alright, alright. You heard him. Deal him in," Leonard said, raising his hands to his side. "Don''t say I didn''t warn you."


    **Imperator**


    Finding a grassy knoll not far from the town, Mark brought the ship down gently against the subtle, sloping green.


    ¡°Arm yourselves,¡± Mark said, rising from his chair. ¡°This visit should be short if all goes to plan. We need a better map if we¡¯re to make it all the way to the Archbishopric of Deloise in one piece.¡±


    The two boys rose on wobbly legs and grabbed their crossbows and bolts. Even before leaving the ship, they could feel the relative warmth seeping through its metal walls. The boys wore thick acolyte robes, and Mark had his trenchcoat over his suit, which didn¡¯t suit the weather, so the two acolytes stripped down to their undergarments¡ªessentially beige shirts and pants¡ªwhile Mark wore his exposed Imperator suit.


    Mark wasn¡¯t entirely sure if showing off who he was would be a bad or good idea, but he wasn¡¯t about to leave the suit behind, and the thing was warm enough on its own. Having something over the top would have him sweating before he even stepped out of the ship.


    ¡°Okay, are we ready, acolytes?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the boys barked in unison and shuffled with nervous tension.


    ¡°Alright then, let¡¯s see what this island has to offer,¡± Mark slapped the button beside the door, and they stood side-by-side as it opened up into the warmish weather and lush green of Xaarn.

 41. Xaarn

    Erin mediated between Trayox and his men, and the Imperials they helped build cabins for. She had been nominated for the role thanks to her relationship with the big man, and was starting to earn a name for herself as a link between the barbarian people and the Imperials.


    They had started putting up the cabins once the trench was dug out. It slowed down wall improvements and outposts, but Henric had ordered it done. She wasn¡¯t sure if Atlas would approve of his priorities, but they had promised the cabins to the craftsmen, and with new hires potentially coming in from Frostwind they needed the room.


    ¡°Soo, how¡¯s it going out here?¡± Dober¡¯s voice came from behind, and Erin turned to him.


    ¡°Hey, Dober. How¡¯s it been? Feels like we barely get any chance to talk these days.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re always zonked out asleep by the time I finish at the warehouse,¡± Dober sighed.


    ¡°Yeah, the work never seems to stop. Not to mention, we have to be up early.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I get it. Just saying."


    ¡±How¡¯s the warehouse anyway?¡± Erin crooked a brow. ¡°How are you dealing with Elowen? I¡¯ve heard she can be quite something to work with."


    ¡°I¡¯m getting on,¡± Dober shrugged. ¡°You know, it¡¯s she''s not all bad. People get the wrong impression. She¡¯s even been teaching me to read. I hated it at first, but then she lent me a book she brought with her from the Imperium. It¡¯s actually pretty cool. About a group of friends who travel across the world to defeat the great evil.¡±


    ¡°Wow, impressive. The farmer boy is reading a book,¡± Erin grinned. "Never thought I''d see the day."


    ¡°Hey! I know I¡¯m not the sharpest tool in the shed or anything, but¨C¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m just joking.¡±


    ¡°I know,¡± Dober glanced at his feet. ¡°It¡¯s just that it reminded me of us. You know, the four of us before everything went to shit.¡±


    ¡°The four of us? Saving the world?¡± Erin smirked. ¡°Are you sure about that? I can¡¯t say I can imagine Clay marching across the world to save anybody. Including himself.¡±


    ¡°Actually, one of the friends in the book is pretty cowardly. It¡¯s kinda like a main part of it. He is forced to face his fears to save the others.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah. I need to remind you that¡¯s just a story. Don¡¯t go thinking our skittish little friend is going to come through with the heroics anytime soon.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t know that,¡± Dober stubbornly retorted. ¡°Maybe Clay will surprise you.¡±


    ¡°If he does, he does,¡± Erin shrugged. ¡°But I¡¯m certainly not holding my breath for it.¡±


    ¡°All done, annoying girl,¡± Trayox interrupted as he waved his guys over. They had put the last logs in place. Acolytes would finish the job now that the heavy lifting was done. ¡°Should we start on the next job?¡±


    ¡°If you wouldn¡¯t mind,¡± Erin flashed the big man a smile. ¡°You¡¯ve done great today. We¡¯re even ahead of schedule. I¡¯ll see if I can¡¯t drag a reward out of Treff for you.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯d happily take the grog if we can,¡± one of the feral workers said behind Trayox, grinning from chin to chin.


    ¡°Ahh¨CI¡¯ll see what I can do,¡± Erin scratched at the back of her head.


    ¡°Queen of the ferals, huh?¡± Dober said as Trayox and his team moved onto the next cabin.


    ¡°They¡¯re called commoners now.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re sounding more and more like the Imperator every day.¡±


    ¡°You almost make that sound like a bad thing.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I dunno, Erin. I¡¯m just trying to survive. It¡¯s all a bit much.¡±


    ¡°Well, keep that pea brain focused on what dear Elowen shoves its way, and leave worrying our commoners to me.¡±


    ¡°Why do you need to say it like that? Dear Elowen?¡± Dober bent his brow.


    ¡°I¡¯ve seen the way you look at her. I mean, she is pretty.¡±


    ¡°Hey! It¡¯s not like that, and you know it. They forced me to work with her on account of my bung leg.¡±


    ¡°If you say so, lover boy.¡±


    **Clay**


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    ¡°Yous cheating scumbag,¡± hissed the drunken man as he placed a hand on the coin pile.


    ¡°Easy there. No one has cheated on this table, and I did warn you,¡± Leonard said, his right hand sliding down to his belt.


    ¡°I¡¯m takin¡¯ me coin.¡±


    ¡°I wouldn¡¯t if I were you,¡± Leonard shook his head. ¡°There¡¯s going to be a lot of angry men if you try.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck!¡± The man lunged forward and barked in Leonard¡¯s face. ¡°You can fu¨C¡±


    A dagger pierced up through the man¡¯s head from behind his chin. Blood watered from his eyes as they rolled back into his head.


    ¡°Warned you,¡± Leonard said, pulling the dagger free and sending the man¡¯s lifeless body falling to the ground. ¡°Pick up the coins, kid,¡± he added, winking at Clay.


    ¡°Y-yes, sir,¡± Clay stammered, scooping the coins into his robe.


    ¡°Now don¡¯t go doing anything reckless, you lot,¡± Leonard said toward the other tavern patrons, drawing his sword with a long, metallic clang.


    ¡°He killed Edrick. Son of a bitch,¡± one man growled, rising from his chair.


    ¡°Edrick tried to steal my fairly won coin. Killing him was my right.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t give a fuck about your rights,¡± another man said. ¡°I liked Edrick, but I don¡¯t even know you.¡±


    ¡°To the door, boy,¡± Leonard snapped his fingers without lowering his sword. ¡°Be smart now. I¡¯ve run through meaner men than any of you fools,¡± he added, turning back to the several men as they slowly rose from their chairs.


    ¡°You went and got them all riled up,¡± the sellsword who had been dealing cards said as he stood at Leonard¡¯s side and drew his blade. ¡°Always fun workin¡¯ with you, Leonard.¡±


    ¡°Glad I could keep you entertained.¡±


    ¡°Bastards, don¡¯t mess around with us,¡± one of the men shouted and charged forward but halted a yard into his charge with a muffled grunt and fell to his knees.


    ¡°I warned you,¡± Leonard said, having just fired his wrist-mounted crossbow. ¡°I¡¯m not messing around.¡±


    ¡°Fuck him. Get ¡®em, boys!¡± Another shouted, and several men rushed forward.


    Jumping back, Leonard parried the first of them, who sent a blade stabbing forward and riposted, slicing across the side of the man¡¯s neck.


    The caravan master and sellswords cut down two more patrons in retreat, and Leonard threw a chair at the remainder to halt their advance and swung around for the door.


    ¡°Okay, now we run,¡± Leonard flashed a smile and pointed to the wagon.


    ¡°What about the new hires?¡± Clay said.


    ¡°Well, if you want to stick around,¡± Leonard turned to shrug as he ran. ¡°Be my guest.¡±


    Damn it, I can¡¯t just keep failing to come through. This was my mission. Master Henric himself charged me with it.


    Clay swallowed and shook his head, turning for the cabins behind the tavern where the sellswords were staying.


    ¡°Where are you going, kid? Just forget about them. We haven''t even paid them yet.¡±


    ¡°Just get the wagon to safety. We¡¯ll meet up on the road,¡± Clay yelled back.


    ¡°Crazy kid,¡± Leonard shook as he gathered his men beside the wagon. "Keep your head down, and don''t get yourself killed," Leonard shouted at Clay''s back as he disappeared into the shadows.


    **Imperator**


    ¡°Stick close to me,¡± Mark said with a raised hand.


    The trio made their way along a rolling path through the green, which shortly met a cobbled road that squeezed through narrow alleys of cramped, sandstone townhouses with terracotta tiles and little jutting balconies.


    Not a bad place for a vacation after a few months in the Frontier. A part of Mark briefly entertained the thought of just staying here and living the good life. But he had promised to do something about the coming storm the moment he had seen his vision of the wargs descending upon the Frontier and wasn¡¯t about to abandon the people who relied on him.


    The shuffling crowds of people that lined the streets as they delved deeper into the town turned their curious gazes on Mark and the two oddly dressed acolytes. None said anything or tried to do anything, but they were clearly noticed, and whatever powers held sway here would no doubt learn of their presence soon enough¡ªif they hadn¡¯t already.


    ¡°If there¡¯s a market around here, I¡¯m guessing it¡¯s that way,¡± Mark said, pointing toward the crowded streets at the lower end of the sloped city, dipping into the harbor.


    There were no uniformed soldiers or any formal guard or military presence from what Mark could see, but as they got closer to the harbor most men had a cutlass hanging from sheaths at their sides.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mark turned to the boys. ¡°See if you can find a cartographer and meet back here. Don¡¯t take long. I don¡¯t want anyone getting lost. If you can¡¯t see anything with a swoop of the market, just return and wait for further orders.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    Mark watched the boys leave and trailed a path along the market¡¯s right side. He had no interest in sticking around here longer than he needed to. If they could quickly find a cartographer then they could be off.


    ¡°What a sight,¡± came a curly, floral voice from behind. ¡°An Imperator in my city. I¡¯d never have believed it if I didn¡¯t see it with my own eyes.¡±


    Mark turned to see a narrow, sunkissed man with a long mustache dressed in fine satins. Jewels dotted all digits, and several bracelets hung loosely from his wrists. By his side stood two men dressed in loose clothing with a cutlass at their sides.


    ¡°Your city?¡± Mark probed.


    ¡°You do know where you landed, don¡¯t you, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Xaarn, I hope.¡±


    The man chuckled. ¡°You don¡¯t seem as stiff as the Imperators I met in my younger days.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re familiar with my people then?¡±


    ¡°I used to captain ships into your great Imperium, yes. But that was a long time ago, and I want to know why you¡¯re here today.¡±


    ¡°Nothing important,¡± Mark shrugged. ¡°I¡¯m just looking for a cartographer. If you could point me in the right direction, I¡¯ll happily leave your city.¡±


    ¡°A cartographer, you say? And why exactly would you need to come to my city for something like that? Does the Imperium not have the greatest cartographers in the world? Or at least I believe they boast as much.¡±


    ¡°It doesn¡¯t really matter, does it? I¡¯ve got crowns, and I¡¯ll be out of your hair soon enough.¡± Mark eyed the man carefully. He didn¡¯t particularly want to tell him why he was there. But he got the impression that the man wasn¡¯t about to just let this go. Imperators were not known for sightseeing, after all.


    ¡°Come on, mighty Imperator,¡± the man said. ¡°You enter my city without warning or request. I think I deserve an explanation at the very least.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m going south, and unfortunately, I don¡¯t have a map of the region. What more is there to know?¡±


    ¡°South?¡± The man¡¯s manicured brows perked. ¡°And what would a mighty Imperator be doing in the lands of his enemies? Using my land for transit on the way to some kind of sabotage would reflect poorly on myself. I¡¯m sure you can understand. My people maintain their freedom by finding a fragile balance between the great powers. If you expect me to let you pass through, you¡¯re going to have to set my mind at ease.¡±


    I knew it, Mark sighed. There was no way this was going to be as easy as he hoped it would be.

 42. Sign on the Dotted line

    ¡°Come now, Imperator, can¡¯t we find a civil agreement?" Edarn Donez said, watching the harbor from his window. He swung back toward where Mark was sitting in the room filled with plush red satins and golden trim.


    ¡°Agreement? What did you have in mind?¡± Mark said, sipping from the surprisingly good tea he had been offered¡ªa product similar to milk-boiled chai.


    ¡°I have decided that I will give you passage through Xaarn, but I do ask something in return. This is how the world works, after all. The ship captains pay me in gold and silver coins to rest in my harbor. The people pay their taxes, and the great navies give me their alliances. However, I have never taken in one of your Imperium¡¯s flying ships, and as one might expect, I have yet to settle on what might be considered a fair exchange.¡±


    ¡°Go on,¡± Mark nodded and sipped. He saw little point in challenging the man until he found out what he wanted. Besides, they didn¡¯t have a lot of wealth with them, and saving what little they had for when they reached the Archbishopric seemed prudent.


    ¡°You¡¯re headed south, no?¡±


    ¡°I am, yes.¡±


    ¡°Might I ask¡ªwhere exactly?¡±


    Do I tell him the truth? Something tells me he knows more than he lets on. Besides, do I have any reason not to? If the Archbishopric has an issue with me, what difference will it make if he knows? The purpose of this trip wasn''t to sneak it, but to see if common ground could be found.


    ¡°I¡¯m headed to the Archbishopric of Deloise.¡±


    ¡°Ahh, you are an interesting one. It seems that I was correct about you. A great and mighty Imperator creeping into the cradle of his enemy. It sounds as if it comes from one of the great Sagas of the Sea. More importantly, it is exactly what I had hoped.¡±


    ¡°What a coincidence,¡± Mark groaned.


    ¡°I, the Great Edarn Donez Cu Tel Inferno, do not believe in coincidences. You have been brought to me for a purpose,¡± the extravagantly elegant man said, flurrying to the side and turning to point at Mark. ¡°Not two weeks ago, I took a reading down in our fine city¡¯s Mystic Quarter. This woman, old and wise as she was, told me of a great future. You see, her eyes plucked out as a child, yet she sees more than either you or I could ever imagine. She told me of a stranger coming to my door. She described this stranger as a harbinger of change. So, you can imagine my surprise when my people told me of an Imperator casually walking the streets of my great city.¡±


    ¡°I suppose,¡± Mark said cautiously as his gaze followed the man dancing around the room as he animatedly told the tale.


    ¡°Oh, Imperator. Open your mind. The entire world does not function on that strange technology your people use. Listen, I do not shy away from fate. The Great Edarn Donez does not fear his future. When the Gods of the Seas grant me opportunity, I seize it. That is how I went from a poor urchin child to a deckhand, then a captain, and now,¡± he swirled through the room. ¡°A king.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re a king?¡± Mark raised a brow.


    ¡°Well, not in the eyes of other kings. Not yet, at least. But this sailor¡¯s journey is not over yet,¡± Edarn grinned, flashing several gold teeth.


    ¡°So, then, what is it that you want from me?¡±


    ¡°A very simple task. When you visit the Archbishopric of Deloise, speak of your journey through my lands. Speak of the Kingdom of Xaarn.¡±


    ¡°You just want me to call you a king?¡±


    ¡°Now you¡¯re catching on, Imperator,¡± Edarn clapped.


    ¡°It¡¯s not like I¡¯m a king or anything. What value would my words have? Nor do I expect to have an audience with kings and their like.¡±


    ¡°No, you¡¯re not. You¡¯re better than just another king. The world is filled with kings. But you, you¡¯re my harbinger of change, or had you forgotten?¡±


    ¡°If you say so. Fine, I won''t argue. If that''s what you want, I can do that.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Edarn twirled toward a glass sat on his hardwood table and brought the red liquid to his mouth. ¡°Imperator, I must ask, have you tried the wine? All the best stuff travels through Xaarn. It would be a shame not to try it if you haven''t.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡±


    ¡°Huh? You don¡¯t know? The harbinger of change has much to learn it would seem. You see, the Kingdom of Ioanos in the west comes the world¡¯s greatest wine. Any and all of it headed for the Imperium passes through our great port.¡±


    ¡°That is interesting," Mark nodded, mentally noting the details. "Does anything else of value pass through here?¡±


    The narrative has been taken without permission. Report any sightings.


    ¡°Anything else?¡± Edarn chuckled. ¡°Everything else. We¡¯re the gateway into the Imperium. Fine scents¡ªperfumes, spice, silk¡ªall pass through Xaarn. There are other ports that these goods pass through, of course. But in the West, we reign supreme.¡±


    Okay, this guy could be important. Best I keep on his good side.


    ¡°Most impressive,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°You have a deal, King of Xaarn. I will tell everyone of value about the King of Xaarn.¡±


    ¡°I knew it,¡± Edarn pointed intensely at Mark. ¡°You get it. Just as the eyeless woman said. I have found my harbinger! Change is coming.¡±


    **Clay**


    He could hear shouting as he ran, but the voices seemed to echoed from the direction that Leonard had led the wagon, and with any luck, the tavern patrons were not aware that he had broken off from the others.


    Several log cabins were set in lines behind the tavern for traveling fortune seekers of all kinds, and it was where the recently hired sellswords were living. But Clay had no idea what the men might be up to. They didn¡¯t expect the wagon to leave until the morning, so there was no telling whether they would be ready to leave or what they might be spending their last night in Frostwind doing.


    As he neared, Clay spotted a couple of men drinking from bottles beside one of the cabins. They had candles, but the light was too dim to make details until he was within a couple of yards.


    ¡°I recognize you,¡± Clay panted. ¡°We hired you lot, right?¡±


    ¡°Who¡¯s that?¡± One of the men crooked his head.


    ¡°That¡¯s the pipsqueak acolyte,¡± another chuckled as he drank. ¡°What do you want, little boy?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re leaving now. The wagon¡¯s already on the move. Get your shit and follow me.¡±


    ¡°Like the devils we are,¡± one of them spat at the ground. ¡°You said morning, and I¡¯ll be damned if I ain''t gonna hold ya to that.¡±


    ¡°Look, too bad. We¡¯re leaving now. You either come and get paid, or you don¡¯t,¡± Clay said, swallowing his courage.


    ¡°Lookie here, who does the little runt think he is?¡±


    ¡°There''s more than one way to get paid,¡± one of them stepped forward, gripping the handle of a dagger sheathed on his belt.


    ¡°Look, I don¡¯t have a crown on me. All the money is with the wagon. You can kill me, but it¡¯ll only make you enemies with an Imperator and no coin richer.¡± I can''t believe I just said that. Please, please don''t kill me. God-Lord, see me through this, I swear I''ll be better.


    ¡°Hold up, hold up,¡± another man grabbed the mercenary¡¯s arm, halting his advance on Clay. ¡°Let¡¯s not be stupid. No point making us enemies out here. Least not if we ain¡¯t getting rich doing it.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got a point.¡±


    ¡°So, are you lot coming or not?¡± Clay said, nervously looking around. He hadn¡¯t heard from the tavern patrons in a short while, but he certainly didn¡¯t want to stick around longer than he had to.


    ¡°Fine,¡± the mercenary growled. ¡°But do this again, and I¡¯ll have your neck,¡± he pointed intimidatingly at Clay.


    "Just like that we listening to the little boy?"


    "Oh, shut up," one of the sellswords barked. "If ye don''t want coin stay behind."


    ¡°Good," Clay nodded and swallowed. ¡°Let''s hurry up, then. The wagon won''t be waiting around. We''ve got to get moving.¡±


    ***


    The remaining eight sellswords¡ªthose who weren¡¯t already at the tavern and followed Leonard to the wagon¡ªgathered with Clay outside the cabins¡ªmost of their belongings packed into bags.


    "Alright, let''s go," Clay waved them on.


    Crunching through the snow in the dark, they sped out from the camp, using a different exit from its walls.


    The escape had been hasty, and Clay hadn¡¯t made plans where to meet with Leonard, but he suspected the caravan master would be near the wooded areas around a fork in that split the walked paths leading to Frostwind. It was where other trading trips had gathered and likely where they would default to.


    As they ran through the woods, shouting echoed across the cool night, and metal clangs rang out.


    Clay¡¯s gaze narrowed as he spotted torch lights. Back and forth, he spotted their movement.


    ¡°A battle. Come on,¡± he hissed and waved the men on.


    A man dropped to the snow as the group neared the torch-lit figures.


    ¡°About time you caught up,¡± Leonard shouted, turning as they approached and spotting the smaller figure of Clay at the forefront. Several bodies lay face down in the snow, and three men sat on their knees, blood staining their clothing. ¡°I tried to warn them, didn¡¯t I, Clay.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Clay nodded as he caught the men¡¯s gazes.


    ¡°Oh well, some people never learn. May this be a lesson to you,¡± Leonard said pointedly. "Be smarter and live longer."


    ¡°What about Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post?¡± How many people did you kill¡­¡±


    ¡°If you¡¯re asking whether or not they¡¯ll allow us to enter and trade again, then I¡¯m not entirely sure,¡± Leonard shrugged. ¡°But I think so. I¡¯ve had a few issues in the past. They¡¯re normally pretty good if your intentions were in the right place.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure I believe you,¡± Clay gritted his teeth.


    ¡°Relax a little. We¡¯ll be fine. Besides, the camp doesn¡¯t get too much trade these days, and Fort Winterclaw has plenty to sell. I have a feeling they¡¯ll be more than happy to see us next time we visit.¡±


    ¡°And what about these men?¡±


    Leonard turned to their prisoners. ¡°Them? Hmm, yes, I guess we take them.¡±


    ¡°Prisoners?¡±


    Leonard shrugged. ¡°Imperials with useful skills¡­ possibly. That was what we came for, wasn¡¯t it?¡±


    ¡°You intend to make them slaves?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not,¡± Leonard chuckled. ¡°Slavery is banished in the Imperium. But I figure they can either work or walk back to Frostwind. Their choice.¡±


    ¡°That doesn''t seem like much of a choice.¡±


    ¡°Exactly, my young friend. It¡¯s fair, though. You attack someone, and there are consequences. That is how the world works. They are lucky I don''t slit there throats. Many out here would. Anyway, with any luck, they will see the error of their ways, and we¡¯ll get a little more manpower for the fort. The way I see it, it''s a win win.¡±


    ¡°If you say so...¡± Clay grimaced.


    ¡°I do say so. Alright then,¡± Leonard shouted. ¡°Are we ready to head out?¡±


    ¡°Not really,¡± growled a mercenary. ¡°Your boy here interrupted our night. I¡¯m more ready for a sleep than walking to your stinking fort.¡±


    ¡°Stay if you like. But whatever you decide, I hope you''re smarter than these men."


    "Stop whining," another mercenary growled. "We getting paid, ain''t we?"


    "Great, it sounds like we''re in agreement. Let¡¯s see how far we get tonight, shall we? I¡¯m sure the Imperator will reward your hard efforts. If fatigue hits too hard, we''ll rest. Now, before any other misguided fools come looking for us, I say we make some distance from the trading post,¡± Leonard flashed a grin.

 43. Winter

    The howling winds and constant downpours of snow picked up as the last days of winter counted down. The line between winter proper and the constant cold of the Frontier might have seemed arbitrary to many but not to the gods of the north and those that followed them.


    Within the great hall lit by hundreds of flicking torches, thousands of wargs gathered for the final countdown as they waited for the day that the Seven-Headed Wolf God called winter. The countdown had reached the final hours, and the wargs sat on their knees and chanted as their elders stood on a podium facing out toward the sea of humanoid wolves.


    The mood had turned feverish in recent days. They could all feel it. Finally, after hundreds of years, the wargs had gathered the strength and unity to reclaim what their people once ruled over.


    The Frontier, or Langestmak, to the barbarians, had long been the land of the warg before they were driven back, and the wargs and their allies were more than eager to return the icy lands to their rightful rulers.


    ¡°And so it begins,¡± a man mused from the shadows overlooking the great gathering.


    ¡°With the rise of the warg, we shall get our place at their side, High Priest. The followers of the wolf god shall rule over man.¡±


    ¡°We shall,¡± the bald man dressed in wolf furs nodded as he watched the chanting wargs from their advantage. ¡°But we have a certain thorn to deal with first.¡±


    ¡°You mean you want to personally deal with that troublesome Imperial?¡±


    ¡°Our dead deserve vengeance, do they not?¡±


    ¡°They do, High Priest,¡± the man nodded. ¡°But I had figured we would send a detachment out to deal with their pitiful gathering."


    "And look how that turned out last time. No, we cannot take the chance of being embarrassed a second time."


    "Understood. And your nephew, should we bring him?¡±


    ¡°Captain,¡± the wrinkled, white-haired priest said, turning to the bulky man in heavy, plated metal armor. ¡°We¡¯re taking everyone. This is war. The fort of that Imperator shall only be our first step. We shall follow the wargs up to the Razors and slay any man who defies the rule of the Wolf God''s servants, and once this is all over, we shall build a new temple in our god''s honor. Prepare everything. Even the servants and slaves. Our entire order shall travel south."


    ¡°Then I must leave,¡± the man bowed. ¡°There are many preparations required for our warriors to be ready for battle and more for our supplies.¡±


    ¡°As you do,¡± the priest waved dismissively and turned back to the procession of wargs filling the hall. He would destroy that fort and build a temple in its place for the dishonor it had caused him. He had ordered his followers from the region to gather and prepare to attack the fort, and the Imperator destroyed them. It was an insult and a disgrace, and he needed to seek his vengeance. Failure would not come twice. He would make sure of it.


    **Fort Winterclaw**


    Wiping sweat from his brow, the stocky smith hammered relentlessly. After the first dozen yards of barbed wire, he had found his groove and bent the deadly wire into shape at miraculous speed, rolling it into bundles and wrapping it in leather to be stretched around the fort¡¯s walls.


    ¡°Finished,¡± one of the acolytes shouted, adding his bundle to the pile.


    ¡°Start on the next, will ye,¡± Payon yelled back as he hammered. ¡°We¡¯ve still plenty of work ahead of us. Let''s make our Imperator proud, shall we? More importantly, let us survive this cursed winter."


    The acolytes shouted a cheer in return and forced themselves back to work.


    Glancing over at the engine pieces he had crafted for his Imperator, Payon grinned. There was still a large order of arrowheads to get through, but he could see the light at the end of the tunnel. All this mundane, repetitive work would be completed soon, and he could challenge himself to put that thing together¡ªsomething he looked forward to more than even finishing the sword he had been crafting.


    What shit did you get yeself into, Payon? Well, at least it''s entertaining. The smith sighed and continued working.


    **


    Arrow shafts were carved in great numbers and bundled into piles. The reality was that they wouldn¡¯t get around to crafting arrowheads for all of them and probably didn¡¯t even have the iron to do so if they found the time. But that was fine. They were already bundling piles of arrows to have their heads sharpened and used as is. They wouldn¡¯t be as effective as iron arrowheads, but sharpened wood would be better than nothing when the hoards of their enemies descended upon them. Even scratches and shallow wounds would weaken their foes, and they would take every advantage they could get.


    Adding to the growing manpower supply, more and more ferals had been funneling into the fort, and they counted a hundred new arrivals in just the last few days. Trumus had taken to this chaos better than others, starting construction of a new cabin in the Low Quarter. He hired any feral that came looking for work, many of which he then sent to help the fort with arrow fletching and other tasks left behind by the Imperator. But it was clear who they served.


    His actions turned up some brows, but he was once again the man was proving his worth to Fort Winterclaw, and his growing army of loyal men and women were some of the most productive people within the Fort. Not to mention his training sessions, which made the budding barbarians look like a half decent militia force.


    If you spot this story on Amazon, know that it has been stolen. Report the violation.


    ***


    In the early hours of the morning, acolytes on watch spotted the caravan. They had marched through the night with little rest, rolling into sight of the fort only a couple of days since leaving Frostwind.


    The exhausted men swayed as they walked, and several people from Fort Winterclaw ran out to greet them as they neared.


    Watching from the inner wall, Henric¡¯s expression softened. He counted twelve new faces, and he was pleased beyond measure to have more Imperials within the fort.


    The ever-growing number of ferals had made him more than a little uncomfortable, and he thanked the God-Lord for every Imperial he was able to recruit. Unlike the Imperator, he held no trust for the people. They were useful tools and nothing more.


    However, as uncomfortable as the barbarians made him, he understood well enough not to rock the boat at this moment. If the Imperator was right about the coming winter, they would need every bow and sword they could muster. But after the threat was dealt with, he prayed rule would be returned to the rightful hands of the Imperials, and he hoped that his Imperator would see the light of such values. If not, he wasn''t sure he could continue down this path.


    **Trolls**


    ¡°Chieftain, they hunt us,¡± a broad troll with long, mattered hair shouted, looking as if he was carved from stone.


    Tath Gorak nodded, his stony gaze turning toward the south. ¡°Wargs smarter than they look. They won''t attack, but be ready.¡±


    The battle-hardened chief wasn¡¯t too worried about the wargs chasing them from the Daggers. They were likely scouts keeping track of their movements for their bastard lord, but most importantly, he hadn¡¯t spotted fire among them. If they were foolish enough to attempt attacking them without fire, he would happily take their lives. In fact, he welcomed such an act and would himself engage them if he had the means of catching up to the wargs who ran as fast as wild horses.


    ¡°Do we have a plan, chieftain?¡± a troll grunted at his side, creases cutting through his skin like cracks through a rock.


    ¡°We continue south and search for enemies of the wargs. We must keep faith in this plan. Those monsters threaten all who are free of them. We must trust that our enemies will show themselves. Besides, what choice do we have now that winter has come?"


    **Imperator**


    Edarn hadn¡¯t just allowed Mark and his acolytes to leave his island but had even assisted him in finding a suitable map and paid for it, although he got the feeling its value meant little to the man of great wealth.


    The boys buckled up, and Mark took his place at the helm. He had spotted another island to hop to on the map. It was a partially inhabited island about half the distance as Xaarn was from Fort Winterclaw, allowing Mark to fly faster than he had come here. The plan was to land in the uninhabited rocky islet to the south of the main island and rest a few hours before taking off again. Their next flight would land them on the southern continent of Andria, where the Archbishopric of Deloise and other nations could be found.


    The further south they flew, the clearer the water appeared. Islands were dotted by tropical trees and sandy beaches kissed by foamy waves.


    Upon reaching the tiny islet of sharp rock, seagulls, and several other larger ocean birds, Mark didn¡¯t recognize pecking around the rocky ground where they landed. He found himself staring out at them, letting his mind drift away. There was something so peaceful about where they were. The problems of the world seemed so far away, and the animals went on with their business as if nothing were happening.


    If only I could just sit here and be at peace. Oh, the simple joys in life.


    A thump of the ship¡¯s mage heart pulled him from his musings, and he realized it had recovered its energy.


    It doesn¡¯t seem like I¡¯m getting rest anytime soon. As much as the thought of resting might have felt good to Mark, it didn''t take much reminding for his thoughts to trail back to the poison.


    ¡°Acolytes, are you strapped in?¡± Let''s get the hell out of here and heal ourselves already.


    Half asleep, groans echoed back.


    ¡°I''ll take that as a yes because we¡¯re taking off again,¡± Mark shoved his hands into the control pockets and pulled on the ship, lifting it into the air in seconds.


    He could feel himself weakening, even if only a little, and the boys seemed to be sleeping whenever they weren¡¯t actively doing something. If these priests could heal them, then that would be great, but it didn''t give them time to screw around. Besides, he had no idea how much of the toxins they had actually consumed, and he felt that the respirators he had made hadn''t done much.


    Soaring through the sky, they swept across the blue below and soon reached a sandy, rocky shore within hours. Arid land stretched on for what seemed like forever, dotted by patches of vegetation and snaking rivers lined by farmlands and mangroves.


    Following one of the largest rivers¡ªthe Cale¡ªas Mark''s map named it, they passed by several smaller towns as he headed toward a border city called of Manh.


    At the mouth of a huge river delta, the city was spread across several islands split apart by impressive rivers, which were filled with boasts of all kinds, with colorful canopies that blanketed the river with reds and yellows from above.


    Mark had picked the city because it lay beside the Archbishopric of Deloise but outside their control. From here, he hoped to find contacts who could help him enter the hostile state without immediately killing himself.


    To his surprise, as he flew across the city''s skyline, he spotted robed men waving him down through the white clay buildings and towers. They directed him to an open courtyard marked almost like a helicopter pad, except that the markings were square rather than circular.


    As far as he was aware, the city of Manh had no reason to attack him on sight, so he followed the directions. It helped that he was inside a giant steel contraption that could shoot lightning bolts. However, the Imperium didn¡¯t rule the world, which likely meant that other kingdoms had means of dealing with the ships if they needed to.


    ¡°We¡¯re here?¡± Radic groaned with a sickly green tinge to his skin as he swayed back and forth in his seat.


    ¡°Going to be sick?¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Radic hissed at Callum and clamped his hands over his mouth a second later.


    ¡°Take it easy, boys,¡± Mark said, stepping out from the cockpit. ¡°The poison we¡¯ve ingested is going to weaken us. You¡¯ll need to take it slowly until we find a healer.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine,¡± Radic said as his cheeks ballooned.


    ¡°Quick, outside,¡± Mark said, running to the exit and slamming the button. ¡°No way you¡¯re throwing up in my new ride. Now get out,¡± Mark barked, pointing outside.


    Hastily unbuckling his belt, Radic cupped his mouth and ran out into the warm weather of Manh, speeding past the robed men and hunched over a bush to expel his guts.


    ¡°Is he going to be okay?¡±


    ¡°Are any of us?¡± Mark shrugged and placed a hand over his brow as he stepped out into the stinging heat and blistering sun.


    ¡°Welcome to Manh, Imperator,¡± one of the old, bald men in robes said, stepping toward them and bowing. ¡°It has been long since last we had one of your kind within our walls.¡±


    ¡°Greetings,¡± Mark waved. The green robes and copper jewelry reminded him of the librarians who ruled the city¡ªassuming his information was correct. ¡°Librarians, I believe?¡±


    ¡°Correct, Imperator. May we ask what brings you to the great city of Manh?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m hoping to secure safe passage into the Archbishopric of Deloise and a trustworthy contact. I if possible.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± the man said, and the other robed men behind him mumbled between themselves. ¡°You have come to the right place. But your request is not an easy one. Few significant people within the Archbishopric will even hear your request. You being an Imperator and all. I fear that it will be quite an expensive request.¡±


    ¡°Expensive?¡± Mark raised a brow. ¡°I should have figured.¡±

 44. Growing Storm

    Soldiers marched from the snow-capped mountains in the thousands. They brought with them horses, wagons, and even a detachment of wargs. They wore armor, both leather and metal, with shields and spears on their backs and the flags of the Seven-Headed Wolf God flattering in the blizzarding weather above.


    ¡°You did well, Captain,¡± the bald priest said with his scarf pulled high up his face. ¡°I had my doubts you would have them ready in time.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re prepared to fight, High Priest. For the Seven-Headed Wolf God, we defy our limits. But we¡¯ll need to gather additional supplies as we march. Speed has cost us preparation time, and we carry little.¡±


    ¡°So be it. There are plenty of families along the road who are still loyal to the temple. And I don¡¯t think you or your men have forgotten how to forage, yet have you?¡±


    ¡°Of course not. However, it will slow our march. At best, we are likely a couple of weeks from the fort.¡±


    ¡°Not good enough, Captain. The wargs pass across this land at speeds we can only dream of. It would be a disgrace for us to take that long and lower our standing among the Lord of the Daggers. Be assured that I have not worked this hard and come this far just to be demoted once we finally conquer the world. I will be granted my own domain to rule, or I''ll have your neck.¡±


    ¡°But, sir¨C¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t want to hear it. Two weeks is a failure in the wargs'' eyes. We must move quicker. Everything depends upon it.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir. Well, a forced march could likely get us there in a week.¡±


    ¡°Faster,¡± the high priest hissed.


    ¡°F-four days,¡± stammered the captain. ¡°Give me four days at least.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, I suppose that is acceptable, Captain. But do not fail me.¡±


    ¡°I won¡¯t,¡± he nodded eagerly. ¡°We will be there in four days, and we will flood that tiny fort with our numbers.¡±


    ¡°Good. I will hold you to that. Do not forget any one of these men would cut out an eye for your position, Captain.¡±


    "I understand."


    **Imperator**


    All this waiting is getting tedious. Mark¡¯s eyes drifted across the cushioned room. He and the acolytes sat cross-legged on the floor, a short table between them and various fruits and cured meats across it. At least this stuff is delicious.


    ¡°I can¡¯t,¡± Radic groaned, holding a piece of salami in his trembling hands before his mouth.


    ¡°No appetite?¡± Mark asked.


    ¡°I¡¯m starving, but I¡¯ll throw if I force it down. I¡¯m sure.¡±


    ¡°Maybe drink something?¡±


    Radic snuffled his runny nose and took the cup of wine at his side, gingerly bringing it to his lips. ¡°No,¡± he coughed after barely a sip. ¡°I can feel it fighting with my stomach.¡±


    ¡°Well, maybe just take a moment to rest?¡±


    Callum nodded from across the table as he himself struggled to eat fruit.


    ¡°I think that might be a good idea,¡± Radic grimaced and shuffled back from the table, then lay down on the cushions beside it.


    The kid doesn¡¯t look good. We¡¯re going to need to get a move on. What are these damn librarians fiddling about doing?


    Interrupting Mark''s thoughts, two men came through the silk curtains with their heads bowed. ¡°Imperator,¡± one of them said, coming to a halt beside their table.


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The Lord Librarian is ready to see you now.¡±


    About time.


    ¡°Great,¡± Mark smiled and climbed up from his seat. ¡°Let¡¯s get going then."


    ***


    A corridor lined by windows looking out across the sundrenched city led them to the Great Dome. As they entered, Mark glanced at the mosaic ceiling depicting a battle between the gods. It must have been thirty yards above his head, and as he entered the impressive room, he found himself lost in a maze of dissecting bookshelves.


    The two men led Mark through a zigzagging path until they reached a desk at the dome¡¯s center. A sickly white, old man was hunched over it, the hin white curls on his head barely visible beneath the filtered light piercing through stained windows above.


    ¡°The Imperator,¡± the man croaked, looking up from the page he inspected with a magnifying glass.


    The two men at Mark''s sides bowed and stepped aside silently.


    ¡°Lord Librarian,¡± Mark said, bowing¡ªhe figured that he probably should, although he wasn¡¯t entirely sure what the protocol for meeting this man was.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°My people say you seek entry into the Archbishopric of Deloise?¡±


    ¡°That is correct.¡±


    ¡°Sunken eyes, purple lips, profuse sweating, gaunt features,¡± the Lord Librarian tapped on the book¡¯s page. ¡°Symptoms of poisoning of the Great Razor¡¯s Edge Miasma,¡± he looked up again at Mark pointedly.


    ¡°So, you figured it out?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m the caretaker of the world¡¯s largest library, Imperator. Of course, I did. I suppose this is why you seek out your enemies in the Archbishopric?¡±


    ¡°It is, Lord Librarian.¡±


    ¡°Intriguing. I¡¯m surprised one of your kind is capable of making such a rational decision that goes against your indomitable pride. It¡¯s not often you meet Imperators such as yourself.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not just going to roll over and die.¡±


    ¡°But many of your kind would do just that, especially if their only salvation lay in the hands of a centuries-long rival such as the priests of the Archbishopric.¡±


    ¡°Well, I guess I¡¯m built a little differently,¡± Mark shrugged.


    ¡°That¡¯s for certain,¡± the Lord Librarian raised a suspicious brow and went quiet for an uncomfortable moment. ¡°I can help you. I am the close friend of a rather powerful bishop. His word would be enough to grant you safe entry and the chance to plead your case in front of the Archbishop himself. Whether that results in your death or not, I cannot be sure.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s as good a deal as I¡¯m going to get,¡± Mark sighed.


    ¡°It is,¡± the librarian nodded thoughtfully. ¡°The cost will be steep,¡± the man¡¯s wrinkled eyes passed over the notes on his table.


    ¡°How much?¡±


    ¡°The equivalent of ten thousand of your Imperial crowns. You may pay in crowns, gold coins, or any other major currency.¡±


    ¡°Ten thousand?¡± Mark gritted his teeth. ¡°I carry goods with me, but there¡¯s no way they¡¯re worth that much. Can¡¯t we come to some kind of an arrangement?¡± Mark said, realizing there was no point trying to lie or weasel his way out of this. The man before him was likely the most educated person in the world.


    The Lord Librarian nodded. ¡°There is, but not within your power, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°What is it? Just tell me.¡±


    ¡°Fine, I shall entertain you. You see, our library is ever-growing, and you might have noticed that we are rather short on trees. This is an ever-present conundrum for the Great Dome. Our need for paper is never-ending. Of course, we already trade for this most precious good with your great Imperium, but it is never enough. However, I fail to see how a single Imperator could help us with this. No matter how impressive you might be.¡±


    ¡°I have a throne ship, I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware.¡±


    ¡°I am,¡± he nodded.


    ¡°With it, I can travel across the ocean.¡±


    ¡°Obviously.¡±


    ¡°I rule over a fort deep within the Frontier region surrounded by endless forests. It is well within my power to provide timber to Manh.¡±


    ¡°I suppose you could bring shipments in that flying ship of yours, but you wouldn¡¯t carry much, especially not over the sea that separates us. I am very much aware of the limitations of your Imperial throne ships. Paying off a debt of ten thousand crowns with the timber you would be capable of ferrying would take the rest of your life. Probably longer,¡± the librarian chuckled. ¡°That is not a wise investment on my behalf.¡±


    ¡°Well, what if I could process the timber into paper?¡±


    ¡°Oh, paper, you say? That is no easy task. From my understanding, your forts are barely manned with a handful of rejects from your Imperium. How exactly would you make paper?¡±


    ¡°I employ local people and in greater numbers every day. I won¡¯t lie; it would take me a while to get such an operation started. But I promise you, once the pieces are in place, I will churn out all the paper you could possibly need.¡±


    ¡°So much risk,¡± the librarian hummed. ¡°You would have to agree to repay the debt as soon as possible and sell the paper at half the standard rate.¡±


    ¡°I will, I promise,¡± Mark inched close, bundling his hands into fists.


    ¡°Hmm¡­ okay, Imperator. I shall take this chance on you. I shall send out my contacts and reach out to this bishop. You will hear as soon as I have. For now, you will return to the waiting room. Soon, my people will come to you with a contract. I warn you against betraying this contract. The Great Dome may not have a huge globe-spanning army to hunt you down, but we have allies everywhere.¡±


    ¡°I will keep my word,¡± Mark thumped a fist against his chest.


    "See to it that you do. I take great risks in this investment. If you fail to uphold your end, I would be greatly angered."


    "Understood."


    That was too close. Damn it. This doesn¡¯t make things as easy as I hoped they might be, but at least we have a chance of surviving this miasma now.


    **Lord Librarian**


    ¡°Do you believe he can uphold the contract, Lord Librarian?¡± a barrel-bellied man in fine silk robes said, stepping to the side of the librarian¡¯s desk.


    ¡°He¡¯s an interesting one, isn¡¯t he? I had heard the rumors of an Imperator within the Frontier that doesn¡¯t follow the rules. I hadn''t expected fate to bring him to my doorstep, however.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t answer my question.¡±


    ¡°I have no idea whether or not he will even survive the week, let alone make good on this deal. It¡¯s a massive gamble, no doubt,¡± the Lord Librarian nodded. ¡°I will spend the favor Bishop Rayleigh owes me. Such a thing is valuable but an asset we can live without. Such a decision may be risky, but I have a feeling it would prove wise. You know those stubborn princes in the Imperium spend their days endlessly squabbling, ignoring the valuable resources held up in the Frontier. If someone was open-minded and in a position to make change happen, the value could be immense.¡±


    ¡°So, we just gamble on this man and hope for the best?¡±


    ¡°Precisely. He could be a great ally if he manages to achieve half of what he is trying to. But more importantly, a great ally in desperate need of friends. The road ahead of that man is pathed in strife. Position ourselves wisely, and we have a great opportunity available to us.¡±


    ¡°And what of his enemies? Is it wise to anger them by helping this wayward Imperator?¡±


    The Lord Librarian shrugged. ¡°They are far away, and we have many friends of our own. Besides, everyone knows how the Great Dome works. Fear not; none will come hunting our necks for behaving precisely how they expect us to.¡±


    ¡°I feel you¡¯re too relaxed. The Imperium, for all its weaknesses, is still the greatest force in the world. If they chose to make us an enemy, they could crush this city.¡±


    ¡°They could indeed, but they won¡¯t. They have plenty of their own issues. And who knows, something of this magnitude might even be enough to break the camel¡¯s back, so to speak.¡±


    ¡°You suggest¨C¡±


    ¡°I do. It has been a long time coming. That incompetent child sits on the throne. The princes bicker endlessly with the legates. Derision plagues the sick man to the north, and the great kingdoms are watching. Already, they plan and scheme. Watching for weakness and a chance to pounce. Be ready, by councilor, for soon the world will burn as opportunity arises and greedy men seek their fortunes and fame.¡±


    ¡°You truly believe that day is so near?¡±


    ¡°As you know, it has been brewing for decades, but I wasn¡¯t sure whether or not I would live to see the day. However, after seeing that man, I have changed my mind.¡±


    ¡°Was he really so brilliant? He seemed rather ordinary to me,¡± the councilor huffed.


    ¡°Perhaps, perhaps not. But his potential is more complicated than that. He sits on a goldmine of opportunity and is the only one willing to try and seize it.¡±


    ¡°And the stories of wargs and barbarians?¡±


    ¡°A near impossible obstacle to overcome¨C¡±


    ¡°But then¨C¡±


    ¡°Silence, Chancellor,¡± the librarian raised a hand. ¡°Wargs and barbarians are deadly threats. Those monsters might just be the world¡¯s greatest warriors. But they do not understand trade or commerce. They fail at industry and craft. Their leaders are stubborn and headstrong. No,¡± he shook his head. ¡°Their potential is nothing. They are simply a thorn to anybody who attempts to make their throne in their land. But to the rest of the world? Their threat is minor. The real value is in that land. If someone who processed the vision to see that wealth realized... someone willing to seize that unrealized power. Now, that could be a real threat. Or a real opportunity."

 45. Into the Archbishopric

    After restocking supplies and waiting for the Lord Librarian¡¯s people to inform them of their contact¡¯s whereabouts, the party took off again.


    Bishop Rayleigh lived in a villa surrounded by orchids some distance from the Archbishopric¡¯s capital, Deloise.


    While the Archbishopric was quite large, much of it was arid and barren, with the capital straddling the one major river that cut through the vast land.


    Deloise had become one of the region''s largest cities thanks to its major seafaring city status. The Black River ran through it, leading out into the ocean and wide enough for even the largest vessels to navigate. That, coupled with the Temple of the Reborn God and the powerful priests that worshiped there, their healing magic, and the base of power they maintained within the city, Deloise had grown into one of the world¡¯s major powers.


    An hour into the flight through Deloise, two pegasus riders flew toward them and escorted the throne ship to the bishop¡¯s residence. Mark caught himself marveling at the pure white horses with wingspans wider than anything he had ever seen gliding through the sky. Their riders were covered in scale armor that moved naturally with the contours of their body and carried round shields in one hand and lances in the other.


    Amazing. What else does this world contain? No wonder the Imperium isn¡¯t capable of just conquering everything.


    Soon, they approached the expansive acreage residence surrounded by several servant quarters and a main house that looked more like an official building than a person''s home, with marble columns lining it''s exterior.


    Armored guards already stood at an open spot in one of the nearby courtyards, directing them down as they approached. Mark followed their instructions, bringing the ship down between rows of hedges.


    Climbing out of his seat, he grimaced at the sight of the two boys wheezily pale with unfocused eyes drifting about.


    I might still have some time, but those two seem to be close to their end. Hopefully, these priests don¡¯t make me wait.


    ¡°Can either of you walk?¡±


    Barely intelligible groans came from the boys.


    ¡°Scrap that. Just stay here and try to drink some water. I¡¯ll be as quick as I can,¡± Mark said and left out through the back of the ship when he didn¡¯t get much of a response.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± a stern guard barked as Mark stepped out into the shimmering heat. ¡°Is it just you? We were advised three were coming to see the Bishop.¡±


    ¡°The other two are resting. I¡¯ll be going alone.¡±


    The man turned to the other guards with a raised brow. ¡°If you wish, but don''t go changing any more plans. I¡¯ll have my men guard your ship. If we catch your people wandering around, there will be repercussions.¡±


    ¡°Understood,¡± Mark nodded, hurrying up to the guards. There wasn¡¯t time to stop and argue over details.


    With a wave of his hand, the guard captain ordered his men about and led Mark into the main residence, with a couple of guards trailing them a few yards back.


    ¡°You¡¯re quite far from your Imperium,¡± the guard commented as they walked.


    ¡°I¡¯m aware.¡±


    ¡°I fought with Imperial soldiers when I was younger, you know¡ªduring the Islands War. Was quite the bloody mess.¡±


    ¡°No hard feelings, I hope,¡± Mark said, hoping to avoid the conversation.


    ¡°No, not anymore. Forgave the bastards. After I slit the throats of my captives, that is.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark nodded as they walked. Charming man this guy is. "Well, at least its forgiven and forgotten."


    Passing through the next chamber, the guard stepped to the side of a door and gestured for Mark to enter.


    "Not forgotten," the guard hissed.


    Mark forced a smile and nodded, passing the man into the chamber. Hopefully ignoring the taunts might have bought him a little relief with the man. Additional tensions were not needed now.


    Returning his focus to the matter at hand, Mark gazed into the room beyond. Stretching on in all directions, the grand room, spread across large, sleek marble tiles with lounge chairs spread across the sun-kissed space.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± a graying man said, turning from a window at the far end. He had sharp features and keen eyes¡ªbeyond what one might expect for someone in their senior years. ¡°I never imagined welcoming one of your kind into my home.¡±


    ¡°Never expected to be here,¡± Mark said, striding across the opulent room.


    ¡°You are quite unwell, aren¡¯t you?¡± Bishop Rayleigh narrowed his gaze as Mark neared.


    ¡°So, you can tell already?¡±


    Rayleigh didn¡¯t answer; instead, he raised a hand filled with a warm light. ¡°It¡¯s bad. The toxins have spread and the illness is advanced. This won''t be easy to heal.¡±


    ¡°But you can heal me?¡±


    The narrative has been illicitly obtained; should you discover it on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°Hold that thought. Before I answer, I want to know more about you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll answer whatever questions you have but know we¡¯re short on time. The two boys that accompanied me are in far worse shape, and I fear they won¡¯t hang on for much longer if left untreated.¡±


    ¡°If you answer my questions, I shall heal all three of you here. However, you will still need to travel to the capital and stand before the Archbishop.¡±


    ¡°Very well,¡± Mark nodded. As long as those boys aren¡¯t going to die on me after everything I¡¯ve put them through.


    ¡°Tell me, Imperator, what authority are you here under?¡±


    ¡°None but my own.¡±


    ¡°And your legate, Imperator? Are they aware that you have come here?¡±


    ¡°They are not.¡±


    ¡°So, would it be correct to say that you are insubordinate?¡±


    ¡°I suppose some might see me that way.¡±


    ¡°But you don''t? You have come without order on your own accord. That sounds insubordinate to me. How about this, are you loyal to your Emperor?¡±


    ¡°I ah,¡± Mark stopped to think. He didn¡¯t necessarily believe he owed this man his honesty, but it probably worked in his favor anyway. ¡°I¡¯m not,¡± he added with renewed resolution.


    The Bishop cocked his head as he examined Mark. ¡°Fancy that, I actually believe you, Imperator. I never expected one of your kind to go against his superiors, not with the indoctrination your kind are exposed to. I¡¯m sure you¡¯re aware of how much potential value you have to someone like myself.¡±


    ¡°I can imagine.¡±


    Of course, these guys want to drag me into their politics. But at least that gives me some leverage, and it¡¯s not like the Law of Hierarchy and other Imperium traditions are worth protecting.


    ¡°I just have one last request,¡± the Bishop said, turning to his desk at the far end of the room.


    ¡°As long as it¡¯s quick. We''re running out of time.¡±


    ¡°It will be. Assuming you agree to it.¡± Reaching his desk, the Bishop took a specimen jar and raised it up to the light. ¡°Brain bugs, beautiful little things.¡±


    ¡°Excuse me?¡±


    ¡°Oh, don¡¯t worry. They get a bad reputation, but they¡¯re harmless, assuming you have nothing to hide.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean by that?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve surely heard of them, Imperator? A man of your station should understand the tool at the disposal of his enemies," the Bishop raised an examining brow and continued. "The brain bug crawls up through the nostril and into the brain of its chosen host. The beauty is that once they have nested inside a host¡¯s brain, the host finds it utterly impossible to lie or conceal.¡±


    ¡°You want me to let that thing crawl into my brain?¡± Mark growled and inched backward.


    ¡°If you want me to heal you, I do. But don¡¯t be afraid, Imperator. It really is quite harmless, and I have a much more delicious host waiting for it once I¡¯m done with you. The brain bug will happily leave on its own accord when offered this new host.¡±


    Damn it, what choice do I have? I wish I could remember this thing¡­ Mark couldn¡¯t deny he was terrified of this bug taking over his body or damaging his brain, but he also knew he would die soon without help, and this Bishop was the only man willing to even talk to him. Not only that but there was no guarantee that his guards wouldn¡¯t try to kill him if he refused and left. The boys are likely dead if I turn this down.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Mark breathed a reluctant sigh. ¡°Let''s get this done quickly.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you have come to your senses, Imperator,¡± the Bishop said, walking over to a plush lounge chair. ¡°Please, take a seat, and we can get this over with.¡±


    I¡¯d take a colonoscopy over this any day. Mark cringed as he made his way to the chair.


    ¡°Now take a deep breath and relax your mind," the Bishop said as Mark tried to relax into the chair. "This will be over before you know it.¡±


    ¡°What choice do I have?¡± Mark exhaled and closed his eyes.


    "None."


    Mark could feel the Bishop¡¯s hand beneath his nose as he moved the worm-like creature to his passage. The slimy creature touched his skin and slid up into his nose, sending shivers tracing every inch of his body. It wormed its way up, wiggling as it buried deeper. He felt a sharp, stabbing pain and his vision blurred.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Mark groaned and rubbed at his eyes. ¡°Wh-what¡¯s happening?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s all over,¡± The Bishop said, running a hand through the long hair of a sickly thin, gray-skinned man to his side.


    ¡°Who is that?¡± Mark said, eyeing the brain-dead man.


    ¡°Our super host. The brain bug has done its job and has been removed from your person. Nigel here has a brain that is particularly inviting for the little worms and when they are offered him, they happily leave their original host.¡±


    Mark¡¯s brow twisted in disgust. ¡°Does that mean¡­¡±


    ¡°That he has more than one? It does,¡± the Bishop nodded. ¡°Seventy-four, to be exact.¡±


    Mark grimaced and recoiled.


    ¡°You upheld your end,¡± the bishop continued, eyeing Mark even more suspiciously than before. ¡°I have learned all I need to know. Bring the boys here. I shall gather the reagents required and heal all three of you.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Mark said cautiously. There¡¯s something off. If he had access to my entire thoughts¡­ it would not be good. But what can I do? Just forget about it for now. He¡¯s still willing to help. The most important thing is I¡¯ve secured a cure. I can deal with the rest later if I need to.


    Mark wasted no time running back to the ship and gathering the boys. He held Callum up while two guards took Radic by their shoulders.


    Gathered in Rayleigh¡¯s healing chamber, they waited for the senior Bishop to gather reagents for a couple of hours before he finally returned.


    Incense burned from several golden cups, and surreal azure light funneled down from above, giving an otherworldly feeling of serenity. The reagents were a combination of dried plants, gold dust, and several items Mark didn¡¯t recognize.


    Once they were all sitting at equal lengths apart in a circle with the reagents gathered in the middle of them, the Bishop raised his hands, and warming light filled the room. It was simultaneously energizing and revitalizing, and within minutes of the light basking them, Mark was feeling his strength return.


    He looked at the boys with concern, but soon, their sickly pallor began to fade, and red returned to their lips.


    ¡°You did it,¡± Mark gasped, a smile returning to his lips for the first time in weeks. "Thank you, Bishop."


    ¡°Yes, Imperator, I have,¡± the Bishop said. ¡°It will still take a few days to recover fully, but the poison is gone. You may rest here until we have secured a time for you to meet the Archbishop, and then, if he is happy, you may return to your Frontier.¡±


    "Thank you again. You have been a great aid in this."


    This all feels a little too easy. If I had to guess, I''d say this guy is up to something.


    The room they were given was small, with three beds and bare walls without anything much else of note, and the moment the boys hit their beds, they passed out, but Mark had too much on his mind.


    It concerned him how the Bishop had treated him after the brain bug invaded his mind.


    If the Bishop had learned who he was, that would be concerning, but Mark still wasn¡¯t certain if it was a bad thing. He had no allegiance to the Imperium besides keeping himself and his people alive. Knowing that he was a stranger from another world might at least foster trust between them.


    Could he continue his path indefinitely without going against the Imperium itself, Mark wondered? He wasn¡¯t about to betray the barbarians who helped him build up the fort. This was something that was bound to cause issues if they managed to survive winter.


    He couldn¡¯t help but feel exposed, but ultimately, he saw the light at the end of the tunnel. These two fractions were enemies, and if he played his cards right, he could use that to his advantage.


    Maybe this isn''t so bad... Mark''s mind trailed off in every direction until his exhausted body pulled him to sleep.

 46. Seat of Power

    Mark had to admit he was impressed as they flew into Deloise. The city was what he imagined a great Mediterranean capital of the Middle Ages or Classical Antiquity would have looked like.


    Columned buildings perched atop a crowded mesa overlooking the giant river at its side, which was as wide as the city itself. Narrow roads split the city into neat square blocks. This was not the disorganized chaos he had seen everywhere else since arriving.


    The pegasus knights led Mark¡¯s ship to an opening at the center of the mesa, surrounded by the giant, columned buildings. As he got closer, he spotted hundreds of people seemingly waiting for his arrival¡ªa combination of the knights in scale metal armor and toga-wearing men, most of which were graying or whiting.


    He was thankful that the two acolyte boys were almost back to their old selves, sitting upright and healthy-looking, but fatigue still followed and it was evident in their lethargic movements.


    Bringing the ship down to a jerky landing, Mark climbed up from the cockpit and nodded to the boys as they released their belts.


    ¡°I probably don¡¯t need to say this, but don¡¯t speak unless spoken to, okay?¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the boys echoed.


    ¡°Alright, open her up.¡±


    Callum nodded and made for the button, pounding it with the soft of his fist and opening the ship to the city heart of their people¡¯s long time rival and enemy.


    Walking out, Mark felt the gazes of hundreds fall on them. The people were tame, but he could hear the murmured voices of hundreds whispering among themselves as he walked through the crowd.


    The knights gestured for them to follow and wordlessly led them through stone arches into the largest of the buildings.


    The building was only of the world''s jewels, the Reborn Temple. Mark had read about it in the maps he received from Xaarn. The mosaic ceiling held up by columns that were thicker than most houses, must have been fifty or so yards above his head, and a cool breeze entirely divorced from the heat outside brushed through the awe-inspiring temple.


    On both sides of the red-carpeted path that led through the temple¡¯s middle, where hundreds of angelic choir singers humming in perfect harmony.


    ¡°Amazing,¡± Mark murmured, looking around at the impressive spectacle.


    At the far end of the temple, they climbed what must have been a hundred stairs, continuing up until they reached a platform centered around a throne with at least a hundred or so people sitting and standing about doing all manner of jobs. Two men fanned the ancient-looking man on the throne with giant, man-sized feathers that looked like they were plucked from a titan of a peacock. There were also dozens armored guards standing with their hands on their hilts, while others entertained, dancing and strumming instruments. At one end there were barely dressed women feeding one another, and at another, men hunched over maps reading from notes and moving wooden pieces of some kind of game¡ªbut when Mark reached the platform in his unmistakable Imperator suit, they all fell silent.


    A beautiful woman dressed in revealing rags standing beside the throne poked the sunken-eyed man with thin, wiry white hair, hunched into his own lap and sitting on the throne. Startled awake, he grunted and propped himself up to sit, rubbing tiredly at his eyes.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± came his breathy voice as he tried to focus on Mark.


    Mark fell to his knees and into a bow. The two acolyte boys followed closely, with an irritated grunt escaping Radic''s lips. Mark figuring bowing was probably the right thing to do, and the act eliciting gasps from the spectators.


    ¡°An Imperator bowing to the embodiment of the Reborn God¡ªa once in a millennia sight to behold.¡±


    As the ancient man spoke, people broke into cheers, evidently not entirely sure how to react at first.


    ¡°Your people have saved us. It¡¯s the least I can do.¡±


    ¡°Come closer, Imperator. My voice doesn¡¯t travel as it once did.¡±


    Mark nodded, rose to his feet, and strode toward the impressive throne of stone, velvet, and gold trim.


    ¡°What a time it is,¡± the Archbishop said, trying to see Mark through his tired, folded-over eyes, almost entirely lost to wrinkles. ¡°Do you know of our prophecies, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°I am sorry. Please accept my apologies, Great Archbishop, but I don¡¯t.¡±


    ¡°It is quite okay. The fact that you¡¯re here is more than enough for this tired old soul. Imperator, our stories tell of a great change brought in by a malignant force within our enemies ranks. It has been quite the fascination amongst my people for as long as our histories have been written. It is said that this force will help to usher in The Great Change and with it, a period of prosperity. The truth is, many already wonder if you might possibly be this malignant force.¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Mark raised a brow.


    ¡°Yes, you. You are the first Imperator to ever step foot in this great temple, and what''s more, you bowed to me. And by doing so, you put the Reborn God above a servant of your precious God-Lord. As an Imperator, are you not the caretaker of your so-called god¡¯s law?¡±


    Stolen from its original source, this story is not meant to be on Amazon; report any sightings.


    ¡°I am,¡± Mark said cautiously.


    ¡°Tell me, is bowing to me no an affront to your Law of Hierarchy?¡±


    That¡¯s what he¡¯s getting at? I was just trying to be respectful... is he right? Bowing in a religious sense is symbolic on Earth¡ªhumbling even. I hadn¡¯t considered that they might use it similarly here. I just figured he is the leader of an entire nation and I''m barely the lord of a little settlement.


    Mark glanced back at his two acolytes. Callum seemed rather calm, the scarf he wore around his head wrapped tightly, but Radic¡¯s face was twisted into an embarrassed snarl.


    I¡¯ve slipped up. This is nothing short of heretical. Mark''s mind briefly drifted to the thought of dealing with the troublesome acolyte, but his conscience would never allow him to. He could read the anger on the kid''s face and would need to find a method to tame the boy before he caused trouble.


    ¡°I merely come in peace, not to make religious statements,¡± Mark carefully said.


    ¡°Ah, diplomatic to the end,¡± the Archbishop nodded. ¡°Not that it matters. Your presence here is enough. I had no interest in taking chances against fate, especially not when their telling comes from my god.¡±


    ¡°Pardon me, Archbishop, but would you speak plainly? Why have you brought me here?¡±


    ¡°To see you with my own weary eyes. I might not live through the great events that are to come, but I at least wanted a chance to see the catalyst before my passing.¡±


    ¡°Well, here I am.¡±


    A smile crept across the old man¡¯s fragile lips. ¡°Here you are.¡±


    ¡°If I may.¡±


    The Archbishop nodded.


    ¡°Maybe I am this catalyst you speak of but I have many grave threats clawing at me. Winter comes to the Frontier, and with it, hordes of the most heinous monsters. If we are unable to defend ourselves, we stand no chance of making any kind of change happen.¡±


    ¡°You plead for assistance?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Mark nodded.


    ¡°Troubling,¡± the Archbishop hummed. ¡°It is not wise to step between fate and its path, even if you mean to help it along its way. If you are indeed the avatar our god speaks of, then your fate should be bound and unbreakable against all but the most determined actors. However, for me to act on what I know could see that path of fate severed, and your destiny would be left to the fates of chaos. This could lead to much uncertainty, and bring havoc to all of those across the world.¡±


    He really believes this, doesn¡¯t he? I wish I had this kind of faith, but maybe he would change his tone if he saw the Frontier with his own eyes.


    ¡°You don¡¯t believe me?¡± The Archbishop raised a wiry brow.


    ¡°What if I¡¯m not this avatar or catalyst you speak of? Maybe I just die in the snow when the wargs charge across the Frontier. It¡¯s my life on the line, so as you might imagine, it makes me a little more nervous to believe in stories I don¡¯t even know.¡±


    ¡°Understandable,¡± the Archbishop nodded thoughtfully. ¡°And wise. I hope dearly not to tempt fate, but I shall give you one small gift as a compromise in the hope of you remembering the aid my people lent you during your time of need.¡±


    "I appreciate the offering, Archbishop. I will remember it as I do the help I have received from others, such as the King of Xaarn."


    "I wasn''t aware that Xaarn had a king," the Archbishop crooked his head. "Chronicler, have you heard of this?"


    Another man rose to their side, pulling open a scroll and glancing across it in a hurry. "No, Archbishop, I haven''t. Xaarn is marked as a city port in our chronicles."


    "Hmm, odd. But perhaps things have changed," the Archbishop gave an indifferent shrug."


    ¡°Yeah," Mark grimaced, hoping his weird little stunt hadn''t gave the wrong impression.


    ¡°As for your gift," the Archbishop continued. "One of our apprentices will join you. They shall be placed directly under your command and will obey any order you give them, as long as it isn¡¯t against the Temple of the Reborn God. Let me assure you that even one of our apprentice healers is better than even the most gifted healer within your Imperium.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m grateful,¡± Mark bowed.


    I was kind of hoping for resources, but seeing how they fixed me and the boys up, this could prove just as, if not more, valuable.


    ¡°Now go, Imperator, save your people. I shall pray that I have not interfered too greatly in your fate.¡±


    ¡°You heard him,¡± Mark turned and nodded to the two boys, leading them back down the stairs and out of the cool chamber.


    ¡°We did what we had to do,¡± Mark said as they entered the throne ship.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum nodded.


    ¡°If you say so, Imperator,¡± Radic grunted, crossing his arms as he sat down.


    He¡¯s not going to let this go, is he?


    ¡°Look, if you¡¯re grumpy, fine, but we¡¯ve got a long road ahead. Can you put it to rest for now, at least?¡±


    Radic looked up with a bent brow. ¡°Guess so.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark said, unconvinced. ¡°Okay, we should get moving. We¡¯ve got a long journey back¡ª¡±


    ¡°Hello?¡± A voice echoed along the steel ramp into the ship.


    ¡°Come in,¡± Mark called back.


    Steps resounded on the metal ramp as the apprentice priest climbed up. ¡°Imperator Atlas, I presume,¡± the skinny man with oversized glasses said as he entered the cabin, extending a frail hand.


    Mark took the man¡¯s hand, weakening his grip as he watched the man grimace and fold under the pressure of his shake. ¡°Ah, sorry.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± the man said, tenderly rubbing his hand.


    ¡°You¡¯re our new healer, I take it?¡±


    ¡°Yes, the name¡¯s Altono Visard.¡±


    ¡°Pleased to meet you, Altono. Please take a seat with my acolytes and make sure to belt up. The ride can get a little rough at times.¡±


    ¡°Hello,¡± the priestling waved and flashed a thin smile to the acolytes as he made his way into the ship.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Callum waved back.


    ¡°Hmph,¡± Radic grunted and turned away.


    ¡°Don¡¯t mind me. I¡¯ll try to keep to myself,¡± Altono said, taking his seat.


    ¡°Imperator, how do you know this heretic isn¡¯t a spy?¡± Radic hissed. ¡°Or don¡¯t you care anymore?¡±


    ¡°Radic, have you forgotten yourself?¡± Callum said. ¡°You can¡¯t speak to our Imperator like that.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mark shook his head. ¡°He¡¯s right; our new friend here might be a spy. Radic, can I trust you to keep an eye on him and report anything suspicious?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Radic turned to Mark with a wide expression.


    ¡°It¡¯s important. You can¡¯t hurt him, though. At most, imprison the healer if you are without a doubt of your suspicions, but I will pass down the law.¡±


    ¡°I-ah,¡± Radic stammered, straightening in his chair. ¡°Of course I can, Imperator. If this rat does anything out of line, I¡¯ll be sure to spot it.¡±


    ¡°Good, I¡¯m counting on you, Radic.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Radic saluted.


    I think that actually worked. The kid just needed a purpose and some responsibility. Besides, it would be silly not to assume that this Altono fellow isn¡¯t a spy¡ªjust because the Archbishop is helping us doesn¡¯t mean we¡¯re suddenly friends. Hell, the Archbishop didn¡¯t even say if this so-called avatar is supposed to be on his side or not.


    ¡°Trust me, I¡¯ll be on my best behavior. You¡¯ve nothing to worry about,¡± Altono reassured.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be the judge of that,¡± Radic turned, snarling at the priest. ¡°Don¡¯t forget for even a second you¡¯re going to be in the God-Lord¡¯s territory.¡±


    ¡°I-I-I won¡¯t, I promise,¡± Altono nervously nodded, his teeth softly chattering. ¡°I¡¯m just a healer.¡±


    I have a hard time imagining this cowardly healer being much of a problem. I better keep and eye on these two, but Radic seems manageable¡­ I just need to make sure he feels valued.


    ¡°Great, seems like you¡¯re all getting along,¡± Mark teased and turned for the cockpit. ¡°Now, are we all ready for the cold?¡±

 47. Return to the Front

    ¡°Arms Master,¡± an acolyte saluted as he stepped to Henric''s side on the wall.


    ¡°Do you have news from our barbarian scouts?¡±


    ¡°Yes, several groups have returned from our surroundings,¡± the boy nodded.


    ¡°Out with it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s not good... there''s more than just the bodies they found earlier. Ferals keep talking about sightings¨Cgiant, man-sized furred creatures stalking in the woods. Watching. And that''s just the cautious ones. Most openly claim they''ve seen wargs. There were a few stubborn homesteads dotted around, but they''ve all been deserted now. The last hangers-ons have either gone south now or have been found dead. The scout captain tells me that it''s safe to assume any ferals still living in the wilderness are loyal to the cultists and the wargs.¡±


    ¡°I assumed as much.¡± Henric sighed. ¡°Dismissed, Acolyte.¡± Henric turned his gaze across the wall. That wire the Imperator had ordered was more impressive than he had expected. He had a couple of men test it, and they quickly found themselves caught. Even with their armor, they had opened several small wounds requiring Mira¡¯s assistance. But even so, he couldn¡¯t deny that he wanted their leader to return. Not that it was particularly strange to want an Imperator suit backing them up with a powerful enemy clawing at their walls. But this feeling was different. Henric''s stubborn resistance against the man¡¯s tactics waned, and he desired his help navigating their unusual allies. The threat of growing diplomatic tension and Imperator''s ability to defuse it was perhaps even more valuable than the powerful suit he wielded.


    Please, just return before these furred bastards reach our walls.


    It wasn¡¯t just the wargs that worried the veteran Arms Master. He saw the way that man swaggered about the fort. His confidence had been growing with the Imperator gone. Henric still wasn¡¯t sure if Trumus was a real threat, but he knew there would be less to worry about with Atlas in the fort. Because even though the Imperator was an Imperial, the barbarians trusted him. If someone like Trumus decided to try and turn the barbarians against him and the other Imperials, Henric knew there was little he could do. Without Atlas, the fort would likely crumble in days if not hours, and the inner walls would be taken over. They just didn¡¯t have the manpower to resist the number of barbarians growing daily¨Cespecially not now that they were armed half decently with bows and spears. But the Imperator was an image of hope. Someone these barbarians believed had the power and vision to see them through the coming cataclysm.


    **Imperator**


    Flying back over the ocean, Mark led them back to Xaarn. They needed a stop to make the flight back across the sea anyway, and as a major trading port, he figured they might get a chance to trade some of the pelts they had saved by not needing to sell them for healing. With any luck, they would find useful goods to purchase that could help defend Fort Winterclaw.


    Walking the busy seaside marketplace, it didn¡¯t take Mark long to find something that interested him. A ship loaded with giant pumps was destined for a huge forge on the other side of the world. Apparently, these oversized pumps had been custom-built for some sophisticated factory-like building far away. A couple of sailors stood by their ship, calling out. They said the order had been overfilled, and they had spares, although Mark figured it was probably just as likely that they tried to sell a couple along the way if they managed to get the right price. Things always went missing during long voyages, and it was easy enough to write off.


    Eyeing the impressive devices, Mark noted his plans for them. Pumping out this much air would create a huge amount of pressure¡ªenough to spit a viscous substance he had mixed considerable distances.


    Furs were in high demand in Xaarn. Many nations could be reached from its port, and furs would sell for a good price anywhere that had a decently cool winter.


    It took a little haggling, but in the end, Mark managed to walk away with four huge pumps, which he barely managed to load into the throne ship.


    Passing back through the Market, Mark also picked up a few additional bellows with the spare crowns he had loaded in the ship.


    It was a little bit of a gamble. He no doubt could have purchased some decent weapons, but he needed to gamble if he was going to see them through this. He needed to be extraordinary.


    Returning home was bittersweet. A reminder of the Frontier¡¯s constant bite of cold sent a shiver down his spine as snow blanketed the ground, speeding beneath them. But it was replaced by excitement as the fort came into view.


    It almost looked like something out of the world wars. Multiple lines of barbed wire were rolled around spike-laden trenches encompassing the entire fort. Additional towers had been added to the outer walls. The towers weren¡¯t much; they were basically just platforms built beside the wall with ladders attached to them, but they would give their archers one more advantage against an attacker. What¡¯s more, there were so many people. There were more cabins, and huddled straw huts filled the spaces between them. It looked as if ferals fleeing the surroundings had disassembled their homes and thrown them back together within the walls.


    The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.


    Based on the sprawl below, Mark guessed that the population might have grown as high as five hundred.


    Hundreds gathered, pointing to the sky in the narrow alleys and within the Imperial district as the ship pushed through the foggy cloud cover and descended into the fort. Mark even spotted a few of their flags waving.


    Shakily bringing them down into the fort, Mark jumped up from his seat in a hurry, not waiting for the acolytes as he bashed on the exit button.


    A dozen acolytes were lined up with Henric to greet him, and even a couple of armed Imperial men he didn¡¯t recognize were standing with them.


    More mercenaries, huh? They''ve been busy.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Henric saluted, and the acolytes followed in well-rehearsed unison.


    ¡°Good to see you, Henric.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re one to speak,¡± the gruff man¡¯s lips curled, almost as if he were smiling. ¡°I was starting to think you¡¯d leave me to deal with this situation alone.¡±


    ¡°Have some faith in me and get the acolytes to unload my cargo. I¡¯ve brought with me something a little special.¡±


    ***


    Mark, Henric, Payon, and Elowen¡ªwith a map in her hands¡ªpaced the Lower District walls.


    ¡°We¡¯re going to need fires to boil the substance within the airtight pots at strategic positions along the walls,¡± Mark said as they walked. ¡°We¡¯ll also need some of the long pipes you¡¯ve crafted, Payon, for delivery. Most of this is already completed, but I¡¯ll also need you to try your hand at crafting valves.¡±


    ¡°Valves?¡± Payon said with a confused look.


    ¡°I¡¯ll show you what I mean after. The purpose is to pump out the boiling, flammable substance I created through the tube with high pressure. A flame will be present at the end of this pipe, setting it alight and shooting it toward our enemies. We¡¯ll start with four, one on each corner of the fort. If we manage to complete these in time, we can consider throwing together smaller ones if we have the equipment to pull them off. Now, does everyone understand what needs to be done?¡±


    Nods and agreements echoed around the group.


    ¡°Good, now get to work. Winter has come, and the wargs could be among us anytime. I think our walls won¡¯t penetrate easily, but this fire should bring our defenses to the next level. Now, get to work, everyone. Our lives depend on it.¡±


    ¡°You really think this is going to work?¡± Henric said as the others cleared out.


    ¡°Yeah. I think I¡¯m confident,¡± Mark nodded.


    "that didn''t sound overly confident," Henric gritted his teeth.


    ¡°Well, it''s not wise to be overconfident. But If these contraptions we¡¯re building work, I think our enemies will be in for a very nasty surprise when they attack.¡±


    ¡°I sure hope so.¡±


    ¡°Alright then¨C¡±


    ¡°One thing, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Yes?¡±


    ¡°The ferals¨CI mean¨Ccommoners, they are¨C¡±


    ¡°Speak freely, Henric.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just that we¡¯ve taken in a lot since we opened our gates. How can we possibly rely on their allegiance? I mean, it was one thing when we were saving their daughters from the wargs, but these people,¡± Henric threw a hand in the direction of the low quarter. ¡°They can¡¯t be relied upon."


    ¡°You¡¯re right. That would be utterly foolish. Our enemy has almost certainly infiltrated us. But I¡¯ve noticed something, Henric. Their allegiances are porous. They are built upon fear, and the moment that fear is removed, they will come crumbling down. That is why we must prove to them that if anybody is to be feared, it is us.¡±


    ¡°Need I remind you that we¡¯re up against an entire army?¡±


    ¡°Precisely why we need to make a showing of it. When we set the enemy''s armies alight with flames that will not die, even when they roll in the snow, they will see something much different. They will see these mighty beasts and warriors that they fear so greatly helplessly trying to put themselves out. You see, Henric, it¡¯s not just about winning; it¡¯s about putting the fear of the God-Lord in their hearts. However, we also need to remember that we¡¯re not like them. We offer more than that. More than just fear. We offer hope. We offer a world led by humans for humans. This will be a powerful message once we rip away the fear our enemies hold on them.¡±


    Henric nodded thoughtfully. ¡°You think it¡¯ll work on all of them?¡±


    ¡°All? Probably not. But we don¡¯t need it to. We just need most of them. That¡¯s why the gates are open. The commoners know just as well as we do that cultists and their allies sneak into our fort every day. We¡¯re showing them that we¡¯re not afraid; now, we just need to back that up. We need to show them why we weren¡¯t afraid in the first place.¡±


    ¡°And until then? What if they attempt something?¡±


    ¡°Like opening the gates? Attacking us from inside? I understand your fears; they are valid. This is where someone like Trumus comes in handy. We need him and his men to keep an eye on everything. Nobody should be able to move in the Lower or Upper quarters without him knowing.¡±


    ¡°And you trust that man?¡±


    ¡°Trust is complicated. Do I trust that his goals are altruistic? No, that would be foolish. But I do trust that his interests lie within keeping this fort standing. He has a power base of his own now, and I think his greed is enough that he will fight to keep that at all costs. Coupled with the fact that he is undeniably competent and his loyal followers grow daily, he is a valuable asset. And we need every asset we can get.¡±


    ¡°But¨C¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Mark raised a hand. ¡°His power within the Upper Quarter should be managed. But I don¡¯t want him restricted within the Lower, not now, at least. Our real threat is the wargs and anybody allied with them. We have no other choice right now. We need to rely on Trumus and the many eyes he commands to keep our enemies within the walls in place. Once we defeat our attackers, I am confident their support will crumble. Once that happens, we can deal with any potential threats from within. Now, we just need to follow the plan. Understood, Arms-Master?¡±


    ¡°It is, sir,¡± Henric nodded. ¡°We¡¯ll win this day together.¡±


    ¡°Good, because our time is dwindling precariously low. Now, I must be off. There are still many preparations that need to be completed.¡±


    "Yes, sir."

 48. Final Preparations

    ¡°Dober, what are the numbers for thrower fuel? The Imperator needs an update," Elowen said, pacing the storeroom.


    ¡°It¡¯s a-a¡ªhmmm¡­ twelve barrels,¡± Dober said, finger running down the ledger.


    ¡°Faster, farm boy,¡± Elowen snapped her fingers as she mechanically made her way through the room. ¡°That won¡¯t do. I¡¯m going to have to request they make more.¡±


    ¡°Sounds like a lot to me. Have you seen the barrels?¡±


    ¡°Thankfully, I¡¯m not coming to you for advice. Based on my calculations and the rate at which our tests pumped the stuff out, these twelve barrels are equivalent to¡­ eight minutes of use. No, no, no, that can¡¯t be right,¡± Elowen crunched the numbers again. ¡°It-it is.¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong?¡±


    ¡°Our entire supply of fuel for those flamethrowers the Imperator has been building will only last for eight minutes. Divided by four, that¡¯s a total of two minutes for each canon. Does that sound good? Because it doesn''t sound good to me. I don¡¯t know how long we¡¯ll be forced to defend ourselves, but I have a feeling that it¡¯ll be longer than two minutes.¡±


    ¡°Two minutes," Dober looked up thoughtfully. "No, that isn''t long, is it? Maybe we should like to tell the Imperator or something?¡±


    ¡°Of course we should!¡± Elowen barked and bounded for the door.


    "W-wait up," Dober shouted after her, but she had already disappeared out into the fort.


    ***


    Catching up to her Imperator as he completed the last of his rounds since returning, Elowen skidded to a halt, panting.


    ¡°Acolyte Elowen?¡±


    ¡°Im-per-ator,¡± she said between pants. ¡°We¡¯ve got a problem.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°Two minutes. That¡¯s all. The time we have fuel for.¡±


    ¡°Two minutes¨Cfuel? Ah, the Greek fire," Mark nodded.


    ¡°Greek?¡± Elowen¡¯s brow scrunched up.


    ¡°Sorry, ignore that. You¡¯re talking about the flamethrowers, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Elowen nodded urgently.


    ¡°Hmm, that could be better.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean, could be better?¡± Elowen snapped, confused at her Imperator¡¯s apparent indifference.


    ¡°Calm down, Acolyte. We shouldn¡¯t need to fire them nonstop. I always expected our fuel for the flamethrowers to be limited. We just don''t have the time or manpower to build up massive reserves, and besides, we should be able to use them effectively in small bursts. However, that is a little less than I would like. I¡¯ll request that more be created as a priority. Hopefully, we can get at least three minutes per thrower.¡±


    ¡°J-just three minutes?¡¯


    ¡°Trust me, Elowen. It¡¯ll be plenty if these weapons work as well as I believe they will. Thank you for bringing this to my attention. It¡¯s good to know that I¡¯ve got someone reliable who is keeping an eye on all our resources.¡±


    "You''re welcome?" Elowen''s brow twisted, unsure whether this was good or bad news.


    **Erin**


    ¡°You¡¯re back, and you don¡¯t have that gross cough anymore,¡± Erin said, leaping up off her bunk as Callum entered their cabin.


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum replied, throwing his pack down on his bunk and pulling out his divider to change quickly. ¡°Was quite the journey."


    "That''s it? Come on, you''re not getting out of this that easily. I want details!"


    "Yeah, yeah, I''m getting to it. But not here, okay? I''m starving for some real food. Want to join me in the food hall, and I''ll give you the rundown?¡±


    ¡°Gonna make me wait? Fine,¡± Erin huffed, sliding into her boots. ¡°You better go into details. I don''t want some boy story that glazes over anything actually interesting. I want meat and bones.¡±


    "I''ll try," Callum chuckled, pulling back the divider. "Ready."


    Erin''s eyes glimmered.


    ¡°Don''t get your hopes up too high, though. I didn¡¯t get much time for sightseeing. We were kinda in a rush to get back to you a lot.¡±


    ¡°Figures,¡± Erin sighed. ¡°I''ll take what I can get. And I suppose it''s good that you don''t look like you''re about to die again for, like, the tenth time this year.¡±


    ¡°Ha, you got me there. It feels pretty good as well."


    ***


    ¡°Oh, I missed Imperial food,¡± Callum beamed, shoveling down some brown, gravy-covered meat and rigar mash.


    ¡°You went to some of the biggest cities in the world, and you missed this slop,¡± Erin said, staring at the viscous goop on her spoon.


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    ¡°Yep,¡± Callum said, gulping down a large mouthful. ¡°We tried some spiced bags or something when we were in Deloise. I forget exactly what they were called. My tongue stung all night, and it made me sweat like you wouldn¡¯t believe it. I have no idea how they can eat that stuff. No, thank you. I''ll take this stuff any day.¡±


    ¡°And what about Manh? I used to bug the sailors back home when Dad dragged me to the taverns. They said the Domed City had the best food in the world.¡±


    ¡°Na uh, it''s even worse. I mean, I was still sick when I was there, so maybe I''m biased. But they put all these weird flavors in their sausages. I dunno why they can¡¯t just make it like normal people do.¡±


    ¡°They probably think you¡¯re the weird one. I know I sure do.¡±


    ¡°Whatever,¡± Callum shook his head. ¡°Nothing beats a good blood sausage and fried potatoes. They just like overcomplicating things. Keep it simple, I say.¡±


    ¡°None of you have an adventurous bone in your bodies,¡± Erin sighed. ¡°It¡¯s unfair that you get to go on adventures around the world while I¡¯m stuck here.¡±


    ¡°Well, we did almost die.¡±


    ¡°Pffft¡ªhey,¡± Erin perked. ¡°What about Radic? How did you two fair together?¡±


    ¡°Well¨Cumm,¡± Callum crooked his head. ¡°Hard to say. He¡¯s hardly my friend, but it could have gone worse. Think he¡¯s still upset that I was given a sword and he wasn¡¯t, but all things considered, he doesn¡¯t seem as big of an asshole as he used to be.¡±


    ¡°Probably just scared,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°Let¡¯s see what he¡¯s like after we survive what¡¯s ahead¡­ if we survive.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± Callum nodded. "Probably will be back to his old ways."


    ¡°You¡¯re not just going to forgive him after everything, are you?¡±


    ¡°Forgive? I¡¯m not sure about that,¡± Callum said. ¡°Forget might be a better answer. But you know what? I¡¯m not sure it¡¯s all bad. This scar,¡± he added, tapping his headband. ¡°It¡¯s pushing me to do better. I¡¯m so worried about being labeled a heretic and made an outcast that I¡¯ve improved more in the last couple of months than I did in the last few years before it. Maybe it¡¯s for the best,¡± he shrugged.


    ¡°That¡¯s mighty optimistic of you. Suppose that¡¯s good you''re in high spirits.¡±


    "You kind of have to be, Erin. We''re not just going to walk out of this without a few scratches. I''ve learned that now. I think I''m ready. Or at least, more ready than I was before."


    "You got a point, I suppose. Still, if I were you, I''d want to cave that asshole''s head in."


    "You''re a special one, Erin," Callum grinned.


    "Oh, wait," Erin said, pointing her spoon at him. "You haven''t told me about that strange skinny guy. What''s his deal?"


    "Oh, the priest, right?"


    Erin nodded.


    "Yeah, he''s like an apprentice healer. I don''t know much else, to be honest. But the bishop did a pretty good job of healing us up. He should be pretty valuable around here if he''s half as good as that guy."


    "A healer from Deloise? We really are being led by a heretic, aren''t we?"


    "Yeah..." Callum trailed off.


    "You''re okay with it then?"


    "I''m not sure, to be honest. I''ve already been healed by one. There are plenty of people back home who will kill me just to find out about it. Looks like my scar isn''t so far from the truth now," Callum shrugged. "But also... what choice do we have?"


    "Right," Erin nodded and leaned forward and whispered into his ear. "Lots of people aren''t going to be happy. But you know what? I don''t care."


    "I had a feeling you would feel that way."


    "Meh, the Imperium sent me here. Without the Imperator, that would be a death sentence."


    "Yeah, right," Callum said, gaze drifting off as he retreated to his thoughts.


    **Imperator**


    ¡°We need another platform over there,¡± Mark pointed. ¡°It''ll provide us with an advantage over our western side.¡±


    ¡°I''ll see that it''s done,¡± Venjimin said, nodding and scribbling notes.


    "Good, you may be off, Venjimin."


    The old man nodded and left, trailed by two of his underlings.


    Mark had to admit he was amazed at how fast everyone worked. Spirits had already picked up in the fort before he left, but the threat of winter and the constant rumors of stalking wargs must have lit a fire beneath the people as they attacked the jobs given to them with a vigor he hadn¡¯t witnessed until now.


    Payon had even started work on the steam engine, and it didn¡¯t look half bad. Unfortunately, it would need to be put on the back burner again as work on the flamethrowers took priority.


    On top of these plans, he had people spread some of the flammable substance they made for the flamethrowers around the fort and affix pots by the archy platforms for fires so that they could light them as needed. Mark had also ordered some of it smeared onto the surrounding treeline.


    Since the tree line had been pushed so far back from the fort, hitting it with a bow or crossbow would be hard, but lightning would probably work. The benefit of having the forest so far back meant that the risk of starting a fire in the surrounding trees could be mitigated. Not to mention that it was freezing and snowing. Fire wouldn¡¯t spread easily. Still, he had men pour water over the outside of the palisade and spikes surrounding the fort, freezing nearly immediately. The icy film would not only provide a resistant layer of ice that would make accidentally setting themselves on fire a lot less likely but also a slick surface that would be extremely hard to navigate for an attacker.


    It was hard to say whether their preparations were enough, but Mark was certain they would give their enemies hell.


    His gaze turned back to Henric''s sour expression on the wall. He had worked hard to pull the man onto his side, but he once again became distant after finding out about the Deloisian priest. This was much worse than the ferals. But Mark wasn''t about to just turn away from such a valuable asset. Thankfully, he knew there wasn''t much Henric or anybody else could do about it for now. The majority just wanted to survive the winter, and anyone who threatened that would quickly make themselves an enemy of a united fort.


    Hopefully, he can be made to see reason. And if not... well, he can always be replaced. We''ve come too far and worked too hard to let Imperial stubbornness get in our way.


    Mark told himself that his motives were entirely altruistic for the fort, but in truth, they weren''t. He knew that he had gone too far. If he was absorbed back into the Imperium after this was all done and dusted with, he would be executed. No, it was no longer just about building the fort up to survive. He knew that it needed to be more than that. That the fort would have to grow into its own.


    The Imperium was behind him.


    **Cultists**


    Blood seeped from the wrapped feet of many of the cultists¡ªtheir blisters bursting against the unrelenting march set for them.


    The cultist leaders shouted from horseback for their followers to not just maintain their pace but to increase it.


    Beside them, the hundred or so wargs marched effortlessly. They were designed for this, and the High Priest was determined for his men not to look weak in front of the wargs. He knew that praying to the Seven-Headed Wolf god alone wasn''t enough. He would have to prove his worth if he wanted a seat beside them as a lord of the Frontier. Simply defeating a much smaller foe wouldn''t be enough. He had to do it fast and decisively. The defeat his people had already suffered cost him too much already.


    The High Priest smiled, watching his battered followers. For all the struggle that had been imposed on them, the pace they made was remarkable. They would reach this fabled fort that had crushed the previous expedition he sent out in a couple of days. It would be different this time.


    This wasn¡¯t a tiny fraction of the cult¡¯s power. This was the cult¡ªfive thousand armed men supported by a detachment of wargs. This was an army. There was no way a tiny outpost could resist the combined efforts of this army, even if it were Imperial.


    They hadn¡¯t come this far and put this much work into building their force just to let a tiny fraction of the Imperium¡¯s power stand in their way. The wargs would rule the Frontier once again, and to do that, they needed to be able to stand directly against the Imperium¡¯s might.


    This was just the first step for many; soon, the world would respect a new power.


    The priest clenched his fists in determination. He would wipe this threat aside as if it were nothing and continue his march south.


    There could be no doubt. He would stand beside the wargs when they destroyed the treacherous clans that didn''t join them. This was just a thorn in his side that would be swept away on his march to the real prize.

 49. Beginning of the End

    Mark and Henric stood on the wall, watching as the cultist army marched to the surrounding tree line.


    His heart threatened to thump straight out of his chest, and Mark did his best to calm it, reminding himself that their preparations and tests had been successful. If these stubborn people managed to push through the wire, his imitation Greek fire would melt them away.


    ¡°There¡¯s more than I expected,¡± Henric muttered in disbelief.


    ¡°They¡¯re men,¡± Mark said resolutely. ¡°I know how to deal with men.¡±


    ¡°Not all of them,¡± Henric gulped, eyeing several wargs gathered beneath a section of the tree line.


    The humanoid wolves stood at least six feet on their hind legs, covered in tight muscle and fur. Their maws looked like they could tear straight through a man¡¯s arm, crushing his bone.


    ¡°Not many, at least. This isn¡¯t so bad. At least we''ll get a chance to test ourselves against the wargs. In fact, it''s kind of perfect. We will undoubtedly have to fight a larger force of them at some point. If we have any chance of winning against these odds, we''ll need experience dealing with them. And this is a perfect opportunity to dip our feet in the water."


    ¡°Only you could look at this army that outnumbers as more than ten to one and be so confident.¡±


    ¡°Ten to one?¡± Mark turned to his Arms-Master. ¡°More like twenty to one. Most of our people are civilians, or had you forgotten.¡±


    ¡°Maybe I was hoping they would fight¡­¡± Henric gritted his teeth, fighting back a scowl.


    ¡°Ah, cheer up. We¡¯ve got all the tools we need to win this. Our plans are falling into place.¡± Mark turned his gaze away from his nervous second in command and looked across the fortifications.


    About twenty-five ferals stood ready with bows spread across ten platforms along the Low District walls and another twenty-five on the ground. More were armed with spears by the walls and split into small response groups dotted throughout the district just in case the enemy managed to penetrate the wall somewhere. The acolytes remained on the former inner and outer walls, now entirely shielded by the Low District walls surrounding the fort. There was an argument to have them support the others, but Mark didn¡¯t want to put all their eggs in one basket. If disaster were to happen and the walls faltered somewhere, at least they would have the crossbows to cover their retreat into the High District.


    He also didn''t want to rely entirely on the ferals for their defense, so he placed Imperial mercenaries on the little platforms they built for the four flamethrowers, each with a second mercenary to guard and work the pump for them. It was necessary if they wanted to continue firing flames without stopping, but also a backup plan in case Trumus failed to keep the peace. It was one thing if a cultist ally tried to open a gate¡ªsomething that would likely fail thanks to the number of guards around¡ªbut entirely another thing if one of them tried taking out a flamethrower. The turrets were his ace, and Mark wanted to be sure nothing would happen to them.


    Mark''s gaze then turned back to the threatening army. He watched as, beneath the surrounding trees, the cultists prepared by separating into attack groups. Most of them wore some kind of armor, even if it was only boiled leather and a shield. Counting their separated attack groups, Mark spotted ten that appeared to be preparing to mount an attack, each of them about fifty men. But that wasn¡¯t all. He could see support groups preparing. It looked like a probing attack, and the rest would likely charge wherever the initial groups spotted a weakness.


    ¡°They¡¯re not going to attack already, are they,¡± Henric stammered.


    ¡°Without a single siege engine?¡± Mark mused, watching as some of the cultists prepared ladders. ¡°This is to our advantage if they do. It won¡¯t be easy for them to scale our walls with ladders alone.¡±


    Henric ran a hand through his hair, and Mark realized it was the first time he had seen him truly stressed.


    ¡°Calm yourself. Our enemy is showing their impatience. We couldn¡¯t have been given a better gift.¡±


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± Henric nodded. ¡°But what do we do?¡±


    ¡°Watch, and if you see any signs of weakness, send one of our attack squads to relieve them.¡±


    ¡°Me? I thought you were commanding this defense. What are you going to do?¡±


    ¡°I''m not going anywhere, Henric. Calm down; I''m just going to take the ship up. But the tides of battles can change quickly, and if I''m not back in time to provide orders, I''ll need you to, understand?" Mark said, relaying the confidence he had seen in commanders in movies and books, hoping it sounded realistic.


    "Just don''t go too far."


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    "I won''t. I''m sure you''ll see me if you look up. But I''ll have to save energy, so I¡¯ll only fire on our enemies if it is absolutely necessary for our defense but don''t worry, I will be keeping an eye on everything as it develops.¡±


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Henric raised a hand as Mark turned to leave.


    ¡°What?¡±


    ¡°Be careful. If the wargs truly believe they can conquer the entire Frontier, they must have a method of dealing with throne ships. Don¡¯t get too overconfident because you¡¯re in the sky.¡±


    ¡°Thanks for the tip, Henric,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°I¡¯ll be cautious.¡±


    ***


    Pulling into the air, Mark circled the fort, dipping in and out of the foggy clouds that almost entirely held back the sun from the icy landscape.


    From here, his enemies looked like ants gathering below. He knew he couldn¡¯t fire his ship¡¯s cannon many times, but if he selected his targets wisely, then perhaps a few shots could prove decisive.


    The ten groups of cultists stepped out from the treeline at nearly equal distances between them, surrounding the fort, and began banging their weapons against their shields.


    Mark eyed the group of gathered wargs; they were his chosen target, but he didn''t want to be hasty until he knew what his enemy had to offer. The attack groups didn''t worry him, though. He doubted they would even reach the wall as lightly armored as they were.


    Okay, then. Let¡¯s see what you¡¯ve got.


    The archers were ordered to hold their arrows until their enemy reached the trench. He wanted them to make the most of their arrows, and he wanted the enemy to commit to trying to get through the trench when the arrows started to rain down on them. If the enemy decided that the attack was going to be too costly and held their forces back until they could prepare real siege equipment, then their chances of surviving the battle would be drastically reduced.


    Mark was happy to watch the assault start, but a figure among the trees began to glow, shifting his attention toward it.


    What the hell is that?


    Mark''s eyes widened as a beam of bright light flashed toward him, clearing the distance between them in seconds. A jerk of his control only just managed to swerve the throne ship out of the way, sending the beam of light shooting up through the sky.


    Swinging the ship around, Mark pushed down on the controls and dipped down, taking advantage of gravity and sending him hurling toward his attacker like an iron bug on a dive bombing run.


    His target brightened with the same ethereal glow of energy, and another beam of light shot toward him, but he was moving fast now, and it barely took a slight jerk of his controls to send the attack skirting past him harmlessly.


    There he is!


    He hadn''t wanted to make a decision on using his throne ship''s energy just yet, but if his enemy were going to show themselves like this, he couldn''t waste the opportunity.


    Engaging the mage heart at the ship''s core, Mark drew on its energy, funneled it into a pulse of building power, and sent the lightning burst thundering down on his target.


    An angry clap of power crackled, exploding through the enemy line and sending snow tumbling from the forest trees, making the ground shake and sending birds into flight, but something wasn¡¯t right.


    Pulling back up into the clouds as he finished his swooping attack, Mark turned the ship and narrowed his gaze on the enemy formation where he had fired. There were plenty of charred corpses lying around where he had hit, but something told him the figure that had shot at him still lived.


    Shit! Mark''s eyes widened as a flash of light grew in seconds. Pulling on his controls, he sent the ship twirling to its side to dodge another burst of energy. Still, he came up short, and it skidded along the armored shell of the ship, rocking him violently and sending the throne ship into an uncontrolled spin toward the ground.


    Damn it, listen to me.


    Forcing his will on the machine, Mark tried to will the mage heart into action as he fell toward the ground, and a thump of power reverberated through it, humming to life and echoing back through the ship''s heart, almost as if it were alive.


    A jolt rocked the ship as energy surged through it, and another tug on its controls sent it lurching back into the air, having fallen only a few yards from the ground.


    That was way too close.


    Mark pushed back into the sky, pulling on the controls, but he could feel the ship''s energy waning. If he pushed on now and attacked that figure again, there was a real chance he would run out of energy and get himself killed. But he noticed something. The glow of power he had seen was dulled, almost unrecognizable so. His enemy hadn¡¯t left this battle unscathed either; that much was obvious. He couldn''t tell Whether it was wounded, but he had at least forced them to draw on their power reserves and exhaust themselves in the process.


    A smile tugged on Mark''s lips. This little skirmish had been won. He turned back to the fort to land, not wanting to take unnecessary risks. After all, even if the throne ship''s mage heart needed to recover, his was still fine. If that enemy was the only one among them with a power like that, this little fight might have just saved the fort. He had essentially drawn out their artillery and forced them to use up their ammunition. No doubt they would recover as would the throne ship, but that could be dealt with when it happened.


    Pulling back into the fort, Mark landed heavily and hurried out, charging back toward the wall to take his place as commander as the enemy force readied their attack.


    I think you¡¯ll see soon enough that I won that encounter, cultist wizard or whatever you are.


    "You''re back?" Henric said as Mark rushed to his side.


    "I see they''re still planning on pushing forward with their attack. Perfect."


    "Imperator, what happened? We saw you..."


    "What did it look like, Arms-Master? Someone attacked me."


    "Right," Henric nodded. "Someone powerful."


    "You didn''t tell me they had people like that."


    "I didn''t know. A follower of the Seven-Headed Wolf God, I presume. I have never seen such power from a feral. It must be their god''s chosen."


    "Their chosen, huh? So, you think that guy was the cultist leader?"


    "I would assume so. If normal cultist priests had been capable of that, they probably would have won back the Frontier centuries ago."


    "Makes sense."


    "This doesn''t look good."


    "Don''t worry," Mark said, patting Henric''s back as he watched the cultist attack groups nearing the trenches. "You''ve got me, and I''m going to give them a hell of a time."


    Screams echoed out as the first cultists tried to penetrate the rows of barbed wire, and the first volleys of arrows rained down upon them, the poor souls already leaving their brethren caught on the sharp iron behind as they hopelessly tried to wade forward.

 50. Defense of the Fort

    Mark almost felt sick as he watched arrows cutting into the already wounded men, stubbornly trying to pull themselves through the barbed wires.


    Driven by religious fervor, the cultists pushed on, ignoring the wounds opening up across their bodies until they could no more and sunk into the deathly grasp of the trenches.


    But those behind them saw an opportunity, climbing over the bodies of the fallen to avoid the wire and charging into the icy trenches¡ªonly to lose their footing against icy dirt and snow, impaling themselves against spikes that littered the trenches.


    It was worse than Mark had imagined, but it was a necessary evil to save his followers and his growing fiefdom.


    A handful of cultists at various points surrounding the fort managed to break through both rows of wire, but they didn¡¯t make it much further. With every step, they grew close to the fort, becoming easier targets for the archers and being shot down as their numbers thinned.


    Within minutes of their attackers reaching the defenses, only writhing bodies lay scattered around the fort and curled up in its defenses, discolor already marking their skin as the frozen land claimed more souls.


    Good, their first attack didn¡¯t reach the flamethrowers. We still have a surprise up our sleeves for them.


    He could see the hesitation of the remaining cultist soldiers along the tree line. It was too far to make out features, but he could see them looking at one another¡ªno doubt surprised at how effective some metal wire could be.


    He had hoped another push might have recklessly followed the first. However, Mark was sure they had intended to follow the probing attack once a weakness had been found, but it stopped short when they witnessed the devastating effectiveness of the fort¡¯s defenses. That was both good and bad. Damaging enemy morale was, without a doubt, beneficial, but he had hoped to take out more of their numbers.


    ¡°You were right,¡± Henric said, near speechless. ¡°I tested the wire myself¡­ but seeing it in action. It was something else.¡±


    ¡°Like I said, have some faith.¡±


    "There''s still a lot of them."


    "And we''ve still got plenty of surprises," Mark said, eyeing his people as they cheered the enemy corpses along the walls.


    **Callum**


    Standing on the Imperial district''s inner walls, Callum groaned impatiently. He wanted them to win, of course, and so far, everything looked good¡ªat least from where he stood¡ªbut being held back here meant that he might miss out on the battle entirely.


    I¡¯m not going to reach the heights I need to hide away.


    He pulled his sword from its sheath, glancing down its sheen as it caught what little light pierced through the cloudy cover above. He wanted to use it and prove that he had been deserving when Henric handed it to him. But more so than that, He wanted to prove to himself that he would amount to more than just a hated heretic.


    ¡°What are you mumbling about now?¡± Erin asked, her elbows against the inside of the wall and chin resting against her palms.


    ¡°Nothing,¡± Callum said, pacing the wall.


    ¡°Boys¡ªcomplaining all the time.¡±


    ¡°You wouldn¡¯t understand,¡± Callum shook his head. ¡°You¡¯ve got a future ahead of you. I¡¯ve got to make one. Not stand around wasting my time.¡±


    ¡°Do I, really?¡± Erin challenged. ¡°You''re quick to forget that I shot someone. I suppose it''s good to know somebody is," she sighed, only having just had her crossbow returned to her. Not that it did much to ease her mind. Most acolytes had taken to calling her Hamstring, which might not have sounded so bad on the surface, but if anyone asked why she got the nickname, it would kill any ambitions she had within the Imperium. "Unfortunately, it doesn''t seem like anybody else forgets. My future in the Imperium may as well be done for. Not that I care.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean you don¡¯t care?¡± Callum turned to her with a twisted brow.


    ¡°You heard me. I don¡¯t care. Why should I? I just hope the Imperator knows what he¡¯s doing and we never return to the Imperium¡¯s rule. A girl can only dream.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t mean that.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t I? What good has the Imperium done for us, Callum? Sent out here to die?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve got a chance to become Imperators; what about that?¡±


    ¡°Do we? Do you really think any of us are going to be selected?¡±


    Callum fell silent, his eyes falling to his feet.


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think so. We¡¯re just cheap disposable bodies to keep an eye on this wasteland. Sent here with troublesome Imperators as an excuse to send untrained kids instead of valuable soldiers. You know, Callum, I wish I knew what happened to Imperator Atlas; something changed in him. It¡¯s like he sees the bigger picture now. Not just another blind Imperator that only cares about enforcing their laws. And you know what? It actually inspires me. It''s like things can actually change for the better now. I used to think the Imperium was all there was. Nothing was ever going to change, so why bother fighting it.¡±


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    "Be careful what you''re saying, Erin. Many would consider these words of heresy."


    "Oh, I know, Callum. What about you? Is that what you think?"


    "I ah... I dunno¡ªwhat about the Imperium? What about everyone you know?¡±


    "The only people I know sold me to this place," Erin shrugged. "I won''t be seeing them again regardless of what happens."


    "I see," Callum slumped. He didn''t know how to respond. His life within the Imperium hadn''t been much better, but it was hard just to accept walking away from everything he knew. "Are you sure that''s wise, though? The Frontier isn''t the kind of place to make home..."


    ¡°Well, you go back then if you love it so much. Keep that rag wrapped around your head tightly for the rest of your days, and hope nobody sees what the wound on her head says. That¡¯s about the best you can hope for now.¡±


    ¡°Erin," Callum raised a hand and gently let it fall. "I''m not saying... actually, I don''t know what I''m saying. I just¡ªwhat if he doesn¡¯t achieve all that? What if the Imperator isn¡¯t the man you think he is?¡±


    ¡°Eh,¡± Erin shrugged. ¡°We go back to what we were before. But I doubt it. He bought one of those priests from Deloise with him. He¡¯s a heretic now. The College of Legates will kill him if they find out. The man has no choice. Either that or run away, but if that was his plan, why would he have returned from the Archbishopric in the first place?¡±


    She had good points that Callum couldn¡¯t refute. There was no way the Imperator could just pretend like nothing had happened, and there was no stopping him from staying on the other side of the ocean. It¡¯s not like he or Radic could have stopped the man. Worse of all, he wasn¡¯t sure it bothered him. He should be disgusted by these actions; he was an Imperial, after all, and one loyal to the God-Lord¡­ or at least he had thought he was. Now, Callum found his thoughts twisted and changing. He wasn¡¯t sure he believed the same things anymore. The Imperator was a good man and an ingenious one. It only took one look around to see everything he had done for them. If he had been the man he once knew, the fort would have already been overrun and destroyed. He would be dead.


    Callum swallowed. He wasn¡¯t sure how he was supposed to feel, but one thing was for certain: he couldn¡¯t bring himself to go against the Imperator regardless of what happened. The man had earned his trust, that much he was sure of.


    **Trumus**


    ¡°Them cultist fellas falled at the wall, bossman,¡± a skinny, crooked-toothed feral said, rubbing his hands.


    ¡°Did you consider thems offer?¡± Another said, standing at the side of the short-statured feral¡¯s makeshift throne.


    ¡°I did,¡± Trumus waved his ringed hand dismissively. ¡°I say we give the Imperator a little more time. No point making enemies until we''re certain who will win.¡±


    ¡°Yes, yes, always the smart one you are,¡± the feral tapped his forehead.


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Trumus sighed. ¡°If I¡¯d hired you to pay me compliments, I¡¯d have chosen someone prettier and with bigger tits. Just do your job and keep your thoughts to yourself.¡±


    ¡°Err, yes, my sorries,¡± the feral bowed down to his knees. ¡°Forgive me, bossman.¡±


    ¡°Get off your knees, idiot. I¡¯m not that kind of leader,¡± Trumus shook his head with an insufferable sigh and turned his impatient gaze to the feral that had entered the room of his cabin. "Make sure to keep a close eye on the loyalists. We wouldn''t want one of them slipping free from our grasp and causing issues until we''re sure what side to pick, okay?"


    "Aye, bossman. Will do."


    Trumus wasn¡¯t about to go down with the ship, but he couldn''t yet figure out who would come out on top. He preferred the Imperator to win. He was the devil, after all. But he couldn¡¯t deny there was a real risk he would fall.


    The Imperator impressed him with how fortified he had made Winterclaw, but the cultists still possessed an impressive army, and a few casualties wouldn¡¯t deter them. For now, he would hold off on making a decision. But if things worsened, he would activate the contacts he had built up and do what was necessary to survive this mess.


    If there was one thing Trumus was good at, it was surviving, and he wasn''t going to change anytime soon. One mistake had already been enough. It had cost him his place as an elder among his clan and seen him expelled. That was not a mistake he had any interest in repeating.


    **Imperator**


    Mark could see the cultists gathering for another attack. However, their strategy had changed a little. Now, they were split into two much larger groups and aimed at the two spots where the probing attacks had reached the furthest.


    They would have to wait until repelling this attack before moving the bodies of the dead and the wounded, but if they didn¡¯t soon, the enemy would overwhelm his wires and trenches with bodies alone.


    Leaving the cover of their trees, the enemies pushed forward, their banners waving in the cold wind, and broke into a charge when a horn bellowed out across the field.


    Mark realized this was an actual attack. Each group must have had at least three hundred men, and if they managed to make a bridgehead, more would follow.


    Arrows flew out, volleys slamming into the attackers one after another. But they were faster this time. The bodies of their comrades already gave them bridges to climb over much of the wire and even provided somewhat solid ground to walk over the icy floor of the trenches. However, many still fell. Arrows and confusion took their lives as the panicked men tried their best to clear the trench as quickly as possible; many found themselves caught on spikes, tripping and even trampled by their own allies as a growing pile of bodies, wire, broken spears, and blood mixed into the frozen landscape.


    But when the determined attackers reached the walls, a glimmer of victory flashed upon their faces, only to be hastily stolen and twisted into horror when flames roared out, catching their bodies and sending them screaming into retreat.


    Dozens of men fled in panic and agony as the flames ripped across them, tumbling backward and pushing into the men at their backs. It took but one touch, and the sticky flames caught on to the next man, traveling along the soldiers from one to another.


    Some ran, engulfed in flames, while others rolled, but it made little difference. Flames burst up from the ground, igniting patches of the earth when burning cultists flailed across the flammable substance Mark had his people pour on the ground, and soon, the attacking brigades were reduced to a chaotic, flaming mess of fleeing men.


    Through all this, the arrows never relented. A rain of terror in the confused and terrified army caught within the surrounding trench. Some fled, dropping everything they carried and running as fast as possible. But not many were that lucky.


    Most importantly, the spectacle wasn¡¯t lost on the commoners of Fort Winterclaw. They had gone silent when the cultists arrived¡ªno doubt, terrified by such a large army. They had placed faith in Mark''s plans, but no one could have expected an army of this size to fail this badly against the Imperator¡¯s defenses.


    Crowding the narrow alleys and courtyards of Winterclaw, they cheered. What fear they had was crushed, and people climbed out from their huts and cabins and threw their fists into the air as they watched the writhing cultists flail in agony until they fell to the ground and stilled.


    It was as Mark had expected; he wanted to put on a show and he delivered. This was exactly what he needed to gain the confidence of the ferals and create a name for himself within the Frontier.


    However, that didn''t change the fact that he could still see the army surrounding them. As impressive as the spectacle had been, less than a fifth of their enemy had been destroyed.


    We''ve got a long road ahead of us, Fort Winterclaw.

 51. Crafty Enemies

    ¡°What are the numbers, feral born?¡± Said a hunched-over, white-haired man as two armored cultists entered the hide tent he sat in.


    ¡°Five hundred and sixty dead¨Ceighty-seven injured, High Priest,¡± the dirty man fell to a knee.


    ¡°Bah!¡± The High Priest shot up from his chair and swung around, throwing a fist through the air, almost causing himself to fall over as he stammered to find his footing.


    ¡°Be careful, High Priest,¡± a nearby cultist said. ¡°Ye still recovering.¡±


    ¡°Unacceptable,¡± he coughed, falling back into the log chair and patting his chest as his cough persisted. ¡°In one day, you¡¯ve lost more men than our enemy''s entire army!¡±


    ¡°Sir,¡± one of the crook-nosed cultists said, raising stained fingers.


    ¡°Away from me,¡± the High Priest waved. ¡°I¡¯ll be fi¨C¡± cough cough


    A young man with a sharp jaw and plaited blonde braids dipped through the tent¡¯s opening.


    ¡°Listen to them, Uncle. It¡¯s clear your exchange with the Imperator exhausted you. Take it easy fo¨C¡±


    ¡°The failure son returns,¡± the High Priest spat. ¡°Why have you come to remind me of your existence, Mohan? Not just to pay me false concern, I hope.¡±


    Mohan bit down, attempting to hide his scowl. ¡°No. Give me my father¡¯s command. I''ll take the enemy''s heads for you.¡±


    ¡°You? The little cub thinks he can accomplish what men cannot. And why should I trust you?¡± The High Priest hissed.


    ¡°I am one of the Seven-Headed Wolf God¡¯s chosen, as was my father. I may not have gifts such as yourself, but I¡¯m powerful. I¡¯ll prove it to you. Just give me the power to show you.¡±


    ¡°Will you now?¡± the High Priest¡¯s purple lips curled into a smile. ¡°Alright then, I¡¯ll give you a chance, cub. You may lead the wart-ridden into combat.¡±


    ¡°Dartem!¡±


    The High Priest¡¯s weary, bloodshot eyes widened in fury. ¡°I am your High Priest, or had you forgotten?¡± He shouted, bounding to his feet.


    The other cultists in the tent turned to Mohan, hands falling to the swords and hatchets at their sides.


    Mohan¡¯s gaze scanned the room and fell to one knee, ¡°My apologies, High Priest.¡±


    ¡°Good, don''t forget your place again, rotten cub. Now get out of my sight, failure son,¡± the High Priest waved. ¡°And be thankful I gave ye the command of anything.¡±


    With a bent brow, Mohan turned and pushed through the tent flaps, muttering under his breath as he stepped out into the blizzarding weather.


    Old fool is going to send all his men to their deaths. How dare he dishonor me by making me the leader of those foul outcasts?


    The wart-ridden was the disfigured children of wargs and their virgin concubines that were refused the Seven-Headed Wolf God¡¯s gift and instead made crippled and disfigured. They were seen as abominations and outcasts; the only good served was as slaves and meatshields in battle.


    How dare he keep me from what I¡¯m owed. It is my birthright to take over my father¡¯s place, damn him. The old fool wastes the gifts given by our god. If only I could show the other priests.


    **Trayox**


    Working fast, the large barbarian Trayox, his men, and many volunteers pulled corpses from the wire. Their enemies could attack at any moment, but if they were hasty, they could clear enough bodies that follow-up attacks wouldn¡¯t get an easy path up to the walls.


    Unfortunately, they didn¡¯t have an easy means of getting to the second row of wire and didn¡¯t want to get caught themselves, but that wasn¡¯t the most significant concern. As long as they moved most of the bodies, they would increase the danger to their attackers enough.


    Once they pulled the bodies free, they piled them up against the walls. Luckily, diseases wouldn¡¯t be too much to worry about. The bodies were already covered in ice and freezing with every passing minute.


    The fire had burned several stakes, and fresh ones were inserted into the trench where they could be. But the fire had also burned back much of the relentless snowfall, creating more ice for their enemy to contend with.


    They collected more than bodies. The team also collected any arrows it could reach and looted valuable items from the corpses.


    The fort still had resources to continue making fuel for the flamethrowers and arrows for the archers, but anything extra would be of massive assistance. Many of the daggers, axes, and swords used by the cultists were of better quality than what the commoners of Fort Winterclaw used, and they happily switched when given the option. Unfortunately, a lot of greed came from the looters, and many took as much as they could for themselves and sold it on within the fort or hoarded it away for a later date. Apparently, even the fear of the cultists wasn¡¯t enough to totally overcome greed, or perhaps that had changed in the face of their recent victories.


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    Any undamaged armor was particularly valuable. Metal armor, for the most part, survived the attacker''s deaths and was promptly given to the response groups. The commoners had started the battle with hides, spears, and wooden shields, and after looting, many had chain shirts, swords at their sides, and even metal caps on their heads.


    Some of the cultists had even carried heavier weapons. They had likely been captains or other important people. After all, a two-handed sword was prohibitively expensive within the Frontier, and the few that managed to loot one carried it around as more a treasure than anything else.


    One of these great weapons was snatched up by Trayox himself. He carried the massive two-handed axe over his back, its head the size of a large man''s torso.


    **Imperator**


    Once the excitement of their victory faded, the people of Fort Winterclaw returned to work. The threat of invasion pushed them harder, and whittling arrows and smithing arrowheads were honed down to a fine art, allowing them to pump out the supplies at ever-increasing speeds.


    Mark had resisted any temptation to worry about food production for now. If the enemy decided to siege and stop their attacks, he would consider using the throne ship to bring stock into the fort, although that would depend on the situation with whoever it was that had shot at him. After all, he wasn¡¯t about to leave his people to fend against that person and the army alone. Mark wasn¡¯t sure how powerful those blasts had been, but he didn¡¯t want to test them against the wooden palisades of the Fort. If they managed to bust even one hole through the wall, then their defense might falter.


    Besides watching their stocks, Mark spent most of his time on the wall watching their enemy. The throne ship had recovered its energy reserves now, and he was tempted to take it back into the sky and observe their enemy from above, but he hesitated for now. He needed to learn more about this enemy''s leader and the power available to him. Not just for his own safety, but now the lives of everyone rested on his shoulders. He couldn''t risk getting himself killed.


    ***


    Two days had passed, and there hadn''t been a lot of movement in the enemy camp. Along the tree line, they were mostly still. Beyond it, he could see them building temporary tents and fires. They were prepared to stay longer, but Mark wasn''t convinced they were settling in for a long siege just yet.


    They were downing trees and building things, but what exactly, he wasn''t sure. Large siege engines would take some time, and if he was right about his enemy, they would attempt faster solutions before succumbing to that line of thought.


    What are you thinking? Could they have really given up on the impatience they showed in their first attacks?


    Mark spotted a warg walking along the tree line''s edge, sniffing at the cool air and eyeing his fort. Unfortunately, he hadn''t spotted the wargs clumped together again since the battle started. If he had, he would have taken the chance to thin their numbers while he could.


    Frustration was starting to build, and while taking potshots from the wall was unlikely to achieve anything of value, he wanted to urge his enemy on.


    It doesn¡¯t look like anybody is going to attack right now¡­ screw it. Let''s have some fun.


    Mark raised his hand and aimed at the warg, and a burst of light flashed forth. The lightning instantly sparked across the considerable distance between them, blasting into the warg and sending it toppling backward. In seconds, both the men and wargs alike that stood at the edge of the forest scattered into the trees.


    Clearly, the long-distance shot lost some of its power over the distance it traveled, and while the warg fell, it wasn¡¯t thrown. Mark had seen the arcing energy slapping against the ground as the bolt traveled further.


    Still, the warg was burned to a crisp lying in the snow now. It wouldn''t have any major effect on the battle, and his enemy would be more careful about showing themselves, but Mark didn''t care. The battle had lulled, and anything was better than nothing. Waiting wasn''t to their advantage. He needed his enemy to be reckless, and thinning their numbers seemed like the only means to achieve this.


    Come on. Don''t you want to avenge your fallen? Mark''s thoughts were hopeful, to say the least. If his enemy had any military intelligence, they would ensure they were as prepared as possible before attempting to face his defenses again.


    Even if they don''t attack, at least I know I can kill the bastards. Mark smiled. He didn''t expect the wargs to be able to survive blasts of lightning from his mage heart, but it was reassuring to have it confirmed.


    A few men cheered from the wall as they watched the warg lying dead, and Mark realized it was much more than just reassuring himself. He had just shown his people that he couldn¡¯t just beat the cultists, but he could kill a warg with the flick of a wrist from so far away, and the morale of his people was lifted once again.


    Look on the bright side. Morale is high, and our enemy fears attacking us... it could be worse. Still, their numbers are too high. If they start using their brains, this could turn out terribly.


    ***


    Mark was awoken early by banging at his door and bounced to his feet without a second lost. He wore his suit to bed now, not wanting to waste any time in case of attack.


    Charging up to the wall, he watched as his people took their positions. It was the cultists. They gathered at the tree line, hiding behind giant wooden shields on wheels. Protection against the arrows, but it was more than that, he realized. The shield would give them the time to work their way through the trenches slowly rather than in a hurry because of the threat of arrows.


    Behind the shield, he also spotted lines of men carrying ladders. In total, there had to be a thousand men involved in this attack, with more waiting by the trees.


    "They''ve finally committed to another attack," Mark mumbled to himself as Henric barked orders and people ran across the fort to take their positions. And it wasn''t just warriors. Women and even children had come out. They carried boiling pots and helped the commoner men haul them up to the walls and platforms.


    Mark hadn''t expected everyone to get involved in their defense and hadn''t wanted to force his civilian population, but he was beyond pleased to see their involvement. Every hand counted.


    Don''t think we''re going to make this easy for you. Mark smirked as the cultist army prepared their attack and raised his palm toward one of the giant wooden shields. But just as the sparks of energy began to crackle around his hand, a beam of light flashed out from the trees, slamming into the wall with a burst of flames.


    Swinging toward the attack, Mark surveyed the damage as debris cleared. Shattered wood hung from the busted section of the palisade, but the wall had held for the most part. Several small flames danced across it, and two of his people had been caught in the destruction, their bodies unmoving.


    "Response group," Mark shouted, but Henric was already ordering a nearby squad to make their way toward the damaged wall.


    Mark''s eyes widened, and he gritted his teeth as another blast flashed forth, slamming against the wall and sending flames swirling.


    "Damn you!" Mark swung toward the shields and shot forth a blast of lightning that exploded into the timber with a thunderous roar and sent several cultists flying back.


    He didn''t know how many times that bastard could fire upon his walls, but he couldn''t let it continue unpunished.


    Leaping from the wall, Mark jumped into a roll and sprinted for the throne ship. It was time to finish that bastard and win this battle.

 52. Another Wave

    Shooting into the sky above the fort, Mark scanned the forest for the glowing signal he had spotted when he had fought the priest previously.


    Come on, where are you?


    Swooping just above the trees, Mark sped past in search of the priest. But there was no sign of him. It was more than that. He was fairly certain the man was intentionally concealing himself.


    I know you''re here; just show yourself.


    Roaring in frustration, unable to spot the figure who just blasted his wall, Mark swung the throne ship around and sped toward the shielded cultists moving toward the fort, skimming only a few meters above the ground he eyed one of them.


    Want to play this game?


    He pushed down on his controls, increasing the ship''s speed. It shot across the snowy landscape in seconds and smashed straight through one of the timber shields. Debris and men alike flung across the ground, and the ship rocked violently, threatening to fall from the sky. Several lights flashed across the cockpit, but it seemed intact, and he swooped back around. Eyeing his attackers with a furious bend to his brow, Mark sent a burst of lightning thundering into a second rolling fortification. The explosion sent charred bodies flying and burning timbers shooting.


    Mark panted. That was dumb, but he had worked too hard for some pest to hide in the forest and shoot at his walls.


    I didn¡¯t get him.


    He was beyond frustrated, but he couldn''t keep this up. The ship had little energy, and Mark didn¡¯t want to exhaust it just in case he needed to use it again. His enemy had proven smarter than he gave them credit, and Mark was going to need to be better.


    His attacks had sowed chaos in the enemy lines and killed a decent number, but they were reorganizing and continuing their march forward. For now, he was best served to return to the wall and to aid the breached section in its defense, so Mark turned back and brought the ship down in a hurry.


    Running through Fort Winterclaw, he spotted Henric, who joined him with a couple of mercenaries.


    ¡°Where are you headed, Imperator?¡±


    ¡°Where do you think? We can¡¯t allow them to take advantage of the breach.¡±


    ¡°What about the priest? Did you manage to get him?¡±


    ¡°Damn it, don''t remind me,¡± Mark hissed. ¡°He got away. But I will get him. We deal with this, and then I''ll come up with a plan.¡±


    Two response groups had already made it to the breach, setting up a wall of shields and spears as they waited for the inevitable.


    "Do what you need to," Henric said. "Me and my men will support the front line."


    "Thank you, Henric," Mark nodded.


    Odds were against them, still, the enemy wasn¡¯t focusing the entirety of its forces on the breach, likely to give them more to think about. However, Mark only saw that as a bonus. Between the fortified trench and flamethrowers, he wasn¡¯t too worried about the minor distracting forces attacking elsewhere and left them for his people to deal with.


    Reaching the wall, Mark climbed a nearby platform from which several archers fired, with a decent vantage over the breach.


    The enemy¡¯s rolling mantlets soaked up arrows but stopped once they reached the trenches, and their value was greatly diminished. Mark raised his hand to take one of the rolling fortifications out but held back. A handful of cultists fired arrows from behind the wooden shields, but the real risk was the men climbing through the trenches, so he decided to save his energy for them.


    Their enemy had improved, but slaughter still awaited them as they tried to force their way through barbed wire while under fire. An arrow whizzed inches from his head, and Mark dove below the wall. A second later, he watched one of the enemy¡¯s arrows slam into the neck of a man beside him, sending him toppling from the platform to his death.


    Ignore it, he gritted his teeth. They were out killing their enemy fifty to one from here. The occasional loss wasn¡¯t worth losing his cool over. He needed to save himself. The breach was what was important.


    Craning around the wall¡¯s edge, he spotted the dirty, bloodied faces of several cultists as they pushed toward the wall¡¯s hole, where a line of shields and spears awaited them.


    Mark picked his target, aiming for between a half dozen weary cultists, and fired. The effect was undeniable. Four men were blasted away in a second, and those that remained were shaken and slowed and picked apart by arrows in the following seconds.


    More cultists pushed from behind, their shields held high above their heads and eating up most of the arrows that came their way. But all it took was a wounding arrow to take them out of the battle, and the force pushing forward slimmed in numbers with every step they took, littering the battlefield with the bodies of their wounded and dying comrades. And then the flames came¡ªshooting out across their ranks and setting several alight within seconds, but Mark''s eyes widened as he realized that the flamethrowers were out of range of the breach. It seemed that their enemy had picked their target wisely, and a narrow strip of land with bodies blanketing most of the wire now led straight into the fort.


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    The enemy regrouped, led by a dozen men and many stragglers. But Mark still had enough energy to ruin their day, and a thunderous roar cracked as lightning exploded against their shields. Instantly killing the leaders of the attack group and wounding several others, but it hardly mattered. The zealots defiantly pushed on.


    ¡°Arrows!¡± A man shouted at his side. Dozens of quivers atop the wall were empty.


    Mark fired again, blasting several of the cultists away, and felt the dizzying heat of his suit sap at his energy. Panting, he rolled back against the cover of the wall. He needed to rest a moment before shooting again, or he¡¯d risk knocking himself out.


    Several more archers yelled for arrows, as their stocks ran dry. There were a dozen cultists stubbornly nearing the breach and their attacks had greatly reduced. Their casualties had been tremendous, but even so, they still had superior numbers and Henric and his men were within reach now.


    Mark spotted Henric below, standing at the front of the line with his mercenaries surrounded by ferals.


    Nearing the opening, screams echoed out from the cultists as boiling pots poured down on them, and several fell to the ground, grasping at their skin as they convulsed in agony.


    A battle cry sounded out, and the remaining cultists charged the last few yards toward the wall''s breach, head-long into the spears; several of them skewered before they even reached their enemy, but as their shields clashed against one another and the cultists followed up with short swords and hatchets, several ferals fell.


    They had been training relentlessly, but they weren¡¯t ready for seasoned warriors. If not for Henric and his mercenaries cutting through cultist after cultist within seconds, their line likely would have collapsed.


    He saw firsthand why Henric had the position he did, parrying strikes and making his foes look like amateurs as he struck them down.


    Mark''s gaze then drifted back to the trenches where cultists continued to funnel along the path they had created. They were pressed tightly together and would be restricted from using their numbers, but Henric didn¡¯t have enough competent men to hold the line alongside. It was clear they would break through if allowed to continue to stream forward, and even if he fired at them again, Mark knew the one or two blasts he was capable of wouldn¡¯t save them.


    Forcing himself to his feet, he eyed the flamethrower platform a few yards away and the barrels of his imitation Greek fire beside it.


    It¡¯s our only hope.


    Sliding down the ladder, he reached the ground in seconds and bounded for the platform, yelling at the mercenaries manning the flamethrower as he neared.


    ¡°Barrel, we need the barrel!¡±


    The men raised eyebrows with confused expressions, the chaoticness of battle messing with them.


    ¡°The barrels. Fire!¡±


    One man nodded a second later and grabbed the barrel, and the other followed his lead.


    ¡°Help me get it down here, but be careful.¡±


    Precariously, with the heat of battle raging around them, the three carefully pulled the barrel down the ladder, one of the mercenaries slipping a foot in the process but managing to catch themselves before falling.


    ¡°Careful, damn it!¡± Mark hissed, taking hold of the barrel as they reached the snowy floor.


    ¡°Come with me. I¡¯ll need all the help I can get.¡±


    ¡°But what about our station?¡±


    ¡°Forget it. They won¡¯t attack there now that they¡¯re so close to breaking through. This is our last chance. Now hurry.¡±


    Another response group had reached the weakened defenders, and bodies were lying all across the breach. The wall of shields was slowly being pushed back, inch by inch, as the attackers ignored their fallen and pushed on.


    ¡°We have to hurry,¡± Mark jumped up the ladder and signaled for the mercenaries to help him haul the barrel up the ladder.


    His eyes diverted as another of his followers fell to the cultists, but he had to remain focused.


    Panting and wiping sweat from their brows, they pulled the barrel up onto the platform. Mark could feel the heat getting to him; even if the suit itself had cooled substantially from the previous blasts, the effort of lugging the barrel around had well and truly made up for it.


    ¡°We need to get it over there,¡± Mark pointed toward the breach. He didn¡¯t want to drop it right beside the wall; the risk of burning down the entire palisade was too great, but if they could hurl it some distance, they could potentially block their enemy¡¯s path with flames.


    Back pressed against the palisade, Mark caught his breath. The task ahead of them was impossible, and he could barely stand from exhaustion when he spotted a familiar face rushing toward the wall with another response group.


    ¡°Trayox, up here!¡± He shouted as loudly as he could, stopping the large man in his tracks. ¡°I need your help.


    Trayox nodded and bent his Neanderthal brow, the muscles in his neck and shoulder rippling as he flung himself up the ladder.


    ¡°We got this, Imperator. You rest,¡± one of the mercenaries said as Trayox joined them.


    Mark nodded. There wasn¡¯t room for more than three men to throw the barrel anyway.


    ¡°On my count. You must throw it far enough not to endanger the wall, understood?¡±


    ¡°Just count, little man,¡± Trayox growled.


    ¡°3¡­¡±


    ¡°2¡­¡±


    ¡°1¡­¡±


    ¡°Throw!¡±


    The men rocked the barrel back and forth with Mark¡¯s count and threw it beyond their attackers. Slamming into the head of a cultist, the barrel burst open, covering the man and the ground around him in several yards of black tar. The viscous substance covered the ground and the approach to the wall, and hopefully, it was far enough away.


    ¡°Anyone have an arrow and fire?¡± Mark yelled.


    Behind him, a man raised his hand. ¡°N-no, not an arrow, but we¡¯ve got fire.¡±


    Mark eyed the little fire pit they had been using to light smaller fires across the attacker¡¯s path and dove his gloved hand into it. He grabbed a burning piece of charred wood and swung around to lob it straight into the tar. He wasn¡¯t the best throw, but America''s favorite pastime had more than prepared him for a throw of this distance, and it landed in the middle of the tar, sending flames shooting out in all directions, and the land was set ablaze.


    Several attackers turned to the flames at their backs, realizing that their escape had now been blocked, while a dozen others screamed in agony as the fires wrapped around them.


    ¡°Let¡¯s finish this,¡± Mark shouted, drawing the sword from his sheath. He had yet to use the weapon but wanted to send a message.


    Leaping down from the platform, Mark landed behind the remaining cultists locked in combat with Henric and the other defenders and was joined by Trayox and several others a second later.


    Drawing steel, they pushed forward, stabbing at the backs of their enemies, and the cultists realized they were surrounded. But they had no time to react. Within seconds, the sandwiching forces had slaughtered their way through the remaining cultists.


    Falling to his knees, Mark panted.


    ¡°We actually did it,¡± Henric grunted. "And we''re both alive."


    ¡°Unless I''m dreaming."


    "This is one shit dream," Henric chuckled.


    Within seconds, cheers started to cascade across the fort. The other attacks had no doubt failed long ago.


    Flames guarding their backs and their countless enemy bodies dotting the ground, they had beaten them off again.


    "So, we''ve earned another day," Mark sighed.

 53. Lightning Lord

    ¡°What do you think you''re doing?¡±


    Callum turned to Erin who stood in the doorway; he had wanted to be quick so nobody saw him. But that was never going to work. Erin wasn¡¯t the kind to be restricted to her watch on the wall just because it was an order.


    ¡°Nothing.¡±


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t look like nothing.¡±


    Callum pulled his cloak¡¯s gray hood over his head and tightened its strings around his leather garments. ¡°Don¡¯t worry about it,¡± he said, looping his belt around his waist. ¡°What I do is none of your concern.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, idiot. Just tell me, why are you wearing that?¡± Erin said, marching toward him. ¡°You¡¯re better at following rules than I am, and you know as well as I do that an acolyte should always wear their robes.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sitting around doing nothing any longer,¡± he replied, checking the sword hanging from his belt and turning to pass Erin.


    ¡°You¡¯re not actually thinking to¡­¡±


    ¡°And what if I am? Take a look around. Things aren''t exactly ideal right now.¡±


    ¡°Callum,¡± Erin took his shoulders as he tried to pass. ¡°I know you train a lot, and you¡¯re probably the best out of us all with that thing, but you¡¯ve never used it in a real fight. Leave the outer walls to the ferals and mercenaries like you¡¯ve been ordered, and come join me on the wall.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s only so much you can learn training, Erin. This is something I need to do. For myself.¡±


    ¡°Callum¡­¡±


    He shook, pulling away from Erin. ¡°Just keep yourself safe, okay? And don¡¯t worry about me. You¡¯ll see, I¡¯m better at this than you think I am.¡±


    Erin went to retort, but her words got caught, and she watched silently as he left. What could she say? After yesterday¡¯s attack, she wasn¡¯t sure they would last more than a week anyway. If this was what he wanted to do, maybe it was best to just leave him to it.


    **Imperator**


    Stood several yards back, Mark watched as Henric ordered several ferals and mercenaries around. They were doing their best to repair the walls, even going as far as to pull logs away from a couple of cabins and paying their owners restitution.


    ¡°It¡¯s not perfect, but it¡¯ll be better than nothing. Still, it doesn¡¯t solve our problem with the one who caused it.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, Henric. But I can¡¯t just fly overhead until I spot him. It¡¯s a waste of energy, and if they attack like they just did again while the throne ship is exhausted, we''ll be down an important resource. We need a better plan before we go hunting."


    ¡°I know,¡± Henric growled. ¡°Those bastards are lucky we don¡¯t have the full force of the Imperium behind us. If we did, we¡¯d crush this petty army in an instant.¡±


    ¡°If only,¡± Mark sighed.


    It was a precarious position they found themselves in, but it wasn¡¯t as if the enemy had fared any better. The losses they had suffered in the last attack were staggering, and even with their greatly superior numbers, they couldn¡¯t keep eating casualties like that. After all, they would need vastly superior numbers to take the fort; if they lost too much, the battle would be won, even if the enemy wasn¡¯t routed.


    Don¡¯t get ahead of yourself, Mark. They can still place us under siege and take their time.


    The barrel of Greek fire used in the last defense was a loss they didn''t need, but they still had a decent amount to redistribute; a bigger problem was arrows. Even with all the work they had invested into crafting as many as possible, supplies dwindled at an alarming rate.


    Mark had sent groups out to loot as many as possible, and just about everyone not actively involved in the defense was tasked with making as many as possible. But still, the enemy had bodies to throw at them, and if the next attack was as big as the last, they would run out of arrows quickly again.


    Humming to himself, Mark tried to think of a better plan. Simply waiting for his enemy was a terrible idea. The priest would no doubt damage or destroy another section of the wall once his forces were ready to attack, and then they would repeat the process. Even worse, they had proven themselves resourceful. If they attacked again, they would likely be better prepared than they were last time. No, he was confident that waiting for the enemy was a losing strategy.


    I have to find them; that¡¯s the only way to secure our victory here.


    The thought was risky. The walls were what was keeping them safe. But their enemy had seen all their aces now, and he couldn¡¯t just assume they would repeat the same mistakes. If he waited for them to attack again, it might very well be the last attack.


    Wait a moment.


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    Mark might not know where his enemy was, but he did have a general idea.  Maybe he could work with that.


    Calling up several ferals and mercenaries, Mark ordered his followers into action. The first task was to skim Greek fire from the remaining barrels and fill six new ones. He didn¡¯t need them to be full, just enough to cause a splash, and as long as the flamethrowers had a few seconds of fire remaining, they should be capable of defending another attack.


    With the barrels prepared, he had them hauled onto his ship. He had wanted to always have either him or Henric within Fort Wintclaw, but a short exception would be needed since Henric was the only one he trusted to help him with this job.


    ¡°Alright, you ready?¡±


    ¡°Of course, Imperator,¡± Henric nodded, and they climbed aboard the throne ship.


    Risking this much of their flamethrower fuel was a risk, but it was also their chance to sow chaos through the enemy camp and take out that priest with any luck. Besides, the walls were too long. The enemy knew where the flamethrower platforms were and could avoid them.


    Onboard the ship, they tied the barrels together and left the rear hatch open. Henric¡¯s job was to cut the rope holding the Greek fire barrels as they flew over their enemy. But the barrels wouldn¡¯t cause much damage on their own. Fuses had been added. Henric would need to light them prior to dropping their load. It wouldn¡¯t be an easy task since they didn¡¯t want the barrels to be burning whilst aboard the ship for even a second longer than they had to, and even then, it was a risky maneuver that could easily end in disaster. However, it was also the best idea Mark could come up with. His second thought of a stealth mission seemed like a terrible option since the enemy had wargs with them. The beasts could run as fast as horses, and the chances that they would run them down were just too high.


    With the ship loaded up, they pulled up and into the clouds. The priest was their only real threat up here, and while Mark knew he couldn¡¯t underestimate the enemy leader, he also welcomed his attack. If the priest did attack, it would give him a chance to take him out. That was worth risking their life over since Mark felt confident in the fort¡¯s ability to defend itself if the priest was killed.


    After his last few attacks, the cultists took no chances, hiding beneath trees the moment they spotted the throne ship taking to the sky. Not that it bothered Mark; he wasn¡¯t going through all of this just to try and take out a few grunts.


    From the clouds, Mark scanned the trees. He had a general idea where the priest had attacked him and the walls from, and both locations were fairly close in proximity, so he guessed that their attacker had to be located somewhere in that area.


    The brown tips of hide tents could be seen dotting the forest¡¯s canopy, and if Mark had to bet, he¡¯d say that their priest commander occupied one of them. Unfortunately, there were a decent number of tents, and he didn¡¯t have the liberty to make mistakes. His enemy likely saw his failures in a similar light as he saw theirs. If the cultists could draw out Mark¡¯s energy, taking potshots at their soldiers, then it would open the fort up for attack once he was exhausted. If anything, the cultists were probably hoping that Mark would take his shot.


    Think, damn it. You¡¯ve got to make this count.


    ¡°What are we waiting for, Imperator?¡± Henric called from the ship¡¯s hold, hanging onto a rope and looking out through the open hatch.


    ¡°No good targets. We need to make this count,¡± Mark shouted back and turned to do another lap across the forest.


    He needed a valuable target. Either the priest or a large clumping of wargs.


    Flying low across the trees, Mark¡¯s eyes widened as his suit¡¯s mage heart thumped. It had detected something.


    The suit had alerted him when he found the throne ship, and he was fairly certain it had some kind of link to other mage hearts used by the Imperium, but this was different. The sensation felt foreign, and he was certain it was reacting to something else.


    A rush of energy passed through his veins and Mark felt his heart pound against his chest, threatening to burst free and bit down as a gasp escaped his lips. His vision seemed to heighten, and colors glowed more vivid than he had ever seen.


    What the hell is happening to me? This isn¡¯t just the suit¡­


    A gnawing itch bit at his hands, and instinctively, he ripped his hands out from the piloting pockets of his throne ship cockpit, letting it glide through the air.


    ¡°The fuck?¡± His jaw slackened in disbelief; the wires and metal edges of his Imperator suit were digging into his flesh as if they were alive, and he watched in real-time as the cable burrowed into his skin and connected to his veins.


    ¡°Get out of my body, damn it,¡± he sneered, but the suit didn¡¯t listen. However, instead of turning him into some kind of magical construct, the suit began to dissolve around him as it sunk into his body.


    The rising panic within was instantly quelled as a strange, cooling sensation came over him.


    Something was communicating with him. Not through words, but he understood what it wanted. It wanted him. A trapped entity of extraordinary power was calling out to him, and in exchange, it was offering him power.


    The God-Lord, Mark¡¯s eyes widened. In an instant, he saw a million scenes play out¡ªvisions from the Imprisoned god. Once, the deity of a tiny tribe raised themselves up, praying to their mighty lightning god and being granted power from their god in return. With the mighty god''s power, their strength grew, spreading across the land like a plague and conquering all that attempted to stand in their way, but it wasn¡¯t enough.


    The tribe''s people sought more than just begging their deity for the honor of being granted power; they wanted to control that power for themselves.


    The elders imprisoned their own god and used your power to create the mage hearts?


    Thousands of years ago, they traded in their deity and began the cult of the God-Lord, seizing the power of a god for themselves. Now that very god was reaching out to Mark. Transferring power to him, the god was making him its high priest. It was making him a champion for its cause, and in return, it wanted to be freed.


    Mark gulped as the last of the suit was absorbed into his body. He was no longer an Imperator wielding a powerful suit but had been granted a fraction of the god''s power.


    Although Mark had previously felt bonded to the throne ship, it now felt like a true extension of his own body, one that he had unquestionable control over. The ship''s mage heart was also undergoing a transformation, but he didn''t absorb it as he had the suit. This was different as if the ship was becoming his steed.


    Mark realized that this battle was now pitched between the chosen representatives of two great gods. This long-lost entity had been reborn through him.


    This is only a taste of what this Lightning God can offer, isn¡¯t it?


    The vast majority of the god¡¯s power was still consumed by the Imperium and the devices they had constructed to imprison and harvest their former god''s energy. Still, if it could be released, and if it were, then the true rewards of power would flow free.


    A defiant snarl bent Mark¡¯s face. The path had seemed so distant and improbable, but now he had a clear path forward. The Lightning God could offer him power more than any suit had the potential for. Not only that, but he was now the god¡¯s herald, champion, and high priest. He could use this tool to unite Fort Winterclaw and his growing fraction around. The potential was far beyond what he had possessed as just another Imperator.

 54. Herald

    It doesn¡¯t look like I get much of a choice in this. Mark thought as he felt his new powers securing their hold on him.


    The imprisoned god had forced itself upon him, and it was obvious why. It seemed the mage hearts had provided a necessary link. He was likely the only person to have ever donned one without going through the brainwashing that all other Imperators and Legates had, making him not just the perfect candidate but the only one. This made him wonder if it had just been waiting for him to prove himself worthy.


    Shaken from his intrusive thoughts by powerful turbulence, Mark dove his hands back into the ship¡¯s controls.


    ¡°Have you returned to the present, Imperator?¡± Henric shouted, and at that moment, he realized Henric had been shouting out to him for a while.


    ¡°Yes, I¡¯m here,¡± Mark called back. "Sorry."


    The ship had been pointed directly up, cutting through the thick layers of dark cloud that shrouded the sky, and with a simple command, he turned it back down to the frozen land below.


    Aimed at the ground, the ship rocked violently as it crushed through clouds, eliciting grunts from Henric, who held on in the back, a rope wrapped tightly around his arm.


    ¡°Are we dropping this load or what?¡±


    ¡°We are,¡± Mark replied, his voice suddenly confident. "Give me a moment."


    A dot of hazy yellow glowed within the forest. But it wasn''t drawing on its energy as it had last time, and Mark realized that it had to be his new patron who gave him this gift. It was letting him see his enemy, making him wonder for a moment if it was simply helping him or if he had gained the ability to see the champions of other gods.


    ¡°Get ready,¡± he said, pulling up into an arc that led them straight over where the light glowed. He considered just shooting at it, but the ship still had limited energy and couldn¡¯t risk wasting this attack run.


    ¡°Prepare the barrels,¡± Mark shouted, and Henric lit the fuses. ¡°Now!¡± He added as they passed over the glowing spot within the forest, and Henric cut the ropes, sending the barrels tumbling out the ship''s rear.


    A tense second passed, and Mark spotted the barrels explode into flames through his feeds as he sent the ship into an arcing left turn.


    Flames curled up and around trees, and the intense and relentless heat lit even the stubborn half-frozen and very much alive trees.


    Unfortunately, the glowing dot remained. Turning back across to bear down on the light, Mark angrily fired a bolt of lightning that burst through the trees, knocking their flaming trunks over and sending them rolling through the Greek fire into other trees.


    Again, the light flickered but didn¡¯t extinguish. Damn it, where are you? The blasts had ripped through trees and tents alike, but from here, he couldn¡¯t see how much of the damage made it through to his enemy, and another shot would leave the throne ship needing to recover.


    Not willing to give up just yet, Mark swung the ship back around for a slow pass. He could see figures beneath the trees running around urgently, but no targets worth expending his ship¡¯s energy over.


    ¡°Imperator, did you get him?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Mark growled, his gaze never leaving the feeds monitoring the forest.


    "Imperator?"


    Mark ignored the arms master, his attention focused on the forest below. It seemed like a failure, but perhaps it wasn''t. The light flickered below. It was different than before. Perhaps another shot wasn''t necessary.


    He didn''t like that, did he? Mark almost hoped for an intrusive response from his new patron to guide him, but it wasn''t needed. The dulling power spoke a thousand words.


    **Cultist**


    ¡°Back, you filthy mouth breathers,¡± a cultist sneered, sending dozens of onlookers reeling back.


    ¡°It¡¯s bad, it''s really bad,¡± another cultist beside him said, looking down at the wounded priest, blood covering much of his soft, pale skin. ¡°We needs a real healer.¡±


    ¡°Call in them wargs,¡± the cultist beside him said, snapping his fingers, and several cultists ran out from the huge yurt.


    A moment later, the tent''s flaps pushed open to reveal a young man with braided hair flanked by two grotesquely mutated men.


    ¡°My poor uncle,¡± the young man said, feigning concern.


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    The old man groaned, his eyes distantly looking up.


    ¡°What are you doing here, failure son?¡± The cultist who had been yelling orders sneered, his arms wrapped around the High Priest.


    In a flash, the young man cleared the distance between them, sending his shortsword through the man¡¯s neck. ¡°Do not disrespect a chosen of the Wolf God,¡± he said, pulling the sword free and dropping the man¡¯s lifeless body.


    ¡°He-he,¡± the cultist beside the priest stammered, shuffling back along the ground and shaking the near-dead old man''s shoulder. ¡°Y-your nephew. He''s gone mad.¡±


    Marching over to the cultist with a stony expression, one of the boil-ridden, a horribly disfigured man with one eye and a lopsided build swung his spiked club, crushing the man¡¯s skull with one blow.


    Several cultists around the tent gasped and pushed back but made no moves. They were clearly unsure whose side to pick.


    ¡°I¡¯m sure the rest of you are smart enough not to align yourself with a dying man,¡± Mohan said., turning to them with a smirk and bent brow.


    None of the onlookers replied, though several whispers were passed around.


    Returning to the old man, Mohan tsked aloud. ¡°Ahh, uncle, what have you gone and done now? You¡¯ve certainly seen better days. Though, perhaps I haven''t. In fact, this is almost perfect.¡±


    Barely a breath escaped the old man¡¯s lips as he groaned again.


    ¡°I say almost because you¡¯re not even here with me, are you? How disappointing. I had truly hoped you would witness my ascent when it happened. Oh well. I''ll take this for what it is.¡±


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± A deep, bestial voice from behind said as three wargs entered the tent. ¡°Your failure of a leader is dying on you already?¡±


    ¡°He is,¡± Mohan said calmly and turned to the wargs. "He was old and stubborn."


    ¡°Expected of humans. Weak, furrless creatures. This command was always above your pathetic kind. Your purpose should never have been above slaves. No matter, we shall return to our own and ensure they know of this.¡±


    ¡°Wait,¡± Mohan stepped forward. ¡°I am also chosen of the Seven-Headed Wolf God; I can take the old man¡¯s command and finish what we have started.¡±


    ¡°You?¡± The warg chuckled. ¡°You¡¯re even weaker than that old fool. Do not think us stupid, human.¡±


    ¡°You can trust me. I''ll show you.¡±


    ¡°Not a chance. I¡¯ll make sure the war chiefs know of this failure. This little pathetic fort stopped the entire cult of men. Pathetic. Be sure that when we return, you will go back to your place as slaves beneath our heel. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Warg master, please,¡± Mohan extended a hand, but the warg simply huffed and turned to leave.


    ¡°Master Mohan, what do we do?¡± The wart-ridden soldier at his side said.


    ¡°We take the fort, damn it.¡±


    ¡°But¡ªwe¡¯ve tried¡­¡±


    ¡°Not hard enough,¡± Mohan hissed.


    With their speed, the wargs would cover the distance between them and the main horde in days. Mohan knew that if he wanted any chance of a higher station than ¡®slave,¡¯ he would have to take the fort before they returned. There was no ifs or buts about it.


    ¡°Gather every able-bodied man. We finish this now!¡±


    **Imperator**


    Back within Fort Winterclaw, Mark stood on the wall but could not focus, and his mind was all over the place. It was still hard to believe what had happened, and he didn¡¯t know exactly what to make of it all.


    It was deniable that magic and unexplainable gifts existed in this world, but Mark wasn¡¯t sure of the gods these people spoke of. It wasn¡¯t like he had believed in them. As far as he had been concerned, they were just a means of explaining what the people didn¡¯t understand. But now, it was undeniable. The gods of this world were undoubtedly real, and one had enlisted him. He wasn¡¯t even sure what that meant. Would it interrupt or try to impose rules on his leadership? Or was it as simple as the promise it offered? Power for freedom¡­


    Mark could have been lost in these thoughts for weeks, but his attention was stolen back to his surroundings as acolytes ran up the wall toward him. But he didn¡¯t need them to say a word. The reason for their appearance was obvious. Hundreds of cultists were gathering at the edge of the forest''s edge, ready for another attack.


    No more siege engines? Mark raised a brow. Had his little attack really angered them so much that they would attempt another attack without properly equipping themselves?


    They needed this, but he knew they couldn¡¯t get too excited just yet. The numbers the cultists were bringing forth were huge¡ªthe largest he had seen yet. Even without siege weapons, this would test them. Not only that, but they had no chance to recover the arrows they needed and had less fuel for the flamethrowers.


    ¡°There you are,¡± Henric said as he climbed up the wall. ¡°I was hoping we¡¯d get a little rest before it all went to shit again.¡±


    ¡°So was I,¡± Mark sighed. ¡°The enemy presents an opportunity, though.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, at the end of a very long stick.¡±


    ¡°We were never getting out of this lightly.¡±


    ¡°I hope you have another festival planned for when we slaughter these assholes,¡± Henric said. ¡°You can¡¯t imagine how much I need a drink.¡±


    ¡°Actually, I think I can. This time, I might even outdo Mira,¡± Mark chuckled.


    ¡°Now, that is something I hope to live to see.¡±


    ¡°Easy, don¡¯t get yourself killed then.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll try,¡± Henric said. ¡°Unfortunately, these fools will need me down below. Next time you get us into a battle, ensure you¡¯ve trained your soldiers a little better. I''m getting tired of doing all the heavy lifting on the frontline.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you have faith in seeing a next time, Henric,¡± Mark smiled.


    ¡°Eh, don¡¯t look too deeply into it. I expected an untimely end the day they sent me to the Frontier. It is what it is.¡±


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m glad I have you here with me. Their loss is my gain.¡±


    ¡°Heh, glad someone sees it that way. It¡¯s all politics back home. One day, a threat will grow strong enough to reach the mainland, and they¡¯ll realize that promoting incompetent fools for political loyalty was a bad idea.¡±


    That has to be the most skeptical I have ever heard my stubborn old Arms-Master talk about his beloved Imperium. Perhaps all hope isn¡¯t lost for him.


    Mark scanned the fort. There wasn¡¯t much more to be done. This would be their final battle from the looks of it. A rush of relief coursed through him, even if the battle ahead was anything but certain. He just wanted to be done with it now. To help his people recover and to regain their freedom over the land.


    You¡¯ll see, everyone. Once this has been dealt with, the real fun will begin.


    He couldn¡¯t help but feel hopeful. There were still the wargs to deal with, but at least this would provide breathing space.


    The army started to move forward, but it wasn''t the reason Mark''s eyes suddenly brightened. No, that was the glowing dot flickering for the last time. But the relief was short-lived as he spotted a new dot light up.


    What? Mark raised a brow. However, it wasn''t as bright as the previous one.


    I really need to figure out how all this works, damn it.

 55. Final Show Down

    Somewhat orderly formations marched forward until volleys of arrows shot out toward them. When the first few cultists fell to the arrows, their lines broke ranks into a wild charge at the fort.


    Mark felt his conviction tested as he watched the blanketing army charging from all directions. They had killed many, but there were still thousands of cultists in this final force bearing down on them.


    The arrows dropping men as they charged stirred the enemy into a frenzy, but they wouldn¡¯t do much in the way of casualties. Not against an army of this size.


    Pivoting from his spot on the wall, Mark didn¡¯t know where to look. The cultists charged into the trench from all directions; their zealous fervor drove them, pushing them onward even as their comrades got stuck by wire and impaled on timber stakes.


    The cultists that pushed in the same direction as the previous attacks moved the fastest since many corpses still lined the way, and soon, they were climbing up and out of the trenches.


    Flaming arrows lit the last patches of Greek fire, and flames dotted the trenches, but several flaming cultists here or there were hardly enough to halt the attack.


    Marching on, the enemy then met the flamethrowers as they burst into action, sending streams of fire across the lines of their enemies and dozens upon dozens into wailing retreat as they burned.


    Several lines through the deathly traps and attacks were formed, leading toward the wall. Out of reach from the flamethrowers spitting fire, cultists charged down their new corridors carrying ladders. Cauldrons of boiling tar greeted the first to reach the wall, and they fell to the ground in screaming agony as the boiling liquid splashed across them, dropping the ladder. But the cultists behind them ignored the danger and continued the charge, picking the ladder up as several of them fell to arrows and pushing it up against the wall.


    Already? Mark spotted the first cultists ascending the wall. He didn¡¯t have time to think. They hadn¡¯t done enough damage; it would be lost if the cultists took the wall this early in the battle. They were simply too greatly outnumbered.


    Raising a palm toward the cultists, thunder crackled, and lightning shot out, blasting three of the cultists, two of which were already climbing over the wall.


    With the attackers dead, two ferals from a nearby platform threw small vials of Greek fire at the ladder they had been given, setting them alight.


    I need to get there. Mark realized. He couldn''t sit back and watch from here; he needed to be at the outer wall, even if it increased the threat to his life.


    ¡°Imperator!¡± Acolytes called out as Mark jumped from the wall, sliding down one of the ladders and dashing across the Low District.


    The wall was too long for him to defend every inch of it, but he would at least help the weakest sections, and if one enemy ladder had already reached this spot, he was sure another wouldn¡¯t be far behind.


    Climbing up one of the archery platforms beside the wall, he met his defenders with a nod and cast his view out toward their enemy. Another ladder was moving toward the wall, and Mark shot it down with a ruthless blast that blew the thing in two and killed several cultists.


    There were more, but without a means to scale the wall, he realized that the section had been secured fairly well and turned to his left. Screams echoed out, and while he couldn¡¯t see much from where he stood, it sounded as if the battle had reached his people.


    ¡°Hold the wall. Don¡¯t slack for even a second,¡± Make yelled and descended the platform in seconds, bouncing into a run and charging for the next sign of an impending breach.


    His eyes widened as he spotted several cultists battling against his people on their platforms beside the wall. Thankfully, there were a few mercenaries who had aided the archers in their defense and were engaged in the battle with them. Without them, the poorly trained ferals likely would have fallen already.


    There was no need to help the capable warriors in the melee, so Mark climbed up an abandoned flamethrower platform that had run out of fuel, leaned over the side of the wall, and shot his lightning at the ladder they had climbed up, blowing it to pieces and sending several fried cultists falling to their deaths. Without reinforcements, he felt confident his people would finish the rest and turned to the next section of the wall.


    Mark could feel his energy starting to wane, but at least he wasn¡¯t overheating with his infernal suit. It was clear already that his power had taken an upgrade. Maybe his blasts of lightning themselves were not stronger, but they didn¡¯t need to be. The limited nature of his suit had always been its weakness, and that had undoubtedly been improved.


    Scaling back down from the platform, Mark charged across the Low District and then back up the first archery platform he spotted, panting when he reached the top.


    A flamethrower nearby puttered out its last breaths of flame, covering half the trench with stubborn fires, but the cultists found a path through the fire toward them.


    ¡°Up here,¡± Mark yelled, and the mercenaries complied, climbing up from their separate platform and onto the one Mark stood on.


    Firing again, he destroyed a ladder before it even reached them, sending the cultists carrying it into flight, two of them accidentally running into the flames and becoming human torches.


    But instead of their reinforcements pushing on stubbornly as they had everywhere else, they turned and started to move toward their left.


    They¡¯re not going to keep attacking?


    A horn sounded, and Mark swung toward his right.


    They had a breach.


    ¡°Anyone good with a sword, follow me,¡± Mark roared, and the mercenaries and a few ferals followed him and climbed down from the platform.


    Mark was surprised by the courage of their mercenary hires in battle, but then again, they were Imperials. They likely feared their enemies far more than the ferals within Fort Winterclaw.


    As they ran, Mark called for any nearby soldiers not actively repelling the attacks to join, and soon, their numbers swelled to a few dozen. However, his eyes widened in horror as they reached the breach.


    A dozen or so ferals aided by a couple of mercenaries were already being pushed back from the wall, where three ladders had been pushed up against it, and cultists were swarming over.


    Charging toward them with his troops at his back, Mark shot at the cultist flank, sending several of their charred remains flying backward and forcing their formation to turn toward Mark and his charging reinforcements.


    He fired once more as they neared, blowing apart several cultists only seconds before his men extended their spears and slammed into the enemy. The combined attacks sent their enemy reeling in disarray, many of their front liners dead and those remaining under attack from all sides.


    Stumbling, Mark fell back, leaving his troops to clash into the melee. Falling to one knee, he heaved, trying to catch his breath and recover some energy.


    More cultists were climbing over and into the fort, but at least the momentum on the ground had been altered, and many were climbing over just to enter a chaotic fray of battle and be cut down seconds later.


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    A moment later, and to his relief, Mark spotted another group of reinforcements coming from the opposite direction, led by Henric and a couple of mercenaries. They wasted no time, charging straight into the fray, and once again, Henric¡¯s skillful use of his blade was on display for any cultist unlucky enough to meet it.


    At the rear came the robed Altono. The man had been told to remain within the Imperial District but had come out on his own accord and began healing wounded soldiers.


    Mark¡¯s face twisted in disbelief as men who looked to be on or near their deathbeds climbed back to their feet and regripped their weapons to reenter the melee.


    Altono was already looking a little weary after healing a half dozen men. Still, Mark now understood how the Archbishopric could stand as a rival to the Imperium with powers like this.


    ¡°Save your powers,¡± Mark called out, halting the stumbling priest as he made his way to another wounded. It felt callous to condemn a man to his death potentially, but they needed some of that healing power in reserve. ¡°Don¡¯t exhaust all your power,¡± Mark said, staggering toward the healer. ¡°We might need it.¡±


    Altono wordlessly nodded, seemingly too tired to even give a proper response.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done enough. Everybody counts, and you just bought us a few more. Now take some rest,¡± Mark said, patting the man on the shoulder as he reached him.


    Bolts flew over them from acolytes taking positions on the inner walls, hitting cultists climbing over the wall and sending their bodies tumbling down upon the comrades who desperately fort off the enclosing wall of swords, axes, and spears that surrounded them.


    We¡¯re doing it, unbelievable. A smile tugged on Mark¡¯s lips as he watched the crumbling attackers. Their reinforcements didn¡¯t stop streaming into the action, but they had lost all momentum, and it had turned into a relentless killing field with new bodies becoming fodder for the slaughter.


    But the reprieve didn¡¯t last long. A runner from the other side of the wall came shouting at the top of his lungs, ¡°Enemy breach!¡± repeatedly.


    Forcing himself to his feet, Mark pulled some jerky from his coat and chewed it down without taking a breath, hoping it might help in his recovery.


    ¡°Henric!¡± He shouted as the battle began to die down. The cultists flowing over the wall had stopped, and the defenders cut down the last of the stragglers.


    ¡°Soldier,¡± Mark said, stumbling toward the defenders and pulling a man by his shoulder. ¡°Make sure the enemy''s ladders are destroyed.¡±


    The greasy feral nodded and ran toward a platform beside the wall where a couple of archers still stood.


    ¡°The rest of you, we¡¯re not finished,¡± Mark commanded


    Stabbing a wounded man through the neck, Henric straightened and turned to the voice of his Imperator. It had been an exhausting battle.


    ¡°Atlas,¡± Henric said, wiping his face as he walked through the crowd of warriors finishing off the last of the squirming cultists.


    ¡°There you are, Henric,¡± Mark called back as he spotted the man pushing past a couple of others. ¡°There¡¯s another breach. We don¡¯t have time to rest. Gather the men.¡±


    ¡°Of course there is,¡± Henric groaned. ¡°You heard your Imperator,¡± he shouted. ¡°Let¡¯s move before those bastards get any closer to our necks.¡±


    The men were weary but understood the implications of the cultists breaching the walls and followed the command.


    Marching toward the breach, feral commoners¡ªwomen and children mostly¡ªfled from the fast-moving battle, heading toward the High District and inner walls carrying whatever they could.


    As they got closer, they realized that the walls were taken, and a handful of ferals who put up a fight were killed as Mark led his soldiers toward the invader''s position.


    ¡°We can¡¯t, not here,¡± Mark halted the group.


    ¡°You¡¯re right. We¡¯ll be slaughtered on even ground. We need to fall back to the Inner walls,¡± Henric said.


    ¡°Wait, not quite,¡± Mark replied, ordering the troops into retreat with a wave of his hand. ¡°The alley between the High District and the Imperial District runs between both walls, giving both sides an advantage over our position.¡±


    ¡°You can''t seriously be suggesting we go there? It¡¯s a dead end, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware. But we need to stop them here. They won¡¯t be able to attack us with more than three or four men at a time, and we will be able to rain down hell on them from both flanks. Let the enemy think we¡¯re surrounded. If we can draw them into that death trap, maybe we can land a killing blow on their force.¡±


    ¡°And if we fail?¡±


    ¡°I thought you were prepared to die, Henric?¡±


    ¡°Damn it, fine,¡± Henric grunted. ¡°At least I''ll die against impossible odds.¡±


    Lined up against a pocket that was formed between the two adjoining walls, the remaining defenders raised their shields in a defensive line as screaming cultists charged down the narrow alley between tightly packed cabins toward them.


    Unlike the bows, when the acolyte crossbows shot out, they delivered deadly and decisive strikes, piercing straight through the enemy¡¯s wooden shields and cutting them down.


    Mark knew he didn¡¯t have much energy but fired once at the charging enemy anyway, blasting a hole through their lines when they reached within a few yards of their raised spears.


    Spears impaled the first cultists, and then Henric and a few of the most elite mercenaries at the front pushed into them from behind their round shields and stabbed out, cutting down the first cultists to engage in seconds.


    Within minutes of the slaughter, the entire alley had been crowded by practically frothing cultists, seemingly having been driven into a mindless fury at the chance to kill Mark.


    At his back, a rope was dropped from the walls, held by a couple of ferals. Mark looked up. He hadn¡¯t planned on escaping this battle, but he couldn¡¯t keep firing without energy, and standing at the back of his men, not doing anything, didn¡¯t provide much value.


    He glanced around once more at the furious battle and took hold of the rope, pulling himself up as others standing on the wall pulled the rope up. Within seconds, he was upon the wall.


    ¡°Keep helping the others,¡± he commanded, running for the nearest ladder.


    "Imperator," Elwoen said, crossbow in her hands.


    "No time," Mark barked. "And just keep shooting."


    Rushing straight through the Imperial District, Mark charged onto the throne ship and straight into the cockpit. Shooting his hands into the controls, he jolted the ship upward, lifting the vehicle into the air, and swung it around toward the attackers. He wouldn¡¯t climb high for this maneuver. He wanted his enemy to see him. To drive fear into their hearts.


    Hovering above the chaotic melee, Mark turned the ship¡¯s nose down to point at the cultists, drawing a reaction out of them as they looked up at the menacing ship, just in time to see the crackling flash of power spark out and burst through their ranks, killing dozens in seconds.


    Mark aimed up a little and fired again, flinging a wave of his enemy¡¯s soldiers through the air. The ship lurched as its energy ran dangerously low, but Mark ignored its warning and fired again, and with a flicker, the lights went out.


    Screams sounded across the cultist army, not just because of the clumping men who were just fired but because the throne ship was falling down.


    It had barely been a few yards above their heads, and the ship crashed down upon dozens of cultists, which softened its landing and crushed their bodies. Mark was lurched from side to side and flung from his chair, he was left groaning on the ground, but the ship also filled the alley, splitting the enemy¡¯s force in two.


    It didn¡¯t take long for cultists to start climbing over the top of the metal construct, but Henric and his elites quickly cut down the confused and shaken warriors at the front.


    Jumping down from the throne ship once they climbed it, more cultists charged to reinforce their allies, but for every cultist that made it over, another took a bolt from the acolytes atop the wall.


    The battle reached a deathly crescendo as the cultists climbing over the throne ship thinned, with bodies littering every inch of the ground, some piled atop one another.


    Finally gaining the strength to stand, Mark pushed himself up. The ship was still dead of energy, and nothing happened when he slapped the button to open the hatch.


    I¡¯m stuck, aren¡¯t I? Mark groaned. He wanted to be out there helping his allies. Not that it mattered; Henric had pushed the last of their attackers up against the throne ship, and he and his exhausted men cut them down.


    With their forces split, hundreds of scattered cultists began to pillage the Low District. Squads of ferals and Imperials alike were sent from the inner walls on hunting missions, and battles continued in minor skirmishes across the fort.


    **Callum**


    Panting, Callum pushed his tired body on, knocking the shield away from the injured cultist and driving his sword through the man¡¯s chest. It was his eleventh kill, and every muscle ached.


    ¡°So many,¡± he wiped his brow as he watched several cultists setting a cabin alight. He had come with a small group to finish off the remainder of their enemy¡¯s force, but they had fallen in the series of skirmishes they had fought.


    He could barely hold his sword up and was outnumbered six to one, but he couldn¡¯t just sit back and watch as the fort was set ablaze. Even if they had won this battle, what chance would they have at surviving the wargs if the fort was destroyed?


    Come on, you worked hard for this. This is what it means to be a warrior. It''s time to prove yourself.


    Callum bit down and charged, screaming a battle cry in a desperate attempt to motivate himself.


    But his jaw slackened when he was almost within reach of his enemy. Who are they?


    Broad, muscle-toned warriors with faces of stone charged into the fort. Their figures were similar to men''s, but he knew they weren¡¯t just because of their size. No human was capable of that kind of speed and strength, and they cut through cultists as if they were animals for the slaughter.


    One man, a visage of stone, reached the six cultists before they set the cabin aflame, and with several swift movements, he danced through their numbers with inhuman precision, cutting their bodies into ribbons of flesh with his axe, passing through bone and flesh as if it were butter.


    Lip trembling, Callum¡¯s slack-jawed mouth mumbled as the man turned his bent brow on him. He remembered stories from his childhood. The type that was told by drunk men trying to scare children in the tavern:


    ¡°Trolls.¡±

 56. Aftermath

    After hours of waiting, the throne ship''s lights flickered back on, and Mark pounded the button, opening the hatch.


    Three acolytes waited for him and stiffened into a salute as the door opened.


    ¡°Good to see people alive,¡± Mark huffed as he exited. "So, we won then?"


    ¡°Yes, Imperator. The enemy broke shortly after your ship fell.¡±


    ¡°That''s it?¡±


    ¡°Well, not exactly. There are still a few pockets of the cultists around, but they are greatly weakened. Arms-Master Henric leads the clean up.¡±


    Well, that''s about as good of an outcome as I could have hoped for.


    The heavy thuds of quick steps turned their attention to a runner charging down the corpse-littered alley.


    What now? Mark raised a brow.


    Catching his breath, the runner doubled over as he reached them and gradually straightened as he caught his breath. ¡°Imperator. Trolls,¡± he said, pointing in the direction he had come.


    Trolls? You''re kidding me, right? We don''t stand a chance if another enemy army is attacking.


    ¡°The Imperator?¡± The largest of the five trolls said, standing in the middle of the group, his long dark hair flowing over his stone-like figure.


    "There he is," Henric said, turning to Mark who he marched toward them. ¡°About time you showed up.¡±


    ¡°Miss me?¡± Mark smirked as he walked up to the gathering. The five monstrous men standing before Henric and a couple of his mercenaries stood a good foot taller than them, but their width and stony facades were what truly made them intimidating. Their gray skin and hard, squarish features made them mistakable for humans up close.


    ¡°Tath Gorak,¡± the largest troll nodded at Mark and stepped forward. ¡°I am chieftain of tribe.¡±


    ¡°These are trolls from the Dagger mountains, Lord Imperator,¡± Venjiman said, stepping toward Mark. He had accompanied Henric to meet the trolls when Callum came running¡ªon account of him having some basic understanding of Trollish. However, the chieftain had a basic grasp of their language, so he didn''t need to do much.


    "Thank you, Venjimin," Mark said, not breaking eye contact with the intimidating troll.


    ¡°Atlas, Imperator in service to the Great Imperium,¡± Mark nodded in return. ¡°I must ask if you¡¯re allied with the wargs?¡±


    Tath Gorak spat and growled.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take that as a no.¡±


    The troll chieftain nodded, his expression turning into a scowl.


    ¡°Apologies if I come off tense, but I have just barely managed to save my people from a much stronger enemy. So, please answer me. What have you come here for?¡±


    ¡°To defeat the wargs.¡±


    ¡°You wish to fight them?¡± Mark crooked his head.


    Tath Gorak nodded. "I wish to save my people."


    ¡°Well, then..." Mark said hesitantly. "That¡¯s certainly welcomed news. The wargs are our enemy. If you want to defeat them, then I guess that makes us allies."


    "Good," Tath Gorak stepped forward and extended his stubby, muscular hand. His tough skin made it look like he had spent his entire life mixing concrete with his bare fingers. "Together, we crush them."


    ¡°Straight to the point,¡± Mark smiled. ¡°I like that.¡±


    Venjamin assisted with working out a more detailed alliance. Since the trolls came from a distant land and no longer had a home, they were offered land within Fort Winterclaw, which they accepted.


    The physical prowess of the trolls was quickly noted when they helped rebuild the fort. There might have only been eleven of them, five of which were warriors, but each troll was stronger than Trayox, with the speed of a scout and sword skills almost on par with Henric. Not to mention their fabled healing, which Venjamin told Mark about. Unfortunately, he didn''t think it appropriate to test their new alliance by asking them to show him.


    Battles throughout the fort didn''t last much longer. There were a few hold out groups but most fled when it was obvious they had been defeated. However, of the thousand or so camp followers who accompanied the army, hundreds remained after the cultists fled their camp and sought refuge with Fort Winterclaw after the battle.


    Ultimately, most of these people had joined the cultists out of fear, and once the zealots had been defeated, they had little loyalty toward them.


    looting began immediately and took several days. Priority was given to those who had fought, but it was beyond hard to keep track of everybody, and there was no doubt many were taking advantage of the chaotic situation that followed the battle. Not that it mattered too much. As long as the wealth of their fallen enemies went to the people of Fort Winterclaw, Mark saw it as a net gain.


    With wealth flowing into the fort, the storeroom was quickly filled with all kinds of loot.


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    Unfortunately, even after a few days of searching, no evidence was found of the High Priest¡¯s corpse. Mark and his people knew that some of their enemies fled, but he had been pretty confident that the priest had been badly wounded and possibly died. Not finding his corpse wasn''t confirmation of anything since there was a good chance the fleeing cultists took it with them.


    Regardless, whoever managed to flee the battle were but a meager fraction of their original force. Not only that, but much of the camp and its supplies were left in their flight, and with winter storming across the land, many would fall to weather alone without proper supplies and equipment.


    Casualties from the battle saw Fort Winterclaw count its losses at 112, five of which were Imperial mercenaries. On the surface, it was a huge number, about a fifth of their entire population, but the sacrifices strengthened their image more than any manufactured press ever could. The camp followers who requested refuge alone outnumbered their losses from the battle, and within a couple of days, ferals were marching toward Fort Winterclaw from all around. One week after the battle, they counted almost 800 people either within Fort Winterclaw or camping around it.


    The broken image of the cultists and the evaporating fear quickly spread across the fort. This was evident in the streets. Pride for Fort Winterclaw might not have been a new thing, but people were now openly talking about and cursing out the cultists. Mark understood how important this was. It meant that his people were not only not loyal to the cultists but that they weren¡¯t afraid. Before the battle, people might have chosen to fight alongside him to save their children or because they didn''t want to pray to the Wolf God, but the fear was still palpable. And that was an important change of mood.


    Following the battle, Trumus and his men ran some witchhunts for cultist supporters, but Mark didn¡¯t want to punish anyone who wasn¡¯t undoubtedly guilty. Unfortunately, things got a little out of control as several people accused of supporting cultists turned up dead across the fort once they were released due to a lack of evidence. So, Mark put a temporary hold on arresting accused cultist supporters. If Trumus or his men suspected someone, they were to inform Mark and leave it as is.


    The wall repairs were the first job completed, and once they were repaired satisfactorily, arrow production and other supplies were prioritized. Mark didn¡¯t want to settle for what they already had, but he had to respect the enemy¡¯s strength, and they needed to at least return the fort to its previous strength before moving on with plans to strengthen themselves further.


    As the bodies were cleared out, the loot from a few thousand cultists was game-changing. Before the battle, his people had been barely any wealthier than the average feral across the frontier¡ªwith exceptions. Now, they were undeniably rich, at least by Frontier standards.


    Iron weapons and equipment overflowed through the fort, and Mark ordered a new cabin built within the Imperial District to act solely as a treasury since they were minting more iron coins than they knew what to do with them.


    Even with a master smith at his disposal, the need for smithed goods ballooned out of control. Now that people had wealth, they wanted goods they had only dreamed of in the past. Also, people were trading in rarer goods they had looted from cultists, including copper, silver, and even a few gold pieces of jewelry.


    Elowen was quick to make a price list for the rarer metals, and within a week, they had either traded for all the rare metals or found a home for them within their new bank.


    Getting rich himself was nice, but Mark understood the importance of his people getting wealthy. For Fort Winterclaw to have a healthy economy, it needed a strong middle class and maybe even wealthier people to help drive investment and growth. Which was exactly what he hoped their little bank would help to achieve. Few people out here in the Frontier even had iron, with any luck, his commoners that now had precious metal reserves in their bank accounts would hire others and create industry for Fort Winterclaw.


    The only problem he had now was dealing with the looming threat of the wargs and winter. Even if he had set himself up as the premier town in the Central Frontier region, it wouldn''t do much good for them if the wargs were to attack.


    Mark had gone over scouts'' reports that said the wargs'' main forces had continued south, although they were separated into a few different armies to take out all their enemies at once. However, the main force had gone south, which meant that the wargs were likely headed to deal with the barbarian alliance.


    This was something Mark wasn¡¯t sure how to feel about. Ultimately, if he had to pick, he would rather test his luck against the barbarians of the Frontier than the wargs. That being said, he knew he didn¡¯t stand a chance against either in his current state. The best outcome would be for them to weaken each other without either force coming out on top, but relying on an outcome like that seemed too risky. Not that there was anything he could do about it right now. He would struggle to string together a hundred men to send south in his current state, and without walls to protect them, he would be marching his people to their deaths with little chance to affect the battle''s outcome.


    What he needed to do now was to expand their influence as much as possible while their enemies were busy focusing on each other. He would aim to position himself to take advantage of the chaos stemming from the warg invasion and to grow his numbers and wealth as much as possible.


    That and training. The battle had been a bit of a wake-up call. His people just weren''t skilled enough to take on experienced warriors one-on-one. They had won against superior numbers entirely because of the defenses they had built, and that just couldn''t be something they continued to rely upon.


    **Priestess**


    Wargs packed shoulder to shoulder, charging up the snowy cliffside toward the mountaintop temple, when a howling gust rushed through the mountains, swooping down across the white landscape and slamming into the army, bringing with it an avalanche that washed away hundreds of heavily armored wargs from the mountains to their deaths at the bottom of a jagged ridge.


    ¡°Your power amazes me every time, Body of the Goddess,¡± an armored man said as they watched from a stone balcony that overlooked the mountain pass.


    ¡°Keep your compliments for now, Warmaster. This war has only just begun."


    "Let them come. I would like to see them pass this mountain with your breath of wind in our arsenal."


    "Don''t make me remind you again. It''s getting annoying. We''re not going to remain hidden here. We need to see what that wildcard has to offer.¡±


    ¡°So, you really do intend to seek this Imperator out?¡±


    ¡°I told you, Warmaster, he is not like those other abominations. I have felt my Goddess speak to me. This one is different.¡±


    ¡°You really believe he might be the key to defeating the wargs?¡±


    ¡°I do, Warmaster. And I¡¯m not about to condemn my people to being trapped in this mountain. Even if it does mean our survival. If we can make a difference, then we must try."


    ¡°Then I shall prepare the expedition.¡±


    ¡°Please do, and do not question my decision again. Do it with haste. We cannot allow our enemy to realize what is happening before we are able to make a difference. This is a great opportunity, but our victory is far from guaranteed. We cannot risk wasting this chance.¡±


    ¡°Understood, Body of the Goddess,¡± the armored man bowed. "I will see it done immediately."


    "Oh, and Warmaster."


    "Yes?"


    "Prepare a wagon for me."


    "You''re planning to come with us?"


    "Of course. This is our chance to seize victory."


    The stubborn Warmaster swallowed. He wanted their Priestess to remain home and defend their people but knew better than to question her. All he could do now was to pray they weren''t condemning their people.

 57. Birth of a Nation

    Two men stood on ladders and held up a newly carved sign over a large cabin at the center of the Low District as Reida looked up and directed them.


    ¡°There, perfect,¡± she said, and the two men pulled hammers from their belts and began nailing it down. ¡°Reida¡¯s Bows and Arrows,¡± she read, and a smile formed across her face.


    ¡°Finally, you have a real store,¡± Mark said, strolling toward her. He wasn¡¯t about to miss the grand opening of the first proper storefront in Fort Winterclaw.


    ¡°Honestly, I never saw myself making bows for a living. I can tell you though, it certainly beats foraging for rigar bark.¡±


    ¡°Good to hear because it¡¯s a great help to Winterclaw having you around. I look forward to seeing what more we can create.¡±


    ¡°Thank you for everything, Imperator,¡± Reida turned to Mark. ¡°It wasn¡¯t long ago that we were barely managing to survive in the wilderness and now my family has almost anything they could want.¡±


    ¡°Thank me after we defeat the wargs. We just barely survived the cultists, and I get the feeling things are only just starting to warm-up.¡±


    ¡°If anyone can beat them, I have a feeling it¡¯s you.¡±


    "Thank you for your vote of confidence."


    ¡°Why does the old bird get all the love?¡± Payon interrupted, stepping up to them from behind.


    Beside Reida¡¯s store, another cabin was going up. It was to be Payon¡¯s smithy and armory once it was completed. However, unlike Reida, who funded her business entirely alone, Mark provided the coin for Payon¡¯s business. Not that the decision was particularly altruistic. No, it was an investment to help facilitate smithed goods since they were currently sold through market stalls and orders were taken and then sent to the smithy within the Imperial District via multiple proxies. By giving the commoners direct access to a shopfront, Mark hoped to cut middlemen out and free up manpower for other jobs.


    ¡°Quit complaining. You were given a shop like a child,¡± Reida huffed.


    ¡°She¡¯s just bitter because iron and steel goods sell better than her flimsy bows.¡±


    ¡°Flimsy? Shut it, smith,¡± Reida growled.


    ¡°Good to see my budding businesses are already growing competitive. Just do me a favor and keep the rivalry productive, okay?¡± Mark said.


    ¡°There''s no ill blood here,¡± Payon smirked as he eyed Reida. "My smithy will be the most popular business in town."


    ¡°Like the gods it will be. But you don''t have to worry about me, Imperator. You can count on me to keep it civil,¡± Reida added, glaring at Payon. "But I can''t promise I won''t retaliate."


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark slowly nodded and turned away.


    Let¡¯s pray I haven¡¯t invited a problem into the fort by pushing those two against one another.


    Walking back through the Low District, Mark stopped at another cabin he had ordered built.


    More and more ferals had been entering the fort over the last couple of weeks. It was largely fueled by all the wealth they had come into. Mark had more than enough iron to offer wages to anyone willing to help rebuild the fort, and a safe home with access to trade was more than enough to catch the attention of the wild people who lived in the dangerous forests and squalor. This led to an excess of manpower once the repairs were completed, so Mark put his new builders to work on building new cabins.


    ¡°Is it big enough?¡± Mark said, stepping beside the priest Altono as he watched the construction of his cabin and healing building.


    Mark hadn¡¯t decided to trust the man entirely yet, but he didn¡¯t have the liberty to waste his skills.


    ¡°It¡¯s more than enough, Imperator,¡± Altono replied.


    Altono¡¯s powers were limited, and Mark wasn¡¯t sure that one priest would be able to keep up with demand, but if he could provide healthcare to his people, it would be one more benefit to living within Fort Winterclaw and one more potential means of luring more people to him.


    ¡°Good to hear. I¡¯m hoping you can improve the health of my people.¡±


    ¡°I will endeavor to do as much as possible,¡± the priest bowed. "But it does look like you''ll keep me busy."


    "I''m sure I will. But if I can help you keeping people healthy, let me know. I''ll do what I can to make your mission successful."


    "I appreciate it, Lord Imperator," the priest bowed again.


    Mark nodded and patted the man on the back.


    With the defenses returned to a functional state and the boom of development ongoing, Mark felt confident about their future for the moment¡ªat least whenever he wasn¡¯t thinking about the looming threat they needed to face.


    **Elowen**


    ¡°What¡¯s taking so long?¡± Elowen snapped her fingers at Dober as she paced the overcrowded corridor of the storeroom. ¡°I thought you could read now.¡±


    ¡°I can. Some words just confuse me a little,¡± Dober sighed. Keeping up with the endless lists and new items flooding into the stores had slowed him back down to a pace resembling how he had been when he was first asked to help with the storeroom.


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    ¡°I need to rely on you, farm boy. I still need to visit the treasury and the bank to check accounts today. How am I supposed to find time for all of this if you can¡¯t hurry up?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m doing my best, I swear.¡±


    ¡°Your best is hopelessly inefficient.¡±


    ¡°Why don¡¯t you ask the Imperator for more help then? Aren¡¯t you two like buddies?¡±


    ¡°You want me to look incompetent? He has already given me three staff members, and now you want me to go begging for more? Do you have any idea how that would make me look?¡±


    ¡°Nowhere near as bad as you probably think,¡± Dober grumbled under his breath.


    ¡°No, it is,¡± Elowen tapped her chin. ¡°But it''s silly to rely on you and the others to up your game. If I''m to improve performance, I''ll have to do it myself. What I need is a better system. What we¡¯re currently doing has too much overhead and complexity for simpletons to keep up with and it''s slowing us down. I¡¯m going to have to work on something simple. Something so easy even a child could do it.¡±


    ¡°Jeez, what a vote of confidence. Ah, whatever, do what you want,¡± Dober groaned. ¡°Just don¡¯t increase my workload, please.¡±


    "Shh, farm boy. I''m thinking here."


    **Callum**


    ¡°What did you think you were doing out there, Acolyte?¡± Henric barked an inch from Callum¡¯s face as they stood in the Imperial District courtyard between two cabins.


    ¡°My duty,¡± Callum said, stony-faced, his eyes staring straight ahead.


    ¡°Your duty was watching the inner walls. You were out in the Low District running around with your sword. I didn¡¯t give you permission to go play hero, did I?¡±


    ¡°No, you didn''t, Arms-Master, but I did what I believed right.¡±


    Sighing and slumping his shoulders, Henric shook his head. ¡°And you were bloody good at it. Damn it, you¡¯re still a kid. But our situation isn¡¯t exactly ideal. I hadn¡¯t planned on doing this¡­ ever.¡±


    Callum swallowed.


    Glaring into Callum¡¯s eyes, Henric placed a hand on his shoulder. ¡°My past failures are the reason I¡¯m out here in the Frontier; I want you to understand that before you agree to anything. These failures are the reason I never intended to do what I¡¯m about to, but I have a feeling that if I don¡¯t, you''ll do something stupid. Not giving me a lot of choice in how I handle this. A stubborn boy like you running around without proper guidance is just going to get yourself killed. So, with that being said, I want to offer you an apprenticeship under me.¡±


    ¡°Y-you want to make me an Apprentice Arms-Master?¡± Callum gritted his teeth, and his cheeks reddened as he barely managed to restrain his excitement.


    ¡°That¡¯s correct, Acolyte Callum. Do you accept this offer?¡±


    ¡°I do,¡± Callum nodded. ¡°Yes, of course I do. I accept ten times over!¡±


    ¡°Great. Hopefully, I can help you stay alive because you¡¯ll make a fine Arms-Master one day.¡±


    **Erin**


    ¡°What you doing, annoying girl?¡±


    ¡°Shut up, you big brute,¡± Erin growled at Trayox. ¡°I came to see the nice members of your family.¡±


    ¡°Arinie inside with the babies,¡± Trayox grunted with a nod towards his front door.


    ¡°What are you even doing?¡±


    ¡°So much work,¡± Trayox shook his head, placing hammers and axes into packs. ¡°More and more men working. Now I just organize all day.¡±


    ¡°Your underlings have grown in numbers so much that you don¡¯t have time to work on the tools yourself, and you¡¯re mad about it?¡± Erin scrunched her brow. ¡°You really are odd¡­ that isn¡¯t the kind of problem people usually complain about.¡±


    ¡°Speak for yourself, annoying girl. I don¡¯t like this stuff. Hands-on is best for me. This stuff is all silly, jobs for silly people like Imperials.¡±


    ¡°Suffering from success, so sad,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°I feel really bad for you, you big meathead. Hopefully you can get over being forced to be a leader.¡±


    ¡°How you so annoying? You never get a husband like that.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sixteen¡ªlike I even want a husband,¡± Erin stuck her tongue out as she passed into the cabin.


    Inside, her face brightened as she spotted Arinie. The mother''s skin was as bright and soft as it ever was, and the twins were getting bigger.


    ¡°Erin,¡± Arinie beamed. ¡°So happy you here.¡±


    ¡°Oh my,¡± Erin grinned, rushing to the twins. ¡°Look how big these two chonkers are getting.¡±


    ¡°It all Trayox,¡± Arinie smiled.


    ¡°Obviously,¡± Erin grumbled. ¡°At least they got your looks,¡± she added, smiling at the babies trying to roll onto their stomachs on the bed.


    ¡°They start crawling,¡± Arinie said, helping the babies onto their bellies to show Erin.


    ¡°That¡¯s sooo cute.¡±


    ¡°Yes, it is.¡±


    ¡°By the way, Arinie, they weren¡¯t scared, were they? You know, with everything that¡¯s been happening.¡±


    Arinie shook her head. ¡°They not even know.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s comforting to know,¡± Erin cast a sober smile at the babies. Surviving the winter felt so much more urgent when she was looking down at the innocent little twins.


    **Clay**


    ¡°I can¡¯t believe they¡¯re making me go again,¡± Clay murmured to himself as he packed the wagon.


    ¡°Why the glum face?¡± Leonard said, throwing a sack of goods onto the wagon.


    ¡°What do you mean? You almost got me killed last time, and now I¡¯m expected to go back to that place?¡±


    ¡°Eh, they¡¯ve probably forgotten already. Besides, with the wargs running about, supplies to the trading post have likely stopped completely now. They will be desperate for what we have. You will see, we''re going to be greeted like kings when we arrive.¡±


    ¡°Somehow I don¡¯t believe you.¡±


    ¡°Lighten up,¡± Leonard smacked Clay¡¯s back as he passed him, sending him jerking forward. ¡°How about I buy you a woman for the night when we arrive? Would that make us even?¡±


    ¡°A-a woman?¡± Clay swallowed and reddened.


    ¡°You¡¯ve never done it, have you?¡±


    ¡°Of course not! I¡¯m an acolyte. It¡¯s not even legal until I graduate.¡±


    ¡°Legal?¡± Leonard chuckled. ¡°Look around, little boy. That ship has sailed long ago.¡±


    ¡°We still have laws. Rules. We¡¯re still Imperials. We can''t just act like savages because we''re in the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re gonna get yourself killed being so wound up. Relax a little. Treat yourself to an experience while you can. Who knows what the winter has coming for us.¡±


    Clay eyed the confident caravan master suspiciously. He didn¡¯t like what he was saying, but he also couldn¡¯t come up with a counterargument. Ultimately, it seemed their all-powerful Imperium had left them in the Frontier to die.


    **Trolls**


    ¡°Are you sure it is wise to build our camp here, Tath Gorak? Can the humans really be trusted?¡± A troll dressed in leather sat in the small cabin that had been hastily put together as temporary accommodation for the tribe until something bigger could be built.


    ¡°At least they allow us to pray to Rockharden here. Allow us to keep our traditions, and don¡¯t expect us to bow to that damned wolf.¡±


    ¡°For now,¡± the troll hissed.


    ¡°Be pessimistic, but do not create enemies for us unnecessarily, brother. If humans betray their word, we can worry about that when it happens. For now, we must see this path through, for we cannot defeat the wargs alone.¡±


    ¡°We can run. There is much beyond the Daggers to the north. Why not find new home away from this war?¡±


    ¡°And what about the rest of our people? What about the mating season? How will we keep our tribe alive if our people cannot mate with the other tribes?¡±


    ¡°We¨Cahh¨C¡±


    ¡°We won¡¯t¡ªis the answer. Failure to defeat the wargs means that we either accept subjugation or that we condemn our tribe to extinction. Neither outcome is acceptable to me. But what do you say, brother?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± the troll growled. ¡°I will bow to your wisdom, chief. But do not think I trust the pink skins.¡±


    ¡°I would be more concerned if you did, brother. I need wary eyes watching my back. Just make sure that you do not accuse our hosts of crimes they have not commited.¡±


    "I will try, chief."

 58. Fast Movers

    When scouts returned with news that no wargs or cultists had been spotted in the surrounding lands, Mark sent out his people. There could be no telling how long his enemies and rivals would remain distracted from fighting one another, and he needed to make the most of the power vacuum growing across the Frontier.


    First, he sent people to reestablish control over the outposts they had started construction on and increased patrols across the land.


    The patrols had two goals: one, to cement Fort Winterclaw¡¯s power over the region, and two, to spread the word of what the fort had achieved and Mark¡¯s leadership.


    If patrols ran into ferals still living in the area or traveling through it, they were to tell them about the fort, the work available, and how they had beaten an army of cultists and were building their forces up to take out the wargs themselves. The hope was that this would inspire them to join or support the fort somehow.


    The patrols would also provide early warning if the wargs or another threat turned their attention on Winterclaw, allowing Mark to send the troops that would have otherwise been required to defend the walls on patrol.


    The returns on these policies started to show themselves almost immediately as more ferals made contact with Fort Winterclaw. This was aided by the fact that more had fled in the wake of the marching armies. These people had nowhere to go, and when they learned that Fort Winterclaw hadn''t just defeated one of these armies but was patrolling and securing the land, they flooded toward it.


    **Caravan**


    A few days after leaving Fort Winterclaw, the trade caravan rolled up to Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post. The eerie sight sent a chill tingling down Clay¡¯s spine. Last time they were here, men stood proudly on guard at the open gates, but now not only were the gates closed, but the figures on the wall kept hunched profiles with their crossbows aimed at the ready.


    ¡°Hello, people of Frostwind, we¡¯ve come to trade,¡± Leonard said, stepping ahead of the caravan and extending his hands to his sides. ¡°Would you be so kind to open your gates?¡±


    ¡°What mad assholes are still traveling the wilderness with those damned wolves out there?¡± One of the men on the wall shouted back.


    ¡°This mad asshole," Leonard patted his chest. "And the followers of Imperator Atlas.¡±


    ¡°Bullshit. All the Imperial slaves ran off; we seen it for ourselves. There ain''t no Imperators this far north anymore.¡±


    Leonard turned to Clay with a crooked brow and then back to the men on the wall. ¡°What do you mean they ran off?¡±


    ¡°Got a hearing problem, do ye? Like I said, all them slaves serving the Imperium fled when wargs were sighted. Even the guilders left with them. Just us free men in here now.¡±


    ¡°Now that¡¯s interesting,¡± Leonard said, only loud enough for Clay and the caravan guards to hear. "Something isn''t right about all this."


    ¡°They¡¯ve fled back to the Imperium? What are we still doing here? Maybe we can catch up.¡±


    Leonard chuckled, ¡°It¡¯s far too late for that, Clay. Besides, times like this are opportunities for fortune-seeking men like you and me.¡±


    ¡°Fortune-seeking?¡± Clay shook his head. ¡°Speak for yourself. I just want a safe, warm bed and something to eat.¡±


    ¡°Ah, what a shame. A boy your age should aim higher. But don''t worry, you¡¯ll be fine. Leonard, the Great Caravan Master, will make sure of it.¡± Leonard said, smacking Clay¡¯s back.


    ¡°Oi! What in the God-Lord¡¯s anus are ye bastards yapping about down there?¡± The guard on the wall shouted.


    ¡°Just saying how much we¡¯d love a fire to warm our hands around,¡± Leonard called back. ¡°Would you, gentlemen, be so kind as to allow us entry?¡±


    No reply came, but the gates began to creak open a short moment later.


    ¡°Keep your guard up. I¡¯m obviously not the biggest fan of the Imperium, but without them keeping an eye on these dodgy bastards, they could do anything."


    Clay nodded, and they slowly drove the caravan into the fort, the wagon''s guards raising their shields high and tightening their grips on their weapons.


    Inside, the suspicious gazes from dozens of men wrapped up in furs met them. They stood beside the cabins and held swords and crossbows.


    ¡°Is someone in charge around here?¡± Leonard asked as they pulled the caravan up into the middle of the cabins.


    ¡°Not really, but ye can talk to me,¡± a scruffy man wearing a chain shirt over rough furs said, stepping toward them. ¡°The name¡¯s Figgy,¡± he flashed a near-toothless smile and extended a bandaged hand.


    ¡°Nice to meet you,¡± Leonard took his hand, fighting back a grimace. ¡°You''re not in charge, but you talk for the other men?¡±


    ¡°Aye, something like that,¡± Figgy cackled.


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    ¡°If no one is in charge, who are you supposed to be? A former mercenary captain, maybe?¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest. But I get me noggin straight,¡± he added, tapping his forehead. "And that''s enough to be doing the talkin'' around ''ere."


    "Right. So, it''s just you lot?" Leonard said, eyeing the men staring at them. "Everyone else left?"


    ¡°You got it,¡± Figgy nodded. ¡°No rulers. No leaders. Just free men.¡±


    ¡°Free men, huh? And how exactly do free men maintain their freedom when wargs come around here?¡± Leonard probed.


    ¡°If they come,¡± Figgy grinned.


    Glancing around at the cabins as the two men spoke, Clay noticed boards nailed across some of the doors and bolts protruding from some of them.


    ¡°Leonard,¡± Clay hissed.


    ¡°Not now, boy. Can¡¯t you see we¡¯re speaking?¡±


    ¡°Leonard!¡±


    ¡°Need to get your little acolyte pet in order,¡± Figgy chuckled. ¡°Going to be taking orders from a child soon, you are.¡±


    ¡°Just a moment,¡± Leonard flashed a smile and turned to Clay. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Something¡¯s not right here. They¡¯ve boarded up doors, and it looks like there¡¯s been a battle inside the traders'' post,¡± Clay whispered.


    Leonard turned to look around. ¡°Alright, boy, good catch. Maybe you¡¯re not so useless after all,¡± he whispered from the side of his mouth and stepped back toward Figgy.


    ¡°Put him in line, did ye?¡±


    In a flash, Leonard drew his blade and pressed it against Figgy¡¯s neck before he could react. The men around them inched forward, grabbing and raising their weapons, but Figgy raised a calming hand before anyone attacked, halting the reaction. ¡°What¡¯s going on here?¡±


    ¡°What do you mean?¡± Figgy hissed and took a step backward, but the sword remained pressed against him.


    ¡°The doors, why are they barred?¡±


    ¡°Just a little remodeling.¡±


    Leonard pressed the sword, drawing a line of blood.


    ¡°Fine, fine, just take it easy, ye mad dog.¡±


    ¡°Speak, and I¡¯ll consider it.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s just some guild members and tradesmen. They thought they would take everything back with them to the Imperium. But me and the boys weren¡¯t so keen on going back to slavery. We also need to eat and keep us¡¯selves warm,¡± Figgy shrugged. "Man''s gotta eat, ye understand?"


    ¡°Sounds tough,¡± Leonard said. "But you, why didn''t you say something sooner?"


    "We just simple folk tryin'' survive the winter and all that," Figgy grinned. "I''m sure a sellsword like you can understand us, huh, Leonard?"


    "You know me?" Leonard''s gaze thinned.


    "You caused a bit of a ruckus last time you came around here. Few of me boys want ye neck if I''m being honest. I doubt you''d get out of here alive if you were to cut me down."


    "And you''ll be dead."


    "I''ll be dead either way."


    "You sure you''re telling the entire truth? What about the battle that went down here?"


    "Just a little misunderstanding is all."


    ¡°He''s a liar!¡± Clay said.


    ¡°Oi, who you calling liar, boy?¡±


    ¡°Don''t worry about him,¡± Leonard turned to glare daggers at Clay. ¡°Look, I get it. No way I¡¯m going back to the Imperium, either. But it doesn¡¯t take a genius to see things are a bit messed up around here right now, and I don''t think you''re telling me everything."


    "What''s it to ya," Figgy hissed. "You weren''t ''ere, and neither was your Imperator."


    "Look, I can help. But you gotta start talking."


    ¡°How about you start? How ye think ye can help?¡± Figgy narrowed his gaze.


    ¡°Like I said, our leader is an Imperator. The only one that hasn''t led the north. He could probably help you all out here. Of course, we would need something in exchange.¡±


    ¡°Like what?¡±


    ¡°You mentioned blacksmiths and other tradesmen, right? They''re the ones you have locked up in those cabins?¡±


    ¡°Aye,¡± Figgy¡¯s eyes shifted to one of the boarded-up cabins. "Nice and tight like."


    ¡°Well, we need them, and I''m fairly certain you''re going to need food soon enough. Trading with us is probably the only way your lot survive what''s ahead."


    ¡°You want to trade with us?¡± Figgy asked with a raised brow.


    ¡°Not exactly. I don¡¯t think that¡¯s really fair. Your predecessors had wealth and connections and that put us on equal footing. The way I see it, this exchange isn¡¯t exactly even. You see, without us, you¡¯re kinda screwed. Sure, you might have your freedom for now, but what will you do when you run out of food? Not only that, but you¡¯ve taken Imperials prisoner. When all this clears up, your lot are going to be wanted men.¡±


    ¡°Pfft,¡± Figgy hissed and spat to the side.


    ¡°Take that attitude all you like; it doesn¡¯t change your situation. You¡¯ll either be imprisoned or killed when the Imperials return.¡±


    ¡°And what about you? Are you offering us salvation or something? Don¡¯t take me for a fool. I can recognize a cheap spiel when I see it.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. I¡¯m not doing you bastards any favors for free. But if you were to work for me¨C¡±


    ¡°Trade one master for another, baha,¡± Figgy laughed and was soon the men around them joined in.


    ¡°Hey, look, you can go at it alone if you want. But I suggest you be smart about it. We¡¯re not going to dictate how you run things here or tax all your crowns.¡±


    ¡°Hey, Figgy,¡± one of the armed men said, stepping forward. ¡°Maybe we should listen to him. He¡¯s kinda got a point. We¡¯re going to get ourselves killed out here without help.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I ain¡¯t wanna die either,¡± another shouted.


    ¡°Tis all Figgy¡¯s idea. He made us do it. Give him to the Imperators, and maybe they''ll let us off.¡±


    ¡°Calm down,¡± Leonard said. ¡°I¡¯m not accusing anybody of anything. I¡¯m not with the Imperium. I¡¯m just offering you a chance at something better.¡±


    ¡°What do you mean we''re not with the Imperium?¡± Clay said. ¡°Of course we are. We serve an ordained Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Boy, you¡¯re a bit slow, aren¡¯t you? Like I said back in Winterclaw, that ship sailed a long time ago. Now, be quiet if you wouldn¡¯t mind.¡±


    Clay huffed and gritted his teeth. He didn¡¯t particularly want to cause them problems, but lying about who they were seemed sacrilegious. However, a crooked look from one of the dirty men sent him flinching backward.


    ¡°Fine, take the sword away from my neck, and we can talk,¡± Figgy said, eyeing the blade.


    ¡°Finally, you''re seeing some sense,¡± Leonard said, lowering the sword. ¡°Good to see.¡±


    ¡°Alright, spit it out then. What are you offering?¡±


    ¡°Our leader is always looking for good men, and from the sounds of it, you¡¯ve imprisoned all the remaining tradesmen, right?¡±


    Figgy nodded slowly.


    ¡°Well, we can take them off your hands, and in return, you¡¯ll secure our alliance.¡±


    "And we won''t have to work for you?"


    "Correct. But I need those tradesmen and anyone else you have locked up if you want this deal," Leonard said.


    "Not the whores," a man whined.


    ¡°You can¡¯t make alliances without asking the Imperator!¡± Clay interrupted.


    ¡°I said shush it, boy,¡± Leonard hissed. ¡°Don¡¯t listen to the kid. The Imperator will listen to me.¡±


    "Tell him, Figgy, he can''t take the whores."


    "You heard the boys," Figgy shrugged.


    Leonard glanced around. "Do you want this deal or not? Freedom and your lives; don''t get greedy now."


    ¡°And what if I don¡¯t want you to take them tradesmen? After all, their skills might be useful to us," Figgy said.


    ¡°Then no trade and no protection,¡± Leonard stared the man down. "And when your men get hungry, that''ll be on you."


    ¡°Just hand them over, Figgy.¡±


    "If them whores are going with them, so am I," an armored man grunted.


    ¡°Yeah, I ain''t getting myself killed over those bastards in the cabins,¡± another crossed his arms. "We already running low on wheat, we are."


    "So?" Leonard raised a brow. "Have we got a deal?"


    ¡°Fine,¡± Figgy growled. ¡°But you better make good on it," he added, extending a hand.

 59. New Power

    ¡°Hand me those herbs,¡± Mira snapped, jolting Erald from his musing.


    ¡°Here,¡± he said, passing the stack of mixed herbs across the crowded benchtop.


    Huffing, Mira snatched them from his hand and ground them into a mortar and pestle, grunting angrily with each movement.


    ¡°Are you okay?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m fine, Erald.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t look fine,¡± Erald grimaced.


    Swinging around, Mira grabbed a ladle, scooped broth from the bubbling pot behind her, and poured it into the herbs she was grinding. ¡°I told you. I¡¯m fine, Erald. Don¡¯t make me say it again.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s the new healer, isn¡¯t it? That priest gives me the creeps. But you have to admit, he knows what he''s doing.¡±


    Mira looked up with a bent scowl.


    ¡°Sorry,¡± Erald swallowed and dropped his gaze down to the herbs he was sorting through.


    ¡°Where¡¯s the goddess when you need her,¡± Mira sighed and shook her head. "It''s all hopeless."


    ¡°The goddess?¡±


    ¡°We healers of the Imperium follow the guidance of the Star Goddess, or had you forgotten?¡±


    ¡°Oh, right¡­ it''s just, you know.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine. I know what you''re getting at.¡± Mira sighed. ¡°It means nothing to most Imperials¡ªjust words. But unlike you, I was raised in a Star Covenant. This, this healing gig, it means more to me than just a job. I was raised for this. Worked hard and followed the teachings as they were taught to me. All of that. Everything I know, and that young priest comes here and makes me look like a fool.¡±


    ¡°Right, I remember you mentioning that,¡± Erald said. "I''m sorry, Master Mira."


    ¡°It''s not your fault. It just makes me feel like a joke. Her power hasn¡¯t been seen in a thousand years, yet we keep following her teachings, hoping that she will return and bless us with her power,¡± Mira slumped.


    ¡°Maybe she will. Gods have been gone longer, I¡¯m pretty sure,¡± Erald said, scratching the side of his head as he questioned the words that had just come from his mouth.


    ¡°Yeah, maybe¡­ oh well. I''m supposed to be a master; there''s no time for dwelling on this like this. Forget I said anything. For now, it looks like we¡¯ve been reduced to assistants for that priest.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, I guess so,¡± Erald shrugged. She was referring to the order that had been given to them by their Imperator to provide the priest with whatever he required for his healing practice.


    "You suck at comforting a woman; you know that, Erald?"


    "I do?" Erald pointed at his chest.


    "It''s fine. But probably something to work on before you find a girl and settle down."


    "Right," Erald nodded and crooked his head. "Comforting a woman?" he mumbled to himself as he continued to work.


    **Imperator**


    Whenever they had free time, Mark and Payon poured their hours into assembling the primitive steam engine for which they had built the parts. It was no easy task, and inefficiencies were discovered with every trial.


    After about a week of trial and error passed, they managed to improve the steam engine enough so that it created enough pressure to pump the pistons fast enough to be useful. During this time, others had assembled a mill and were ready to put it into action once the engine itself was ready.


    No one knew what to expect besides Mark and Payon, but that didn¡¯t stop a crowd of commoners forming that filled every inch of the streets. The people were just excited to see what had consumed so much of the Imperator¡¯s attention.


    Shoveling firewood into the furnace and pumping the billows, they strengthened the flame. Whistling steam sounded from the valves, and gradually, the mill began to chug into life.


    The flywheel turned, and the stone began to grind. A moment later, commoners pulled on a hatch, ans sent chopped bark down to the stone. From across the crowd, gasps sounded as they watched the machine effortlessly ground the bark into a powder.


    The people didn¡¯t need to have a fancy explanation about the value of the new mysterious machine to know this was important. Many of them had spent many days grinding down rigar bark to be boiled, and seeing it done so easily was all the demonstration they needed. In an instant, this had removed the most painful task of the entire process, and from the looks of it, a single mill would produce more rigar flour than the combined manual labor of all the mothers within Fort Winterclaw.


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    Mark sighed with relief, watching the machine work through the bark. They needed to get their food production back on track after being stalled by the invasion, or they would risk running out. But he knew how important it was to continue arrow production after they had run out so quickly in the battle. And arrows were just the start. He wanted to free up as many people as he could to prepare them for their enemy.


    Unfortunately, to keep industrializing, they would need a lot more iron and metal in general. Even so, freeing up the wasted manual labor of a couple hundred women was no small achievement.


    This took Mark to his next problem. Looting enemies and scavenging for metal slags had been fine during the fort¡¯s early days, but Mark could already tell that it wasn¡¯t going to be enough going forward.


    Even if he didn''t want to build more steam power, weapons, better and more protective armor, and a myriad of other things, he would need a more stable source of iron just to keep paying the fort¡¯s ever-increasing manpower. Of course, he didn¡¯t have to hire people directly, but to stop doing that would halt, or at least slow, the fort¡¯s economy and population growth.


    People far and wide were already learning about the guaranteed jobs Mark was offering, and it was bringing ferals from their surroundings toward them in mass. Considering his tiny population was ultimately his weakest asset, Mark knew he had to prioritize fixing that. If they were to survive against stronger enemies, building up their population wasn¡¯t just preferable but essential.


    Venjimin had been busy trying to recreate maps and anything else he could remember from his old temple, and Mark, figuring he could make use of these new assets, gathered with him and Henric in his new school.


    ¡°So, this is where you believe it is located?¡± Mark said, pointing to the half-drawn map they had sprawled across the timber table at the library''s center.


    ¡°Yes, I believe so. Well, not exactly. But it has to be somewhere around there, at least.¡±


    The map marked an old mine in Northern Vutland. To their knowledge, it hadn¡¯t been operated for centuries. One of the larger barbarian clans had once operated the mine, but it was abandoned when Imperial forts began to cover more of the Frontier.


    While iron had always been valuable in the Frontier, the mine wasn¡¯t very rich in metal. This, combined with cheap metal from the Imperium, reduced its usefulness. Even though the barbarians didn¡¯t trade directly with the Imperium, there were plenty of dubious trappers who were more than happy to trade instead of work. So, when the Imperials spread across the land, the mine became less and less profitable as it could no longer compete with Imperial Metal.


    But that didn¡¯t matter to Mark. He needed a reliable source, and besides, trade wouldn¡¯t be easy while the wargs were waging war across the Frontier. If it became cheaper to import in the future, he could deal with that problem when it appeared.


    ¡°We need to organize an expedition as soon as possible. First, I will take the throne ship to investigate, and if it is suitable, occupying the mine will be a priority.¡±


    ¡°I can get a few people ready,¡± Henric said, standing at the table beside Venjimin.


    ¡°Have them ready immediately. They will journey with me.¡±


    ¡°And me?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll be staying here this time, Henric. You¡¯re back to being in charge while I¡¯m gone. There¡¯s a lot to be done, and the moment I have completed this trip, I¡¯ll be heading off again.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re going somewhere else?¡± Henric curled a brow.


    ¡°We need to establish more trade, and the only way we¡¯re going to do that with the Frontier in the situation it currently is, is by connecting with people outside of it, which means taking the throne ship.¡±


    ¡°And you¡¯re the only one that can fly it,¡± Henric groaned.


    ¡°I won¡¯t be gone too long. Besides, you don¡¯t need me here to make sure every little task gets completed.¡±


    ¡°And what about the wargs? We''d have been overrun if you weren''t here during the defense against the cultists.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll make sure we¡¯re not at risk of being attacked before going anywhere, I promise.¡±


    ¡°So, it¡¯s decided then?¡± Venjimin interjected.


    ¡°Yeah, the Imperator said so,¡± Henric said.


    ¡°Okay, in that case, I will organize some of my students to come along. They will help you get to the site. Not only that, but I have trained them well. Hopefully, we can map the area better.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Mark said. ¡°Have them ready as soon as you can. I want to get a move on. We need to take advantage of the current situation while we can.¡±


    ***


    Mark stood beside the throne ship as two of Venjimin¡¯s students joined the two mercenaries he was taking and Elowen, who he had decided to take along. He figured that the quick-witted girl would be helpful when evaluating the mine, even if she was no expert. He also took one of Payon¡¯s apprentices. The master smith was his preference to take, but his work within Fort Winterclaw was just too valuable to sideline, even for a mission as important as this. He would just need to hope that the apprentice would be good enough to judge the ore quality. After all, as long as it wasn¡¯t extremely poor, it would likely be worth colonizing.


    "Imperator, a moment before you go, if you wouldn''t mind," Henric said, raising a hand.


    "Of course," Mark nodded.


    Secluded to an alley within sight of the throne ship, Henric cleared his throat. "Has something happened to your suit?" He said, eyeing Mark''s cuff.


    Mark followed the Arms-Master''s gaze, realizing the the suit''s cuff which was often visible beneath his coat wasn''t there.


    "It''s nothing."


    "Imperator, I know something has happened. You have my loyalty, and you don''t have to tell me now but know that I''ll expect an answer soon. You can''t expect me to follow you if you do not share things of this nature."


    "Right, I understand, Henric," Mark said. He was right. Mark owed it to the man, but he needed to think for a moment before he said anything. "When I return from this trip, I''ll tell you all about it, okay?"


    "Sure. I''ll hold you to that."


    "Please do," Mark nodded and turned back to the ship. "Right then, I better leave."


    With everyone and their supplies onboard, he pulled the throne ship up and into the sky and pointed the ship in the direction they believed the mine was.


    The people of Fort Winterclaw waved and cheered as they watched the ship disappear into the clouds.


    **Caravan**


    Only hours after Mark and his party had left, the caravan that had left for Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post returned.


    Clay and Leonard led the newcomers, totaling nearly fifty people, including many with skilled trades.


    The wall was abuzz with activity as people rushed to greet them, and before they even reached the wall, many knew what this would mean in the short term¡ªmore work. The Imperial district would be packed full of cabins if all of these people were to move into it.


    There was an unspoken understanding throughout the Fort that soon, Imperials and commoners would need to integrate more intimately than they had so far. But everyone also knew how important numbers were.


    The battle had been a wake-up call, one that had kicked people''s survival instincts into gear.

 60. Mine in the Distance

    Venjimin¡¯s maps proved imperfect¡ªas expected¡ªand resulted in a lot of back-and-forth flying across the land before Mark spotted the mine¡¯s entrance.


    Set on the side of a mountain overlooking the remains of a settlement, the mine¡¯s mouth was a small clearing with a couple of abandoned mine carts almost entirely buried by snow.


    Mark had almost missed the site at first, only just spotting the former settlement¡¯s foundations and a crumbling stone temple through the snow. Turning his ship toward the ruins, he flew over at low altitude and just barely managed to spotlight reflecting off the edge of an old mining cart.


    This has to be it.


    The spot was close enough to where Venjimin noted, and the cave tunnel delving into the foot of a mountain with a short terrace overlooking the once capital of a major barbarian clan was exactly as described.


    There was barely enough room, and the throne ship took up almost the entirety of the little terrace when Mark brought it down into a shaky landing.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mark said, pulling his hands free and dismounting his cockpit chair. ¡°Looks like we¡¯re here.¡±


    His crew unbuckled as he walked toward the hatch. Mark waited for them before opening it. He wasn¡¯t sure what awaited them in this abandoned mine and figured it was probably a good idea to have everyone ready before opening the hatch, just in case.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Mark eyed Elowen as they worked through a pile of belongings.


    ¡°Getting my things,¡± Elowen replied as she stuffed books and trinkets into her pack.


    ¡°Do you really need all that? It could be dangerous in there.¡±


    Elowen looked up with a glare that softened into a forced smile as she caught Mark¡¯s eyes. ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll only take a few things.¡±


    What an obviously fake face.


    ¡°Are the rest of you ready?¡±


    The two mercenaries nodded and grunted, swords drawn and held at the ready.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the acolyte smith apprentice barked, straightening into a salute.


    ¡°Ye, I am, boss man,¡± one of the students Venjimin sent with them said.


    Okay, that¡¯s new.


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark waved toward the hatch. ¡°Let¡¯s get a move on then.¡±


    Icy wind whipped up around them as they stepped out of the throne ship. Mark waited at the mine¡¯s mouth; his hand held slightly up at the ready while waiting for the others to gather around.


    ¡°Only got two notepads,¡± Elowen huffed, stepping up to Mark¡¯s side. ¡°We better not make a too valuable discovery. I would hate to miss the chance to record what we find.¡±


    ¡°You can always come back, Elowen.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure you realize how busy I am these days. I just have to hope the acolytes I left in charge don¡¯t let the whole thing fall apart while I¡¯m gone.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll do a fine job. We also have Venjimin¡¯s cartographers here. We''ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°You call them cartographers?¡± Elowen narrowed her gaze on the two scruffy-looking feral students as one of them picked his nose down to his knuckle. ¡°Can they even read?¡±


    ¡°You know what? I¡¯m not sure,¡± Mark said. ¡°But I trust Venjimin. If he thinks they can get the job done, I¡¯m sure they¡¯ll be fine.¡±


    ¡°Suuure, if you say so,¡± Elowen said.


    ¡°Alright, alright,¡± Mark turned around to his party. ¡°Are we all ready?¡±


    A variety of affirmatives followed, and Mark stepped toward the mine entrance.


    "Let''s see what this thing has for us."


    The party at the entrance lit several touches, fighting back the dark and revealing the narrow passage beyond, but Mark kept his hands free. He wanted his lightning at the ready.


    A few dozen yards in, they came to a rotting timber wall, the remains of a door once connected to it lying on the ground with mushrooms growing from its rotted wood.


    ¡°It''s certainly been a while since anybody came down here, from the looks of it,¡± Mark mused as he stepped through the passage.


    ¡°Creepy,¡± Elowen said as she followed.


    ¡°Human remains,¡± one of the mercenaries said, poking a skeleton sitting against the cave¡¯s wall with his sword.


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    ¡°Not very reassuring,¡± Mark muttered. ¡°At least it looks old. Let¡¯s keep moving. Whatever happened to this person clearly happened a long time ago.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± the other mercenary said, knocking another skeleton over with his sword and following.


    The tunnel continued for a couple of dozen yards before opening up into a larger cavern, which the path continued to skirt around the edges of as it spiraled down.


    They walked the yard-wide ledge with a rock wall to their left and a drop that disappeared into darkness to their right. Rubble slid under Mark¡¯s foot as he stepped, sending several pebbles and small rocks tumbling down to the cavern beneath and freezing him in place.


    ¡°What happened?¡± One of the ferals asked.


    ¡°Shhh,¡± Elowen hissed, turning back to the man at the rear with a finger pressed against her lips.


    Mark listened for a long moment before whispering, ¡°Let¡¯s continue. I''m fairly certain the mine is abandoned anyway.¡±


    At least, I hope so.


    The rocks took a long time to hit the ground, and the echo they sent back sent a chill tracing down Mark¡¯s spine, but nothing else happened, and there was no sign of anything living down here, so he continued to walk cautiously.


    The path continued to wind down, tracing the cavern''s wall several times on its spiraled pathway to the bottom.


    Elowen swallowed, and Mark turned to spot her shivering. It wasn¡¯t warm down here, but they were dressed for a Frontier winter, and it certainly wasn¡¯t as cold as the surface.


    ¡°You okay?¡±


    She shook her head and tightened the book she held to her chest.


    Torchlight illuminated old mining carts and skeletons, but they spotted no weapons or any signs of a fight.


    Maybe they were just left down here or something¡­ or maybe these are the remains of ferals that sought refuge in the cave and passed away peacefully. It is pretty cold out in the Frontier; there wouldn¡¯t be anything particularly strange about that.


    ¡°Okay, we may as well set up camp here while we test samples,¡± Mark said, turning to one of the Imperial mercenaries. ¡°Go collect more wood from the ship. We¡¯ll set up a fire here,¡± he added, pointing to the cavern''s center.


    ¡°Will do,¡± the man nodded, dropped the gear he had brought with him, and turned to make his way back up the path.


    Elwoen set her own equipment down, brought out a book, and began writing down what they had found so far.


    ¡°And you, can you start the fire?¡± Mark said to the second mercenary.


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the man said, albeit with a tinge of snarkiness that set him apart from the acolytes.


    ¡°You two,¡± he turned to the ferals. ¡°Start mapping out the cave and how we got here, but keep an eye on our surroundings, okay?¡±


    The men nodded, and Mark turned to the young apprentice smith. ¡°Check the carts for rocks containing metal. We¡¯ll see what we can learn of the mine from this chamber and then consider investigating the deeper chambers based on what we find.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir!¡±


    Mark hoped he was right about the mine being abandoned because they didn¡¯t have any means to fortify the cavern. If something was down here, it would mostly be up to him to defend the party.


    The mercenaries did rounds up and down for a few hours, bringing their supplies down into the mine.


    Mark didn¡¯t care about trying to hide the ship. They had spotted no signs of life near the mine or abandoned settlement above, and every bit of information they had said that the wargs were gathered into the armies that were attacking the south, so there was no reason to suspect anyone attacking from above.


    None of that calmed people and the unease in the camp was undeniable, but once the fire burned brightly, spirits rose a little.


    The apprentice gathered and cracked rocks, visually inspecting them. He poured vinegar onto some of them and checked the reactions as he tested their worth.


    ¡°So, how¡¯s it going?¡± Mark asked.


    ¡°There¡¯s definitely metal down here,¡± the apprentice nodded. ¡°But I suppose we already knew that.¡±


    ¡°And? What kind?¡±


    ¡°I see signs of both iron and copper so far, but there could be more around.¡±


    ¡°Great. That''s a good start.¡±


    ¡°Yes, but the thing is, that only proves they were mining it. Without going into the shafts, we won¡¯t know how rich the remaining deposits are.¡±


    ¡°Right, I should have expected as much,¡± Mark said. ¡°How far away is supper?¡± he continued, turning to ask the mercenary working over the pot by the fire.


    ¡°Not long,¡± the man shrugged. "But don''t rush me. It''ll spoil the broth."


    ¡°Looks like food is close. Alright, we¡¯ll eat and recover a little then we can delve into the shafts and find out what this place has install for us.¡±


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Elowen ran from a corner of the chamber. Come, you need to take a look at this,¡± she waved him over.


    ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°Just come look,¡± she nudged her red curls toward where she had been writing notes.


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mark nodded and followed her to the cavern''s edge.


    Pointing the torch she held at the wall, Elwoen pointed out colorful drawings along the wall. ¡°See this?¡±


    ¡°What am I supposed to be looking at?¡± Mark said, eyeing the cave wall drawings.


    ¡°Cave drawings, obviously. But look how primitive they are.¡±


    ¡°Yes,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°And?¡±


    ¡°Barbarian artwork might not be as advanced as ours in the Imperium, but they don¡¯t look like this.¡±


    ¡°They don¡¯t?¡± Mark furrowed his brow.


    ¡°No. Absolutely not. I¡¯ve read about cave art like this. Imperial scholars think it is the work of ancient civilizations. Long before anything we built.¡±


    ¡°Okay¡­¡± Mark said slowly. ¡°And what exactly does that mean? We are in a cave. Is it really surprising that some ancient civilization once lived down here?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, but that¡¯s the problem. These drawings are not ancient. Look,¡± she said, pointing at the canyon-like material flaking away from the wall. ¡°See this?¡±


    ¡°I do.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t get this on ancient artwork. These shavings are from whatever they used to paint the wall. Now, do you see how the shavings hang to the drawings like this? It means they are fresh, relatively speaking. If this was thousands of years old, they would have fallen away by now, leaving a somewhat smooth surface.¡±


    ¡°So, you think some primitive creatures painted this wall recently?¡±


    Elwoen shrugged. ¡°I¡¯ve no idea. I just know it isn''t ancient and I doubt a feral drew this.¡±


    Mark turned to glance around the chamber.


    "Could they still be here?"


    "That''s what I want to find out," Elowen said.


    "What do you mean?" Mark swung back around to her.


    ¡°I better go get the rest of my books from the ship. This could be the discovery of a lifetime,¡± Elwoen said, waving as she ran toward the path leading up and out of the mine.


    ¡°I thought you were scared?¡±


    ¡°I was,¡± she said. ¡°But an inquisitive mind needs to be strong,¡± she turned to nod. "I''ll be back in a few minutes."


    Just when I thought she couldn¡¯t get any weirder.


    Mark turned to the half dozen shafts that were connected to the central chamber they were within. The idea that some primitive civilization might be down here set alarm bells ringing, but he also couldn¡¯t just walk away from this potential asset. Too much was riding on this trip. It was exactly what they needed.


    Damn it, we¡¯re going to have to see this through, aren¡¯t we?


    Exhaling, Mark thinned his gaze as he looked around. Suddenly, he go the feeling somebody was watching them and it gave him the creeps.

 61. Delve

    ¡°Master Henric,¡± an acolyte saluted at the door to the Arms-Master¡¯s cabin.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he waved, barely taking notice of the acolyte with his nose buried in papers at his desk.


    ¡°It¡¯s the new arrivals¡­ and the ferals,¡± he swallowed.


    ¡°And?¡± Henric rose from the papers with a raised brow.


    ¡°It¡¯s getting heated. A few mercenaries have stepped in to separate them¨Cbut you know.¡±


    Henric bounced up from his chair, grabbed his coat, and stormed straight out the door, followed a step behind by the acolyte.


    ¡°Like the God-lord¡¯s bastard son, I¡¯ll let this place collapse into a riot while the Imperator is off gallivanting around playing hero.¡±


    Temporary accommodation had been provided in the Low District for the influx of Imperials that came from the trader¡¯s post, and it hadn¡¯t taken long for friction to arise between them and the ferals they lived beside.


    ¡°What is going on?¡± Henric barked, wading through the surrounding crowd that had gathered.


    ¡°These barbarians have let their filthy spawn play by the entrance of our home.¡±


    ¡°Watch ye mouth, Imperial,¡± spat the feral across from the man, tightening his hold around his son''s shoulder. ¡°Me kids have always played there. Who ye new fellas think ye are? Ye can''t just march in ¡®ere and order us around!¡± The feral continued and spat at the man¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Why, you. Uncivilized,¡± the Imperial growled, grabbing the hilt of his sword at his belt.


    ¡°Enough!¡± Henric said, stepping between the two. ¡°Or I¡¯ll arrest the lot of you.¡±


    The Imperial glared at both the feral and Henric before stepping backward with a grunt.


    ¡°Have the lot of you lost your minds?¡± Henric shouted, glaring at the crowd. ¡°We just barely survived the last attack. You''re not that stupid, are you? Have you forgotten that the wargs are still out there? I would happily let you fools at each other¡¯s necks, but that would mean fewer men to hold the walls against our enemies. Think, damn it,¡± Henric spat, tapping forcefully on his forehead. ¡°User your freaking brains. If we survive the winter, then you can go wild. See if I care. But I will not sit back and let you make a mockery of this place with the treats that are breathing down our necks. Be responsible, damn it!¡±


    Silence followed for an awkward moment.


    ¡°Hear, hear!¡± A man shouted, and a second later, several others throughout the crowd followed, gradually growing into cheers.


    Watching amidst the crowd from afar, Trumus scowled and turned into one of the narrow alleys, followed by two armed men.


    **Imperator**


    ¡°Getting anywhere?¡± Mark asked Elowen, who scribbled notes as she studied the walls.


    ¡°No,¡± she shook her head. ¡°What are you expecting? I¡¯ve never seen any of this before. It¡¯s fun to study, but don¡¯t expect me to make any sense of it.¡±


    Right, this isn¡¯t a movie. Decoding a foreign language that is nothing but primitive drawings will probably take years.


    ¡°Well, good job,¡± Mark said, grasping for words.


    ¡°Right,¡± Elowen said and turned to him. ¡°Soo¡­ what¡¯s your plan now?¡±


    ¡°We need to figure out what¡¯s down here. Hopefully, we can ensure it¡¯s safe before bringing people here to mine the metals.¡±


    ¡°That would be wise,¡± Elowen nodded. ¡°Should we go on then? Not like we can figure much out remaining here.¡±


    ¡°We?¡± Mark crooked his head. ¡°I planned to leave you here with the others to watch the camp. It''ll be too dangerous for me to take you deeper into the cave until we figure out what''s going on here."


    ¡°Leave guarding the camp to the mercenaries. Look, you need me, and you know it. We''re not children.¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± the smithy apprentice cleared his throat and stepped up to the pair. ¡°What about me? I¡¯m the only one with the skills to evaluate the ore.¡±


    ¡°Great, so do both of you want to come with me? I''m about to go sticking my nose where it doesn¡¯t belong in a potentially dangerous cave. Doesn''t that concern you?¡±


    ¡°We¡¯ve already got no choice but to try and survive the winter, Imperator,¡± Elowen said. ¡°It¡¯s not like we¡¯re trying to charge off into danger; we''re already stuck in the middle of it. We just want to try and help. Try to do whatever we can to increase our chances of survival. Do you even know what you¡¯re going down there to find?¡±


    ¡°I ah¨C¡±


    ¡°Didn¡¯t think so. We''ve got skills, Imperator. Don''t leave us here to kick rocks.¡±


    ¡°Give me a moment to think about this,¡± Mark said, pacing the chamber.


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    He felt wrong dragging these kids into potential danger, but they were right. On account of being in the Frontier, they were already faced with near-impossible odds. Coddling them might just be more reckless than taking them with him.


    ¡°Fine,¡± Mark finally said, marching over to the two acolytes. ¡°Grab your stuff¡ªand you,¡± he added, pointing at Elowen. ¡°Keep it light.¡±


    Tightening their backpacks, the trio prepared themselves at the mouth of one of the tunnels leading away from the main chamber. They had picked it because of the wall art around it.


    Dotting almost every inch of the tunnel''s mouth, there were drawings of people and animals that they recognized, but nothing to make sense of what it might be trying to say.


    The group was following simple logic. More drawings probably meant a greater chance of finding whatever was in the cave, assuming there was something to find. Which would allow them to decide whether or not they stuck around.


    Mark took the lead with the acolytes at his back. He reminded himself that while they might only be teens, but they were armed with crossbows.


    Holding a torch in one hand and his other hand pointed down the cave and ready to blast anything that moved, Mark led them through the winding tunnel. It was hard to orientate themselves, but he was fairly certain they were going down.


    They stopped several times for the apprentice to test ore samples, gaining fairly consistent results. The strange part was that the ore was quite rich, definitely rich enough to justify keeping the mine open, considering the metal-poor people of the Frontier. This left a growing hole of doubt in Mark¡¯s gut. He needed to know why they would abandon such a valuable asset.


    ¡°There are traces of gold here,¡± the smith said, eyeing a rock he had split with the torch''s light.


    ¡°Gold? Seriously?"


    ¡°Without a doubt,¡± the acolyte confirmed. ¡°It¡¯s not much, but it could be a sign that there¡¯s more down here.¡±


    Something definitely happened here. A gold-producing mine in the Frontier would likely make us the wealthiest fraction of this frozen waste. There¡¯s no way a clan just abandons an asset like this.


    As they kept walking, the cave gradually opened up into another chamber. However, unlike the eerie silence above, they could hear the water of an underground waterfall crashing against the rocks and a subterranean river rushing through.


    ¡°Stay on your guard,¡± Mark commanded as they entered the chamber.


    The ceiling disappeared into darkness, the light from their torches being unable to illuminate the vastness of the cavern, and the end of it was nowhere in sight.


    ¡°Look, more cave art,¡± Elowen said, pointing to drawings across several large boulders jutting from the ground as they walked through the cavern.


    "Be careful," Mark said as they continued on.


    The two acolytes nodded in the darkness and followed.


    Mark raised a hand, halting the acolytes as he heard soft chatter in the distance, and carefully walked toward it.


    Spotting the warmth of firelight cast across the cavern wall, he turned to hand his torch to Elowen and continued alone in the darkness.


    A couple dozen yards later, he rounded a bend of rock. A half dozen figures sat around a campfire, its smoke trailing up and into the distant cavern ceiling.


    From what he could see, the creatures had disfigured underbites and were about four to five feet tall, with dark blue skin.


    Okay, they¡¯re definitely not human.


    Mark eyed the tools around them. They were sticks and rocks: primitive items with no sign of weapons in sight. Then again, if no one knew they were down here, maybe they didn¡¯t have a need for weapons. However, that didn¡¯t explain the mine being abandoned. How would these primitive creatures threaten a great clan? A great clan that no doubt had no shortage of iron weapons and probably even armor.


    Necklaces of bones and rags covered their skinny bodies, and they seemed completely oblivious to Mark watching them.


    Mark mulled over what to do. He didn¡¯t doubt for a second that he could blast the little creatures away with his lightning. No, if anything, that would be too easy. But what if they were peaceful? Besides the fact that he didn''t want to go around making new enemies, he didn¡¯t particularly want to go around slaughtering sentient creatures either. At least not unless he had to.


    Think, damn it. There has to be a better solution.


    Stepping out and saying, ¡°Hey, guys, I¡¯m over here,¡± didn¡¯t seem like a great solution either. If an entire civilization of these things was down here, and he alerted them to their presence, that likely wouldn¡¯t end well.


    Mark felt a hum resonate from within, and his brow rose. It was the Lightning God, he realized. It was weak but unmistakable. The imprisoned god was trying to communicate with him.


    I can control the power of my lightning? Mark¡¯s jaw dropped, and he looked down at his gloved hands. It wasn''t words that entered his head, but just a sense of meaning.


    Strings of electricity sparked across his hands, and he felt himself gain a deeper understanding of the power he wielded. His command had been limited with the suit, but an intrinsic feeling told him that was no longer true. His control over the lightning had grown more intimate.


    Stepping out from the cropping of rock he hid behind, Mark raised a hand.


    This better work.


    Lightning shot out, but it wasn¡¯t the thunderous claps he had sparked cultists with. This blast was barely audible. It slammed into the crowd and doused them with streaks of cackling energy.


    A few grunts and gasps escaped their lips as they fell to the ground, convulsing, and Mark called his acolytes over to him as he ran out toward the camp.


    ¡°Quick, before they recover. Tie their hands and feet,¡± he ordered, and the two of them got to work without a word.


    Pivoting with his hand held high, Mark remained on guard as his acolytes secured the weird creatures.


    ¡°All done,¡± Elowen said, finishing a tight knot on one of their wrists. ¡°But what are these things?¡±


    ¡°I was kind of hoping you would tell me. You¡¯ve never heard of these things in any books? Or maybe something similar?¡±


    ¡°Never¡­¡± Elowen shook her head. ¡°But Imperial knowledge of the Frontier isn¡¯t necessarily the best.¡±


    ¡°Great, so we have no idea what these little guys are?¡± Mark groaned.


    ¡°They don¡¯t look like warriors, though,¡± Elowen added. ¡°They don¡¯t look particularly strong, either.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark nodded, eyeing their thin arms and soft, meek builds. ¡°I thought so myself. Also, how would these creatures, with their primitive tools, threaten what should have been a very powerful barbarian clan?¡±


    ¡°I doubt they could have. Unless they came into the caves after the clan had already left, or maybe their civilization has greatly regressed since then.¡±


    Mark noticed that a heavily walked path led away from the little camp, where the rocks had been worn down to match the creature¡¯s feet.


    ¡°Look,¡± he pointed. ¡°They¡¯ve been here a long while from the looks of it.¡±


    ¡°Agreed,¡± Elowen nodded. ¡°That path has likely been here as long as that settlement above. Not that I''m an expert or anything. But didn''t Venjimin''s books suggest that the settlement has only been abandoned for a couple hundred years? Surely, that path is older than that.¡±


    ¡°Something like that," Mark nodded. "So, it seems like it is reasonable to believe that even if they weren¡¯t directly responsible for the clan leaving the mine, they were at least here¡ªin all likelihood.¡±


    ¡°Exactly.¡±


    ¡°Acolyte,¡± Mark swung around to the smith apprentice. ¡°Go get one of the mercenaries. We¡¯ll have him set guard here while we continue deeper.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the Acolyte saluted and ran off in the direction they had come.


    ¡°You want to go deeper?¡±


    ¡°Of course I do. None of this makes any sense. And we can¡¯t just ignore a mine with iron, copper, and possibly gold. This could be our key to not just surviving the winter but thriving through it,¡± Mark said.


    ¡°I hope you¡¯re right,¡± Elowen swallowed, but her tight grip on her notebook indicated her hunger for knowledge was winning the battle against her growing fear.


    "Let''s make Fort Winterclaw rich," Mark grinned unsteadily.

 62. The Mine

    Once the mercenary arrived at the camp, Mark and Elowen delved deeper into the cave. Mark decided to leave the smithy apprentice to test ore samples in the cavern while the mercenary guarded the camp.


    They had attempted to talk to the weird creatures when they awoke from Mark¡¯s lightning but quickly realized that neither of them understood the other and gave up.


    The heavily walked path zigzagged down the chamber before reaching an underground chasm with a simple rope bridge across it.


    Mark had tried to convince Elowen to stay behind, but as expected, she insisted on following.


    ¡°Not looking forward to heading back across that thing,¡± Mark said, holding the torch in his hand and patting himself down. "It''s a miracle we both made it across."


    ¡°Wowee,¡± Elowen huffed, her pupils huge like saucers filling her eyes. ¡°That was¨C¡±


    ¡°Calm down,¡± Mark said. ¡°Save some of that energy for what¡¯s ahead.¡±


    Elowen nodded anxiously.


    ¡°Look, more bones,¡± Mark said, kicking at the ground. ¡°These bones look like they belong to animals, though.¡±


    The bones covered almost every inch of the platform that jutted out over the chasm, beyond which was another passage.


    ¡°Indeed,¡± Elowen said, squatting down to examine a bone. ¡°Probably the remains of what those things you captured eat.¡±


    The rope bridge made a retreat difficult if they came across a large number of enemies beyond. Still, Mark hadn¡¯t seen anything particularly threatening from the little monsters, even if the nature of the mine and the clan that previously owned it was quite bizarre.


    ¡°Well, no time like the present, I suppose. With any luck, we can figure out what those creatures are,¡± Mark said, leading Elowen into the following tunnel.


    ¡°What the¨C¡± Mark stammered after taking only a few steps into the cave tunnel. Shaking his head in disbelief, he ran his hand across the tunnel¡¯s walls.


    He didn¡¯t need a smith to tell him that the shimmering blue streaks glowing lining the walls and glowing softly were something special.


    ¡°What is that¡­¡± Elowen gasped, her words catching in her throat.


    ¡°No idea, but I have a good feeling about it,¡± Mark said as he took cautious steps forward.


    Gradually, the cave opened to another chamber lined with shimmering blue veins, giving the room the feeling of walking through an aquarium.


    The outline of a figure, lit up by Mark¡¯s torch, groaned and steadily rose as they took a step into the chamber.


    The figure turned toward them slowly. ¡°Why do you wake me? It isn¡¯t time for breakfast, is it?¡±


    ¡°Breakfast?¡± Mark murmured as the figure shook its head and long, snaking neck.


    ¡°You¡¯re not one of my servants, are you?¡± the deep but well-spoken voice said.


    ¡°Your servants? Who are you?¡± Mark said, stepping closer.


    With each step, the light of Mark¡¯s torch cast more light across the figure at the far end of the chamber, and its long, spiked neck and horned head gradually rose toward the ceiling.


    ¡°You haven¡¯t harmed them, have you? Hunting is such a bother,¡± the figure huffed and stood up. "I would have to punish you if you did."


    ¡°A¨Ca¡­¡± Mark''s brow curled.


    A long, dragon-like neck and head sprouted out from a scaled, humanoid body. However, even though the creature must have stood twice Mark¡¯s height, its humanoid body was only slightly larger than his, and a tail whipped at its back.


    "What are you?" Mark gasped in disbelief.


    ¡°A Dragonite,¡± It said lazily. ¡°It''s your first time meeting one of my kind, I suppose? And it¡¯ll be your last if you don¡¯t start explaining yourself. My servants really were quite good at what they did.¡±


    ¡°I¨CI¡­ I didn¡¯t harm those things in the chamber above.¡±


    ¡°Those things? Rude. Hovlings are not just things. Sure, they mightn¡¯t be the smartest of creatures, nor the hardest working, or the hardiest for that matter. But they have spirit. In a matter of speaking, at least. Don¡¯t misunderstand me; they¡¯re not spiritual, far from it. But they have spirit, if you know what I mean.¡±


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    ¡°Right,¡± Mark mumbled with a slack-jawed nod.


    ¡°Something the matter?¡± The dragonite raised a scaled brow and whipped its lizard tongue across its hard, scaly lips.


    ¡°You¡¯re just not what I was expecting to find down here,¡± Mark swallowed, looking up at the beast. ¡°Can I ask, did you kill the barbarians that once mined here?¡±


    ¡°Barbarians?¡± The dragonite tapped its lip. ¡°You don¡¯t happen to be talking about those greedy humans who mined those worthless metals above, are you?¡±


    ¡°The iron and copper?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it,¡± the beast nodded. ¡°An annoying bunch, really. I tried to work with them, but they wouldn¡¯t listen,¡± it added with a shrug. "I get quite irritable when little beasts refuse to see reason."


    ¡°What do you mean¡ªyou tried to work with them?¡±


    ¡°Just as it sounds. I have little need for those weak metals, but their incessant hammering drove me mad. The least they could do was to bring me food, but they refused. I tried putting up with it for a while before I finally drove them out. Then the little hovlings came looking for shelter from the cold, and we came to an agreement rather quickly. Some might look down on their cowardly habits, but it works perfectly well for my needs. But now you''re here. Threatening to ruin the peace I found.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not threatening anything,¡± Mark raised his hands. He wasn¡¯t about to bow to this Dragonite thing, but he didn¡¯t want to start a fight with a creature capable of scaring off an entire clan from a valuable mine, either. ¡°Your hovling friends are still alive and safe. I''m not here to get in the way of whatever agreements you have in place.¡±


    ¡°Good. Then hurry back to wherever you came. I¡¯m feeling a rest coming on,¡± the Dragonite yawned. "And tell my friends to get back to work. I''m sure to be hungry soon."


    ¡°Wait,¡± Mark stepped forward. ¡°Maybe we can come to an arrangement.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± The Dragonite paused mid-turn. ¡°What could you offer me that my little hovlings can¡¯t?¡±


    ¡°You want food, right?¡±


    ¡°Did you not listen to anything I just said?¡±


    ¡°I did. However, those little guys don¡¯t look like they can go too far. Or hunt particularly well. I could help get you food from all over the place in return for access to the resources here. Rabbit, deer, pork, you name it.¡±


    ¡°Interesting proposition. But why would you do such a thing? You''re not planning on digging, are you?¡±


    "Digging? You mean mining?"


    "Exactly," the dragonite nodded. "That infernal racket truly tested my patience."


    "Ah, well... Maybe a little, but we could keep the noise down."


    The dragonite huffed and blew flames from its nostrils.


    ¡°Okay, maybe not. But hear me out. I''m sure we can agree on something. How about we start with names?¡± Mark said.


    ¡°Alzuz,¡± the Dragonite said, its lips curling into a smile. ¡°And you, human?¡±


    ¡°Atlas,¡± Mark said, extending a hand but quickly dropping it when the beast failed to offer its own in return. ¡°I have a question. If you don''t mind.¡±


    ¡°Make it quick, human. You already test my patience."


    ¡°This blue stuff within your cabin, what is it?¡±


    ¡°Oh, so your greedy little eyes have taken an interest in it, have they?¡±


    ¡°I was ju¨C¡±


    ¡°No need to explain yourself, human. I understand your kind all too well. What you see lining my walls is the fabled metal adamantine. It is quite useful for shielding the walls of my home. You see, it can withstand the flames of my breath. It is quite frustrating to melt your living quarters, let me tell you. It took quite some time to find this place. And now that I have, I must say that I find myself quite comfortable.¡±


    Adamantine? Now, that sounds like something that could be a game-changer. But if this guy can melt cave walls, he probably isn¡¯t someone whose bad side I want to be on.


    ¡°What about in the tunnel leading here?¡± Mark questioned. ¡°There¡¯s quite a bit of it out there. Surely you don''t need all of it. Maybe we could reach an agreement.¡±


    "You have yet to even convince me that you''d be a better servant than my little hovlings, human, and yet you are so bold to ask for my adamantine?"


    "Only if we could come to an agreement," Mark said, taking a step backward.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Alzuz hummed. ¡°Perhaps I would be willing to allow you and your people to mine the metals above if you can prove your value to me. However, the adamantine is closer to my heart. I can''t see what you could possibly offer me, human.¡±


    ¡°Surely there¡¯s something? I''m a lord of my own land,¡± Mark pleaded.


    ¡°Maybe you could, maybe you can''t. I grow tired of this."


    ¡°What if we provided the greatest dishes in the world for you to try? Maybe that would tempt you, great and all-powerful Alzuz,¡± Elowen interrupted.


    ¡°Oh, I like the girl,¡± Alzuz licked at his lips. ¡°Greatest dishes in the world? That sounds kind of fun, I must say. But still, for adamantine, that seems rather cheap. You may have the iron and copper above in return for these so-called greatest dishes."


    "Great and powerful-"


    "Aaa," Alzuz raised a silencing finger. "Adamantine is nearly impossible to remove, and it would make a horrible amount of noise, interrupting my sleep. Not only that, but I doubt you have a forge capable of smelting the metal. Think on it. Or I can just keep relying on my hovlings.¡±


    Right, this stuff is probably nearly impossible to melt.


    "It''s fine," Mark said. "We''ll accept that deal. Let us mine the iron and copper above, and we will bring you food to try."


    ¡°Then it is a deal. But you will not touch this precious metal; to do so would bring my wrath upon you, do you understand?"


    ¡°Yes," Mark nodded. "We will leave your chamber untouched. I promise."


    I doubt anybody in the fort will know how to deal with adamantine right now anyway. Copper and iron is what we need. If something needs to be done about this, Alzuz, we can figure that out later.


    Mark turned to Elowen and motioned her to leave with him.


    "Don''t take too long with your offerings, either. It''s a great bother to be awoken by noisy digging. You should be grateful!" Alzuz called out as they walked back through the tunnel. "And send my hovlings down!"


    "What just happened," Elowen said.


    "We secured much needed metal."


    "But we could really use adamantine. The metal is said to be unbreakable. It could really help against the wargs."


    "So, you know about the stuff?"


    Elowen nodded. "I do."


    "Gather everything you can on it when you get a chance. I want to do some reading."

 63. Manpower

    Awkwardly untying the hovlings, Mark sent them on their way. Luckily, the meek little creatures didn¡¯t seem interested in a fight.


    He couldn¡¯t help but be curious over who wore down the stones, if not the hovlings. However, he wasn¡¯t too interested in pressing Alzuz for a history lesson, and he figured that the creature would have known if other threats had existed down in the mine, so he decided to leave it.


    After filling several bags with ore samples and staying several hours for Venjimin¡¯s pupils to map some of the caves, they prepared to leave.


    Elowen had wanted to study cave art and map what she believed to be the characters of the missing primitive civilization¡¯s language, but it wasn¡¯t hard to convince her to leave. After all, she knew how much work waited for her back at the fort.


    In the end, Mark promised to have Venjimin send somebody who could finish the job of mapping the language for her when they sent a party to set up a settlement, which was a priority Mark planned to resolve immediately upon returning to Fort Winterclaw.


    ***


    Touching down back at Fort Winterclaw, Mark immediately called Henric and Venjimin to a meeting in his cabin.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Henric said. ¡°I¡¯m not sure if you noticed on your way in, but we¡¯ve had an influx of Imperials join us from Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post. We now have a man for just about every trade¡­ and a growing night industry,¡± he grimaced.


    ¡°Night industry?¡±


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Henric cleared his throat. ¡°We considered shutting the girls down, but they¡¯re having a noticeably positive effect on the morale of the mercenaries and tradesmen that came from the trading post. Not to mention, it¡¯s fueling the economy. We¡¯re draining our coffers by directly paying so many people to expand the fort, and the girls have them spending said money, which they then spend on essentials for themselves, much of which we command a monopoly on, funneling a good portion of what we spend building the fort back into our own coffers."


    ¡°Ah, I think I understand,¡± Mark grimaced. He wasn¡¯t sure he wanted his budding nation to rely on less reputable income sources, but with the threat of the wargs, he wasn¡¯t about to sabotage what was working. ¡°That¡¯s fine. We¡¯re not in a position to be picky. If the girls are helping the economy, then let them. In fact, we should ensure their safety. Tell me, these girls are the same Imperials currently living in the Low District, right?¡±


    ¡°Yes, that is correct. We haven¡¯t space to invite all the new Imperials into the Imperial District yet. But cabins are constantly going up.¡±


    ¡°Right, have a few mercenaries patrol where they work. I¡¯d rather Trumus not have total control of security, especially not when Imperials are concerned,¡± Mark said. He didn¡¯t care so much for the Imperial¡¯s sense of superiority but was worried about the guard master¡¯s influence growing too powerful.


    ¡°Will do,¡± Henric nodded.


    ¡°We also need to organize a settlement party for the mine as soon as possible. We¡¯ll need guards, miners, support staff, and a chief. Can you organize that, Henric?¡±


    ¡°I can. But it¡¯ll thin our numbers of mercenary guards in the fort if we rely on them to settle the mine as well. And as for a chief, do you have someone in mind?¡±


    ¡°Send some ferals with them; that is fine. But none of Trumus¡¯ men. Let¡¯s restrain his influence on Fort Winterclaw. As for the leader of the mine...¡± Mark hummed. "Check with Payon. Hopefully, the master smith has a good idea of who would be the right pick. I would send someone I know to be loyal, but everyone has important jobs and don''t dare place an acolyte in command of grown men."


    " Good idea," Henric said. "I will see it done.¡±


    ¡°Also, tell me what would have happened to the trading post if all their skilled labor had come here?¡±


    ¡°Well,¡± Henric cleared his throat. ¡°We gave them all the furs and food we had stocked on the wagon in return for the manpower. We¡¯re currently preparing another wagon to send, but to be honest, I¡¯m not sure what goods of value they¡¯ll have to offer us.¡±


    ¡°And you believe they¡¯ll have interest in trading our furs now that the invasion has severed the supply lines to the Imperium?¡±


    ¡°No, of course not. We prepared a wagon full of food and other vital goods. They have no subsistent food production and are relying entirely on trapping and hunting. However, considering how dangerous the wilderness is becoming, their ability to extend themselves beyond their defenses is no doubt strained. I personally can¡¯t see any way they can continue to feed themselves properly. Especially once their stockpiles are drained.¡±


    ¡°Perfect. But scrap the wagon and fill my throne ship with the food instead.¡±


    ¡°Pardon?¡± Henric exclaimed.


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    ¡°I¡¯ll take it myself. But I won¡¯t just be handing them free food. From the sounds of it, we have already taken what we need from them. If they expect us to continue to feed them, they¡¯re going to have to work for me.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Henric scratched at his chin. ¡°With how desperate they have become, they might just agree to that.¡±


    ¡°And it¡¯s exactly what we need,¡± Mark continued. ¡°With the trading post under my command, we¡¯ll have successfully extended the influence of Fort Winterclaw. I want you to prepare a wagon to be filled with commoners but wait for my return before sending them to the trading post. The next part will be integrating them into our lifestyle.¡±


    ¡°Do you think that¡¯s wise, Imperator? We won¡¯t be able to support them from so far away if the Imperials decide to do something to them. Even here, the Imperials and ferals, they argue endlessly, and I¡¯ve only just managed to prevent bloodshed on multiple occasions.¡±


    ¡°Valid concern. But it¡¯s a necessary risk. If we leave them on their own, their integration won¡¯t be complete, and they¡¯ll become my followers in name only. In return, I¡¯ll also demand that they send some of their skilled warriors back to Fort Winterclaw, which should help to even out the populations a little more between Imperial and feral.¡±


    "Not a bad idea, but I can''t help but feel it is too risky."


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Venjimin raised a hand. ¡°I have another request. Would you do me the honor to hear my plea?¡±


    ¡°Go on, Tribune. Speak your mind.¡±


    ¡°Do you remember the temple I told you of? The one that I was dismissed from as the warlord in the south brought new clans into his command?¡±


    ¡°I do, yes.¡±


    ¡°Our scouts have informed me that it has been abandoned now. The federation recalled all of its guards in preparation for the battle against the Warg army. When the guards left, so did the imposter priests who were left to mind the temple. Now, all the knowledge of my people lies unguarded. Not only would its retrieval be of great aid to us, but it would be devastating if the wargs were to get their hands on it¡ªeither because they might destroy it or take advantage of it for themselves. I beg you to secure this for Fort Winterclaw, Imperator.¡±


    ¡°Hmm, not the best timing, but we can¡¯t leave valuable information to our enemy. It will go on my to-do list, but securing the mine and visiting the trading post must come first. As important as that information is, it won¡¯t win a battle in the same way that iron and manpower will.¡±


    "I understand," Venjimin bowed. "Thank you, Imperator."


    ¡°I¡¯ll have the men prepare everything immediately. Once your ship is stocked with the food for the trading post, I''ll send a runner,¡± Henric saluted.


    ¡°Perfect. Then you''re both dismissed. We¡¯re on the cusp of turning this whole mess around; remember that. We have no time to slack. If we pull this off, we might just survive all this.¡±


    ***


    In his cabin, Mark eyed a map drawn up by Venjimin. It labeled the outposts they were building and patrol routes of their scouts. Once Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post is added to it, they will have created a squarish sphere of influence in the central region of the Frontier.


    He might not have the ability to defend it all just yet, but that would come once they laid down the foundation.


    However, there was one more thing he needed to be built as a priority¡ªa proper training ground and military.


    Having some targets placed up against the palisade was fine for a start. But it wouldn''t do going forward. He wanted to progress into a disciplined and structured military, and that needed a suitable base of operations.


    Mark eyed a blueprint provided by the mason for the keep he had started building. The stone foundation for the keep within the Imperial District had been coming along nicely, but it was progressing too slowly.


    Scribbling on the blueprint, he made alterations to the keep currently being built to extend the current stone wall foundation to outside the wooden palisade that currently encompassed the Imperial District. The plan was to make room for a walled training courtyard.


    He then made wrote up proclamations. He would increase the salary for any masons who worked on the keep and invite the trolls to assist with the manual labor.


    The trolls were so much more than just warriors. Their strength was unparalleled, and with their help, stones could be moved into place much faster.


    Once he had completed the keep, he could move on to the plan''s second phase. Forming an elite order of soldiers¡ªno¡ªknights. They would have a headquarters that most throughout the Frontier would envy, and with it, he would provide a guaranteed income. The hope was not just to provide a training ground and accommodation for this new order but also to entice the fittest, best, and brightest to the orders'' ranks. To do that, he needed to offer something formidable.


    With his plans written up, Mark folded the notes and called for an acolyte runner to send them out.


    Now, he just needed to get a good meal before heading out again.


    **Trumus**


    ¡°Bossman,¡± a greasy-haired feral bowed before the short-statured Trumus, who sat in his throne-like chair.


    ¡°Spit it out,¡± Trmus groaned with a flail of his wrist.


    ¡°Tis the Imperator, he¡¯s back.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m aware, idiot.¡±


    ¡°The big fella has made new proclamations; he has,¡± the feral nodded enthusiastically as Trumus¡¯s scowl bent curiously. ¡°He says he founds a mine. He be recruiting fellas to go settle it, he is.¡±


    ¡°Is he?¡±


    The man nodded.


    ¡°Who are we sending? Make sure it¡¯s someone competent. That last fool almost got us into a world of trouble during the siege. Had his stupid plan worked, we¡¯d likely be dead by now.¡±


    ¡°Well¡ªthe thing is,¡± the man pulled on his dirty, cloth collar.¡±


    ¡°What thing?¡± Trumus narrowed his gaze on the man. "Speak."


    ¡°It¡¯s well¡ª¡±


    ¡°Speak, damn it!¡±


    ¡°The big man, he don¡¯t pick none of your fellas, boss,¡± the man said, flinching and raising his hands above his head as he cowered backward.


    ¡°None of my men? How? We are the guards. How is he going to defend that damned mine without the guards?¡±


    ¡°He be using them Imperials and a couple of nobodies from the Lows.¡±


    ¡°Nobodies?¡± Trumus growled, realizing that there was no mistake. The Imperator was intentionally dampening the reach of his influence.


    ¡°Something needs to be done about this,¡± he muttered to himself. ¡°Be gone!¡± he waved, dismissing the man who scurried off.


    ¡°What do we do, bossman?¡± A large, thick-browed man said at his side.


    ¡°We need to approach this carefully. I have been reckless and made the Imperator suspicious. There''s no more room for mistakes.¡±


    Trumus was happy to remain in the shadows and had no interest in opposing the wargs himself. Having the Imperator in command of the fort was a benefit, if anything. But he had been determined to grow his influence in the background. This, however, threw a wrench into his plans. Not just because he would miss out on growing his influence over an extremely valuable asset but because he realized he was exposed.


    He would have to lay low for now. Work on regaining the Imperator¡¯s trust. Then, once relations were repaired, he could continue to grow his shadow empire.

 64. Plans in Action

    Once the ship was loaded, Mark ferried his people across to the mine. He filled the entire rear of the ship and loaded twelve people. Four guards, six miners, one cook, and an Imperial miner with some basic smelting and metallurgy skills who Payon selected to act as the team¡¯s chief. The two had worked together in the past, and Payon knew him to be fairly capable.


    Since they had secured a relationship with Alzuz, Mark hoped that would mean the tunnels of the mine itself would remain fairly safe. Because of this, he ordered the guards to focus on keeping the entrance of the mine safe and instructed them to repair the timber gate at the mine¡¯s mouth. It obviously wouldn¡¯t stop an army, but a few men in a tight space and some kind of defenses would hopefully be enough to keep brigands at bay, should they find the place.


    Mark also planned to provide more manpower to the mine when he could, but he left the small party to start the operation. Once things were rolling, he would ferry more people across. However, every person not working within Fort Winterclaw meant fewer other projects or resources were being developed, and Mark had to be cautious with everything at stake.


    Another trip was required to transport goods to the mine since the party had a limited amount of goods they could carry in the first run.


    Once the mining camp was satisfactorily stocked with food and equipment, Mark returned to Fort Winterclaw.


    He then had the ship stocked with food for a visit to the trading post. However, taking so much of their food would be a setback. Fort Winterclaw and its surroundings were hardly a bread basket of the Frontier, which was becoming more and more evident as the population grew.


    Rigar bark was a great staple of the Frontier, eaten all across it, but it had its limitations. The trees themselves were quite common, and stripping the bark from one¡ªalbeit not entirely if you wanted to keep it alive for further harvests¡ªprovided quite a bit of food. The problem was regrowth. The bark regrew painfully slowly. This was rarely an issue in the sparsely populated and forest-covered Frontier. The dotted communities of barbarians could almost always find enough bark-covered trees to feed themselves. Thanks to the effort required to process the stuff and the small communities of people that lived on the Frontier, the idea of running out of bark was almost unthinkable. Unfortunately, neither of these was true for Fort Winterclaw anymore.


    Mark had mulled on this issue for a while now and knew he needed a solution to this problem. It was the second reason he had wanted to develop outposts. He could encourage his population to spread out if he could create a safe enough region around the fort. That way, their manpower could be focused on harvesting rigar bark, while the population in the fort itself could efficiently process it, allowing for a larger overall population.


    He also hoped to relieve this issue a little by transporting some of his people to the trading post. He would put them to work harvesting the bark and pay them a fair salary for doing so. With the efficiency of the steam mill to process the bark, he was guaranteed to profit in this exchange.


    Still, it was only kicking the problem down the road. He needed to expand their operations substantially if he was going to keep the fort self-sustainable. The region of stripped rigar trees around the fort was expanding every day, and soon, his people would spend more time traveling to find trees to harvest than they would spend actually harvesting them.


    There was also a need to build more wagons. Thankfully, dozens of horses had been retrieved from defeating the cultist army, and while the fort was far from being an equestrian powerhouse, it did have more than enough horses to power a few trade routes.


    Developing these trade routes had to be a major priority, as Mark was just too busy to spend all his time transporting goods on his throne ship from one place to another.


    Due to its distance from the fort, the mine would have to be a temporary exception to this rule, but once he stabilized the surrounding region, he intended to focus on connecting the two by permanent trade.


    Pushing through thick clouds, Mark spotted Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post. The structure surprised him. It wasn¡¯t as impressive as Fort Winterclaw in its current form, but it was considerably larger than the fort had been when Mark first arrived in this world. But it wasn¡¯t just the size of the camp. The palisades were taller and more imposing, and their overall defenses looked considerable.


    Mark brought the ship to a hovering standstill over the settlement for a moment, and he took it all in before gradually bringing it down.


    The trading post had quite a few cabins, and many of them were no doubt abandoned after so many people had left. In time, it would make for a good secondary settlement to develop, he thought.


    Dozens of men from throughout the trading post stepped toward the clearing at the trading post''s cente as Mark brought the ship down. He didn¡¯t sense any danger from them; what he felt was curiosity and hope.


    These men had essentially been cut off from the outside world with dwindling food supplies, and despite how much they might have cared about their freedoms once upon a time, the desperate looks on their faces made it clear they were gradually coming to terms with how bad their situation was.


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    Let¡¯s hope I¡¯m right about this; Mark thought as he climbed out of his seat and made his way to the hatch.


    He had only brought food on this trip and was alone. His people would arrive by caravan. However, despite this, he knew that even these so-called free men no doubt understood that no good would come from attacking an Imperator, even if Mark were no doubt a heretic by now and an enemy of the state once the war with the wargs was dealt with.


    But that didn¡¯t matter. Whether the men knew of what he was doing and had done, they would understand that taking such law into their own hands was above their station and likely to earn them a death sentence regardless of what Mark was accused of. Ultimately, civilians had no place imposing law on an Imperator, even if that Imperator was a fugitive and heretic.


    ¡°You the one,¡± one of the men pointed at Mark as he stepped out of the ship. ¡°The Imperator thems traders talk of. The one doing funny business with them ferals,¡±


    ¡°Funny business?¡± Mark raised a brow.


    What kind of rumors are people spreading about me?


    ¡°You heard me,¡± the man grinned. ¡°You got a taste for them. For them wild people,¡± he added, licking his lips.


    ¡°I have no idea what you heard, but I can guarantee it¡¯s not true,¡± Mark said, scanning the crowd of devious eyes glaring at him. ¡°Seriously. There¡¯s no funny business. We¡¯re just trying to survive the winter together.¡±


    ¡°Oh, survive the winter,¡± one of the men said, winking and nodding. ¡°Gets awfully cold out here. Gotta huddle up. Me and the boys know exactly what you mean.¡±


    ¡°You and the what? Wait, never mind. Don¡¯t answer that. My mind already went somewhere it didn¡¯t want to be. And no, I¡¯m not huddling up with the ferals. People in my fort are provided cabins if they work hard.¡±


    ¡°Sure, whatever you say, Mr. Imperator,¡± another man winked. ¡°Your secret is safe with us.¡±


    Jeez, nothing is getting through to these guys, is it? Whatever, this isn¡¯t worth continuing.


    ¡°Anyway,¡± Mark shook his head. ¡°This isn¡¯t why I¡¯ve come. We made a trade with you and provided you with food in the past.¡±


    ¡°Aye, ye did.¡±


    ¡°And since there doesn¡¯t seem to be much food production going on here, I¡¯m guessing you¡¯re running out.¡±


    ¡°Who ye think we are, Imperator?¡± a greasy man spat. ¡°We got hunters and trappers.¡±


    ¡°Shut up, Gerald. You''ve been sucking on the same meatless bone for two days now, and I¡¯m in need of a real feed. Something to fill me guts,¡± another man growled.


    ¡°Well, you¡¯re in luck. My ship is filled with food,¡± Mark said, eliciting growls of delight from the men. ¡°But,¡± he added, raising a hand. ¡°I can¡¯t just go giving it to you. You¡¯re going to have to agree to terms.¡±


    ¡°Terms?¡± a man snapped. ¡°Ye bastards already took all our whores. We ought to string you up for that, not agree to no terms with a fancy pantsy Imperator.¡±


    ¡°That was a fair trade that you agreed upon,¡± Mark said, pointing at the man. ¡°Besides, you can¡¯t keep going on like this. Even if I were to hand the food over for free, what¡¯s going happen when you¡¯ve finished it?¡±


    Confused grunts traveled across the crowd.


    ¡°You go hungry, that¡¯s what. Without a food source, this camp has no future, and sooner or later, you¡¯re going to have to run back to the Imperium begging for food.¡±


    ¡°Like the God-Lord¡¯s asshole, we will!¡± A scowling man stepped forward. ¡°I ain¡¯t bowing to no Imperials again.¡±


    ¡°Good, good, I love the enthusiasm,¡± Mark said. ¡°That''s just the kind of men we need. I want to invite you to work for me, and guess what? There¡¯s no bowing involved. You just have to keep doing what you¡¯re doing.¡±


    ¡°Ye gonna feed us for doing nothing?¡±


    ¡°Not exactly,¡± Mark said. ¡°I¡¯ll be expecting some of you to relocate to my fort. You¡¯ll be expected to work as guards. The rest of you can stay here and guard this trading post as you have been.¡±


    ¡°But?¡± Another man said.


    ¡°But,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°I will be moving some of my people here. This mash,¡± he added, pulling out a cloth sleeve that wrapped a ball of rigar mash from his pocket. ¡°Is the food you¡¯ve been giving you. It might not be the best, but it fills your stomach. And if we¡¯re to keep harvesting enough to feed everyone, we will need to spread out. The people I send here will be tasked with harvesting the trees around the trading post, and you¡¯ll be expected to keep this place safe.¡±


    ¡°And the catch?¡±


    ¡°No catch. The people I send here are going to be ferals, of course. But I don¡¯t see how that will worsen your current situation. Unless you prefer huddling up with the boys?¡±


    ¡°Count me in,¡± a large man stepped forward. ¡°Nigel takes up the whole bed, and the man¡¯s as hairy as a bison. Maybe we can get some feral cuties up in here.¡±


    They are creepers, the lot of them, Mark sighed internally.


    ¡°So, do we have a deal?¡±


    ¡°If I can go back to the fort with you, I¡¯m in,¡± a grizzled man with a thick beard said. ¡°I¡¯m sick of this shithole here. These assholes promised me freedom. Not whatever this is.¡±


    Okay, that was unexpected.


    ¡°Me too. You''ve got my sword as long as you take me away from this place. That sinking bastard Moe doesn''t stop farting. Our entire cabin smells like his ass.¡±


    ¡°Aye, aye!¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Mark waved as more hands shot up. "One at a time. Let''s figure this out."


    These guys really turned this camp to shit, didn¡¯t they?


    Within an hour, nearly eighty percent of the men at the trading post wanted to go back to Fort Winterclaw with Mark, but he had to figure out a plan to keep most of them at the trading post. After all, the fort could defend itself, and he didn¡¯t want to send people here to their deaths.  Not to mention, securing his outposts was vitally important.


    ¡°Okay, okay,¡± Mark shouted to calm the crowd. ¡°The weekly salary for guards at Frostwind will be an additional four coins, and I¡¯ll look into plans for bringing some of the services we have available in the fort back down here in time.¡±


    Mark¡¯s priority was still the fort. After all, if they needed to flee from their weaker positions in the wake of a warg army, it was still the best place to hold up by far. However, if spreading the wealth a little was the only way to make this work, he could make some compromises.


    It took another hour of haggling before they finally came to an agreement. In total, there were 156 men in the trading post, and 30 of them would travel to Fort Winterclaw with wagons left over from the traders and guilders that fled south.


    The additional salaries would put a strain on their already tightening finances, but if Mark could get the mine to produce a profitable yield quickly, then it would more than makeup for it.


    Saluting his new followers, Mark turned to board his ship. There were still too many loose ends he had to find solutions to, and wasting time wasn''t an option.


    But first, he would take a quick trip to the south. He needed to see how the war was faring. If either side was close to victory, then his economy building might have to be paused for the sake of battling their enemies, especially if the wargs appeared to be winning.


    Come on. Hopefully, we¡¯ve still got some time to figure things out before everything turns to shit again.

 65. Battle in the South

    Once the pieces were set in place, Mark took his throne ship south. Venjimin had provided a map of the barbarian federation camp and the temple.


    After scouting out the battle or potentially what was left of it, Mark planned to head to the temple and loot whatever they could find.


    With him, he took several mercenaries, a couple of Venjimin¡¯s students, whom the old priest had briefed on where to find everything of value in the temple and Callum.


    Mark had been surprised to learn that Henric had taken Callum as his apprentice, and since he didn¡¯t want to remove the Arms-Master from the fort while he was away, he figured that taking Callum on some missions would be the second-best option. It might also prove to be a good experience for the budding Arms-Master.


    The distance between Fort Winterclaw and the federation camp to the south must have been a couple of hundred miles, but Mark could cover it in hours with the throne ship''s help.


    After a relatively short flight, they were cutting through the clouds, and Mark spotted the endless rows of tents below. Their fortifications weren¡¯t like their fort''s, with high, spiked palisades; instead, they had a few lines of spiked blockades set at different angles. These defenses were not as complete or sophisticated, but the camp stretched on for miles and must have housed tens of thousands if not hundreds of thousands of people.


    Mark¡¯s eyes widened as he spotted the site of the battles. Flames burned ashen trees, and countless corpses littered the snow. From the looks of it, the two armies had met multiple times and fought across an expansive flat snow separating the two camps.


    Gliding over it, he tried to estimate the two armies sizes, but it was hard to make any educated guesses.


    Thunder snapped across the sky, brightening it with a blinding flash.


    ¡°Shit!¡± Mark exclaimed as the throne ship rocked violently, stealing his attention from the battlefield.


    His jaw slackened as his eyes caught the camera feeds from behind the vessel. There were two of them¡ªthrone ships. Their initial bombardment had missed, and they were charging for a second barrage.


    Where the hell did those two come from?


    He didn¡¯t have time to continue scanning the battlefield, but he got the impression from the arrival of throne ships that it was more complicated than he had first thought.


    In a desperate attempt to remove himself from danger, Mark was forced to pull on his controls, sending his ship spinning out of the crosshairs as two more bolts of lightning skidded past his ship, sending it rocking and the lights flickering out.


    The blasts hadn¡¯t been direct, but even their indirect power had managed to drain much of the ship¡¯s mage core, sending it hurling toward the ground.


    With a furious roar, Mark called on his own energy, sending his eyes sparking with blue electricity as he flooded power back into the throne ship. Jolting, the ship lurched back toward the sky, and the lights flickered back on.


    The two ships that had attacked him remained following but had eased off, assuming their work was done, and Mark drove his ship into a sharp-angled turn to confront them.


    His enemies had armies here, and facing them by himself wasn¡¯t a good idea. However, the ships that had engaged him had fired twice, and Mark knew that would weigh on their energy reserves. He saw two vulnerable assets in his crosshairs and couldn¡¯t ignore the opportunity.


    However, the ships also seemed to realize their predicament and swerved to change direction and take flight, forcing Mark to take chase.


    Unlike Mark, the Imperators piloting these ships were undoubtedly veterans, and when they realized he was chasing them, they broke formation and turned in opposite directions.


    ¡°Damn it!¡± Mark hissed as he was forced to pick a target to follow, turning after the throne ship to his left.


    Thanks to all the power he had flooded into it, his ship had more energy, but there was a limit to what he could provide, and he needed to make smart decisions if he wanted to catch it.


    Taking advantage of the power difference. Mark pushed his speed to close the gap between them. Firing now would be too reckless; one miss might consume enough energy to miss his opportunity.


    Come on, you bastard.


    The ship zigzagged across the snowy landscape, making it impossible for Mark to lock onto a good shot.


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    His eyes lit up again as he funneled more energy into his ship, and pushed its speed to the limit; closing the distance between them in seconds and ramming into the ship¡¯s side, sending it twirling toward the ground.


    Mark didn¡¯t wait. He knew how strong throne ships were and fired at the out-of-control vessel. One lightning blast wouldn¡¯t destroy it, but it would disable the ship¡¯s mage heart until he could recover the ship.


    The imperator who piloted the crashing throne ship pulled it up into a glide only a couple of yards from the ground, but the thunderous clap of lightning Mark shot at it sparked across the ship¡¯s metal hull, sending it lifelessly skidding toward the ground, and skipping across the snowy landscape.


    ¡°Gotcha,¡± Mark murmured and pulled his ship up to slow it, circling once before landing beside the crashed ship as it came to a grinding halt.


    Like his own ship during the siege of Fort Winterclaw, Mark was fairly certain that the Imperator wouldn¡¯t even be able to open the hatch of his own ship after eating the blast Mark had landed.


    Landed beside the hostile throne ship, Mark bounced up from his seat, charged straight across to the hatch, and slammed the button.


    ¡°Orders, Imperator?¡± Callum said, unbuckling and following him with a determined focus in his eyes.


    ¡°What is this madness?¡± One of the mercenaries shouted. ¡°Are we enemies of the Imperium now?¡±


    ¡°Shut up,¡± Mark hissed as he stepped outside.


    "You ''eard him," one of Venjimin''s feral''s cackled. "Shut ye mouth, Imperial."


    ¡°Remain inside,¡± Callum turned and pointed at the mercenaries with a bent scowl before following Mark outside. ¡°And wait for orders!¡±


    Stepping out into the snow, Mark looked around. He knew they had little time but couldn¡¯t turn down such a valuable prize. If the other throne ship returned to wherever it had come from, there was a possibility more throne ships might come, especially if these ships were part of an army engaging the wargs, which could explain why the barbarians hadn¡¯t been overrun by the wargs yet.


    ¡°Imperator,¡± Callum said, trailing behind. ¡°Do you have orders for me?¡±


    ¡°Keep an eye out, and warn me if you see anything.¡±


    ¡°Will do,¡¯ Callum nodded and drew his sword.


    I wonder if this will work¡­


    Mark walked up to the disabled throne ship, placed his hands against it, and channeled his energy through it.


    The moment his electronic energy connected them, he felt the lightning god enter his subconscious. It was guiding him, helping him use his power to connect to the ship¡¯s mage heart.


    Mark¡¯s eyes lit up again, and the throne ship¡¯s hatch began to grind open.


    ¡°If worked,¡± he gasped, letting go of the ship and raising¨C


    A crackling lightning bolt shot out, slamming against his chest and flinging him dozens of meters back through the snow.


    "Imperator!" Callum shouted.


    Spattering blood, Mark dizzily shook his head and tried to make sense of the spinning world around him.


    ¡°Prepare to feel the law of the Imperium, heretic,¡± growled the Imperator as he marched out from the downed throne ship and across the snow toward Mark with a ball of lightning hovering above his palm. ¡°With the edict of law passed down to me as an Imperator of the Imperium, I pass judgment on you, Heretic Atlas. Now die!¡±


    Lightning shot out, electrifying Mark¡¯s body and sending it into violent convulsions, melting the snow around him.


    ¡°That sucked,¡± Mark groaned as the electrifying power receded from him.


    ¡°What?¡± The Imperator gasped. ¡°How are you¡­¡± he trailed off, shaking his head in disbelief.


    Pushing himself up, Mark rose into a seated position just in time to eat another lightning bolt that shook his body and sent blood trailing from his nose. The pain was excruciating but not deadly, to his surprise, and Mark looked down at his trembling hands as energy washed over them.


    The Imperator¡¯s expression twisted into one of pure fear as Mark raised his hands, and with a crackling blast, lightning flashed between them in an instant, shooting the man backward, instantly stiffening his body and blackening his flesh.


    The God of Lightning¡­ he¡¯s made me resistant to it, hasn¡¯t he?


    Climbing to his feet, Mark felt the chill bite through his skin as his charred clothing fell away.


    ¡°Im-Imperator,¡± Callum stammered, pointing at Mark and looking away. ¡°Your clothing¡ªit¡¯s ah¨C¡±


    Mark ignored him and walked to the corpse.


    The Imperator¡¯s clothing was equally destroyed, but the suit was intact. He could feel the desire to consume the mage heart within the suit. There was a thumping deep within him that told him he would become stronger if he did. But couldn¡¯t. He had to defy his patron god for now. Without the suit, they had no way to recover the ship, and they couldn¡¯t just leave it.


    Mark could consume the ship''s mage heart as well if he wanted to. But another ship to help connect his fledgling nation was too much temptation to pass up.


    ¡°Acolyte Callum.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Imperator,¡± Callum swallowed.


    ¡°Dress yourself in the suit and leave your clothing for me.¡±


    ¡°Sir?¡±


    ¡°Do as I command!¡±


    Callum flinched and immediately began undressing, passing Mark his clothes as he made his way to the Imperator''s corpse and began putting the suit on.


    ¡°You¡¯re going to have to pilot the ship back to Fort Winterclaw,¡± Mark said as he pulled the clothing on. ¡°Think you can handle that?¡±


    ¡°Sure... but I have no idea how to fly one of these things. Is that wise?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t worry. It comes naturally once you have the suit on. Just go with your instincts and follow me.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± Callum nodded as he buttoned up. "I''ll try."


    ¡°Alright, that''ll do. Take your ship, Acolyte. We¡¯re going home," Mark said, sending a jolt of energy into the downed ship before turning back to his own. "That should be enough power to get us some distance away from here. We''ll find somewhere safe and bring them down to recover."


    "Yes, sir," Callum saluted and entered the throne ship.


    Pulling his own ship up into the sky, Mark watched Callum¡¯s shaky takeoff, lurching back and forth a couple of times and taking out a row of trees.


    He couldn¡¯t believe their luck. But it also troubled him. If these Imperators had been part of an army, then not only did the Imperium know about him and his heresy, but he had now proven himself as a real threat to them.


    This isn¡¯t good. We¡¯re going to have to move fast.


    He couldn¡¯t let them beat the wargs, Mark realized. Even if he was resistant to their lightning, there were limits to it, and his people weren¡¯t.


    Ultimately, there could be no mistake. The Imperium was a far greater threat than the wargs, and Mark realized that he might have just royally screwed up by confronting them.


    We''re not ready for this, are we?

 66. Spoils of War

    Charging into the command center of World¡¯s Edge Citadel, a bald, square-jawed Imperator made his way up to the planning map that Legate Athriel and his lieutenants craned over, spurring onlookers to turn in his direction.


    ¡°Imperator?¡± The Legate¡¯s bushy brows perked as his head rose, and a figurine he was about to place on the map was still in his hand.


    ¡°Legate,¡± the man saluted and waited for a reply.


    ¡°Speak.¡±


    ¡°The heretic, we faced him. Near the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°Heretic? That Imperator Eamon spoke of?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I believe so,¡± the man nodded. ¡°The one that was rumored to have headed south. We spotted an ancient throne ship¨Cthe same as the reports. It was surveying the battlefield in the area marked off-limits to our ships. We trailed him and tried to shoot him down for questioning, but he managed to recover the ship despite us having stunned its mage heart. Then he turned to chase us down, forcing us to flee.¡±


    ¡°We?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I flew alongside Imperator Haste.¡±


    ¡°And where is he?¡±


    ¡°I¨Cah¨C¡±


    ¡°Legate, if it is true that this heretic is now attacking our assets, might there not be a chance that he is serving the wargs now?¡± One of the Imperators standing around the map said.


    ¡°Possibly,¡± Athriel said, scratching his chin. ¡°Maybe they¡¯ve caught onto our plan and are trying to break our forces up by tempting us to follow him.¡±


    ¡°What do we do?¡± Another Imperator asked. "If he managed to take down one of our throne ships..."


    ¡°We cannot be rash. Our enemy is no joke, and they keep the positions of their priests and giants secret. They might not have pulled it off yet, but they have the ability to take our ships down, and we don¡¯t have the resources to take unnecessary losses. For now, there is no change of plans. The barbarians and wargs are whittling each other down perfectly, and I have every intention to keep it that way. If this is some desperate attempt to distract us, then it should be ignored. The wargs can¡¯t just break off their siege, and if they attempt another massive attack to overwhelm the barbarians, I want our fleet to be on standby. We need to be ready to swoop in again to push them back. If we are forced to fight the warg army directly, our casualties will be far greater than a single throne ship.¡±


    ¡°And what about the heretic?¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s one man. Once the wargs are dealt with, we can send a few Imperators up to deal with him.¡±


    ¡°And what if he retreats back to the Daggers with a throne ship?¡±


    ¡°A troubling thought, I admit. But what¡¯s one ship in the hands of a broken enemy? One that was already lost to the Frontier, no less. That¡¯s not something worthy of even the gossip circles of the Imperium. What we need to do is win. Once the Frontier is secured again, we can return to the Imperium victorious and with the honor of not needing to ask for additional resources.¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± one of the Imperators nodded. ¡°Brilliant as always, Legate Athriel. I will advise the scout ships to keep an eye out for this heretic but order that they avoid engagement unless he enters restricted airspace.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± the Legate waved dismissively. ¡°Victory is almost ours. We mustn¡¯t lose sight. If the enemy plays these games, then it means they are getting desperate,¡± the board, mustached Legate smiled and placed down the figurine on the map. "It''s all going to plan."


    **Imperator**


    ¡°How are you feeling?¡± Mark said, trying to read the shaky boy as they rested beside their thone ships.


    ¡°It¡¯s¡ªbeen a big day,¡± Callum forced a smile. ¡°But good.¡±


    ¡°Alright, well, if you¡¯re up to it, we should probably make the last leg for home. Who knows when the enemy will come looking for us? The ship should have recovered enough energy now.¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum nodded. ¡°Good idea.¡±


    ¡°Alright, everyone,¡± Mark turned, waving his hand in the air. ¡°Back aboard the ship.¡±


    A few grunts trailed from the mercenaries and ferals as they pulled themselves up, but they were happy to return to safety¡ªassuming the fort could be considered that.


    The remaining flight to Fort Winterclaw was short but tense. Mark kept an eye out on their surroundings but spotted no sign of more throne ships following them.


    Hundreds of people gathered in the fort as they brought the two ships down. The crowds bustled against each other to get a good look at the new ship in their fleet.


    Henric stood at attention with a half dozen acolytes awaiting them as they walked down the ramps from the ships into the Imperial District.


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    ¡°How did you,¡± Henric said, barely able to form words.


    ¡°Luck, mostly,¡± Mark grimaced. ¡°Or at least it felt that way. But we might have a problem.¡±


    Henric¡¯s brow rose.


    ¡°Come with me to my cabin,¡± Mark waved. He needed to get on top of this. If rumor were to spread without him making the first move, sedition might grow.


    Henric followed him, his expression twisting into concern.


    ¡°You too,¡± Mark added, pointing at Callum.


    Inside his cabin, Mark sighed and rubbed his face. Henric, who stood next to Callum, was eyeing the Imperator suit that the boy wore, and Mark could only imagine the thoughts running through his head.


    ¡°What has¡­¡± Henric shook his head.


    ¡°This is going to be a lot to take in, but I don¡¯t think I have much choice anymore.¡±


    ¡°What is?¡± Henric inched forward. "What''s happened?"


    What do I do? This devout fool isn¡¯t likely to take it well if I tell him his religion is a lie and that the Lightning God has chosen me as his avatar to destroy the Imperium.


    ¡°We¡¯re at war with the Imperium,¡± Mark said flatly, eyeing his right-hand man as his face twisted into disbelief and then anger.


    ¡°We¡¯re what?¡± Henric staggered backward. ¡°How is that even possible?¡±


    ¡°They attacked us en route to the barbarian camp in the south. That is how we got hold of a second throne ship.¡±


    ¡°But you said¡­¡±


    ¡°I didn¡¯t choose this path, Henric. I have only ever sought to do what was best for the people entrusted to me. It appears that mission has run its ground with the Imperium, and I will not turn away from it. If you wish to leave, You¡¯re welcome to.¡±


    ¡°If I,¡± Henric gritted his teeth. ¡°But how¡­ everything that¡¯s happened. It doesn¡¯t make sense. You win against impossible odds. You achieve things no single Imperator has any right to achieve. How,¡± Henric shook his head. ¡°How is it possible that a heretic can do all this? Why has our god not stripped you of his powers?¡±


    ¡°Good question,¡± Mark said firmly.


    ¡°And you,¡± Henric said, turning to point at Callum. ¡°You wear a suit you have no right to bear. What is happening? Have I been deceived? Has the Mad God taken hold of this heretical camp?¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s no deception here, old friend,¡± Mark said, stepping toward his Arms-Master. ¡°We¡¯re all doing what we believe is right. If you cannot be a part of this, then that''s fine. But we¡¯re creating something bigger than us here. What you¡¯ve seen so far, it¡¯s only the beginning. Give me your loyalty, and we can create something bigger.¡±


    ¡°Against the Imperium?¡±


    ¡°What if the Imperium isn¡¯t what it used to be? Does your loyalty to it know no end? Can you not be rational and see what is happening around you?¡±


    ¡°How can you even suggest such a thing? Look at us,¡± Henric flailed his arms to the side. ¡°We¡¯re a tiny camp of misfits. Men bed ferals and speak strange tongues. We''ve lost our way, and I was too blind to see it until now. What chance do we have when the Imperium comes marching with an army?¡±


    ¡°Look around, Henric. This place has been forgotten by the Imperium. Tell me, why haven¡¯t they come already? An Imperial army shouldn¡¯t be threatened by the scraps found out here in the Frontier. When they first defeated the wargs, they were but a shadow of what they¡¯ve grown into today. So, why don¡¯t they send their armies, Henric?¡±


    ¡°I¨CI¡­ I don¡¯t know. But the College of Legates is wise. I¡¯m sure they have their reasons.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s falling apart. They¡¯ve veered from the path that made them powerful, and now the Imperium is threatened from all sides,¡± Mark said.


    Mark made up most of what he said, or at least based it on his own hunches, but unity was more important than honesty at this moment.


    ¡°No, that¡¯s not possible. The Imperium is the greatest power in the world. When they¡¯re finished putting out fires, they¡¯ll come here and deal with you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry that you feel that way,¡± Mark sighed. ¡°If I cannot change your mind, you are free to leave Fort Winterlcaw.¡±


    ¡°Callum,¡± Henric said, turning to the boy.


    Callum shook his head.


    ¡°Traitors, the lot of you,¡± Henric hissed and stormed out from the cabin.


    Perhaps killing the man would have been wise, Mark thought, but he wasn¡¯t trying to create the image of a dictator among his people.


    Henric stormed out into the Imperial District, pleading with everyone and anybody to leave the fort with him. His desperation shone through.


    Acolytes and mercenaries alike pulled away from Henric and turned to Mark, who followed close behind. It was clear that they chose proven leadership and tenacity over the decadence and nepotism of the Imperium.


    ¡°Have you all gone mad?¡± Henric hissed, turning in the street like a madman as he ran up to people and raved to their faces.


    Even Radic turned away from his old master, raising a brow from Mark.


    ¡°You¡¯d stick with this mad heretic to defend this puny outpost? Have some sense, people!¡±


    ¡°Go back to the asshole of the Imperium,¡± one of the mercenaries shouted. ¡°I¡¯m good here. At least I¡¯m not treated as a second-rate citizen who can be spat on by my better because of some stupid law, that and the tax. At least the Imperator, or whatever he wants to be called, doesn¡¯t tax every coin I make,¡± the man added, spitting on the ground near Henric.


    I do probably need to introduce taxes at some point, but I¡¯ll worry about that bridge when we have to, Mark thought with a guilty grin.


    Henric marched to the stables to collect his horse but paused as two mercenaries drew swords from their sheaths.


    ¡°So, you¡¯re leaving me with nothing?¡± Henric growled.


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Henric. You¡¯ve served me well; I didn¡¯t want it to end like this. But I can¡¯t give you valuable resources. Be grateful I let you leave with your life,¡± Mark said.


    ¡°I¡¯ll be back,¡± Henric said, turning to point at Mark. ¡°And with a legion of Imperial soldiers at my back.¡±


    ¡°Is it wise to let him leave?¡± Callum said at Mark''s side.


    ¡°He has served as well. I can¡¯t just strike him down. And who knows, maybe he¡¯ll see sense out there,¡± Mark said, his gaze remorseful.


    ¡°And¡­ what about his position?¡±


    Mark cleared his throat as he watched Henric leave through the gates, trailed by several mercenaries with drawn weapons, and addressed the crowd that had come to watch the commotion. ¡°I will be reorganizing Fort Winterclaw¡¯s leadership going forward. I no longer consider Fort Winterclaw to be a part of the Imperium, and with that, we should no longer rule ourselves with their hierarchy. I will make a proclamation with how I intend to reorganize our leadership to be organized in the coming days.¡±


    The crowd went silent, a million thoughts no doubt running through their minds, and then someone began to clap. Followed by another. And another. Soon, a cacophony of cheers and chants filled the Imperial District and, within minutes, had traveled to the other districts.


    Mark was surprised. It was one thing for the ferals to want the Law of Hierarchy repealed, but Imperiums, who benefited from it? Then again, did they? Most of the people were mere citizens, the second lowest rank within the Imperium, and were treated only marginally better than ferals.


    However, this was more than just relief over an unjust law. There was hope in his people''s eyes. They believed in this mission to create something better. Something new. These were the eyes of revolutionaries, he realized.


    Mark smiled; they were finally free. No longer in the servitude of the Imperium, even if it had been in name alone.


    He had done it and committed to his conviction even if it created enemies he did not yet know how to deal with.


    He had made Fort Winterclaw an independent state.


    Now, he just needed to protect it.

 67. A New Age

    The days following Mark¡¯s escape from the battlefield were tense. He half expected dozens of throne ships to fly over the horizon and bombard Fort Winterclaw, but they never came.


    He briefed Callum carefully, making sure the boy wouldn¡¯t say anything about what happened. Creating a panic was the last thing they needed.


    He had planned to take the suit back from Callum after arriving in the fort, but with such an important secret looming over his head, he decided to let him keep it, hoping that it would encourage secrecy. Not to mention, the boy now had experience and had proven himself under pressure, both of which he needed.


    As for the others aboard their ship, Mark offered them silencing coin and even went as far as offering them new cabins in return for their silence. Luckily for him, they turned out greedier than they were cautious, and so he kept the secret of their engagement with the Imperium within the group.


    Mark wasn¡¯t naive, though. He knew the secret would get out. But like any good conspiracy, he just needed to sow enough doubt in the people¡¯s minds that they wouldn¡¯t want to risk upending their lives over something that might not be true.


    Ultimately, Mark had grander plans for the boy in mind, but he needed to get their priorities sorted first, so he sent Callum off with a couple of Venjmin¡¯s men as navigators to the mine. Their objective was to find what the mine needed, bring supplies and/or manpower, and, if the mine had already become operational, return with ore.


    As for governance, he intended to build a council to assist in decision-making. This would consist of Venjimin, Elowen, Payon, Reida, Tath Gorak, and Altono.


    The foreign priest was a bit of a wild card, but he was undoubtedly valuable to the fort, and Mark thought it would help the fort''s image as a welcoming haven for people of all kinds. This was also present in his decision to elect Tath Gorak. With any luck, the troll chieftain would help outsiders see the fort as not just a refugee for all humans but for other races as well. Something Mark had realized was missing elsewhere.


    He had already known the Imperium to be a human-exclusive empire, and from the nations he had visited when he traveled south, he had learned that they appeared to be the same. But it had Mark wondering. How many intelligent races lived in this world? If there were many, perhaps that was another force he could tap into to set Fort Winterclaw apart.


    He needed to consider another issue¡ªthe fort¡¯s name. Fort Winterclaw was limiting. He wanted to create a state, not a tiny fort in the middle of nowhere, and that would require an appropriate name.


    Over several weeks, Mark had gone through hundreds of potential names, including stealing entire nations'' names from Earth. But none of them stuck. Besides, he had created a tiny but growing culture around Fort Winterclaw and figured that shying away from the roots they had created would be a waste of the effort they had already invested.


    The problem was that Winterclaw just didn¡¯t go into the names he came up with in a way that he liked, and since he intended to drop Fort entirely from the name, it was all he had to go by.


    However, after an endless back and forth, Mark ended up settling on The Kingdom of Winterclaw. Ultimately, he figured that building on the identity they had already created made more sense than changing the name to something else, even if he didn¡¯t really like the name all that much. Although, he kept an open mind. If they developed a larger domain and secured more land across the Frontier, Mark would reconsider changing the name to something more inclusive and inspiring. But for now, he wanted to attract people toward him with the prestige they had already earned for themselves.


    The Law of Hierarchy and all the other Imperial laws were obviously disbanded. Few had issues with this, and those who did kept quiet. Mark kept an eye on his two remaining masters¡ªthe only people who had any real rank worth losing in the Imperial¡ªbut neither showed any sign of leaving.


    Mark wouldn¡¯t have stopped people from leaving if they wanted to. It was part of the image he was creating. He wanted people to feel free to come and go as they wanted, hoping it would encourage more to move to the fort since they wouldn¡¯t have to worry about not being able to leave if they didn¡¯t like it. But he had no intention of letting people sneak away in the dead of night with valuable items, and he kept a combination of mercenaries and ferals on watch.


    The next task was to encourage more independent wealth growth and investment.


    Up until now, he had been paying people to do most jobs on his behalf and then selling back their productivity to the people, but the larger his realm became, the harder that would be to manage, and it would no doubt grow inefficient eventually.


    A case of content theft: this narrative is not rightfully on Amazon; if you spot it, report the violation.


    The first industry to privatize was the collection of rigar bark. First, he declared all land surrounding the fort for over a hundred miles in all directions the domain of The Kingdom of Winterclaw. Less than half of it was currently patrolled by his guards, but it wasn¡¯t as if there was anybody else to refute his claims. He then set an auction date and planned to parcel off all the rigar forests within that territory.


    By doing this, he would give the buyers of said land the legal right to harvest it, and enforce their ownership of the land with the help of his guards. Not only would this bring in an influx of wealth, which he was beginning to run low on, but it would create debt, since few of his people would be able to afford the land outright.


    Once the owners were in charge of their own land, they could then manage the collection of the resources and collect the rewards, creating more wealth within the Kingdom. And because his rigar mill was so much more efficient than the manual production method, he could control the price of the bark. Setting the price of a raw bundle of rigar at two iron coins, Mark could comfortably rake in a profit since he could easily sell the refined output for ten iron coins and needed little manpower to do it.


    Mark also hoped that this would help his attempts to resettle the surrounding land. Since before the invasion, ferals had been fleeing from the land in search of security, and that strain was increasingly evident every day. By selling land, he would be giving his people tangible equity that they would be inclined to defend, even if it had been technically free and up for grabs prior to his parceling of the land.


    His goal was to change the way the people thought about the land, moving away from their hunter-gatherer lifestyle and toward an agrarian and capitalistic society.


    With all this going on, he had to abandon the idea of looting the temple for now. He was thankful that the Imperium hadn¡¯t come looking for him but didn¡¯t want to go poking the hornet¡¯s nest. Mark wasn¡¯t about to roll over, but he knew they weren¡¯t ready to take on the Imperium. To even consider that possibility, they would need to bring far more allies from across the Frontier under his rule.


    Several days later, Callum returned with the first ore from the mine. It wasn¡¯t much, but what was important was the promise of wealth to come.


    Dozens people and all kinds of goods had gone back with him over the during his return visits, and the mine soon boosted a temporary population of around fifty workers.


    It was easy to get people to work in the mine once Mark introduced a commission program, allowing miners to keep ten percent of what they mined.


    He was fairly certain that the mining camp was taking more than ten percent, but since the yields were so low, he let it slide for now, but not without a plan to resolve the issue.


    What Mark intended to do was build up his order of knights to deal with such problems.


    Since he had sought out the help of the trolls, the foundations for his new keep had been quickly finished, and a few rooms had even gone up, although the keep still lacked a proper wall.


    His plan was to develop a devout and committed order that took pride in its work. Once it was ready, he would use these zealots to oversee projects like the mines.


    If he became heavy-handed with the mercenaries currently mining, he was certain they would just come up with more sophisticated ways to steal from him and, in the process, become less loyal.


    That wasn¡¯t the answer. He needed loyal and faithful warriors who believed in what they were doing.


    Mark had yet to reveal his connection to the Lightning God. Because one of Fort Winterclaw¡¯s greatest attractions had been the secular nature of its governance, which had attracted all kinds of people to it, Mark had to be careful about how he went about making changes. However, he also couldn¡¯t pass up the opportunity he had been granted.


    As he built his new order of knights up, he would aim to indoctrinate them into the Lightning God, with him as their lord. Once he had a strong foundation among his order of knights, he would then work on expanding that across the fort. However, he intended to maintain secular order across his lands. Ultimately, as valuable as being the patron of the dominating religion was, he understood how important it was to maintain Winterclaw as an open and accepting realm if he wanted to attract populations with differing beliefs toward it.


    Meanwhile, the establishment of presence within Frostwind Trader¡¯s Post had gone down well. There had been surprisingly few issues between the opposing communities that now called it home, but that was likely because the mercenaries who had taken over the trading post were reliant on Mark and Winterclaw for a reliable food source.


    After Mark got done parceling out the land, the lots surrounding the trading post were some of the fastest selling, and people were quick to set up operations in the area, likely thanks to the post¡¯s security and the ability to move into cabins that were left standing and vacant when the guilds and Imperials soldiers left to travel south.


    Even though the trading post didn¡¯t have all the defensive weapons of Fort Winterclaw, its excess of Imperial mercenaries and tall walls made it an attractive location to live, especially since the fort was growing more crowded every day, and many ferals were already being forced to live outside of the walls.


    Because of these pressures, there were plenty of people willing to get in early and start a life for themselves within the trading post. Not only that, but the trading post was where it was for a reason, and many had begun to bank on its value as a trading hub, returning when the invasion settled down.


    With the reorganization of his infant kingdom starting to find its footing, Mark turned his focus to his new order of knights. First, he needed to recruit its inner circle. This would begin with Callum, Erin, Radic, and Clay. He chose the acolytes as they had already shown proven loyalty to him, and while they had tensions between each other, he hoped he could fuel that into a competitive attitude that could be utilized to push them further, and since they had refused to follow Henric when he left the fort, he wasn¡¯t too worried about them betraying him.


    Mark sat down on the chair in his cabin and strummed his fingers along his table. There was still so much to get down, but strangely, he felt confident about their future.


    Now, he just needed to assemble and army to expand their reach across the land, and he needed to do it fast.

 68. Expanding Horizons

    A row of miners sauntered out from the cave tunnels, pushing mining carts along the old tracks they had cleared up when taking over the place.


    As the tunnel opened up into the main chamber, Rudez, the mine chief, stood tapping his foot against the ground by a large bucket.


    ¡°Don¡¯t forget your donations, boys,¡± he shouted. ¡°Beer ain¡¯t cheap no more in the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°Like it ever was,¡± one of the miners sneered.


    ¡°Well, yes, you¡¯re right. But it¡¯s more expensive now. Either way, quit yapping and make ye damned donations!¡±


    A couple of men grunted but did as they asked. The chief said the ore would be split among them later, but few believed him. Not that most cared too much. They had already filled their pockets with stolen ore down in the tunnels.


    The mentality among the men was universal. They would work and steal as much ore as possible and then leave. There plan was simple: in a couple of months, they would return home rich men.


    Even the mercenaries were in on it. They lived separately, near the mouth of the cave in a small camp, guarding the entrance. But all ore leaving the cave came by them before being collected by Callum, and they were sure to take their cut.


    The handful of support staff included a chef if you could call him that. He was feral and had previously cooked for large clans, but he wasn¡¯t particularly good. However, the dishes had served their purpose and kept the dragonite master of the mining content in his chamber below.


    And then there were the little hovlings. They were an interesting bunch, often coming to spy on the mining operations, but it caused little concern. Their nature seemed closer to children or animals rather than adult humans, and their behavior was curious but not cunning.


    The little creatures had taken an interest in the cooking, and eventually, the chef had relented and thrown them a little food to try. It turned out that the culinarily challenged creatures loved cooked food; they just didn¡¯t know how to make it themselves. So the following day, they returned with a fresh hunt of bunnies and snow foxes, which they traded for cooked food.


    This continued, the hovlings returning with more and more food. They mightn¡¯t have been particularly smart, but they seemed more than capable hunters, especially considering their minor calorie requirements, and soon, they were providing far more food to the camp than they ate.


    During one of his visits to collect ore, Callum entered the camp and observed the little exchange, asking the chef what it was all about.


    ¡°They bring me fresh meat, unlike your lot. Heck, it''s most of what we got down here since you just come with more rigar bark all the time. Gives the boys the strength they need to mine.¡±


    "Really," Callum had nodded.


    Noting the exchange down, Callum informed Mark of this when he returned to Fort Winterclaw.


    This was an interesting development since it meant that the camp had begun to work its way to food self-sufficiency despite not officially having any workers collecting food.


    Since expansion had been moving along smoothly in other directions and they were already producing some food in the mine, Mark decided to go ahead and settle more people outside of the mine, with the intention to begin harvesting rigar and developing the surrounding area.


    Up until now, he had wanted to hold off expanding the operation. Building an above-ground settlement might bring more eyes to the mine and endanger it. But he wasn¡¯t in a position to play it safe. More land meant higher yields and a chance that any ferals still living in the region would come seeking safety and security in his settlement.


    To begin with, he sent Trayox and his boys to build a palisade around the mouth of the cave. It wasn¡¯t to be overly grand and had no wall-walk. But it would at least give them some defense from attack, and since the cave entrance sat on an elevated platform of rock, it was already relatively easy to defend. Thanks to the natural terrain, the addition of a wall would require an attacking force to field a decent numerical advantage to have any chance at successfully overwhelming them.


    ****


    Back in Fort Winterclaw, Mark waited until a couple more rooms in the new keep were constructed before announcing his ceremony. The difference was marginal. The keep was far from complete, but at least it had the semblance of something that would eventually look grand.


    Archways lined non-existent corridors, and walls were missing, but regardless, he led a small procession of mercenaries, acolytes, and tested feral warriors through them into a room missing a ceiling at the keep¡¯s center. It wasn¡¯t perfect by any means, but thanks to its stone walls, which were essentially unheard of in the Frontier, it still kind of gave off an impressive feeling.


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    Several dozen people watched on as Mark called Erin, Callum, Radic, and Clay to the front.


    He knew there were rumors about the timid boy he had chosen as one of his elites, with most thinking it was an insane choice. However, when he received a debriefing from Leonard, Mark was impressed with how the kid had managed to push through his fear when visiting the trading post. The boy was rough and needed work, but something told him that his heart was in the right place and that a little investment in him would go a long way.


    The other three were the obvious choices. Radic and Callum were undoubtedly the strongest and most skilled fighters among the acolytes, and Erin had always been fierce, not to mention her character. She was by far the acolyte Mark trusted most after Elowen, who was much better utilized elsewhere.


    Dyes weren¡¯t easy to come by in the Frontier, but Mark had managed to get some old, leftover dyes from the trading post, thanks to the hasty flight of the guilds. Using blue dyes, he had blue cloaks created for his four disciples.


    He had also ordered Payon to prioritize the smithing of four sets of armor. They were suits of folded plate with rounded shoulder pads, a broad chest plate, chain mid-section, with metal greaves, vambraces, and gauntlets. Unlike the others, Callum¡¯s was a little different, with the metal being worked in a way that weaved around his Imperator suit.


    Winterclaw might have had a lot of iron compared to most places in the Frontier. However, the metal was still a precious commodity, and the four fully armored acolytes with sheathed swords at their sides were quite the sight marching down the corridor toward Mark, where he awaited to decree their new ranks.


    As gasps filled the room, Mark knew that his plan had worked. People already envied the kids, and he hadn¡¯t even provided them with new titles yet.


    He had intentionally chosen worthy warriors to fill the room. People he had taken notice of and considered for recruitment into his new order, and by seeing the flashy display, he hoped to instill a sense of desire in them.


    Some were no doubt angered by the display as well. The kids were hardly the greatest fighters, with the exception of Callum, who could probably hold his own in a sword fight against all but the most skilled mercenaries. Something not even Radic would be capable of, despite his strength. Mark knew this and decided to tread the tightrope regardless. Even though he was trying to move away from the Imperium¡¯s image of nepotism, he still needed to have loyal people close to him.


    When the four teens reached Mark, he gave them each a nod and turned to the man beside him, who held out the blue cloaks, ready for them to dress.


    ¡°Approach,¡± he said, taking the cloaks.


    All four took a step forward, bringing them within arms reach of Mark.


    ¡°From this day on, I name you Knights of the Order of Winterclaw. Bestowing this honor, I give you the right to carry out laws at the highest level within the kingdom on my behalf. You will become a paragon that the people residing in these lands can look up to and instill hope in. You shall protect the weak and seek out evil. You shall uphold justice and cast down judgment. Now, I must ask, are you ready for such responsibility?¡±


    ¡°Yes!¡± Radic barked, his big eyes fiery with determination.


    ¡°It is,¡± Callum nodded, a stoic resolution stiffening his almost blank face.


    ¡°Yes,¡± Erin said, her eyes shaky and jaw gritted tight.


    ¡°Aye, I mean, yes,¡± Clay said, fumbling his words and quickly stiffening his trembling posture.


    ¡°Good. Then, as the Lord of Winterclaw, I proclaim you four my Knights,¡± Mark said, handing each of them a blue cloak as they fell to their knees.


    ¡°Ahem,¡± Payon cleared his throat and pushed through the crowd. ¡°I have something to add. Please, my lord, hear me out.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± Mark raised a brow.


    ¡°We need more than a lord,¡± Payon said, drawing an excellent blade of ribboned steel from a sheath at his side that twisted colors as the light hit it. ¡°We need a King!¡± he added, falling to his knees as he reached Mark and offered the sword to him.


    ¡°A king?¡± Mark looked around. He half expected outrage and objection, but the people were still and silent. They were waiting for him.


    Gingerly, Mark took the hilt of the magnificent blade and raised it above his head, marveling at the rainbow of colors reflecting off of it as light pierced down from the clouds above.


    It¡¯s amazing. Besides the Imperator suit and the throne ships, this is easily the greatest work of craftsmanship I¡¯ve seen since arriving here.


    ¡°Then so be it,¡± Mark bellowed. ¡°Let me be the King of Winterclaw¡ªthe only true King of the Frontier.¡±


    Cheers erupted across the crowd, and runners fled from the scene to spread the news across the fort and beyond it.


    Some doubt lingered on Mark''s mind about the proclamation. It would no doubt draw attention to him, and likely, more refugees would charge toward his lands to be recruited into his infantile kingdom, but in one swoop, he had placed himself on an unavoidable collision course with his enemy.


    What does it matter? If the Imperium has chosen not to attack me yet, there¡¯s likely a reason. What crime can be worse than stealing their ship and killing an Imperator? I am no doubt an enemy of the state already.


    Fighting back his concern, Mark glanced out across the crowd with a look of determination.


    This was the step up he needed. If he was going to confront a state, he would need to build one.


    Moments later, as the crowd still cheered, runners came charging back into the partially constructed keep, calling for Atlas.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Mark said as the two men toppled over themselves in front of him, gasping for quick breaths.


    ¡°A clan from the west,¡± one man said between deep breaths. ¡°Ancient and famous.¡±


    ¡°They¡¯re coming,¡± the other said.


    ¡°Calm down and speak sense,¡± Mark huffed.


    ¡°Through the forest, en route for Winterclaw. Dozens of them, marching in formation.¡±


    ¡°Heavily armored,¡± the other said, the two men seemingly taking turns to speak. "They carry flags with a beautiful woman on them."


    ¡°Servants of the Wind Goddess,¡± a barbarian in the crowd said, stepping toward Mark and his knights. ¡°The believers are isolated clans from the west that have little to do with the rest of us. I should warn you that meeting them is often quite dangerous.¡±


    A few dozen? That¡¯s hardly an army that can threaten us, but if these guys are so worried, I can¡¯t take it lightly.


    ¡°Alright, then lead me to them,¡± Mark ordered and followed the two men from the keep. "I will see the followers of this goddess for myself."

 69. Followers of the Goddess

    Standing by Winterclaw''s main gate, several of Mark¡¯s guards surrounded him¡ªnot that he felt in danger by the small troop moving toward them.


    The soldiers marching toward him were dressed in heavy armor with well-crafted weapons, were draped under thick furs, and looked like fierce warriors, but between his power and the archers and crossbows on the wall, Mark wasn¡¯t too worried.


    ¡°I¡¯ve always wanted to meet the western clans,¡± Venjimin said, standing at Mark¡¯s side. ¡°Our records in the temple about them were always embarrassingly scant. With any luck, I can improve on them.¡±


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Mark said, his eyes not wavering from the warriors marching toward them. His mind was a little more engaged in the present encounter than thinking about writing up records on distant clans.


    A couple of scouts ran up to the incoming men. Mark tried to read the lips of the distant conversation, but he was hardly an expert in the endeavor, which was made harder by the snow whipping up around them.


    What surprises does this land have in store for me today?


    There was no need for Mark to wave or introduce himself; as the warriors stepped into earshot, their eyes fell directly on him, and the group made their way to him, raising their hands non-threateningly.


    ¡°You are the so-called Imperator that rules here?¡±


    ¡°He ain¡¯t no Imperator anymore,¡± interrupted one of the guards. ¡°Ye speakin¡¯ with the King.¡±


    ¡°King, is it?¡± Said a large man in platemail, which was almost entirely hidden beneath his thick furs. The man stood at the group¡¯s center, his face worn with creases like an unyielding rock.


    ¡°It is,¡± Mark said, meeting the man¡¯s stare.


    ¡°Even better,¡± he grinned, revealing a gold tooth. ¡°May I have your ear, King?¡±


    Mark looked across to Venjimin, who nodded.


    ¡°You may come,¡± Mark said, waving the man and his troupe through the walls.


    People huddled in the streets and alleys to see the strange group as Mark led the warriors through the Low District. Even among the barbarians, they looked foreign, and in fact, there was only one man Mark had met who reminded him of them, the giant Trayox.


    Stepping into his cabin, Mark gestured for the barbarian to take a seat opposite him at his table.


    ¡°You¡¯re a Western clan, right? That must have been a long journey for you and your men.¡±


    ¡°Aye, it was,¡± the man nodded.


    ¡°So, why is it that you¡¯ve come all this way? My understanding is that travel has become somewhat precarious these days. Surely, you wouldn¡¯t risk such a trek without good reason.¡±


    ¡°Straight to business,¡± the man grunted. ¡°Good. I like that. My Matirach has sent us here in search of allies against the wargs.¡±


    ¡°Matriarch?¡± Mark repeated with a raised brow.


    ¡°Yes. I, Gorfang Tide, Warmaster of the Wamandy Clan, come under instruction from Yelinda, Body of the Goddess. She seeks to unite the lands of Vutland, Ergimus, Sentinal, Vorg, and the Daggers under one banner to drive back the wargs.¡±


    ¡°Under her banner?¡± Mark probed.


    ¡°Who else¡¯s?¡±


    Mark huffed. ¡°Right, and why should I trust you or bow to your queen for that matter?¡±


    ¡°For starters, she is no queen. She is the embodiment of the Wind Goddess, her avatar in this world, and the bearer of her unyielding power. She is above the ranks of kings and queens and above you, with all due respect. Secondly, our temple fortress, which is high in the mountains, is impenetrable. I want you to understand that we do not come here out of desperation. She extends a hand in the hope of helping others like you¡ªpeople in need. If we fail, we can go back and hide behind our walls as the world crumbles to the warg¡¯s power. You, however...¡±


    ¡°Let me guess, you have an impenetrable fort but no army, correct?¡±


    The man¡¯s nose twitched into a scowl.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t mean to be rude,¡± Mark corrected with a sigh. ¡°But you haven¡¯t offered me much. I will give you props for your command of the common tongue, though,¡± Mark added, pointing at the Warmaster. ¡°I¡¯ve met one from your land, and his language skills were a far shot from yours.¡±


    ¡°Props?¡± Gorfang shook his head. ¡°Enough of this meandering chatter. Tell me where your alliegencies lie. I have no love for this back-and-forth. If you¡¯re unwilling to see sense, we can find others with sharper minds.¡±


    ¡°Wait, wait, wait,¡± Mark said, straightening in his chair. ¡°We should work together, you¡¯re right. But you come here acting as if you have authority over us. We have worked hard for what we have, and I¡¯m not willing to hand us over to some foreign power¡¯s subjugation just because they can blow bubbles or whatever this Body of the Goddess is capable of.¡±


    ¡°Blow bubbles?¡± Gorfang sneered. ¡°How dare you insult our avatar!¡±


    Great, this guy¡¯s just another zealot. How disappointing. However, it might be worth speaking with Yelinda about this. Maybe she can see reason. Besides, if she¡¯s anything like me, she¡¯ll be able to see my power without me having to show off with some flashy performance to test their beliefs.


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    ¡°Apologies again, Gorfang Tide,¡± Mark bowed his head slightly. ¡°But perhaps a meeting between your avatar and me, Yelinda, could be organized. As much as I respect you, I¡¯m not about to enter into servitude to the servant of some god¡¯s avatar without even speaking to them directly.¡±


    Gorfan hummed aloud and looked down, seemingly calming himself. ¡°Your request is not unreasonable, but the lands are dangerous, as you said, and Yelinda protects the temple from invaders. If she were to leave, it would leave our people vulnerable.¡±


    ¡°That is fine,¡± Mark nodded nonchalantly. ¡°I will go to see her. We can fly.¡±


    ¡°Fly?¡± The man crooked his head.


    ¡°My ship. You and me. How about it? I¡¯m not sure how far it is, but surely it can¡¯t take more than a couple of days flying.¡±


    ¡°I see. I had heard that the Imperium used such devices, but what of my men?¡±


    ¡°I suppose a few of them can come. But don¡¯t worry. I will ensure those staying have a warm bed and something to eat.¡±


    The man crinkled his brow as he thought about the proposal.


    ¡°Take your time to consider this offer if you like.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± the Warmaster raised a hand. ¡°These lands do not have time. We must unite now if we want a chance at victory. The wargs take advantage of our division and cut us down. I do not wish to see more people fall to them. I am ready to leave on this flying ship whenever you are.¡±


    ¡°Great, because I was born ready,¡± Mark said, jumping up from his chair. ¡°Let¡¯s get this done.¡±


    ¡°Decisive; perhaps you¡¯re not such a bad leader,¡± Gorfang said, rising from his chair.


    ¡°Inform your men of the plans. I¡¯ll be preparing our ride. When you¡¯re ready, let my people know, and they will lead you to me.¡±


    **Erin**


    ¡°Can you believe it?¡± Erin said as they moved their belongings from their old cabin into one of the recently built rooms in the unfinished keep. ¡°Knights, not bad, huh?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum nodded as he stuffed items below his new bed.


    ¡°Hi,¡± Clay said, meekly waving as he interrupted the pair and entered the room.


    ¡°Oh, hi, Clay,¡± Erin turned and waved.


    ¡°You¡¯re not mad anymore?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m in a good mood, don¡¯t ruin it,¡± Erin replied.


    ¡°Oh, sorry,¡± Clay bowed and entered.


    ¡°I said don''t ruin it,¡± Erin sighed.


    ¡°Sorry, sorry,¡± Clay bowed again.


    ¡°It¡¯s the saying sorry part and the bowing that¡¯s killing it for me,¡± Erin growled.


    ¡°Just be normal,¡± Callum interjected. ¡°We¡¯re moving on, and so should you.¡±


    ¡°Got it, sor¨C¡± Clay cut himself off. ¡°Umm, well. Moving on, huh? That sounds good, right?¡±


    ¡°Better,¡± Erin gritted her teeth. "But room for improvement."


    ¡°So, it¡¯s the three little piggies,¡± Radic said as he entered the room. ¡°How in the God-Lord¡¯s realm did you three get picked to be knights alongside me? Some things I''ll just never understand.¡±


    ¡°Great,¡± Erin slumped. ¡°Radic is here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t make me throw you to the ground again,¡± Callum smirked. ¡°We all know how that turned out last time.¡±


    ¡°You,¡± Radic growled and stepped forward but stopped as he scanned the room, catching the eyes of Clay and Erin. He was the outnumbered one this time. ¡°Just watch your mouth, okay?¡±


    ¡°Fine, I¡¯ll watch my mouth,¡± Callum smiled. ¡°Just for you, big guy.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, good,¡± Radic nodded as if he had won the exchange. ¡°At least you know your place.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Callum rolled his eyes.


    ¡°So, what do you think we¡¯re going to be doing as knights?¡± Erin said, redirecting the conversation.


    ¡°From the charter written up by King Atlas, it sounds like we¡¯re essentially our own bosses now,¡± Callum shrugged.


    ¡°That doesn¡¯t sound good,¡± Clay grimaced as he packed clothing into a chest.


    ¡°Well, we¡¯ve got each other,¡± Callum said, avoiding eye contact with Radic. ¡°Maybe we should go test our skills together.¡±


    ¡°What are you talking about?¡± Radic grunted.


    ¡°Like a mission. Out there somewhere.¡±


    ¡°I hate to say this, but I kinda agree with Radic,¡± Erin said. ¡°We can¡¯t just go wandering about the wilderness. It was dangerous before, but there are wargs now. We¡¯ll get ourselves killed.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not just acolytes anymore,¡± Callum insisted. ¡°We¡¯re knights. That should mean something. We need to prove ourselves. Go out and find a challenge and defeat it. Show all the doubters that they were wrong about us and that we deserve this title. They might not do anything because of Atlas, but that doesn¡¯t mean they respect us. Unless we prove ourselves, we¡¯ll always be looked down on as a bunch of kids who were only given their titles because of their history with the king. Don¡¯t you want to show them that they¡¯re wrong?¡± Callum said, smacking the back of his hand against his palm.


    ¡°Yeah, but I don¡¯t want to die either,¡± Erin said. ¡°And you know how last time turned out¡­¡±


    ¡°Me neither,¡± Clay added.


    ¡°Actually, you know what. You¡¯re a bunch of wimps. Maybe Callum¡¯s not so bad. At least he¡¯s got balls,¡± Radic said.


    ¡°So, you really wanna go out there, Radic? Or are you just saying that to sound tough after what me and Clay said we didn''t want to go?¡±


    ¡°Hey! I am tough,¡± Radic balled his fists. ¡°Don¡¯t make me show you.¡±


    ¡°What, you gonna hit a little girl?¡±


    ¡°N-no,¡± Radic gritted his teeth. ¡°You¡¯re lucky, you are,¡± he added, pointing at Erin. ¡°If you were a boy, I¡¯d teach you a lesson.


    ¡°Sure you would,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°Anyway, can we just come up with a plan to show our worth that isn¡¯t going to get us killed?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry to inform you, but that¡¯s how this stuff works. If you want to prove yourself, you need to take risks and overcome dangerous odds. That¡¯s what it means to be a knight.¡±


    ¡°Does it? And you¡¯re an expert?¡± Erin said.


    ¡°Yeah, kinda,¡± Callum nodded confidently. ¡°I used to listen to the bards that rolled up the roads from Kaelmere. That Kingdom is full of valorous knights who abide by a system called chivalry. They talked all about how knights would fight monsters and defeat evil. They were paragons of society that everyone looked up to, just like King Atlas said. That¡¯s what it means to be a knight.¡±


    ¡°What about the temple?¡± Radic said.


    ¡°The temple? Don¡¯t tell me his crazy ideas are infecting you,¡± Erin said.


    ¡°No. The temple. The one that the old feral is from. That Venjimin guy,¡± Radic said. ¡°Atlas had to abandon his mission to loot the place because of the Imperators. But it¡¯s still there, right?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum nodded enthusiastically. ¡°You¡¯re right.¡±


    ¡°So, why don¡¯t we go loot it ourselves? I mean, no one is gonna doubt us if we pull that off,¡± Radic continued.


    ¡°The both of you are insane. It¡¯s decided,¡± Erin sighed.


    ¡°Yeah, that sounds very dangerous,¡± Clay swallowed.


    ¡°Think about it, wimps. This is our chance. There¡¯s nothing else¡ªno obvious targets. If Atlas loots it first, then the only way to prove ourselves is on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s got a point,¡± Callum nodded. ¡°You want to avoid doing stupid stuff that¡¯s too dangerous? Then this is it. We just have to avoid the enemy. Looting is a lot less dangerous than killing wargs.¡±


    ¡°Well, that is true,¡± Clay nodded.


    ¡°They¡¯re not convincing you, are they Clay?¡± Erin said.


    ¡°Well, they do have a valid point. I¡¯m sick of being seen as the cowardly one. You should hear some of the things I¡¯ve heard people saying about me since he made me a knight. You three get off easy.¡±


    Erin looked down. She was well aware of how people in the fort saw Clay and spoke of him; she had joined in many times.


    ¡°If there¡¯s a way to restore my honor without fighting wargs, then I can¡¯t just ignore it.¡±


    ¡°Oh my, we¡¯re really going to do this, aren¡¯t we?¡± Erin groaned.


    ¡°It looks like it,¡± Callum grinned. "But you can always stay."


    "Like the damned gods, I''m staying alone," Erin said.


    ¡°About time I show you three why I¡¯m the strongest Knight,¡± Radic said, thumping his fist against his chest. ¡°Soon, you will all give me the respect I deserve. Just wait and see.¡±


    ¡°Finally, I¡¯ll get some respect for my name,¡± Clay said, his face lighting up for the first time in months.


    "A party of knights going on a grand quest," Callum said. "This is what it''s about."

 70. Important Meeting

    ¡°What¡¯s that?¡± Erin said, eyeing the small clay pots Radic pulled from a bag as they gathered in the forest a few hundred yards from the fort.


    ¡°Our new King¡¯s special fire,¡± he replied, handing each of them a pot. ¡°Just a little backup.¡±


    ¡°How¡¯d you get a hold of these, Radic?¡± Callum said, eyeing the pot that filled his palm.


    ¡°Got them from Dober,¡± Radic grinned. ¡°He¡¯s not so bad¡­ just needs a little convincing.¡±


    ¡°Convincing? What do you mean by that, Radic?¡±


    ¡°Well, he didn¡¯t just give them to me. I did what I had to. You know,¡± Radic shrugged.


    ¡°You didn¡¯t threaten him, did you?¡± Erin glared.


    ¡°Radic?¡± Callum said. ¡°Please tell me you didn¡¯t do anything stupid.¡±


    ¡°What? We¡¯re going to need all the help we can get out there. Now, as I was saying, insert and light the cloth when you¡¯re ready to use it,¡± he said, dangling the white piece of cloth that came with the grenades. ¡°It¡¯s been soaked in some special alcohol mix, and boy, does it burn.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a pity you didn¡¯t get horses as well,¡± Clay sighed.


    ¡°Don¡¯t encourage him, Clay. Trying to get horses from the stables would raise far too many suspicions. We¡¯re trying to improve our standing, not get our titles taken from us when we return.¡±


    ¡°Okay, okay, enough chatter. Are you boys done? Can we get a move on already,¡± Erin interrupted as she finished organizing her pack. ¡°In and out. No fussing about. Let¡¯s get this done as planned.¡±


    ¡°Wow, look at her go,¡± Radic nodded with a smug grin. ¡°To think I never liked you much, Erin. Maybe I had the wrong impression.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, maybe,¡± Erin rolled her eyes. ¡°Alright, just hurry up. We¡¯ll have plenty of time to talk on the road.¡±


    ¡°You heard her,¡± Callum said. ¡°Let¡¯s move,¡± he added, gesturing for the others to follow as he turned into the forest to take the lead.


    ¡°Too late to go back now, huh?¡± Clay nervously chuckled as he followed.


    **Imperator**


    Holding onto a metal handle beside the cockpit entrance, Gorfang directed Mark into the temple. The trip was a struggle at times, and the veteran Warmaster grew confused as he tried to direct from above. But once they reached the Western lands, his knowledge of the landmarks shone through, and he was able to direct Mark confidently.


    The trip west was further than his trip to Xaarn and required a stopover, which lasted for a few hours as the ship recharged. Mark could funnel some of his own power into it, as he had discovered in the battle against the Imperators, but that was also draining, and he wanted to be at his best for the upcoming meeting.


    The throne ship rocked as they climbed through the hailing weather, into the high altitude mountains. Somehow, these people had found an even colder place to call home than the Frontier he had come to know.


    Ice frosted up the ship¡¯s camera feeds, but a jolt of energy rushing through the ship melted it away.


    ¡°There it is,¡± Gorfang said. ¡°Put us down there,¡± he added, pointing past Mark into the snow blanketed platform before the stone facade of the temple, which was carved straight into the mountain. Several stone walls zigzagged across the mountain edge, cutting off any walkable paths, and Mark immediately understood why they considered their home impenetrable.


    The stone doors to the temple ground open and several armored warriors marched out to greet them as the ship lowered onto the platform.


    Metal groaned against the cold, and the hatch lurched open. Gorfang led Mark to the formation of warriors, who lowered to one knee as they greeted their commanding officer.


    ¡°Rise,¡± Gorfang said. ¡°Our honored guest, King Atlas,¡± he added, introducing Mark to the men.


    The warriors thumped their chest and rose to their feet.


    ¡°Come,¡± Gorfang waved on, and walked by the men who stood guard as he led Mark into the temple proper.


    Warm air greeted Mark as they stepped into the mountain, surprising him.


    ¡°The temperature,¡± he muttered. ¡°How?¡±


    ¡°Do you think we would live up here if it was as inhospitable as outside? No, the Lava God rumbles deep below, his power meeting underground rivers with a roar and sending steam up through the temple.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, you don¡¯t have hot springs, do you?¡± Mark said, his lower jaw quivering.


    ¡°Hot springs?¡± Gorfang¡¯s brow rose. ¡°I¡¯m not sure what that is. Wait, you don¡¯t mean the steam spas, do you?¡±


    ¡°Steam spas?¡± Mark repeated, internally drooling. ¡°What¡¯s a steam spa?¡± He asked the question, but his mind had already decided what they were.


    ¡°They¡¯re rooms where heated water flows into small pools. They are where our people bathe. They get their name from the steam that fills the rooms. They have great healing properties, and our priests are known for the herbal mixtures they add to the steam vents, which fill the rooms with aromatic scents.¡±


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    ¡°Steam, aromatic scents?¡± Mark mouthed in disblief.


    ¡°Come,¡± Gorfang said. ¡°Let¡¯s not dally any longer. The Body of the Goddess will wish to speak with you.¡±


    Mark nodded wordlessly and followed.


    Carved tunnels lined with stone effigies led them into a grand hall. Its jagged rock ceiling was far above their heads, and thick bear skin rugs were lavishly laid across its stone floor.


    The light caught on the silver-haired beauty who lay at the center of the bear furs. Her skin was like milk, and her light robes hung precariously from her narrow frame.


    ¡°Body of the Goddess,¡± Gorfang dropped to a knee and beat his chest. ¡°I have returned from my mission with a potential ally worthy of your greeting.¡±


    ¡°Oh?¡± She looked up, her features soft and forgiving, with thick lashes that fluttered.


    ¡°This is King Atlas, formerly Imperator Atlas of the Imperium.¡±


    ¡°I have heard of you, Imperator. Or should I say, King?¡±


    ¡°As I have you. It¡¯s a pleasure to meet you, Yelinda,¡± Mark said with a short bow.


    Gorfang opened his mouth to berate Mark¡¯s use of her first name, but stopped as Yelinda raised a silencing hand.


    ¡°It¡¯s not often you meet an Imperial that goes against his edicts. I must ask you before we continue, King Atlas. Why have you chosen this path for yourself? Was it purely out of greed? Or do you desire something else?¡±


    How should I answer that? Am I really just doing this for the people of Winterclaw? It would be a lie if I said I didn¡¯t enjoy the freedom to rule my own state.


    Mark cleared his throat as he searched for the right answer.


    ¡°I won¡¯t claim to only serve altruistic purposes, but I do wish to see the people of the Frontier united against a common enemy. I don¡¯t impose my beliefs on others, nor do I expect them to abide by foreign laws and customs. What I have created is a land of freedoms that strives for our universal benefit.¡±


    ¡°What a speech,¡± Yelinda clapped. ¡°I wasn¡¯t expecting that.¡±


    ¡°Well, I believe in what I¡¯m creating. I answered your question, now you can answer mine. You sent your people to make demands that I bow to you. If either of us should be questioning one another, perhaps it should be me. Why should I subjugate myself to someone who hides in the mountains without an army?¡±


    ¡°How dare you,¡± Gorfang growled, marching toward Mark with clenched fists.


    ¡°Stop, Gorfang, be still and silent. Our goal is to unite against the wargs, or had you forgotten?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m sorry, Body of the Goddess,¡± Gorfang said and fell back to his knees.


    ¡°I understand you point. However, is it not true that the people of this land need a common banner to fight beneath if we¡¯re to have a chance?¡±


    ¡°And why yours?¡±


    A smile tugged at Yelinda¡¯s full lips. ¡°Why indeed. Take a pause for a moment. I ask another question?¡±


    ¡°Of course,¡± Mark nodded.


    ¡°What are you, King Atlas?¡±


    ¡°S, you do you see it, don¡¯t you?¡±


    ¡°I see something, yes,¡± she nodded.


    ¡°If you do, then you should understand the potential. Why limit ourselves to one deity? Religious differences have been at the root of our division. They make us weak while our enemy remains united.¡±


    ¡°What is your suggestion, then? Should we rule together, perhaps?¡± She grinned mischievously.


    ¡°Together?¡± Mark stammered. ¡°I¨Cuh.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re not truly suggesting¨C¡±


    ¡°I asked for silence, Gorfang.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, Body of the Goddess,¡± Gorfang bowed his head to the ground.


    ¡°What are you,¡± Mark cleared his throat.


    ¡°Something wrong, King? You¡¯re not going to take advantage of a young maiden like myself, are you?¡±


    ¡°No¨CI¨Cnever¡ª¡±


    ¡°Relax. You¡¯re right. The avatars of two great gods, together we would be unstoppable. Who better to lead our people toward the light of salvation and the defeat of our enemies?¡± Yelinda said, rising from the bear furs.


    ¡°To an alliance, then?¡± Mark said, extending his gloved hand.


    ¡°Yes, an alliance,¡± Yelinda smiled. ¡°Precisely what I meant.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°Well¡ªumm¡ªwhat¡¯s next?¡±


    ¡°Why so suddenly short of words, Mighty King?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not short of words, nor am I sure that mighty is how to describe me,¡± Mark cleared his throat.


    ¡°Gorfang, please see our guest to our temporary accommodation and make sure he is taken care of.¡±


    ¡°Yes, Body of the Goddess,¡± Gorfang rose. ¡°This way,¡± he added, waving Mark on.


    What is going on here?


    His accommodation was carved straight into the cave. It had timber flooring overlaid with furs and a spacious bed of soft cushions mounted into a pile atop the furs.


    Not bad for a mountain top temple, Mark thought as he entered.


    ¡°One of our serving aids will be by shortly. Please let them know if you need anything.¡±


    ¡°Ah, excuse me, Gorfang. What about the steam spas?¡±


    ¡°Ask your sever. They should be able to arrange one for you.¡±


    My goodness, is this really happening? A real bath. I can hardly believe it.


    Mark swallowed the tantalizing thought bubbling away in his mind. Suddenly, he felt more like he had gone on a mountain retreat than in search of allies to fight back hordes of monsters.


    Some twenty to thirty minutes later, a knock came at the door. ¡°Esteemed guest.¡± a soft voice came.


    ¡°Yes?¡± Mark said, cracking his neck as he rose from the bed of cushions.


    ¡°Food has been prepared for you.¡±


    ¡°Come in,¡± Mark called.


    A young woman entered, carrying a tray of bowls and plates, covered with various meats, stews, and stodgy, dense bread.


    Is that bread made of rigar?


    ¡°Is there anything else I can help with?¡± She said as she placed the tray down on a rock table.


    ¡°Yes. The steam spa. Am I able to have one?¡±


    ¡°Oh, certainly. I will have a room prepared for you. How long would you like for dinner?¡±


    ¡°Gove me twenty minutes,¡± Mark grinned dimples into his cheeks.


    ¡°I will let the attendants know. Oh, and what scent would you like for the spa?¡±


    ¡°What are the options?¡±


    ¡°Haxel Wood, Western Lily Blossom, Rose Worth, or Dark Wood Cherry. We can also do a blend of two if you would like.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll take the Haxel Wood and Rose Worth,¡± Mark said. He had no idea what they were, but they sounded nice, and he didn¡¯t feel like asking endless questions.


    ¡°I¡¯ll have it arranged,¡± she bowed and backed out of the room.


    This place¡­ it isn¡¯t half bad.


    With a full stomach, Mark sighed with joy as he stepped into the spa, the floral, and somewhat earthy scent of the steam filling his nostrils.


    This is it. This is really living.


    Dipping a toe into the water, he gradually lowered himself into the steamy broth. It was hot, almost too hot, but after so long in the Frontier, that was exactly what he needed.


    ¡°Get a rgip,¡± he mouthed as he let his head lull back and steam to fill his senses.


    Don¡¯t forget why you came here.


    Mark needed to remind himself there was still a war to be won, and a Frontier to save.


    He needed to keep a straight mind. They may have casually talked about an alliance, not to mention their mutual reasons for doing so, but he couldn¡¯t ignore the seriousness of the matter.


    Their sovereignty was on the line, and if he let himself get distracted with pleasantries, he might sign them up for something they couldn¡¯t back out of.


    What was that woman suggesting back there¡­


    That thought quickly drifted away as Mark considered the benefits of their alliance. If her powers were on par to his own, that alone was worth power sharing. After all, without his power Fort Winterclaw would have no doubt fallen, even with all the defenses they had built up. With the avatar of another god on their side, perhaps the cultists wouldn¡¯t have managed to even breach the walls.


    Mark sighed and slid further into the water as his mind played a confusing back and forth.


    The Frontier is a big place. I¡¯m sure it can be shared¡­ if that¡¯s what her proposal was. It was, wasn¡¯t it?

 71. Temple

    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure it¡¯s this way,¡± Radic turned the map he held out in front of himself while twisting his head to follow it.


    ¡°What are you doing?¡± Erin grimaced.


    ¡°What does it look like? I¡¯m reading the map.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m pretty sure you¡¯re not supposed to do it like that.¡±


    ¡°Gimme that,¡± Callum snatched it from his hand. ¡°Now, let me see.¡±


    ¡°Like you¡¯re an expert,¡± Radic snapped. ¡°I was doing just fine.¡±


    ¡°You were about to twist your head off. Actually, wait a minute. Callum, give it back to him. That might be an improvement.¡±


    ¡°Hey, guys,¡± Clay swallowed as he pointed. ¡°Look. What is that?¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Callum said as the three of them turned their heads. ¡°What do you know? Looks like we¡¯re in luck.¡±


    Through the forest, an undulating landscape of snow-capped hills lay; beyond that, the vague outline of stone roofs and pointed sculptures could be seen through the blizzarding weather.


    ¡°That could be anything,¡± Radic cautioned. ¡°We don¡¯t even know where we are.¡±


    ¡°Could be. But we¡¯ve been marching in the direction of the temple for almost two days now, and according to this map, nothing else is supposed to be out here.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t even know where we are? So, you were lost!¡±


    ¡°I found it, didn¡¯t I?


    ¡°No, he didn¡¯t, did he Callum? Does this really mean Radic¡¯s directions were correct?¡± Erin groaned.


    ¡°I told you I was doing it right.¡±


    ¡°But you just said¨C¡±


    ¡°Quit yapping and prepare yourselves,¡± Callum interrupted, drawing his sword. ¡°We have no idea what we¡¯re going to find in there, and I¡¯d rather we didn¡¯t get caught with our pants down.¡±


    ¡°B-but you said,¡± Clay swallowed. ¡°I thought it was meant to be abandoned.¡±


    ¡°It is,¡± Callum said. ¡°Well, it¡¯s supposed to be, at least. Whether it actually is or not, we¡¯re about to find out.¡±


    ¡°B-but¨C¡±


    ¡°You sided with these two maniacs,¡± Erin said, pointing at Clay. ¡°And you didn¡¯t even consider that there might be squatters in the temple?¡±


    ¡°I¨CI¨C¡±


    ¡°Leave him alone,¡± Radic said. ¡°He¡¯s just a little confused.¡±


    ¡°Radic sticking up for Clay? I¡¯ve seen it all now,¡± Erin groaned as she drew her sword. ¡°At least I can die complete now.¡±


    ¡°D-die?¡± Clay stammered and swallowed again.


    ¡°Don¡¯t listen to those two. Stick close to me, and everything will be fine. We grab the most precious loot, and then we¡¯re out of here. None will be the wiser. Got it?¡±


    ¡°Y-yes,¡± Clay nodded and bumped into Callum¡¯s back as he stepped toward him.


    ¡°Not that close, damn it.¡±


    ¡°S-sorry.¡±


    ¡°We really are gonna die, aren¡¯t we?¡± Erin said, eyeing the group.


    ¡°Eh,¡± Radic shrugged. ¡°You weaklings might. I got a whole saga yet to be written about my life.¡±


    ¡°A saga, really?¡± Erin rolled her eyes.


    ¡°You¡¯ll see. Bards, yarn weavers, whatever you want to call them. They¡¯ll be singing my name from here to across the sea.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right.¡±


    ¡°Sush up and hurry up,¡± Callum waved them on, taking the lead toward the temple. ¡°From here on out, no one speaks unless they really have to. Until we¡¯ve made some distance from the temple, we¡¯re in stealth mode, got it?¡±


    The three others nodded, but Radic murmured something beneath his breath.


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    **Imperator**


    A knock sounded at Mark¡¯s door. He was barely awake. Scented candles filled the room with luxurious smells he hadn¡¯t experienced since his previous life, and the soft cushions and furs beneath his body, which still radiated heat from the spa, were like laying on a bed of clouds.


    ¡°Come in,¡± he huskily whispered, his lids fluttering open for a blurred glance toward the door before shutting again. ¡°What is it?¡±


    ¡°The Body of the Goddess wishes to speak with you,¡± came a soft voice at the door.


    ¡°Now? Can¡¯t it wait?¡±


    ¡°I-ah¨C¡±


    Oh yeah, they don¡¯t like me treating this so-called Body of the Goddess like a normal person.


    ¡°Forget it. I¡¯m getting up,¡± Mark said, groaning as he pulled his noncompliant body up. ¡°Just give me a minute.¡±


    ¡°Yes, of course,¡± the girl said, retreating out of the room as their eyes caught. ¡°Let me know when you¡¯re ready.¡±


    Don¡¯t say that; it might make me inclined to take my time.


    Stepping out of his room, Mark tightened the strap of the silken robe that had been provided to him.


    ¡°You¡¯re not going to wear your normal clothes?¡±


    ¡°What¡¯s wrong with this?¡± Mark questioned, raising the loosely sleeved arms.


    ¡°It¡¯s¨Cum¡­ nothing,¡± she bowed. ¡°Right this way.¡±


    These are probably considered pajamas, and it¡¯s probably rude to walk around in them, but damn if they¡¯re not comfy. And I¡¯ll be damned if I¡¯m not making the most of my stay here before I return to the fort.


    Passing through the stone corridors, they caught Yelinda kneeling on the bear fur, holding some wooden toys, and playing with a couple of small children as they entered her impressive chamber.


    ¡°Body of the Goddess,¡± the attendant said, falling to her knees. ¡°King Atlas, as you requested.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. You may leave us,¡± Yelinda waved dismissively without turning from the children.


    ¡°I have to say, I didn¡¯t take you for a kid person. You gave a more stately impression,¡± Mark questioned as he took several steps closer.


    ¡°A kid person?¡± Yelinda turned to him with an amused twist to her brow. ¡°More like the matriarch of a great clan. Perhaps the two are separated where you¡¯re from, but here, contributing to the raising of the next generation is as important as writing laws. But I can¡¯t lie; I liked how you said it casually,¡± she smiled.


    ¡°Well, I got plenty of that,¡± Mark flashed a toothy smile he didn¡¯t know he possessed and then looked away as their eyes caught, his gaze wandering around the expansive hall that looked like it should have a nasty draft but was warm and comfortable. ¡°So, what is it you wanted to talk to me about?¡±


    ¡°What do you think, Great King?¡±


    ¡°Great? I really think you should reconsider calling me that. I barely have a few hundred subjects. Hardly a great king. In fact, I¡¯m hesitant to say it barely qualifies me as a king.¡±


    ¡°Yet you granted yourself the title.¡±


    ¡°I am very much the pragmatist. We needed a ruler, and king sounded better than the alternatives.¡±


    ¡°Right, it makes sense. So, Mr. pragmatic King, what do you need now?¡±


    ¡°What do I need now?¡± Mark¡¯s gaze fell back on the beauty that looked up at him from the furs. ¡°An army. A big one.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s unfortunate. That is the one thing I don¡¯t have. Although, I might be able to help.¡±


    ¡°You can, can you?¡± Mark¡¯s brow perked.


    ¡°I don¡¯t know how much you know about the western lands¨C¡±


    ¡°Very little,¡± Mark interjected.


    ¡°Right, well then. These lands are different from those you are used to in the east. The populations here are even sparser, and the settlements smaller. Unlike the dozens of warring clans that now try to bridge their differences so that they might form an alliance in the east to defeat the wargs, we have always had a degree of cooperation, albeit somewhat informal. You see, our clan is the clan of clans. This makes me the matriarch of the Wamandy Clan and of all the clans in the West. But tame your thoughts. This relationship is different than those in the Imperium and beyond. I do not call myself a queen; their chiefs do not follow my orders. However, they do bow to me when the time comes. They offer tributes and rely on my voice when arbitration between clans is required. In return, my Sabretooth Warriors keep the peace across these lands.¡±


    ¡°So, you do have an army?¡±


    ¡°Not quite. Sabretooth Warriors are as much a free warrior caste as they are soldiers. Prospective children from across the entire Western Region are brought here to train with the master warriors and elevated as Sabretooth Warriors upon the completion of their training. These warriors then set out across the land to maintain peace and defend small and weak settlements, always maintaining their highest loyalties to me. However, they still become retainers for the local clans they serve.¡±


    ¡°So, can we call upon them or not?¡±


    ¡°We can. I can request a gathering, though it will take several days, if not weeks. However, autonomy in the West is a virtue we hold dear, and I cannot force them to hand over their retainers to you. We must convince them that it is in their best interests.¡±


    ¡°Are the wargs not convincing enough?¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand this land. We are so separated from the East that many do not see our problems as shared. And while the wargs have attacked me here in this temple, they have not yet attempted a full invasion of the west. Likely, they are saving that until they have defeated the federation of clans in the east.¡±


    ¡°Surely they can see what awaits them.¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be so confident in that. These people have lived generation after generation, removed from the outside world. Wars and destruction that plague most of the world rarely find their way here, and as such, it¡¯s not so surprising to find that the people would rather not risk their lives for others.¡±


    ¡°So, what do you suggest?¡±


    ¡°We need to convince them that they are part of something bigger. That they stand at the precipice of a new beginning. We need to give them something that will fuel their pride.¡±


    ¡°Yes, that¡¯s a good idea. We can use their pride and instincts to convince them of the cause. But how do you suggest we do that?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s simple, really.¡±


    Mark nodded expectantly, eyes locked on the young matriarch.


    ¡°We bind our houses through marriage.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Mark stammered and tilted his head.


    ¡°You and me. We build the foundations of a real kingdom. Something worthy of the name. Something even great clans will bow to and offer their allegiances as vessels. Something with the potential to unite the people of this land you call the Frontier.¡±


    Mark swallowed.


    Marriage? That hadn¡¯t been on my to-do list.

 72. Party of Knights

    Payon¡¯s mastery of metal was on display as the four young knights crept into the temple, the joints of their plated armor moving fluidly and smoothly. Their leather boots were iron-capped, and their steps pressed silently across the stone tiles.


    Callum led the group, using a mixture of waves and hand gestures. They hadn¡¯t worked out a real communication system, but Callum managed to impart most of what he meant naturally.


    The thick, foggy cover that clouded most of the land for almost the entire winter shadowed their approach, and when they passed through the sharp arch of a doorway into the temple proper, they found themselves in darkness among the brick corridors.


    ¡°Callum,¡± Erin murmured. ¡°I can¡¯t see a thing in here.¡±


    ¡°Walk along the wall,¡± he whispered back.


    ¡°This is silly. Can¡¯t we light a torch or something,¡± Radic boomed. "We''re going to run into each other."


    ¡°Quiet down,¡± Callum hissed. ¡°Are you trying to alert people we''re here?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m trying to see,¡± Radic replied, only slightly quieter than before. "I''m not an owl."


    ¡°Just shush up. You can light a torch once we confirm there¡¯s no one around.¡±


    ¡°Listen to him, Radic,¡± Clay said. ¡°What if there are wargs in here?¡±


    ¡°Fine. But let¡¯s make this quick.¡±


    Grumbling to himself at the back, Radic took up the rear, and the small group pressed deeper into the temple grounds.


    Courtyards dotted the structure, allowing some light to pierce through the outer windows, but the light barely illuminated their path.


    Perhaps an hour passed as they carefully traced the building, finding no signs of any life.


    ¡°Come on, there¡¯s no one here,¡± Radic said. "Let''s get some light going."


    ¡°Fine, you can light a torch,¡± Callum succumbed. He wasn¡¯t quite comfortable with the idea yet, but he relented since they hadn¡¯t seen any signs of life within the temple.


    Nervously scanning their surroundings, the group waited as Radic used flints to light some oily rags, which he used to light the torches.


    ¡°There we go. Finally, some light,¡± he said, passing them around. ¡°Now, let¡¯s find the loot. And get out of here.¡±


    ¡°Alright, you happy now? Can we continue?¡±


    ¡°Sure am,¡± Radic said, waving the flaming torch. ¡°Okay, which way?¡±


    ¡°We may as well split up now. I doubt we¡¯ll find any valuables like precious metals and such. Things like that have likely been looted by the clans already. But based on what Venjimin said, they already kicked out all the academics. So, chances are they didn¡¯t take much interest in knowledge. Look for books, maps, and scrolls. Take anything that might have use and value if added to our libraries. Do you get it?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, yeah,¡± Radic said. ¡°We hear you. Loot the good shit if you can find it. Simple enough.¡±


    ¡°So, we¡¯re actually all going off alone?¡± Clay said.


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Clay. We¡¯ve walked up and down this place and haven¡¯t spotted a soul,¡± Callum reassured.


    ¡°He does kind of have a point, though,¡± Erin said. ¡°We should at least have a gathering point in case something happens.¡±


    ¡°Okay. The first courtyard we walked past when entering. If we hear or see anything, gather there. But if it¡¯s not safe, go straight to the forest and wait.¡±


    ¡°Got it,¡± Radic said, already walking away.


    ¡°I¡¯m not sure this is a good idea.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯ll be fine, Clay. You¡¯re more likely to get spooked from your shadow than seeing anybody here.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Clay nodded and swallowed.


    ***


    Erin crept through the shadowy corridor with care, awkwardly struggling to hold her crossbow up while gripping the torch. She had the sword at her side if needed, but she was far from skilled with it like Callum was.


    Come on, loot. Where are you? This place gives me the creeps.


    Podiums were knocked over, and shelves were left bare in the rummaged rooms she walked through. She even spotted the wall marks where paintings had hung. The thought that they had come all this way to walk through a barren temple, looted of all its goods, was starting to settle on her.


    ¡°Damn it, there has to be something of value around here,¡± she murmured beneath her breath as she walked.


    ¡°Not a step further,¡± growled a gruff voice as she entered a room, and a second later, Erin felt the cold tip of a blade press against her back.


    Erin froze. The voice had come from behind, but she couldn¡¯t see the man threatening her.


    ¡°Put it down slowly.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I¡¯m putting it down,¡± Erin said, lowering to place the crossbow on the ground.


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    ¡°Good, now step away.¡±


    ¡°Stepping away,¡± Erin said.


    ¡°Get the crossbow, Durdle,¡± the man hissed.


    An old, balding man with a little white fuzz beside his ears ran out and collected the crossbow.


    ¡°Now, don¡¯t move a muscle. Just stay where you are. Or I might have to get all stabby on you.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m not moving. Just tell me, what do you want?¡±


    ¡°Tell YOU what WE want? You¡¯re the one that came barging in here. What are you and your companions looking for around here?¡±


    They do not look good; they know about the others.


    ¡°We thought this place was abandoned, okay? That¡¯s all. Just a place to settle down. No need for a fight.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right. We¡¯d believe a bunch of kids dressed in metal armor are looking to squat in the temple. Now tell me what you¡¯re doing here, Imperial.¡±


    ¡°I told¨C¡±


    The blade poked her back between the armor plates.


    ¡°Okay, okay. We¡¯re looking for knowledge. Books, maps, you name it.¡±


    ¡°Who sent you,¡± the old man interjected, his voice suddenly twisting with urgency.


    ¡°No one. We¡¯ve come on our own.¡±


    ¡°Lies. Tell us now. Who is after the knowledge in this temple? The clans didn¡¯t seem to care. They carried out all the gold and silver and left, and I know you Imperials have left the Frontier, for the most part, at least. So, who is it?¡±


    A muffled cry sounded from outside the room, and the man turned, pulling his blade away from Erin.


    ¡°Dangis, is that you?¡±


    ¡°Waaah!¡±


    ¡°Dangis!¡± he shouted.


    A figure flew across the room, and Radic and Callum charged in after, knocking the man to the ground with a swift blow.


    ¡°Don¡¯t step an inch closer,¡± yelled the old man across the room, pointing Erin¡¯s crossbow at them. ¡°I¡¯ll shoot.¡±


    ¡°Erin,¡± Radic growled.


    ¡°Sorry.¡±


    ¡°We¡¯re not your enemy,¡± Callum said, holding his sword above his head. ¡°And we didn¡¯t kill any of your people. We can talk this out.¡±


    The old man looked down at the groaning bodies withering on the ground, confirming what Callum said.


    ¡°Look, we just came for the books. Our leader wants to protect the knowledge in this place. Make sure it doesn¡¯t fall into the hands of the wargs.¡±


    ¡°You''re too late for that,¡± the man sighed. ¡°They¡¯ve already taken most of it.¡±


    ¡°Tell me, what happened here?¡±


    ¡°What does it look like? After the clans took everything of value and left, the wargs invaded. When they came, they took everything else. We managed to hide a bit down in the cellar, but it''s only a token amount of what this great temple once held.¡±


    ¡°So, you¡¯re a priest then?¡±


    ¡°Yes, or at least I was. Though I fear those days are gone and left behind.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t happen to know a man named Venjimin, do you?¡±


    ¡°Venjimin, you know that old bastard?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Callum nodded. ¡°He works for my¡ªking,¡± Callum said, still feeling a little strange calling the Imperator king.


    ¡°King?¡± The old man tilted. ¡°You¡¯re an Imperial, aren¡¯t you? Has that old bastard Venjmin moved into the Imperium?¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Callum shook. ¡°We¡¯re building something new. A kingdom in the Frontier. Both barbarians and Imperials alike are welcome. The knowledge held here could be valuable. We wanted to bring it back. Use it to help us forge something bigger and better.¡±


    ¡°If what he says is true,¡± another younger man said, stepping out from further in the room. ¡°Then maybe we have a future, Durdle? We don¡¯t have to die here.¡±


    ¡°Why should we trust you,¡± Durdle said, ignoring the young man.


    ¡°What other options do you have? I¡¯m sure the wargs will return once they finish the clans. What then? Are you going to bow to them? Become slaves?¡±


    ¡°Durdle, listen to him. I don¡¯t want to be a warg¡¯s slave.¡±


    ¡°Shut it, child. What protections can you offer us?¡±


    ¡°Look, we¡¯re always in need of learned people in Winterclaw. It¡¯s not within my power to promise anything, but I am confident that If you come back with us, there will be positions for men of your standing. Good ones, too. The kind that comes with a home and income.¡±


    ¡°Hey, hey, hey! Everyone!¡± Clay came shouting down the hall. ¡°Put your torches out. I saw something.¡±


    ¡°Slow down, Clay,¡± Callum barked, turning to the armored boy as he ran into the room panting. ¡°Speak slowly and clearly. What¡¯s going on?¡±


    ¡°Figures. Lots of them. Coming. Like men, but running on all fours.¡±


    ¡°Wargs,¡± Durdle said. ¡°Here, this way,¡± he added, turning and waving for them to follow. ¡°Put the torches out and follow.¡±


    ¡°Do as he says,¡± Callum commanded.


    ¡°We¡¯ll have to take refuge in the cellar again. Come this way.¡±


    ¡°How could they have found us?¡± Callum said. ¡°I thought they left?¡±


    ¡°They still patrol the area,¡± Durdle said as he hurriedly led them down stone stairs. ¡°They probably saw your torches.¡±


    ¡°Torches, you say?¡± Erin glared at Radic.


    ¡°What? How was I supposed to know?¡±


    ¡°This way,¡± Durdle pointed.


    Rubble, rock, and toppled bookshelves blocked the path, but Durdle led them through slender gaps until they reached a heavy, wooden door.


    ¡°In here,¡± he said, slowly opening it and standing aside as everyone entered. ¡°Is everyone accounted for?¡±


    ¡°Yeah,¡± Dangis, one of the younger men, said, checking on the others they had helped up and down the stairs. ¡°We¡¯ve seen better days, though,¡± he added, glaring at Callum and Radic.


    ¡°Sorry about that,¡± Callum said.


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Durdle waved. ¡°At least we¡¯re alive. And as shitty as it might seem, probably safe. Despite numerous searches of the temple, they haven¡¯t managed to find this place yet. If it is only a small party, we should be fine.¡±


    ¡°So what now?¡± One of the men said. ¡°What¡¯s the plan after the wargs leave?¡±


    ¡°How many of you are down here?¡± Callum asked.


    ¡°Me and two other priests and fifteen students,¡± Durdle said. ¡°All of which can read and write.¡±


    Callum turned to the others with a grin. ¡°Come with us back to Winterclaw. You¡¯re exactly the kind of people we need.¡±


    ¡°So, are you telling us there¡¯s no loot?¡± Radic asked.


    ¡°We have some books. Unfortunately, it isn¡¯t much,¡± Durdle sighed. "Most of everything has already been looted."


    ¡°Stop being so short-sighted. We¡¯ve just picked up almost twenty educated men who can read and write. We¡¯re short on scribes and educators. This is as good a treasure as any book.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Erin nodded. ¡°If we can get them back alive, that is.¡±


    The sound of footsteps above their heads immediately silenced everyone, their gazes turning to the ceiling in darkness.


    Durdle held a finger to his lips, not that anybody could see the gesture.


    Escape was not looking so easy.


    **Imperator**


    Mark had retreated back to his room shortly after the meeting, his mind swimming with all kinds of thoughts.


    He had been taken off guard but wasn¡¯t about to turn down the offer. This was their opportunity.


    Furthermore, Yelinda¡¯s description of the sabretooth warriors instilled hope in him. They were more than just elites. They were barbarian elites. No matter how much he tried to bring his people together, there were still bridges to gab, and it was difficult training an army when most of his skilled fighters were Imperials that clung to their old way of thinking.


    These warriors promised something new. Truly elite warriors that could train his army. Up until now, Trumus had been one of the few skilled warriors and their main trainer for barbarians, and stemming his influence had been on Mark¡¯s mind for a long time. In fact, there really wasn¡¯t anything to think about. If Yelinda¡¯s ambitions were honest, then this was an alliance Mark couldn¡¯t turn up.


    She had given him a week to decide; during that time, she would call up the other Western clans and sabretooth warriors. They would wed in front of the elites of the Western lands, and on their wedding day, they would request that the clans unite and provide their assistance in battling back the wargs.


    The young priestess had seemingly put a lot of thought into the plan. It was customary to ask for gifts during weddings, and the grander the wedding, the grander the gifts. If there was ever a time they could convince the warriors to march east with them, this would be it.


    Mark packed his things, preparing for a quick flight back to Winterclaw. Time couldn¡¯t be wasted, and he would ensure everything was in order before returning to the temple.


    I always thought I¡¯d have more time to think about it.


    Mark sighed and stuffed the last of his things into a pack. He almost felt confident in defeating his enemies now.


    "A short back and forth and then we cement this thing," he murmured as he straighened to leave.


    "It''s time to build an army."

 73. Putting Things in Order

    Mark eyed the financial reports handed to him by Elowen in his office while she watched in muted silence.


    Land sales have been a great success; however, our funds won¡¯t last long with these deficits.


    Unfortunately, Mark couldn¡¯t just reduce expenditure, nor did he have anybody to borrow from. The main problem he faced was that any spending reduction could cause their tiny but growing economy to churn to a halt. With war around the corner, he needed to keep them speeded ahead as quickly as possible. Once the war was dealt with, he could determine their economic fallout and deal with the consequences.


    ¡°You¡¯ve done well. Just as I asked of you,¡± Mark said, placing down the report.


    ¡°Thank you, my liege,¡± Elowen said.


    That¡¯s going to sound weird hearing for a while.


    ¡°But we need more. With the constant influx of people into our lands and the guaranteed jobs we provide, our costs will likely continue to increase exponentially.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right. Perhaps we should consider changing our policy. If we let this continue, our coffers will run dry.¡±


    ¡°No. People are coming from far and wide because they know anybody can get work here. In the short term, it is the only way we can guarantee that we will grow our population and, therefore, our army. There¡¯s a mountain ahead of us, and if we wish to confront the wargs, we need to keep climbing it. Based on recruitment numbers, assuming we called up almost all of our able-bodied warriors across Fort Winterclaw, the Northern Mines, and Frostwind, we can probably man an army of about six to seven hundred strong. It is a remarkable improvement from what we had just months ago, but it isn¡¯t enough. Not to mention, we still need to keep the basics running and have a few soldiers left to man the walls. These truths limit the total number we can recruit, and it wouldn¡¯t be wise to push that figure any higher until our population grows larger.¡±


    ¡°Correct,¡± Elowen nodded. ¡°It¡¯s a struggle. We already bring at least one family into our lands a day. At present, we are averaging eighty new arrivals every week, which brings with it another problem. The strain that this growing population applies to our industries and food production. The rigar expansion has helped a little, but many are still wary of taking up settlement outside of the fort¡¯s walls with the wargs rampaging across the Frontier. Until that problem is dealt with, long-term sustainability will likely be impossible to achieve.¡±


    ¡°And our tight rigar supplies allow us to keep the costs of food high and one of our main income sources steady,¡± Mark mused, thinking about the double-edged sword of their razor-thin food production. He couldn¡¯t risk it falling below what was consumed; famine would cause far too many problems he couldn¡¯t afford, but the high prices he was able to push because of it relieved the budget strains a little, as Mark was easily able to increase the price of processed rigar to help cover some of their deficit.


    ¡°Eighty isn¡¯t enough either,¡± he murmured. ¡°Worst of all, we can¡¯t easily increase that number, nor could we support it if we could.¡±


    ¡°Exactly,¡± Elowen nodded.


    He would be flying back to the temple to secure his marriage to Yelinda soon, and it couldn¡¯t come sooner. Mark just hoped that the promised army lived up to the hype.


    ¡°I have a new plan. It won¡¯t solve our resource problems in the short term, but at least we¡¯ll have a bandaid for our deficit. We¡¯re going to issue bonds.¡±


    ¡°Bonds?¡± Elowen tilted her head. ¡°Bandaid?¡±


    ¡°Yes, bonds, exactly. And we¡¯ll also issue loans to cover them.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t follow my liege. I don¡¯t remember reading about bonds in Imperial literature.¡±


    Right, bonds might not have been invented in this world yet.


    ¡°My bad,¡± Mark said. ¡°A bond is essentially just selling our debt. We will offer interest to the purchaser, using our name and assets as collateral. Think of it this way: a bond in an investment in the future of Winterclaw itself. If you believe in this kingdom, you believe in the value of its bonds. However, I doubt many of our citizens will have the wealth to buy our bonds. So, to combat this, we will offer loans.¡±


    Elowen shook her head. ¡°Why would people take out a loan just to buy another loan? This doesn¡¯t make a lot of sense.¡±


    ¡°To create capital. Or at least, that¡¯s why we will do it.¡±


    ¡°Create capital? Out of nothing? You¡¯re not making this make any more sense.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s it. Let me explain,¡± Mark grinned. ¡°While the interest rates will cancel each other out, seemingly making this a pointless endeavor, the buyers will suddenly have capital that didn¡¯t exist prior. A one-way loan is fine to create debt, but this way, we will be injecting wealth into our economy at the same time as creating debt. Our first client will be the bank we have already established. While I¡¯m at it, I think I¡¯ll make you the bank''s chairman.¡±


    This novel is published on a different platform. Support the original author by finding the official source.


    ¡°But we own the bank, don¡¯t we? We¡¯re going to be lending to ourselves now?¡±


    ¡°We do,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°That is correct.¡±


    ¡°Sorry, I still don¡¯t understand. Where will this made-up wealth exist? You say that people will buy the bonds and we will create capital, but where will that capital be?¡±


    ¡°The capital will exist on paper and on bond notes we will issue. By doing this, we will give capital or wealth to our people and the bank, and in return, they will owe us debt. This will provide us with an additional source of income, as our debt owners will have to pay us in iron coins, crowns, or gold.¡±


    ¡°But we will owe them debt as well, won¡¯t we?¡±


    ¡°We will. But only once the bonds mature will we need to settle them, which will be at a later date. Not only that, but we¡¯ll issue new bonds to pay for the old ones when that day finally comes.¡±


    Elowen nodded thoughtfully. ¡°So, people will give us real money in exchange for our fake money?¡±


    ¡°In essence, yes. But our bonds are not just fake money. It is wealth secured by our very kingdom. If you spend your wealth to build a home for yourself behind our walls and a business to run beside it, you are already investing in Winterclaw. Everyone who has moved here has invested in Winterclaw. This will just give an opportunity for savvy investors who realize the potential to grow their wealth.¡±


    ¡°I think I get it. But I¡¯m not sure people will understand the value of what you''re offering. No matter how good your plan is or isn¡¯t, it won¡¯t succeed without buyers.¡±


    ¡°I understand that all too well, Elowen. That¡¯s why we¡¯re also going to give people reasons to want to buy the bonds: by introducing licensing and contracts. That¡¯s what we¡¯ll sell. We don¡¯t need to flood the market; we just need to get a few buyers through the door, and others will follow. For example, we¡¯re running the caravans between our settlements. This can be sold as a contract. The contract owner will have exclusive rights to run the trade caravans and earn the money collected from them. And the brilliance of it is they won¡¯t even need to spend their wealth to settle the contract. They¡¯ll just need to exchange debt for bonds, and in turn, we¡¯ll be paying them the coins they pay us. And there will be one less job for our coffers to directly cover.¡±


    Mark wanted to add taxation, but he held off for now. Lack of taxation had been a unifying topic for the Imperials under his rule, and he wanted to keep it that way until they grew stronger.


    ¡°Okay, I can organize that,¡± Elowen said, her mind spinning with ideas. ¡°Oh, we could enforce licenses for brewing,¡± she raised a finger. ¡°We¡¯ve had a few cases recently of people getting quite ill because of the home brewing that has popped up across Winterclaw. It is a growing concern for such a small population, especially when we need our people healthy to fight the wargs.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant idea,¡± Mark said. ¡°Now you¡¯re getting the hang of it.¡±


    ¡°Just one question: why not just sell these contracts and licenses? Why add another layer of complexity?¡±


    ¡°Piling debt without adding wealth to our little economy is likely to weigh people down and cause austerity. We don¡¯t want people tightening their purse strings, so they have money to pay their debts. We want to fuel our economy. A strong economy is the only way we¡¯ll get more people moving here looking for a better life. At least in our current state. By making the bonds, we will be flooding our markets with additional wealth and hopefully spurring it to greater heights.¡±


    ¡°Please, forgive me if this is out of turn, my liege. But isn¡¯t that reckless? We¡¯re essentially creating wealth. What if these bond notes lose their value?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re right, it is. But this is a time of war. Once the threat to our lands is dealt with and our population has settled, we will sustainably organize our finances. Until then, we need whatever we can come up with to give us a boost.¡±


    A knock sounded at the door, interrupting the pair.


    ¡°About time. Good discussion, Elowen. Did you understand it all? I hope I can trust you to get the operation started?¡±


    ¡°Yes, I did¡ªI think. Do you have any special instructions for the creation of the bonds?¡±


    ¡°Just make sure they can¡¯t be easily forged.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my liege,¡± Elowen bowed and climbed up from her seat, opening the door to let a former acolyte in as she left.


    ¡°My liege,¡± the boy bowed.


    ¡°Any word on my stray knights?¡±


    ¡°A scouting party has spotted their tracks heading south. They appear to be going in the direction of the temple.¡±


    The temple? They didn¡¯t think they would go and loot that place themselves, did they? Damn it.


    Groaning, Mark rubbed his temples and sighed. Flying was risky, as it would take him too close to the battleground where the throne ships were. He might have taken one out last time, but he couldn¡¯t risk underestimating his enemy. If they sent a dozen after him, there wouldn¡¯t be much he could do about it.


    ¡°Ready some horses and a retinue of soldiers.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± the boy bowed again and left.


    Letting the newly minted knights of the order I just created get themselves killed is going to be a bad look.


    Rising from his chair, Mark prepared to leave. There was so much to do, but at least he had competent people filling in where he needed them.


    Time to save the kids again.


    **Callum**


    ¡°Faster, they¡¯re catching on us,¡± Callum yelled back at the older men from the temple who struggled to keep up with their flight through the forest.


    ¡°They¡¯re not going to make it,¡± Erin said.


    They had a headstart from the wargs, slipping out under cover of darkness after the wargs had left the temple, but it hadn¡¯t taken them long to pick up on their trail, and now they could see the silhouettes of the beasts bounding across the open snow under the silver light of the moon, beside the forest that they ran through.


    ¡°What are we going to do?¡± Radic sneered, sword in hand. ¡°The forest is slowing us down even more. And nightfall hasn¡¯t slowed them at all. Heck, it might be making them faster.¡±


    ¡°We have no choice. If they catch us in the open, we¡¯ll be slaughtered,¡± Callum said. ¡°We have to keep going. Get as close to Winterclaw as we can and prepare to defend ourselves.¡±


    ¡°There¡¯s dozens of them,¡± Clay said, visibly shaking.


    ¡°He¡¯s right. This is madness. Leave the old men to the wargs, and the rest of us can probably make it back,¡± Radic said.


    ¡°Those old men are a valuable resource to Winterclaw; we can¡¯t just abandon them.¡±


    ¡°So, we all die then?¡±


    Callum shook his head, unsure how to answer. ¡°We¡¯re not going to die. We can still get out of this mess. We just have to keep going.¡±


    ¡°How? You want to act like our captain, then you need to make difficult decisions,¡± Radic roared as they ran, hopping over snow-covered undergrowth.


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Erin said. ¡°They might be useful, but what good will it be if we¡¯re all dead? Just leave them, Callum. I¡¯m sure King Atlas will understand.¡±


    ¡°I¨CI,¡± Callum gritted his teeth and glanced over his shoulder at the old men struggling to run through the dense forest and its undergrowth. This wasn¡¯t how his first mission was supposed to go.

 74. First Encounter

    ¡°To your right!¡± A man yelled in the darkness, shifting the group¡¯s attention. They couldn¡¯t see much; the moon''s silvery light was shrouded by the forest canopy, but the yellow glow of their enemy¡¯s eyes pierced through the darkness.


    ¡°Wargs,¡± Radic said, stumbling backward.


    ¡°Defend yourselves,¡± Callum shouted, his sword already in hand.


    ¡°Too many,¡± Erin said, raising her crossbow and firing toward the glowing eyes as they worked their way through the forest toward them.


    Ignoring his peril, Callum engaged, stepping between the others and the incoming terror of the wargs.


    It was barely perceivable under the low light, but Callum caught sight of the swinging, clawed hand and ducked under its path, riposting with an upward stab that caught the beast beneath the arm.


    Roaring in agony, the warg stumbled back and swung with its left as Callum pushed forward. Even wounded, the beast was quick, and Callum barely managed to catch the strike with his vambrace, which sent him hurling from his feet to the ground.


    ¡°Callum!¡± Clay shouted as he lit one of the pots Radic had provided. A second warg was bearing down on Callum, who was now sprawled across the ground. Without a second thought, Clay threw the grenade, and flames exploded across the warg¡¯s frame as it moved into range, turning it into a flaming fur torch and filling the forest with a warm light that crackled, burned, and dropped the persistent flames across the ground, igniting any patch of undergrowth not covered in snow.


    The grenade only caught one of the beasts, but the light and heat sent several others reeling back in a mixture of fear and confusion, giving Callum a chance to get back to his feet before another attack came.


    Roaring something unintelligible, Radic charged to Callum¡¯s side, eyeing down the dozen wargs who glared across at them from only a few yards away.


    ¡°Come on then, get it!¡± Radic taunted.


    As if awoken from their apprehension, three wargs lowered themselves and leaped into a charge.


    The moment the wargs stepped over the flames left by the previous grenade, Radic threw his own at their feet, exploding around the wargs and setting the legs of two of them alight.


    The third stepped into range but was distracted by the inferno burning around it, and it let its guard down. Callum lunged forward, stabbing into the beast¡¯s abdomen.


    The warg roared and swung back, throwing Callum away as it hit his plated armor, but Radic was only a second behind, swinging down on the beast¡¯s head and opening a wound that ran from eye to jaw.


    Hissing and shaking its head, the warg stumbled backward, forgetting about the flames at its back and setting itself ablaze.


    ¡°What out!¡± Erin cried as another warg leaped forward. Only yards from Radic and Callum, who were taken off guard. Releasing her bolt, Erin caught the leaping warg in its side and sent it sprawling across the ground. But it wasn¡¯t dead, and it raised its head and sneered, changing direction and bounding toward Erin.


    ¡°Get back,¡± Clay shouted, drawing his sword and standing between Erin and the warg.


    Clay¡¯s eyes widened; the narrow, petite boy who barely looked his age of sixteen going on seventeen stared down the seven-foot beast of rippled muscle as it descended about him. It was over for him.


    Thunder crackled and boomed through the forest, creating a shockwave that made even the stubborn flames of the Greek fire flicker, and a bolt of energy caught the lunging beast and flung it away as if it were a child¡¯s toy.


    The other wargs halted their assault on the two desperate boys and turned their attention to where the blast had come, just in time to spot the second as it flashed through the trees and smacked another warg off its feet, leaving it a charred, smoking mess.


    With their attentions stolen by the lightning, the two boys recovered and charged the closest warg, attacking from either side of it and landing several blows before it could respond with flailed swipes of its claws.


    Another warg turned to support its allies against the two boys, but another crackling burst of lightning slammed into its side, frying the warg where it stood.


    A half dozen wargs still stood, and they understood who their real threat was; they charged toward where the blasts of lightning had erupted from but fell short as they met a small formation of spears and shields, catching the weapons¡¯ sharp ends unprepared and recoiling as wounds opened up across their bodies.


    Arrows and bolts followed, dotting the fur of the defenseless wargs. The beast¡¯s thrashing bodies and unrelenting strength snapped several spears and ate dozens of bolts and arrows before they slowed, but they had been outplayed.


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    Surrounded and cornered, the attacks continued until the last wargs fell to the ground, jerking their last breaths.


    ¡°Thank goodness you¡¯re alive,¡± Mark said, parting his retinue¡¯s formation and stepping over warg corpses as he walked toward his panting knights, whose eyes were wide as if they had just stared down the abyssal embrace of death and somehow survived.


    ¡°King Atlas,¡± Callum huffed, forcing his wobbling legs to straighten and drop into a bow, reminding the other three to do the same.


    ¡°Men, see that our brave knights get looked after,¡± Mark snapped his fingers. ¡°Going up against wargs with nothing but a sword, impressive,¡± he added as he walked closer.


    ¡°We did what we had to,¡± Callum said.


    ¡°Few would have had the courage to stand against them at all, let alone outnumbered. All four of you have made me proud. However, I don¡¯t remember asking you to carry out this quest. Being able to act autonomously is important for soldiers in senior positions, but this is going too far. The four of you will be reprimanded as a reminder of this. I hope you will learn your lesson.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord,¡± the four of them shouted.


    ¡°Good. Oh, and who are these?¡± Mark''s brow curled as he watched the men from the temple stepping into the light from the torches and burning undergrowth.


    ¡°Priests and students from the Temple of Samuuda. Servants to the Wind God,¡± the old man leading the group bowed. ¡°My lord.¡±


    ¡°The Wind God?¡± Mark tilted his head. ¡°Right, I almost forgot your temple is in service to the Wind God, which means so is Venjimin.¡±


    ¡°Something the matter, my lord?¡± the old man said without raising his head and still bowing.


    ¡°No, but I think I have a job for you. Later. Now tell me, if you and your people were following my knights here, I assume that means you wish to join me?¡±


    ¡°Yes, if you would have us,¡± the man nodded whilst bowed.


    ¡°Good, you may rise. All of you are now citizens of Winterclaw. Make me proud.¡±


    ¡°Citizens?¡± Radic questioned and bowed his gaze as Mark¡¯s met it. ¡°Sorry, my lord. I didn¡¯t mean to¨C¡±


    ¡°No. It¡¯s fine,¡± Mark interrupted. ¡°The decision was impromptu. But we¡¯re no longer slaves to the Imperium,¡± he added, turning back to the priest. ¡°Do you accept my offer?¡±


    ¡°We do. Of course we do,¡± he hurriedly nodded. ¡°We would be proud to be citizens of your kingdom, great king.¡±


    ¡°Good,¡± Mark said and waved some of his soldiers over. ¡°Tend to these men as well.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord!¡± an armored soldier saluted and hurried over to help the worn priest and their students.


    **Imperator**


    Returning to Winterclaw, Mark reunited the priests and their students with Venjimin. The small school and temple Venjimin had built with his help would barely fit the influx and would no doubt have people sleeping on the library floors and just about everywhere else.


    Mark had decided that he would need to take the temple under his own control as soon as possible. Not only could they use it as a place of education for their people, but not everyone was going to fit in Winterclaw, especially not with the dwindling resources surrounding it.


    But there was another issue he had identified. This would strengthen the Temple of Samuuda even more, and while he hadn¡¯t outright asked the question yet, he assumed it was the same Wind God that the Wamandy Clan worshiped. In the immediate, this was a good thing. It gave him loyal followers that he would take back with him to the temple.


    Since the wedding hadn¡¯t been finalized, nor had the requests for gifts been made, Mark saw great benefit in having his own people with him to help understand the exchange and provide aid in the negotiations. After all, he wasn¡¯t about to just sit back and let things be dedicated to him. He would make sure that the politics were all delicately placed for his and Winterclaw¡¯s benefit.


    However, the growing strength of the Wind God couldn¡¯t be ignored. He had to be careful; if it became the unquestionably dominant religion in Winterclaw, then he wouldn¡¯t be able to do much about it without looking like a zealot. He would need a delicate touch to maintain the appearance of secularism while also promoting the Lightning God. After all, that would be a momentous aspect of his power and influence, something he couldn¡¯t allow to be sidelined.


    This is getting out of hand. I can¡¯t just sit back any longer. I have to reveal my true nature and start developing a new temple.


    The keep was coming along nicely, though it was still a long way from completion. It was where he planned to base his religion, not just as a headquarters for his knights but as the temple itself. This had been considered from the ground up, with great care in building the structure to be imposing and dominating, with giant arches, high ceilings, and massive, pointed roofs that jutted out from the complex¡¯s center and into the heavens.


    Mark was confident in his plan, but it was taking too long, and he didn¡¯t have the spare manpower to dedicate more resources toward it with the approaching war against the wargs.


    He needed something else. Something he could use to build up his image and a name. Something that his people could rally around.


    Simply coming out as the Lightning God¡¯s avatar seemed reckless. It had the chance to alienate any Imperials who clung to their belief in the God-Lord, and without a means to show off his gifts, he would come across as looking like just another Imperator but without a suit. Would that be impressive enough to convince the people of his righteousness? Maybe some, but Mark wanted his reveal to be undeniable. Something that would be written down in great tomes and passed on for countless generations. That was the kind of statement he wanted to make. That was the kind of statement that would unite the people of the Frontier around him.


    Mark searched his thoughts for answers. But it seemed as if it was staring him in the face. What better way to make a show of his big, flashy reveal than during a battle?


    Where and how¡­


    He wanted to rally his people around his image before he took on the bulk of his enemy. Mark still needed to grow his forces significantly if he hoped to defeat the warg¡¯s main army, and creating an appropriate image for himself would aid in that task.


    I need to split them up, and I need to do it before the wedding. Somehow, I have to lure an army of wargs into a confrontation that we can not just win but do it convincingly.


    Mark glanced over his maps again, trying to figure out where best to stage his plan.


    ¡°I might need the help of Elowen and Venjimin to plan this¡­ no, wait, not Venjimin,¡± Mark mouthed. The old man might be loyal to him as a king, but he was also loyal to his god. He didn¡¯t want to share the details of his plan and why he wanted to execute it with anybody he didn¡¯t consider a potential follower of the Lightning God.


    ¡°Elowen, the knights, Trayox, Reida, and Leonard. These will be my conspirators,¡± he mumbled to himself as he drew up his plans.


    We will take a combination of Imperials and barbarians into battle, and I will show them that I am not just a king but the chosen of a god!

 75. Draw them Out

    Mark meticulously reviewed his army¡¯s formation and orders, selecting points to distribute his best warriors.


    The idea was to have veteran mercenaries and the most competent commoners dotted around the formation¡¯s center and flanks, hopefully ensuring that there were no obvious weak points that could collapse their ranks in battle.


    At the rear of his force, Mark organized the archers into rows, ordering them to fire volleys in intervals designed to keep constant pressure on the enemy. This, combined with flaming arrows and Mark¡¯s homebrew Greek fire, was interwoven into the volleys to create a devastating barrage that would hopefully force their enemy into a rushed attack.


    To confront a rushed attack from the enemy, Mark armed the formation''s front line with heavy shields, swords or axes, and armor; behind them, light infantry carried spears. With any luck, the enemy would charge straight into the spears and find themself pressed against an unbreakable line of shields.


    With this formation, he hoped to trap his enemy against a powerful frontline and rely on arrows and spears to thin their numbers before overwhelming them with infantry.


    Unfortunately, they didn¡¯t have the means to provide cavalry support since the horses they had were too valuable for maintaining the trade routes Mark had been setting up. Even though he could enlist the horses temporarily, the cost of losing them and damaging what little trade they had managed to build up was too risky.


    He placed himself and Callum on opposite flanks as risk mitigators and to manage the battlefield. Their job was to tactically use their lightning blasts to hit weak points in their enemy¡¯s formation and, with any luck, fold their enemy¡¯s flanks. To support this goal, he had a new force of light infantry that was to hide in the surrounding forest and charge the enemy flanks once they were weakened. These were men trained mainly by Trumus and led by the brow-raising guard captain.


    Mark was still wary of Trumus, and if he and his men fought in the battle he was planning on throwing them into, they would no doubt take the chance to loot whatever they killed, which in turn would only work for Trumus wealthier. However, not only could they not afford to lose a battle at this point, but they were already outnumbered and needed to avoid casualties as best they could.


    There was a secondary benefit to this plan. Everyone knew the war for the Frontier couldn¡¯t be won hiding behind walls, and as impressive as his defense against the cultists was, it didn¡¯t prove that he could beat back their enemy. If the western clans wanted to hide behind walls, they could stay in the west to do that. Knowing this, Mark figured that it would likely be hard to convince them to send their warriors east to fight beneath his banner unless he had proven success on an open battlefield, leading him to believe that winning this battle was vitally important for gaining the allies he needed.


    However, having the right army for the job was only part of Mark¡¯s plan; the second half was finding the right place to fight. Since he didn¡¯t have time to spend weeks or months skirmishing until they found the perfect position to confront the enemy, Mark selected several potential battlefields with the requirements he needed, which were essentially flat, open terrain with a sloping advantage and thick tree coverage on either side. Luckily, that wasn¡¯t particularly hard to find in the Frontier.


    Since Mark had figured out where they would fight, his scouts had been probing the enemy, trying to draw them out of their camp.


    The warg army was split into different camps and stretched over a rather large area, likely to make Imperial ariel raids less effective if they chose to conduct them. But this worked perfectly into Mark¡¯s plans, allowing him to pick a camp to attack that would play into his strengths. After all, this battle was as much for show as it was for long-term strategy. Weakening the warg forces was a benefit, but strengthening his own at this vital point was far more important.


    **Two Brothers**


    ¡°Been questioning the wargs, have ye?¡± A broad, hairy man said, picking at this nose and circling a feral who sat on his knees in the snow.


    ¡°Answer, brother,¡± an identically hairy man said, circling opposite his clone.


    The two men carried spiked clubs and were dressed in dark, heavy plate covering most of their bodies, save their bare feet, which looked gangrenous in the snow.


    ¡°I swear, I didn¡¯t! Whoever said that is lying. Please, trust me,¡± the man on his knees begged.


    This tale has been unlawfully lifted from Royal Road. If you spot it on Amazon, please report it.


    ¡°Why would we trust you, maggot?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, tell him, brother. Why should we, the Kings of the Foulblooded, trust a maggot like ye?¡±


    Hundreds of poorly dressed and equipped warriors cheered around them, their bodies deformed in various ways, some with third arms, others cyclopean, and some even hunchbacked to the point of walking on all fours.


    ¡°They¡¯re jealous, I swear. The schemers are jealous I can hide my deformities,¡± the man said, pulling off his gloves to reveal clawed hands that resembled the claws of a bird.


    ¡°Ye believe this maggot¡¯s story, do you, brother?¡±


    ¡°Not in the slightest, brother,¡± the furry man shook his Neanderthal head.


    ¡°Insurrection can only be punished one way,¡± the other furry man said as he paced around the man. ¡°Death,¡± he added, leaping toward the kneeled man in a flash and bursting his head open like watermelon with a single strike of his heavy club, sending the crowd into a frenzy as blood reddened the snow.


    ¡°Brother lords!¡± A voice shouted, drowned out by the ecstatic crowd as a slender, rat-like man tried to push through to the front. ¡°Brother lords!¡± He shouted again as he flew out from the crowd and stumbled to the ground at the center of the gathering.


    ¡°Oh?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s little Festy,¡± one of the brothers said, pointing a stubby, hair-covered finger.


    ¡°What have you to say, interrupting our blood-gorging, little Festy?¡± the other said.


    ¡°News from the scouts,¡± Festy said, climbing back to his feet and dusting snow away. ¡°Many missing. We spotted clanless through the forest. And just yesterday, we skirmished with them. Many of Festy¡¯s men lost. Killed by the clanless.¡±


    ¡°What disrespect,¡± one of the brothers spat. ¡°Clanless killing our maggots, brother.¡±


    ¡°Utter disrespect. Deserving of punishment, it is.¡±


    ¡°Brother lords,¡± another man stepped forth, breaking free from the cheering crowd. He was an old man with white hair over his pale, wrinkled skin that ran down to his hips. ¡°Temper your anger. Our orders from the wargs are clear. Hold this position and wait for further instructions. We¡¯re not to engage the enemy on our own.¡±


    ¡°The old man speaks again, brother.¡±


    ¡°Bah. Words, words, words. Wake me up when he finishes.¡±


    The crowd broke into hysterical laughter at the brothers¡¯ antics.


    ¡°I don¡¯t mean to interrupt your blood-gorge, Brother Lords, but this is important.¡±


    ¡°Silly old man thinks his words are smart.¡±


    ¡°Silly indeed, brother. Why little men always think they so smart?¡±


    ¡°Dunno, brother. But it is annoying.¡±


    ¡°Shall we then, brother?¡±


    ¡°Yous thinking what mes thinking?¡±


    ¡°We crush them disrespectful little clanless, bother?¡±


    ¡°Yes, brother. We not fight battles in days now. Leave weak in camp. Us strong, smart ones can deal with them disrespectors¡±


    **King**


    Two scouts came running into Mark''s little makeshift camp hidden deep within the forest.


    Reaching Mark¡¯s tent, they fell to their knees and awaited his word.


    ¡°At ease. You¡¯re free to speak.¡±


    The two men rose to their feet. ¡°My lord, it seems our probing attacks have been successful. We¡¯ve spotted the enemy preparing to move out. They travel east, along the route b.¡±


    When organizing the plan, Mark distinguished different routes the enemy might take and labeled them. Each route was connected to a preplanned battlefield, and his men had already been drilled on where they were to take up positions.


    ¡°Good. You hear that, Elowen?¡±


    ¡°I did, my lord. I¡¯ll have the troops move into position.¡±


    It¡¯s all going to plan.


    Mark had spent a couple of days surveying their enemy. He¡¯d have spent longer, but the wedding and their request for allies from the West were growing near, and he needed to get this done first.


    The camp he had chosen to provoke was seemingly an army of mutant humans who served the wargs. He had chosen them because they were primarily an infantry army with light armor and melee weapons, the perfect enemy to test his new battle formation on.


    Being so fast and physically imposing, the wargs posed a great risk of outmaneuvering Mark¡¯s army, even if he managed to lure them into a favorable position. Their speed and flexibility alone meant they could disengage and reattack from another angle, and there wouldn¡¯t be much his troops could do about it, so avoiding a direct battle with a warg army was his primary concern for now.


    The other camps he had spotted all had tools that had the potential to cause him issues, like giants, trolls, or mammoths. Mark just didn¡¯t have enough experience to know whether or not these powerful creatures would break straight through his lines, especially since he had decided to keep his own troll allies away from the frontline for now.


    For now, he needed an easy win to solidify himself. Once more warriors were under his banner, he could figure out how to deal with the more challenging foes.


    For now, Mark¡¯s decision not to use his trolls in the battle was drawn from their low numbers. Not only were they essentially building his keep alone, which he wanted to be finished as soon as possible, but he also wanted to keep them on standby for diplomatic reasons.


    Mark had learned how the trolls had been betrayed by their own kind and forced to pray to the Seven-Head Wolf God, and he figured that having the troll tribe would make it easier to negotiate with other troll tribes in the future, which would be a lot harder if his trolls were killed in battle. After all, defeating the wargs was only the tip of the iceberg. If he wanted to be able to stand against the pressure of the Imperium¡ªwhich would no doubt come bearing down on them once the wargs were defeated¡ªthen he couldn¡¯t just slaughter everyone who stood against him.


    Mark needed allies, as many as he could find. If the Frontier was going to earn its independence, it would need to find a way to be united.


    It was rough, fractured, poor, and unstable, but Mark saw the potential in this land to stand on its own, and he wanted to use this to his advantage.


    He just had to figure out how to split the Warg army now and show them that he was the leader they needed to stand with if they wanted to unite this land.


    Exiting his tent, Mark watched the rows of men marching out from the forest toward their preplanned positions.


    It''s time to make a show of it.

 76. Creating an Image

    A line of shields and spears ran straight across the snowy clearing between two patches of trees at the top of a slightly incline. The position was perfect for what Mark wanted. The incline was subtle enough that the enemy would either underestimate it or potentially not even notice there was an incline. Still, when charging through shin-high snow, it would make itself noticed by the enemy as it sapped its stamina.


    The army Mark had put together wasn¡¯t a call-up of every able-bodied within Winterclaw. He had about 450 troops altogether. It was a significant chunk of what he could muster at that moment, but he maintained guards at all of the settlements he controlled. The army also consisted of about a hundred men from Frostwind, who would be fighting alongside Mark¡¯s army for the first time.


    Mark also involved his newly minted knights. Callum stood in the back because of his Imperator suit, and he had Radic command a squad near the front. As for Clay and Erin, he had them command a squad of archers each and armed them with crossbows.


    The presence of the knights in his army was more symbolic than it was tactical. Mark didn¡¯t have a long list of veteran commanders to put in charge of his soldiers, so there wasn¡¯t much to risk by giving the command to his knights, which would further establish their image and provide them with much-needed experience leading.


    As his men shuffled in anticipation of the battle, horns sounded across the crisp air; moments later, they watched the crooked army of mutants march into view.


    Mark was relieved that the enemy army likely numbered twice their own. This would hopefully make them overconfident, and he was more concerned with his enemy trying to fight him on their own terms rather than he was sheer numbers. But perhaps more importantly, it was what he needed to make an image for himself. Destroying an army equal in size or smaller than his own would only provide so much prestige, and it might fail at the task of impressing the Western clans.


    ¡°The enemy is following the planned path of attack, my lord,¡± a warrior bowed at Mark¡¯s side.


    ¡°I can see. Inform the sergeants that we open fire when they reach the markers as planned.¡±


    Stakes had been buried in the snow, painting on the side that faced Mark¡¯s army. It would be impossible to notice from the enemy line of sight, but Mark¡¯s army could easily see the bright yellow paint that guided their range finding.


    Hobbling along the snow in no discernable formation, the army of mutants shuffled toward Mark¡¯s line, dressed in rags and the occasional piece of scrap metal bent around a shoulder or fashioned into a makeshift chest piece. Rat tails and extra limbs waved above the marching army. Some warriors among the hodgepodge army were armed with iron weapons, while others had nothing but sharpened sticks or even rocks.


    ¡°They call this an army,¡± Mark muttered at the pitiful sight.


    ¡°Apparently,¡± an archer beside him said.


    ¡°Still, don¡¯t get overconfident. The enemy still outnumbers us by quite a bit. Let¡¯s show them what it means to fight for the Kingdom of Winterclaw,¡± Mark said, his voice gradually rising into a roar, which was echoed throughout his army. He considered making a rousing speech, but it didn¡¯t seem needed, and he felt it better suited for after they won.


    Mark¡¯s gaze narrowed as he spotted two huge figures marching at the center of the army. The rest of the warriors kept a birth of several yards from the two giant men, creating a circle clearing around them.


    I guess those two are the brothers the scouts spoke of.


    The two brothers must have stood at least seven feet tall and just as wide; however, not an ounce of muscle could be seen on their bulbous forms, although Mark assumed there must be quite a lot of it beneath the fat based solely on the fact that they could move their cumbersome, oversized frames.


    Wait, this isn¡¯t good.


    Alarm bells rang as Mark realized that their ragged formation meant that the first troops to reach the range-finding stakes would be separated from the enemy¡¯s main groupings.


    ¡°Hold fire until I command it,¡± Mark shouted.


    The last thing he wanted to do was change plans at the last moment, but if they fired too early, they could lose their chance of inflicting maximum damage.


    Whispers echoed through the army as soldiers wondered what was going on. Mark had told them to follow the plan strictly, and now he was suddenly changing it moments before they engaged the enemy.


    The staggered army continued its march forward, its patchy formation of grotesquely mutated warriors seemingly stumbling forward like a horde of zombies. With every yard it covered, the army spread thinner and thinner in its disorganized stampede.


    Damn it. They might look like a hopelessly rag-tag army, but this isn¡¯t good. We need to hit them while they are together.


    Stolen story; please report.


    ¡°Fire!¡± Mark shouted a moment later. The enemy wasn¡¯t as tightly packed as he had wanted, but he couldn¡¯t allow them to move any closer without loosening their arrows. He wanted to use most of their Greek fire on the enemy¡¯s approach, setting the battlefield aflame and breaking their formation while causing casualties.


    A volley of flaming arrows filled the air, and as they landed, several arrows exploded into flames, covering several yards in all directions and setting their enemy¡¯s warriors alight.


    Warcries could be heard echoing across the enemy¡¯s ranks, and the mutated army broke into a charge as flaming arrows continued to rain down, turning men into human torches that flailed across the snow and set their companions alight.


    The arrows were effective, as expected, but the spread-out nature of their enemy undoubtedly reduced their reach.


    ¡°Prepare for impact,¡± Mark shouted, and the line¡¯s spears rose to the ready.


    The enemy army¡¯s loose formation might have surprised Mark, but its lack of organization and discipline was even worse than expected, and the mutated warriors charged straight into his spears without a second thought, skewing themselves against the weapons.


    Stubbornly, the enemy pushed on, some warriors even pulling themselves along the spear that impaled their bodies until blood loss grew too great, and they slumped to the ground, taking the spears with them.


    The first mutants to push past the spears hit the tightly packed shields and hammered their weapons against the defensive formation but soon realized their error as swords slid out between gaps in the shields and sliced up their unarmored bodies.


    As more mutants slammed against the backs of their comrades that had reached the battle first, Mark¡¯s light infantry released a volley of grenades across their enemy¡¯s line, bursting across them with wild flames that sent dozens of warriors screaming in agony.


    Next, blasts of lightning thundered out with crackling ferocity, smashing into the densest clumping of the enemy and frying men where they stood.


    But the enemy continued to pack in, the two brothers at the center of the army barking insults at their warriors and even picking men up and throwing them into the shields of Mark¡¯s army.


    The heavy mutant soldiers pushed against the wall of shields, and some of Mark¡¯s men began to fall to their pressure, but the arrows didn¡¯t relent, causing more casualties as the mutant army compacted itself against Mark¡¯s formation.


    A horn sounded from behind the Winterclaw lines, and moments later, light warriors charged out from the surrounding forests, dressed in rags, light leathers and armed with hatchets.


    The light warriors bounded across the snowy battlefield with remarkable speed and leaped into their enemy¡¯s flanks, swinging with wild abandonment and cutting into their ranks.


    Most of the enemy soldiers appeared too stupid to truly grasp the dire nature of their situation. Still, it gradually dawned on them as they were forced to look back and forth between warriors, closing in on them from all directions.


    ¡°Forward!¡± Mark commanded, and the line of shields pushed back against their enemy, his spearmen collecting spare spears that had been provided and laid by their feet. With fresh spears in their hands, they stabbed forward to push the enemy back in rhythm with the frontline¡¯s march forward.


    The smaller, rattier warriors of the mutant army were the first to crumble, escaping between the legs of their allies as Mark¡¯s army pushed through their weakening line.


    The wall of shields lined by stabbing spears and swords quickly claimed the lives of anybody caught against its impenetrable barrier as it relentlessly pushed forward against the increasingly panicked army of mutants.


    ¡°Fight ye weak maggots!¡± One of the brothers shouted, grabbing a fleeing man and throwing him back into the line of death.


    ¡°Too predictable,¡± Mark said, almost feeling sorry for the enemy that had been perfectly caught by his forces and ground down with little effort.


    Raising his hand, he aimed at one of the brothers. The enemy was on its last legs and essentially crushed already, and he didn¡¯t need to save his lightning to crush their troops. Instead, he blasted the hulking brother.


    The huge man was more resilient than expected and stumbled forward, and smoke drifted from his charred and now hairless body.


    ¡°Stubborn, huh?¡± Mark charged another blast and fired, shooting out a crackling line of lightning that burst against the giant man¡¯s frame and sent him falling to the ground.


    Callum had long exhausted his three lightning shots and now stood at the rear panting. Firing more would likely only hurt the boy, so Mark had commanded him to keep it to three. But it had provided enough assistance as it was, helping to break the enemy''s left flank.


    As the last of the mutant army crumbled around the last-standing brother, the huge man fell to the ground, weeping at the corpse of his slain brother. The remnants of his army were either slaughtered, surrendered, or in full retreat from Mark¡¯s men.


    As the slaughter continued, a squad of spearmen led by Radic surrounded the surviving brother in a circle, aiming their spears at the weeping man.


    The spearmen parted for Mark as he walked toward the enemy leader.


    ¡°Do you surrender?¡±


    ¡°Brother¡­ why do you leave me.¡±


    ¡°Answer me, scum who chose to follow the warg. Tell me, do you surrender?¡±


    ¡°I¨CI,¡± the huge man gulped, looking up at Mark with teary eyes. ¡°Kill me. End me now. Send me to my brother.¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Mark raised a hand, and lightning shot out, sending the giant Neanderthal-like man into convulsions before he fell to the ground.


    ¡°It looks like we¡¯re finished here,¡± Mark said, dusting off his hands as the spearmen rushed forward to check the corpses.


    ¡°My lord,¡± one of them said, raising a hand.


    ¡°What is it?¡± Mark¡¯s brow raised as he turned back to the bodies.


    ¡°The giant men are still alive. What is your command? Should we finish them off?¡±


    ¡°Alive?¡±


    How on earth¡­ damn they are hardy bastards, aren¡¯t they? Strong too. They could be useful if we could keep them under control somehow.


    ¡°No, wait. Do we have something to cuff them with?¡±


    ¡°I¡¯ll find out, my lord. Soldier, send a runner to the camp followers. Find out if they have something to cuff these giants with.¡±


    One of the soldiers nodded to the other and ran off.


    A minute later, the man returned with heavy ropes.


    ¡°Iron would be better for these big guys, but that should be a suitable temporary fix until we get them back to Winterclaw. Have them bound. Wrists behind their backs and the ankles.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±


    I wouldn¡¯t trust these two to fight in my army, but they could be valuable assets if I can use their labor within WInterclaw.


    Mark was already imagining his shiny new keep being built with renewed vigor thanks to the help of the two oversized brothers; he just needed to force them to do it now.

 77. Clean up

    Calling off the slaughter, Mark allowed the remnants of the mutant army to flee. He wanted them to spread the word about his decisive victory. Without people knowing what happened, the victory would fall hollow.


    Once the butchering and looting were done, close to a hundred prisoners were taken back to Winterclaw. Housing a hundred prisoners was an issue, so he placed them in the cellars they had dug out for the new keep, deciding that they would make good cells.


    The two giant brothers were kept locked up with twenty-four-hour guards. Mark wanted to deteriorate their morale for a while before he risked trying to make use of their slave labor. However, the weaker and more cowardly enemy warriors were turned into slaves almost immediately upon their arrival in Winterclaw, and their labor was used to lug stones for the keep¡¯s construction.


    The long-term goal of Winterclaw was to have a kingdom of strong laws and justice, but wartime called for special exceptions, and Mark was pragmatic if anything.


    He watched over the chain gangs as they got to work. The mutants mightn¡¯t have been the most organized bunch, but on average, they were significantly stronger than their human counterparts, and the stream of stone marching into the keep and put into place under the guidance of their mason was a sight to behold¡ªwith this added workforce, they might actually finish the keep before the war.


    Meanwhile, Mark loaded the throne ships up with his posse to head back to the western clans. Unlike last time, he planned to take both ships, traveling with Callum and several others from Winterclaw¡ªmost of which would be warriors.


    He wanted to make a show of their visit, so he ensured Payon prepared metal armor for everyone who attended, not just his knights. He also collected jewelry and their finest furs and leathers to dress up his entourage.


    Unfortunately, Winterclaw, up until now, had been entirely survival-focused, and he hadn¡¯t developed much in the way of luxuries and certainly not anything that would impress any developed state. This was something Mark realized needed to change. He wouldn¡¯t be able to do anything in time for their visit west and would have to hope that the visit would turn out okay with what little they had. However, it was unlikely to be the last time they needed to woo foreign heads of state, and Mark wanted to make sure they had luxuries worthy of a kingdom the next time they found themselves in this position.


    Many around Winterclaw raised concerns about both him and Callum leaving with both throne ships after the battle, worried that the wargs might try to take their vengeance with a counterattack. But Mark wasn¡¯t particularly worried about this. Not only were the wargs engaged in a battle already, but he had landed a significant blow against them and doubted they would be foolish enough to charge into another battle unprepared after what had happened. And the trip West wouldn¡¯t take long, at least not compared to preparing an army¡ªeven if the ceremonies took an entire week¡ªthat would hardly compare to the time needed for a well-organized counter-attack.


    Once the ships were loaded, they pulled into the icy winds above Winterclaw, hovering for a moment to observe the buzz of activity around the keep, and then pushed on to the west.


    The mountain that the Warmandy clan was built into looked different this time around. Flags from hundreds of different clans lined the snowy approach to its stone facade, flapping in the blizzarding winds like a United Nations gathering, and a hundred or so people¡ªall rugged up in thick furs¡ªcongregated on the platform entrance to the temple that doubled as a settlement.


    As the two throne ships lowered onto a clearing marked by painted stones, dozens more funneled out of the cavernous settlement¡¯s entrance, coming to see Mark¡¯s arrival.


    ¡°Wow, there¡¯s so many of them,¡± a mercenary warrior said as they landed.


    ¡°I¡¯ll say. They must really dig our lord.¡±


    ¡°Alright,¡± Mark said, rising from the cockpit and addressing his squad of mercenaries, acolytes, and warriors he had hand-picked from Winterclaw. Thick, dark furs covered the scalemail they were dressed in, provided by Payon, who had worked tirelessly to craft the suits for them. ¡°This is a diplomatic mission, first and foremost. And as such, you must all be on your best behavior. We must prove to these people that we are the right people to lead the Frontier going forward. Understood?¡±


    ¡°Yes, King Atlas,¡± came an echoed reply.


    ¡°Make me proud,¡± Mark said and marched to the exit hatch, opening it with a smack.


    The crowds rushed forward as the hatch¡¯s panel touched down against the snow-blanketed rock, tightly packed as they eagerly awaited.


    A combination of cheers, scowls, and wary gazes fell upon Mark as he led his people from the ship.


    The people of the West were effigies of strength, their skin tough and weatherbeaten. Each of them looked like they possessed the bodies of warriors beneath their thick furs.


    It¡¯s obvious not everyone is happy to see me, but at least these people look like they¡¯ll make good allies.


    The story has been stolen; if detected on Amazon, report the violation.


    ¡°My lord,¡± a bearded man waved. ¡°Patriarch of the Wesard Clan, if I could¨C¡±


    ¡°Lord King, let me introduce myself, Caretaker Jarrod of the Kranks.¡±


    ¡°Move over,¡± a bald man growled, pushing through the crowd. ¡°Yandis Kirk of the Jeromi,¡± he waved, pushing toward Mark. ¡°If I could have a minute¨C¡±


    ¡°Let the king through,¡± one of Yelinda¡¯s captains said as a group of her warriors cleared a path toward the temple. ¡°You will all have time to make your requests when we gather in the great hall.¡±


    ¡°Lord King.¡±


    ¡°King Atlas,¡± another waved.


    ¡°My lord! I only need a moment¨C¡±


    The crowd grew unruly, pushing against the armored guards, and Mark followed their lead and was ushered into the temple as the people continued to push against the human barrier created by the guards.


    He wasn¡¯t worried about the clans but didn¡¯t want to insult potential allies during the unfolding chaos.


    ¡°This way,¡± the warriors led Mark and his people inside. They traveled down a stone corridor and were dropped off at rooms similar to the one he had first stayed in.


    ¡°The Body of the Goddess requests that you remain in your lodgings until she calls for you, my lord,¡± the guard said. ¡°Everyone understands the importance of this day and what is happening in the East, and many will try and leverage the situation for their own benefit. She said she hopes you understand.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mark said, waving the guards away. ¡°You don¡¯t need to worry. We¡¯ll remain in our rooms.¡±


    ¡°Thank you, my lord,¡± the guard bowed and gathered his men to leave.


    Stepping into their room, Mark turned to a large man in his entourage. ¡°Trayox, do you think you could go undercover?¡±


    ¡°What are you asking?¡±


    ¡°Remove your armor and pretend to be from one of the clans. Don¡¯t go sticking your nose anywhere it doesn¡¯t belong. Just get a feel for the situation and the people gathered here. Right now, we have essentially zero information on our situation. I¡¯m hoping you can improve that.¡±


    ¡°I can try,¡± Trayox nodded.


    ¡°Good, that¡¯s all I ask.¡±


    Once Trayox had removed his armor and wore leather and a heavy fur cloak, he looked no different than many of the men who had greeted them on arrival.


    ¡°Good luck,¡± Mark nodded as the large man left. ¡°As for the rest of us, we may as well enjoy our stay while we can.¡±


    ¡°Does that mean¡­¡± one of the mercenaries stammered, his eyes lighting up.


    ¡°Did the rumors of this place reach you?¡± Mark said, a smirk creasing his face.


    The men nodded in anticipation.


    ¡°Sorry, but you might have to wait¡ªat least until one of our attendants arrives.¡±


    ¡®So, it¡¯s true then?¡±


    ¡°Oh, you¡¯ll see what this place has to offer. I assure you.¡±


    **Trayox**


    Making his way through the crowd, Trayox stopped by people marked by the clan colors he recognized. Even though every clan in the West had been invited, there would no doubt be many who weren¡¯t worth eavesdropping on due to the fractured nature of the West. Some clans consisted of little more than tiny hamlets with a few homes huddled together at the edge of civilization.


    However, he quickly spotted one of the most powerful clans¡ªthe Vaghani. About a dozen people, mostly men, stood in a tight circle. A couple of them had long, white beards bound by metal rings¡ªwho were likely the clan elders and patriarch¡ªthese men were some of the most important people in the entire West.


    The Vaghani was one of the few clans that compared in size to the major clans of the east, with multiple settlements and even a town that could loosely be considered a capital, at least by Frontier standards, which was home to a couple thousand people. Trayox was well aware of who they were, and he knew that their power wasn¡¯t just measured by what the Vaghani directly ruled over but their influence over smaller clans. If they voted not to support Winterclaw, hundreds of microclans would do so in unity, even if the general consensus among others was to support Winterclaw.


    ¡°Do you believe this so-called king? Arriving with a retinue of Imperials when he hopes to rule over our lands? What an insult,¡± Trayox overheard one of them saying.


    ¡°He thinks we''ll fall for his charm if he brings a token Westerner with him? What kind of fools does he think we are?¡±


    ¡°So, have we decided on our response, then?¡±


    ¡°I say we walk out,¡± one of the elders said. ¡°Many of the minor clans will follow us. Let¡¯s make our stand here and make it clear.¡±


    ¡°And what if the wargs defeat them? Will we be safe hiding here in the West?¡±


    ¡°I, for one, would rather fight the wargs on my home ground, not some foreign land,¡± another elder said. ¡°At least we know this land.¡±


    ¡°Foolish. We¡¯d be lucky if we could call up a thousand warriors, even with the aid of the minor clans. What chance would we have against the combined forces of the warg armies? What you suggest is a slow suicide.¡±


    ¡°And you would have us put our warriors under the command of a foreign lord? What¡¯s to stop them from bringing the Imperium here once they are done defeating the wargs? Why should we shed our blood just to be subjugated by another lord?¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t pretend to be naive, elder. I know you have your spies in the east. This so-called king might not be what he claims to be, but we all know he is no agent of the Imperium. The way he treats the easterners would be nothing short of sacrilege for those barbaric people in the Imperium.¡±


    It seems there is no clear consensus on what to do. This could go poorly.


    Trayox turned away, moving toward other groups of clan leaders. Not that the impression of Mark and Winterclaw altered much among the other. Clearly, the people shifted between fear of the wargs and wanting to stand united and remain within their homelands.


    Trayox mightn¡¯t have been a political mastermind, but even he could see that these clans required a firm hand to guide them. They needed to be convinced that putting their trust in their king was a wise decision. In fact, he doubted their distrust of having a foreign leader was all that important. The way he saw it, it was an excuse scared men made. No one, not even the greatest fool, would believe there was no difference between bowing to a human king and a warg, not unless they had already fallen for the lies of the Seven-Headed Wolf God.


    After another hour of making his rounds, Trayox turned back to their accommodation.


    ¡°Do you have it?¡± Trayox heard a hushed voice as he passed through a crowd.


    ¡°Quiet down, fool,¡± a cloaked man said, glancing over his shoulder and continuing in an incomprehensible whisper.


    ¡°Here, take it,¡± the man replied, handing the cloaked man something. ¡°Remember, we never met.¡±


    ¡°Shhh,¡± the cloaked man raised a finger to his lips.


    ¡°And don¡¯t forget my reward.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ll have it,¡± the cloaked man said, waving and turning away.


    Trayox turned, pretending to be a part of another group as the man looked around and then turned down one of the temple¡¯s many hallways.


    What are these schemers up to?


    Tayox glanced down the hall, turned around, and cautiously followed. There was no time to alert others of a possible scheme. Whoever that was, he had to find them and confirm whether or not they were a threat, and if possible, deal with them.

 78. Alliances

    Mark¡¯s entourage went to and from the steam spas without pause, returning to their shared accommodation with satisfied grins.


    Well, at least I¡¯ve provided them with some relaxation.


    Mark glanced back to the mirror he stood before and slid on some simple gold rings he had looted from the cultists. Their craftsmanship was lacking, but that wasn¡¯t what was important. At least they made him look a little more like a real king.


    ¡°Come on, darling, just a little more wine. I won¡¯t tell anybody. You¡¯d be doing me a real favor.¡±


    ¡°Stop harassing our host, Leonard,¡± Mark glared over at the shirtless man standing unsteadily in the doorway.


    ¡°I¡¯m just after a little wine, my lord.¡±


    ¡°You¡¯ve had more than enough. Have you already forgotten the part about being on our best behavior?¡±


    ¡°Fine,¡± Leonard hiccuped. ¡°Looks like I¡¯ve been cut off,¡± he frowned at the serving girl.


    ¡°Are the rest of you ready? The banquet is likely to start soon.¡±


    ¡°Aye, my lord,¡± several men rose to attention.


    ¡°King Atlas,¡± one of the mercenaries said. ¡°The big one. You know, the feral you sent off to gather information. He hasn¡¯t returned.¡±


    Right, where is Trayox? I can¡¯t exactly go looking for him, and telling Yelinda or her people that he¡¯s missing is basically admitting that I ignored her request to stay in the room.


    ¡°Nothing much we can do about it now. Just worry about your own preparations. Remember, we need to look the part.¡±


    ¡°Yes, my lord.¡±


    Several minutes later, a knock came at the door, followed by several armored men.


    ¡°The Body of the Goddess calls you to the banquet hall now,¡± their leader said, falling to one knee.


    ¡°Perfect,¡± Mark said, waving his entourage over. ¡°Remember what I said. You are the retinue of a king; act like one.¡±


    The half dozen warriors serving Yelinda led Mark and his people through the cave corridors and into the great hall, where dozens of banners of various clan crests hung from the walls and ceiling in celebration.


    Huge, hardwood dining tables that looked like they had been cut straight from giant stumps and thrown on table legs dotted the hall, most of which were already filled with patrons talking and drinking from flagons. Several performers were blowing flames and juggling, and hosts walked the hall serving appetizers while other guests were competing in axe throwing at the far end of the hall. Behind it all was a raised platform with the largest table¡ªsitting at this table was Yelinda dressed in silky gowns and thick powder that marked her face in black and red lines that made her look equal parts beautiful and deadly as if the makeup had been designed to impersonate a poisonous spider. Elite warriors and Warmandy elders sat to her sides, save a single empty chair beside her.


    ¡°Please, this way,¡± the warrior said, leading Mark through the maze of tables. ¡°Tables for your retinue,¡± the warrior bowed beside several empty tables, and Mark gestured for his people to take their seats.


    ¡°There¡¯s an empty chair. Did we get the count wrong?¡± The guard crooked his head.


    ¡°Where¡¯s my seat,¡± Mark interrupted, hoping to distract the man¡¯s thought. There was no good reason that one of his men would be missing, and he didn¡¯t want to try explaining it now. The best option was just to ignore it and hope Yelinda¡¯s warriors wouldn¡¯t dwell on it.


    ¡°Yeah, sorry, King Atlas,¡± the man bowed and hurried to lead Mark up to the raised platform. ¡°Here,¡± he added, dropping into a bow with his hands raised toward the seat beside Yelinda.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mark said and lowered him into the seat, which was cut straight into the stone. It looked as if Mark, Yelinda, and the others at the grand table were sitting inside the platform itself.


    Yelinda looked to the side and smiled as Mark sat. ¡°How are you coping with all this?¡±


    ¡°Not going to lie; it¡¯s been a lot to take in. But I can¡¯t see any other way we win back the Frontier. Let¡¯s just hope your people provide their warriors.¡±


    ¡°I have confidence. There¡¯s a strange energy to you. It makes me believe in your mission despite the odds,¡± Yelinda said, her gaze directed toward the bustling crowd of rowdy visitors. ¡°You know, I had a vision a while back. It depicted a united and prosperous land that stretched from the Daggers to the Imperium. Its people were free to make their own destinies, not beholden to the whims of foreign rulers. When I first saw this vision, I doubted that it could be real.¡±


    ¡°I see,¡± Mark nodded. ¡°When you offered me vassalization, was that because of this vision you saw?¡±


    ¡°No, not really. All I knew was that something had to be done. I acted impulsively because I didn¡¯t want to see our lands fall to the wargs. It wasn¡¯t until you stepped into my hall that I realized that you were something different.¡±


    ¡°Really. Why me? We are both blessed by our gods and while I have been successful against the warg armies, I hardly possess a force capable of dealing with them alone. There are likely many clans across this land capable of raising more warriors than me. Why not have them lead this coalition?¡±


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    ¡°I think you know the answer to that. Who else would the clans respect as a leader? They all see themselves as rivals to one another. Sure, the minor clans might bow to the great clans, but you¡¯re insane if you think they would ever find a compromise to elect a rival as their lord. You might think being an outsider puts you at a disadvantage, but the truth is quite the opposite. The clan leaders here can offer allegiance to you while saving face, which isn¡¯t possible if they are forced to bow to lifelong competitors. The fact that you are also the avatar of a god makes your leadership that much more compelling.¡±


    ¡°And why not you?¡±


    ¡°Me?¡± Yelinda fluttered her lashes. ¡°I¡¯m honored. But I face the same issue. Perhaps not here in the West, but we¡¯re not stopping here, are we?¡±


    Mark¡¯s brow rose.


    ¡°You understand this truth, don¡¯t you? Even if we were to defeat the wargs, whatever peace and independence we gained would be short-lived if we remained divided. The Imperium might have never attempted to conquer these lands outright, but that doesn¡¯t mean they would sit back and allow another kingdom to form on their northern flank; such a development would be considered too dangerous.¡±


    ¡°Hmm,¡± Mark hummed.


    ¡°You know, rumor travels here even from the Imperium if you know who to ask. We are presented with an opportunity that might not present itself again. At least not for a very long time. The Imperium is pressed by its enemies and threatened by war on multiple fronts. This is why they cannot commit themselves here. And it is exactly why we have a chance to form something great while their attention is focused elsewhere. That being said, if we do not unite the entirety of this land, I fear we will fall. Once the Imperium has recovered, they will no doubt redirect their gaze toward us, and a fractured and squabbling land divided between different kinglings, all claiming the right to rule, will be swept away against their formidable power. No, what we need is a single leader. Someone that can unite all the clans.¡±


    ¡°And will we not face the same issues with you as my wife?¡±


    Yelinda¡¯s full lips curled into a smile. ¡°Don¡¯t get the traditions of the West confused with those of the East. They do not even understand the concept of a matriarch. To them, I will be seen as nothing more than a wife¡ªsomeone to bear children and maybe, at most, someone to provide a cultural link to the West.¡±


    Children? Wait a freaking moment.


    Mark forced a smile and nodded.


    ¡°It is inconceivable that a woman holds a leadership role in their eyes. However, the clans here in the West will see it vastly differently. To them, I will stand at the side of the king and, by doing so, give them a voice in a land where they would otherwise be a minority and potentially have their voices drowned out by the more populous and wealthy East.¡±


    ¡°You really have thought this through.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t think I just sit around in my hall all day doing nothing but entertaining children, do you?¡±


    ¡°Evidently not.¡±


    ¡°You have much to learn,¡± Yelinda smiled and looked down at a cub on the table before Mark. ¡°Would you?¡± She added.


    ¡°Would I what?¡±


    Yelinda took the cup and raised it toward Mark. ¡°It¡¯s a drink we make here in the West. Some say it''s good for vitality and spirit.¡±


    ¡°And virility,¡± a Warmandy elder cheered beside them, raising his own cup and downing it in one.


    ¡°Virility?¡± Mark eyed the suspicious, clear spirit. ¡°I ah¨C¡±


    ¡°Take it easy, Lord King,¡± Yelinda patted his arm. ¡°Nothing will be expected of you that you¡¯re not ready for. It¡¯s just a drink. Enjoy a little. Soon, you will have a nearly endless line of clans coming to speak to you. And I can assure you, no matter how confident you might be in dealing with them, it will get exhausting after a while.¡±


    ¡°I thought we were the ones asking for gifts?¡± Mark groaned.


    ¡°Technically, yes,¡± Yelinda said, drinking her cup. ¡°But that¡¯s rarely how politics work. The clan leaders here already understand what you will be asking of them, and they plan to get a return on any investment they make.¡±


    ¡°I suppose that¡¯s understandable,¡± Mark said, raising the cup.


    Here goes nothing.


    ¡°RAAAAAARGGH!¡± A roar echoed over the commotion of the hall, and a second later, one of the wall-mounted banners fell from above as two figures tumbled down beneath its cloth, landing before the table where Mark and Yelinda sat with a thud.


    ¡°Die, spy,¡± a voice growled, and the banner shook as what looked like a brawl took place beneath it.


    ¡°Get back, Lady Yelinda,¡± a warrior barked as a group of shield-wielding men with drawn swords formed a line between their table and the thrashing banner sprawled in front of them.


    ¡°Ha, take that,¡± a man said and threw the torn banner away, revealing his huge form standing over the broken body of a cloaked figure.


    Trayox?


    ¡°Surrender,¡± one of the men commanded, stepping toward Trayox with his sword pointed.


    ¡°Huh?¡± Trayox grunted, turning toward the men with a puzzled look. ¡°Lord Atlas,¡± he added, waving.


    ¡°What is going on, Trayox?¡± Mark said, shaking his head in embarrassment.


    ¡°Hunting rats,¡± Trayox grinned, revealing a vial between his fingers. ¡°Poison. It was meant for this feast.¡±


    Gasps flooded throughout the hall.


    ¡°What is the meaning of this?¡± One clan lord said.


    ¡°Is this some kind of ploy?¡±


    ¡°The Withabri demand answers,¡± another shouted, bouncing up from his chair.


    ¡°Please, calm,¡± Yelinda said, raising her hands.


    ¡°Calm? There¡¯s a dead man in the middle of this feasting hall and another holding what he claims to be poison. How can we be calm?¡±


    ¡°Hear, hear!¡±


    ¡°Speak, Priestess, or our people will leave!¡±


    The crackling roar of thunder burst through the room as ribbons of electricity shot out toward the ceiling, and Mark¡¯s eyes shone bright white as he stood up from his chair, energy flooding freely from his hands.


    ¡°Silence!¡± He bellowed, and several clan leaders fell back to their seats. ¡°This man is a warrior of mine, and if he says he has thwarted an enemy, then he has.¡±


    Several figures across the great hall began to nod cautiously.


    ¡°If our enemy sends its assassins here to attack us on this day, then it means they fear our alliance.¡±


    ¡°He¡¯s right,¡± Yelinda said, rising beside him as the lightning receded and Mark lowered his arms. Grabbing his wrist, Yelinda threw it back into the sky, holding it above their heads. ¡°Our enemies fear our union. They fear what the clans could achieve if they were united under one banner.¡±


    Several among the crowd shot up from their chairs and cheered.


    ¡°Why should we, The Vaghani, bow to someone who cannot even keep their own hall safe?¡± An old man hissed as the cheers quieted. ¡°Come, we have wasted enough time here,¡± the old patriarch said, turning to leave.


    The people at his table rose from their chairs and followed but slowed as they looked around at the stony faces around them, clearly expecting the clans sitting nearby to follow their march.


    ¡°Do I need to repeat myself?¡± The patriarch growled. ¡°The great and powerful Vaghani Clan is leaving,¡± he said, turning on the spot as he glared at the minor clans he had expected support from.


    ¡°Dear Vaghani Clan, I apologize for this disturbance, but please return to your seat,¡± Yelinda called out. ¡°We have seen enough division between our people as it is.¡±


    ¡°Sit down, old man,¡± Mark commanded.


    ¡°The disrespect,¡± the Vaghani patriarch spat, turning back toward Mark and Yelinda. ¡°How dare you speak to me in such a way.


    ¡°I will not allow you to divide us,¡± Mark said, making thunder crackle again. ¡°If we are to survive the threat we face, we must stand as one. Strong against the tide that threatens to wash us away.¡±


    Expressions among the crowd twisted with confusion, and Mark realized that talking about tides to a mount-locked population probably wasn¡¯t ideal.


    ¡°If we stand together, we can win. We can create a united force and elevate the Western clans to where you all belong!¡±


    To that, the crowd broke into a roar, rising from their chairs and clapping.


    Alright, now we¡¯re cooking.

 79. Uniting the West

    Despite what seemed like a successful call to arms, the moment the hall calmed down, the clans returned to bickering among themselves as a constant line of people approached the table where Mark and Yelinda sat.


    Internally sighing, Mark nodded as two men spoke, barely hearing the words that they said.


    ¡°Please, do me this favor. See that the hunting grounds on the west bank of Arges River be recognized as Jamindi land, and you will have my clan warriors when you travel east.¡±


    ¡°Careful,¡± Dorkin said. He was an old, graying man who worked as an advisor to the Warmandy and Yelinda. ¡°The hunting grounds around the Arges are coveted for the variety of animals found there. The three other clans that rely on those hunting grounds will not be happy if you recognize the Jamindi claim.¡±


    Gods save me. What have I gotten myself into?


    Mark ran his fingers through his hair as he sunk into his chair and leaned forward over the table. The requests were never-ending, and he hardly knew the first thing about this land.


    ¡°If the Jamindi were to cede their claims on the western forests and plains that extend beyond, then we might be able to accommodation this request. However, it will still require mediation with the neighboring clans,¡± Yelinda said.


    The men whispered among themselves momentarily before returning their gazes to Mark and Yelinda. ¡°This is an acceptable outcome,¡± one of them bowed. ¡°Assuming the mediation goes smoothly, you will have our support when you march east.¡±


    ¡°Brilliant,¡± Yelinda smiled and excused the group.


    ¡°Thank you for that,¡± Mark sighed. ¡°How do they expect me to know how to answer all these requests?¡±


    ¡°Most probably don¡¯t. They all want to use this as an opportunity to get ahead of their rivals. That¡¯s why we have to be cautious. A wrong move here, and we could start a civil war.¡±


    Just what we need when with all the problems banging at our doorstep.


    Before Mark could clear his mind, the elders of another clan shuffled up to make their plea.


    **Mira**


    Raising her hands over a wounded soldier, Mira¡¯s hands began to glow a soothing blue, and the red inflammation surrounding the cut faded away, and seconds later, the wound itself began to close.


    How¡­ how is this possible?


    The battle had been a decisive victory, but there had still been a decent number of wounded, and the foreign priest Altono had quickly been overwhelmed, resulting in an influx of patients flooding into Mira¡¯s cabin.


    It wasn¡¯t the first time she had seen her unexpected powers; that happened a couple of weeks ago. Still, she could hardly believe her eyes whenever she saw her hands glow and the wounds closing.


    She had kept her powers a secret until now, but rumors had already begun to circulate as she began healing their warriors. Not that she had much choice; she wasn¡¯t about to restrict healing because she wanted to keep the secret to herself. The problem that ran back and forth through her thoughts was, why now?


    The Star Goddess that the Star Maidens prayed to was as much a god as any, but her powers hadn¡¯t been seen for hundreds of years, so what had Mira, just another ordinary Star Maiden, been given these powers?


    Mira thought back to her days in the temple back within the Imperium. She had always taken her role as handed down to her as a divine blessing and worked her hardest to be the best Star Maiden she could be, but she knew many others who were far ahead of her in just about every way. So why had her goddess chosen her, and why now?


    ¡°Thank you, Star Maiden,¡± the man bowed and handed her several iron coins.


    ¡°Keep your money,¡± Mira said, pushing the man¡¯s dirty hand away.


    ¡°No, please take it. I don¡¯t know what I would have done without you. Me pa died from a wound like this. It wouldn¡¯t heal, and a few weeks later, he developed a fever,¡± the man said, his gaze downturned. ¡°When I saw how nasty and red my cut got, I feared me little ones would go through the same thing.¡±


    ¡°I understand,¡± Mira said, placing her hand on the man¡¯s and closing the coins within his palm. ¡°If you want to spend this coin, buy something for your little ones to celebrate.¡±


    The man nodded soberly, ¡°Thank you, Star Maiden. I won¡¯t forget this.¡±


    The moment the man stepped outside, another step in, accompanied by the freezing wind from outside.


    ¡°Please, take a seat,¡± Mira said, gesturing to the empty chair in front of her.


    **Trolls**


    Tath Gorak directed his warriors as they hauled stones into the keep. Timber scaffolding had gone up, and work was increasingly difficult as the construction climbed higher levels.


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    The mutated human slaves had been placed directly under Tath Gorak¡¯s command. He allowed them to work with relatively little oversight since the mason checked all of their work, ensuring its quality. They were in the middle of the Imperial District, with guards armed with crossbows stationed across its walls. Not to mention his own men, who would have little difficulty taking down an escaping mutant.


    A couple of his warriors had expressed annoyance at being turned into builders and depraved a spot among the army that had defeated the mutants. Trolls weren¡¯t suicidal or even necessarily bloodthirsty, but Tath Gorak¡¯s people had left their ancestral home and come here under the promise of freeing their troll brethren from a false god and enslavement from the wargs and wanted to get a chance to bestow some vengeance against their enemies.


    Tath Gorak himself, however, was happy to keep his tiny tribe alive. If that meant that his people were behind the frontline stacking stones for a fortress instead of fighting, then so be it. He wasn¡¯t entirely convinced this so-called king had the ability to bring victory to the humans anyway, and if his tribe, the last of the free troll tribes, were destroyed, then the hopes of freeing his people would die with them.


    **Trumus**


    ¡°Good, your people have done well,¡± Trumus said, eyeing the timber supports as he walked a rocky tunnel alongside several of his men.


    ¡°We estimate over five miles of caves beneath Winterclaw have already been dug,¡± the man beside him said. ¡°So far, we have connected the brothel, The Black Harpy, and a couple of our guard houses to the tunnel network.¡±


    ¡°Good, good,¡± Trumus nodded as he ran his hand against the rock wall. ¡°With this complete, we will be able to act across Winterclaw without worrying about who might be watching. Make sure the additional tunnels are completed before our great king finishes his keep. My informants tell me that he plans on expanding his little order of knights once it is complete.¡±


    ¡°Yes, boss. I¡¯ll make sure it¡¯s done.¡±


    ¡°Good. We can¡¯t underestimate those knights. He has already mandated them to uphold the law, and I¡¯m sure it won¡¯t be long before they start sticking their nose in our business. Carry on, I must attend to other business,¡± Trumus waved and turned back in the direction they had walked.


    Tumus, the boss of Winterclaw¡¯s guard, had a never-ending stream of newly minted business owners to talk with, many of whom he had helped reach their positions. He had lent the money required to buy almost half the trade contracts and helped dozens buy up land for rigar farming, and managing these relationships was a never-ending ordeal. Not that it bothered Trumus; he was sticking fingers into just about everything that was happening across the little kingdom, and because of that, his power had grown substantially. Unfortunately, King Atlas had a habit of placing thorns on his side. Between his tribunes, his council, and now his knights, he kept introducing positions of power that habitually resisted his influence.


    It¡¯s going to be a long wait for their return, Trumus growled internally as he walked the tunnel.


    Luckily, he had managed to sneak a loyal man into the King¡¯s retinue heading to the West, but he doubted any news that came from that encounter would be good.


    It was a difficult position to be in. The guard captain had once been more open to switching sides, but as Winterclaw¡¯s power grew, so did his own, and he was now committed to its success. However, success would mean little if he didn¡¯t find himself at or near the top of whatever it achieved.


    When we meet again, things will be very different, traitors. His face bent into a scowl, and he remembered people from his own clan selling him out for their own benefit. Trumus had been forced to flee those bastards and everything he ever had. He was forced to become a refugee and beg to survive, but it paid off, and he managed to secure not just safety but power in this new kingdom; when the time came, he would use that power to get his vengeance.


    **Mine**


    The old ruins nearby the mine remained empty, as few dared to venture too far from the guards'' safety. However, log cabins had started to go up around the mouth of the mine itself.


    A few days within a mine wasn¡¯t so bad, especially when the alternative was the icy embrace of the Frontier, but that got old quickly. Soon, the occupants were just happy to see the weak sunlight piercing through the thick cloud coverage. This doubled for people who were making their living off the land. At least the miners and the guards were at their place of work when in the mine, so there was a convenience to living within it, but those who didn¡¯t quickly seek to move their accommodation outside of it.


    Once the skeletons of cabins and tents appeared outside, the guards soon followed. They had only been tasked with guarding the mine itself, but sitting around doing basically nothing outside wasn¡¯t much different from inside, especially when they had a fire to gather around. So, once the people living there offered iron coins or rabbits here and there in exchange, the guards quickly moved their operation.


    The settlement forming around the mine was still tiny; only a single cabin had been finished, with another three on the way. A few spike barriers were set up to block the paths leading up to the mine. But that was about the extent of the development.


    **Frostwind**


    The former trading post had grown into a depressing state for a while, but as more commoners from Winterclaw moved into it and began harvesting the region, it had brightened up.


    Now, there were sounds of families and clucking chickens to drown out the begrudged moaning of drunken sellswords.


    Better yet, the battle had brought wealth into the outpost, as many men who participated in it had managed to get their hands on loot. This resulted in some working girls deciding to return to the trading post on their own accord.


    However, compared to Winterclaw, the settlement was still rather bare, and many homes remained empty since the Imperials fled¡ªa stark difference to Winterlcaw, where homes were overcrowded, and tents and other makeshift accommodations filled just about everywhere they could be shoved into. Furthermore, the sense of victory they had experienced quickly waned, and now people were once again anxious had the pending storm, with most of those who moved to Frostwind being older or younger people who moved without families. For those with families, safety was first and foremost, and everyone believed the best place to find that was Winterclaw itself.


    **The Battlefield**


    Tired eyes glared across the body-strewn fields. Spears and arrows protruded from the icy blanket that covered the dead, and the ruins of war wagons and other weapons of war were scattered in pieces.


    The scouts ran along the edges of the battlegrounds, eyeing their enemy. There was no secret among the federation of clans that they would have long ago lost this war if not for the Imperials.


    The flying ships came swooping down whenever the wargs were close to breaking through and bombarded them with their lightning. They had even lost a few of their impressive weapons to priests and giants while supporting the clans, but barbarian people were not foolish enough to think that the Imperials did it for them. Everyone was aware that They were being used, but they had little option but to keep fighting.


    It was one thing to blast an enemy¡¯s weak point with lightning as it was deeply engaged in combat and broke its spirit. But if the clans turned their backs and fled, they would be cut down and massacred.


    So they fought. Beaten down and barely hanging on, they kept going. Fighting back the hordes despite knowing that another enemy sat back, waiting and ready.


    But what choice did they have?

 80. Swear Fealty

    Bare-chested men and women danced across the far end of the great hall, reenacting legendary scenes from the Igmani Sagas as they swung axes and blew on horns.


    As the performative dances filled the room with cheers, clan leaders and elders quietly approached Mark and Yelinda to bow and swear fealty to their union.


    However, the clans'' words of allegiance were only an acknowledgment of the union taking place and Mark¡¯s new position within the Warmandy, not a guarantee that they would send their warriors east.


    There had been dozens of clans who had already promised their warriors when asking for favors, but many held out. Mark had never expected to win everybody over, but he doubted half the attendants had promised their forces to him so far, which was a worrying development.


    ¡°Are you concerned?¡± Yelinda said, eyeing the crease in Mark¡¯s brow.


    ¡°Your hospitality has been amazing, Yelinda, but the situation east of here isn¡¯t as rosy. While we enjoy ourselves, war ravages the land, and we need an army if we¡¯re to do anything about it. Kind of makes it hard to enjoy these festivities.¡±


    ¡°You think I don¡¯t know that?¡± She said and turned to watch the increasingly drunk invitees clap for the dancers. ¡°This is politics. Maybe it doesn¡¯t appear that way to an Imperial, but trust me, it is as important as anything else we¡¯ll do. You¡¯ve shown your strength with that fiery display against the Vaghani Clan. That was good. They needed to see that side of you if they were going to trust you in battle. But they also need to see your other side. You need to convince them you¡¯re not just a tyrant looking for slaves to serve you. Let loose and show them your human side; that¡¯s what they¡¯re waiting for, and that¡¯s what will win you an army.¡±


    My human side? Is that how I¡¯m perceived? Maybe I let the war for the Frontier get to me¡­ Perhaps I can try to unwind a little.


    Nodding, Mark took a cup from beside him and gulped it down. He had kept a clear mind since arriving, but it looked like that wouldn¡¯t be an option for this feast. Not if he wanted to achieve what he set out to.


    ¡°Sorry, I don¡¯t want to¨C¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine, Yelinda. I understand. Maybe I¡¯ve been a little too focused on my mission. I¡¯ve gotten so used to people following my orders. It¡¯s easy to forget what it¡¯s like to have to win people over. What you said makes a lot of sense,¡± Mark said and poured himself another glass.


    ¡°I¡¯m glad you understand. But take it easy. You don¡¯t need to overdo it, either.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s fine,¡± Mark smiled and gulped the drink down. ¡°Perhaps this is good for me. Can¡¯t be all work all the time.¡±


    ¡°That stuff is strong,¡± Yelinda grimaced.


    ¡°I might not look like it, but I¡¯ve had my fair share of big nights.¡±


    Years ago, in my past life. But I¡¯ve still got it, haven¡¯t I?


    ¡°If you say so,¡± Yelinda shot a worried glance as Mark filled his cup up again.


    ***


    Groaning, Mark rubbed at his temples as thudding pain echoed through his brain. ¡°Maybe I overdid it.¡±


    Rolling over, the scent of¡­ shit assaulted his sense, and his eyes flung open.


    ¡°Straw?¡± Mark crooked his head, pushed himself up from the pile of straw, and swung around as he heard an oink.


    Pressed up against the timber railing that separated them, a giant, hairy pig snorted and sniffed at him.


    ¡°Where the hell am I, and why am I sharing a room with you?¡±


    The giant pig chopped at their air and snorted.


    Great, just great.


    Rubbing at his eyes, Mark got up and stumbled toward the door. He pushed it open, immediately realizing he only wore a cloth gown as the icy wind funneled in.


    ¡°Shit,¡± he murmured and pulled the cloth gown close as he hugged himself, and he stepped out into the frosty weather.


    ¡°King Atlas,¡± a barely conscious man sitting up against the barn smiled and raised an empty hand as if he were holding a flagon.


    Okay, at least I¡¯m not that guy.


    Turning, Mark realized trees and several other small timber structures surrounded him. This certainly isn¡¯t the temple. Where am I?


    Taking cautious steps, he walked through the tiny settlement, eyeing passed-out barbarians at every step, a couple of them having turned blue from exposure.


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    I don¡¯t think he¡¯s waking up from last night¡­ Mark sighed. What a waste.


    ¡°Hold ye arm steady, Norn.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m holding it steady.¡±


    ¡°Nay ye ficken not. Ye wobbling all over the place.¡±


    Voices? Mark perked at the sound of two men speaking and stepped through a gap between two of the timber shacks into a clearing.


    Two men stood before a target as one of them shakily aimed a throwing axe.


    Hearing the crunch of snow beneath Mark¡¯s boot, they swung around, and the axe flew from the man¡¯s hand, embedding itself in the timber beside his head.


    ¡°Tis the king, ye idiot!¡± One of the men said, smacking the other over the back of the head.


    ¡°Sorry, me lord,¡± the other said, falling forward as he attempted to bow,  landing face-first in the snow.


    ¡°Too close,¡± Mark eyed the axe. ¡°What is going on around here, anyway?¡± he added, shaking his head.


    ¡°Huh? You hit yer head or something, me lord?¡±


    ¡°Why aren¡¯t we in the temple?¡±


    ¡°Twas your idea, me lord,¡± came the muffled response from the man in the snow as he pushed himself up.


    ¡°Aye, the Body of the Goddess even tried to step ye. Not that it did ¡®er much good. You were adamant about going for a fly, me lord.¡±


    ¡°For a fly? Wait, where¡¯s my throne ship?¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s that way,¡± one of the men pointed through surrounding trees, and Mark rushed off in the direction he pointed.


    ¡°Think something happened to the king¡¯s head?¡± One of them said as Mark ran off.


    Making his way through the forest, Mark spotted the wreckage of several fallen trees surrounding the half-buried throne ship. Mouth agape, he walked toward it. The hatch was open, and several men and women were asleep both inside and around it¡ªthe embers of a small fire crackled atop the hatch door itself.


    ¡°My ship¡ªwhat happened to you,¡± he mouthed as he walked up the ramp, which sat horizontally thanks to the front of the ship being buried in the snow.


    ¡°To King Atlas,¡± a man murmured in his sleep as Mark stepped over the sprawled bodies.


    Remind me never to party with these people again. Mark sighed internally.


    Reaching the cockpit, he gasped. Several naked barbarians filled the room, including a couple who were asleep on his seat.


    Just when I thought it couldn¡¯t get any worse. Alright, enough of this.


    Mark raised his hands and placed them against the walls of the throne ship, sending a crackling burst of energy rippling through it. The lights flickered and then brightened as if the sun itself was rising within the ship.


    ¡°Whaa,¡± groaned a man.


    ¡°What¡¯s happening,¡± another rubbed at his eyes.


    ¡°Get your arm off me,¡± a woman jerked awake.


    ¡°Everyone, get the hell up already,¡± Mark barked, and the moment they realized what was happening, they bounced to their feet and grabbed at whatever they could reach to cover up with.


    Mark¡¯s gaze fell on those still within his cockpit, and the barbarians scrabbled out in a hurry.


    ¡°Sorry, me lord,¡± one of them bowed as they passed.


    Calm down, Mark. What¡¯s done is done. Remember, you came here to make allies.


    Exhaling and thinking happy thoughts, Mark turned to the barbarians, who now gathered up and dressed themselves.


    ¡°Gather everybody up and bring them back here. Now!¡±


    The barbarians recoiled at Mark¡¯s raised voice, nodded, and hurried out, collecting their brethren and returning within a few minutes.


    By the time everyone was back in the throne ship¡ªminus those who had succumbed to the weather¡ªthe ship¡¯s cargo and passenger bay was filled like a rush-hour subway train.


    How on earth did I even manage to get all these people here? And, more importantly, why? Damn it, why am I asking myself to rationalize this mess. Shaking his head, Mark walked into the cockpit.


    The ship rocked and shook as Mark pulled it up into the sky, and he felt the tug of the additional weight of all his passengers as he urged it higher into the clouds above.


    Thankfully, they weren¡¯t that far from the temple, and they were landing within several minutes.


    Yelinda¡¯s guards awaited the throne ship as Mark brought it down, and he noticed the suspicious glances they gave him as he stepped out. Not that the Warmandy temple faired much better. The signs of the previous night were littered about the place, with passed-out clan elders and all kinds of trash littering the place.


    ¡°The Body of the Goddess awaits you in her chamber, my lord,¡± the guard leader said, directing Mark through a corridor as his men followed.


    Reaching an ornate door hanging from a giant archway, the guards stood aside and gestured for Mark to enter.


    ¡°Her chamber lies beyond, my lord,¡± the guard bowed.


    ¡°Thank you,¡± Mark smiled and breathed into his hand. That¡¯s putrid, just great.


    Inside the towering arch, Yelinda brushed white hair from her face as she scribbled on documents at a desk in the room¡¯s center. The destructive path of the previous night showed itself just about everywhere but here, and Yelinda looked as fresh as ever.


    ¡°Come in,¡± she said without raising her gaze.


    ¡°Sorry about¨C¡±


    ¡°Don¡¯t be,¡± she cut Mark off. ¡°You did well. I must admit, I¡¯m a little surprised you could let go so well, but it worked. Several clans promised their aid to our cause throughout the night, and I believe this is only the beginning. Your recklessness made the clans comfortable. You showed them that you don¡¯t see yourself above them, which is worth a million words.¡±


    ¡°Glad I got something right,¡± Mark scratched at his head.


    Yelinda looked up and smiled softly. ¡°You should go home. We¡¯ve kept you away from your people long enough, and it¡¯ll take weeks for all of the clans to gather their warriors. I will have my Warmaster lead them to your people when they are ready. Now go make sure your people survive until they arrive.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, sure,¡± Mark crooked his head and nodded. ¡°And what about¡ªyou know. Our¨C¡±


    ¡°This is an alliance, isn¡¯t it?¡± Yelinda said without blinking. ¡°Worry about winning the war. If you have questions to ask me, you can do so once we¡¯ve settled these urgent matters.¡±


    ¡°Right,¡± Mark nodded and turned back toward the entrance. ¡°To victory, I guess.¡±


    ¡°To victory,¡± Yelinda smiled and returned to her documents.


    Is it just me, or is she acting differently? Mark lingered on the thought for only a moment. She wasn¡¯t wrong about the urgency of their situation, and he had been away from Winterclaw for too long.


    Without a second to spare, he returned to the room provided for him and his entourage.


    Collecting his people¡ªwho weren¡¯t in much better shape than the barbarians¡ªMark ordered them to prepare to leave.


    The group¡¯s departure was a far sight from their arrival. They stumbled back to the ship with several men, including Leonard, hoisted over the shoulders of their comrades with fluids strained to their shirts.


    I don¡¯t have the best feeling about this, but at least we did what we came to do. Mark thought, eyeing the temple as they loaded up in the throne ship, which now had a distinct smell to it.


    Like I have time to worry about things I can¡¯t remember.


    Sighing, Mark turned into his ship. It was time to get back to the front, but he couldn¡¯t help but feel like he had failed upward, if it could even be considered that.

 81. Return to Winterclaw

    As usual, the crowds were out, bustling against one another, when Mark brought the throne ship down into Winterclaw. The people of Winterclaw knew why he had left, and despite there being differences between the West and East, they were eager to hear they had gained allies in their struggle.


    Despite all their wins, the dire situation of the Frontier wasn¡¯t lost on the commoners, and even the diehards knew that allies were needed to free the lands of their warg invaders.


    Stepping up to the beat of the crowd''s cheers, Mark stopped to give a speech about the wedding. He talked about how it bound their fates with the rest and gave them hope to survive their enemy. Most importantly, he talked about the army they would be providing. Then, as promptly as he had arrived, Mark retreated to his private quarters.


    He had been gone too long and needed to see the reports waiting on his desk. For the most part, things were looking good. Winterclaw¡¯s refugee intake had continued to increase steadily, and they still had enough food production to cover it, although it was getting increasingly dicey. However, there were glaring issues, such as the mine.


    Mark hadn¡¯t expected the mine¡¯s productivity to burst into action immediately, but the numbers he was given suggested that it was attracting more and more of his people toward it while failing to increase its output. This was a major concern.


    Providing the miners with food, guards, and other resources in exchange for iron was a great exchange. Iron was valuable, after all. But it was just a resource sink if they weren¡¯t providing iron output in exchange. However, it barely took a moment of Mark¡¯s interrogation of the report to raise suspicions. If the mine was performing so badly, why were people choosing to move there? It wasn¡¯t as if the hard life of digging rock and living underground was something the average person enjoyed.


    Looks like I¡¯m going to have to pay them a visit. Mark sighed. He could go there and whip his people into shape, even imprison ringleaders if they were stealing from him, but none of that was ideal. For starters, they still barely had the manpower they needed as is, let alone shoving what few followers he had in prisons. Secondly, nothing would stop them from returning to their old ways the moment he got busy dealing with Winterclaw¡¯s issues elsewhere. He needed a trustworthy leader who could reliably manage the mine in his absence.


    Who would be a good pick?


    He hummed to himself as he considered solutions to the issue. The problem was that he didn¡¯t want to surrender anybody too valuable to the mine. Winterclaw was his base of power, after all, and Mark wanted his best and brightest nearby.


    Pushing the mine report to the side, Mark''s eyes widened as he saw the lumber report.


    Deforestation was increasing astronomically between their ever-growing population, construction, heating, and steam engine needs. This mightn¡¯t have seemed like a major issue on the surface since the Frontier was a huge and relatively sparsely populated region that was almost entirely covered in forest. Still, the further his people had to travel for timber, the more costly it became.


    Manpower was Winterclaw''s constant constraint, and something as minor as his people traveling twice as far for timber slowed down their operation and stretched what little manpower they had even thinner.


    It seems we¡¯ve hit a roadblock. The answer to these problems is obvious: We need to spread them out. But we can¡¯t do that in our current situation.


    Winterclaw, as a kingdom, couldn¡¯t support itself with the vast majority of its population in one settlement; the land wasn¡¯t built for it. This might change once they had more towns and settlements to support their resource needs, allowing Winterclaw to cut back on simple resource gathering and focus on industry and specialty services, but it couldn¡¯t do everything. However, this wasn¡¯t possible because most people were too scared to live anywhere but within Winterclaw¡¯s walls.


    What Mark desperately needed to do was alleviate that fear. But of course, that was easier said than done. Right now, he was stuck waiting for the Western warriors, and he couldn¡¯t just sit back and hope his problems would be solved.


    He needed to do something meaningful that wouldn¡¯t draw him into a battle he couldn¡¯t win against the wargs or the Imperium.


    Taking out another warg army wasn¡¯t an option either. It would not solve their problems¡ªsince it would only be a fraction of their enemy¡ªand it could worsen the situation. Firstly, there was a risk that the wargs attacked with their full army. But even if they didn¡¯t, weakening the wargs too much while they had other enemies threatening them wasn¡¯t necessarily ideal either.


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    While it wasn¡¯t ideal, at least there was a balance of power in place at the moment. It was unlikely the Imperium would attack Winterclaw while the warg army stood, so he couldn¡¯t allow them to fall until he had a means of dealing with whatever the Imperium would throw at them.


    There was also the Barbarian Clan Federation. Although perhaps the weakest of the fractions, it still had a numerical advantage on Winterclaw, and it would be beyond foolish to underestimate them.


    If I could draw a border between us and the warring southern regions that people believed was safe, then perhaps that would provide a sense of security.


    Mark crooked his head. He didn¡¯t have hundreds or thousands of soldiers to defend hundreds of miles of snow; if he did, he could probably just defeat his enemies now.


    He needed a means to create the feeling of border security without actually dedicating his tiny manpower to defending it.


    Wait a minute, what about hot air?


    Mark¡¯s mind raced as he considered his options. The only issue was suitable fuel, but if he could build hot-air balloons, then he could reposition the scouts he had walking between the outposts they had built. If he could put the scouts they currently had patrolling into the sky, it wouldn¡¯t just allow them to see enemies coming from much further away, giving his people a sense of security, but also decrease the number of men he needed scouting the borders.


    The problem was their lantern oil was probably the most suitable fuel for the job, but the resource was already on its last legs, and they had nowhere near enough for it to take on a new job. He would need something new.


    Mark remembered the spirits that the locals made from rigar. Alcohol would make for a far better fuel than trying to use something like wood, thanks to its lack of smoke. However, they were already barely producing enough food as it was, and rigar spirits already posed a major issue to Winterlcaw as it was due to the inefficiency of using rigar to make alcohol. It had actually been something he had wanted to limit in the past, but he had restrained himself as there were few substitutes without the ale imports coming from the Imperium, and it helped raise morale.


    No, that¡¯s not going to work. We need something else.


    The realization was dawning on Mark that they had a serious problem. There was no easy path to expansion. Everything required more resources, and what little they had was stretching precariously thin as it was, thanks to their unsustainable level of population growth.


    I can¡¯t just stop our population growth now. If we¡¯re going to beat our enemies, we need to increase our numbers; there¡¯s no way around it.


    Even if he increased the efficiency of one of their industries by industrializing it, that wouldn¡¯t solve the real problem. Without his people spreading out, there just weren¡¯t enough resources to sustain them. But what could he do to encourage his people to spread out if he couldn¡¯t improve the land¡¯s security until he defeated their enemies?


    Thinking back to his land sales, Mark got an idea. He still marveled at how successful selling land that had essentially been free and available for anyone to take prior to his declaration. This had been an important reminder of how much value legitimacy is provided by a governing force.


    That¡¯s it. I need to use my title as king more. Building up Winterclaw and the army that protects it has created a wealth of legitimacy that is just waiting to be exploited.


    Mark¡¯s knowledge of feudalism was basic at best, but he knew that kings didn¡¯t rule alone. If selling undeveloped land could provide so much wealth for his tiny nation, what might he be able to achieve by handing out titles?


    Pulling out a map, Mark began to draw out regions. It didn¡¯t matter if he had no control over them currently; that wasn¡¯t his problem to worry about. He had been able to claim a kingdom, after all, and so far, nobody had stopped him. What was creating a few counties and baronies?


    Drawing lines on a map and declaring them as counties was the easy part. The hard part would be figuring out who would rule them.


    Mark had been pretty self-serving when it came to handing out titles in the past, but he realized this would require a more delicate touch. Ultimately, his tribunes, councilors, and knights were all direct reports to him, and while his counts and barons would also report to him, they would also be rulers of their own fiefs.


    He needed people he could trust, but more importantly, he needed people who had their own followers and base of power; otherwise, what point would there be? If they couldn¡¯t provide security, people wouldn¡¯t live in their domain, and if people didn¡¯t live there, then the objective would fail. Lastly, he needed counts and barons who wouldn¡¯t cause issues, thinning his list of potential candidates.


    The first fiefs he drew up were the Barony of Frostwind and the County of Dhamhi, named after the ancient clan that had once inhabited the mine and the nearby ruins. The County of Anders¡ªa name Mark came up with for a section of land along the far edges of the land they currently inhabited to the south. And the Eastmarch, which was situated along the eastern border with the miasma-shrouded foothills.


    Along with the right to rule these lands in his name, Mark also brought Elowen in to help him pick suitable locations to build capitals for Anders and Eastmarch.


    He planned to provide them with timber, food, and iron to get started. Iron and food would be taken out of their supplies, while he and Callum would each go to one of the new capital sites to down trees for them. However, once they provided the resources needed for construction, the rest would be left up to his new lords.


    For now, he would only ask these new territories to provide levies for his armies. Mark hoped that this would make the benefits clear to them, and if they managed their lands wisely, they would be able to grow their wealth and influence.


    If the plan worked, he would elevate the stress on Winterclaw¡¯s resources without reducing their overall population and retaining the levies he would require if he were to secure this land and defeat their enemies.

 82. Promotions

    Walking the muddy paths of Winterclaw, Mark took a moment to inspect his town''s progress from the tiny outpost he had found when arriving in this world.


    The Low District was a sprawling mess. Any space large enough for a proper cabin behind the walls had long been taken, and now many alleys were filled with shanty shacks squeezed together and overflowing with the closely huddled families that took refuge within them.


    There was still plenty of room outside the walls to build a hut or cabin, but few wanted to live without protection. Mark wanted to extend the walls further, but that required manpower, and he had so many projects waiting.


    Goats, donkeys, cattle, and chickens often lived beside people in the Low District, sometimes even in their homes.


    Lines queued up in muddy streets for rigar and root vegetables. Mark even heard rumors of people selling their family members into slavery to pay for food.


    The scene was more sobering than he had expected, but what choice did they have? He could hardly afford to offer free meals since the profits from rigar were almost single-handedly paying his people¡¯s wages, and the promise of secure jobs was still one of the most persuasive reasons for moving to Winterclaw. Unfortunately, that meant many with families sought the place out, coming with small children and the infirm who could not work.


    Child labor was also pervasive throughout Winterclaw. Some of the scenes Mark witnessed formed a knot in his stomach, but he reminded himself that this was a result of the ongoing war ravaging this land and not a result of his policies. If these people weren¡¯t here, they would be out in the wilderness, vulnerable to everything imaginable.


    We¡¯ve come so far, but it feels like we¡¯ve barely begun. I just wanted to survive this bullshit, but it feels like I¡¯ve been called to a greater mission now.


    Mark sighed. He was ready for the call, but it felt like he was staring up to the peak from the base of a mountain he had just spent months climbing.


    Passing one of the training grounds set up for his people, Mark stopped to watch a dozen warriors practice a spear routine. They moved forward in formation, shields held high, and halted at the sound of a whistle. Trainers then charged them, holding up cushions for protection. When the trainers hit the wall of shields, the spearmen pushed back against them with their shields, pushing the trainers back, and once distance was created, they stabbed forward with their spears in unison.


    The whistles had been Mark¡¯s idea, but he left the combat training and formations up to the experts, and it appeared to be working. He was pleasantly surprised at how well his soldiers worked together, especially since their ranks increasingly became a mix of Imperials and commoners.


    Beside them¡ªseparated by a timber rail¡ªwere straw targets being hit by training archers. They, too, were trained to work in part of a formation. To avoid confusion between the soldiers, the captains of the archer battalions blew horns to organize their troops.


    Mark watched as the line of archers nocked their arrows and awaited command. The moment the horn sounded, they released, and a wave of arrows slammed across the straw targets.


    We¡¯re actually starting to look like a real army.


    Turning to walk away, Mark spotted a couple of Winterclaw¡¯s guards standing around. They appeared on their best behavior whenever he walked the streets, but he knew the rumors. Bribes had become commonplace, and corruption was synonymous with Winterclaw. It was another problem for another, hopefully more peaceful day.


    A couple of wagons rolled in through the gates as he passed it, flanked by their caravan guards. The wagons were filled with greatly needed rigar bark and other food goods that now accounted for nearly half of Winterclaw¡¯s consumption, and the growing town was only becoming increasingly reliant on food gathering from external settlements. The same wagons would leave in a few days, returning with the processed product and other goods.


    Children ran out to greet their fathers as they walked into town, likely having been gone for weeks.


    Marching down from the Imperial District, special guards from Winterclaw¡¯s coffers came out to meet the caravan, and the leaders opened secret compartments and emptied them of coins¡ªmostly iron¡ªfrom the caravan¡¯s sales. These coins would be taken back to the coffers for a short stay until they were paid back out to the people employed by the tiny kingdom.


    Passing homes on his way to the High District, he eyed people splitting logs for firewood and kids playing with makeshift toys and marveled at how every inch of his little settlement seemed to be filled with life.


    Passing through the gates, the difference in organization between the High District and Low was undeniable. Shanties didn¡¯t fill every empty space, and the people''s wealth was evident in the thick furs and iron weapons or tools they carried.


    Cabins in the High District had grown in value and now attracted prices of hundreds of iron coins, leading the poor families to sell their cabins and move into the Low District. After all, a hundred iron coins could buy many things and essentially pull a family out of poverty.


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    The High District had also become home to most of Winterclaw¡¯s wealthy. This was where the investors who owned land and contracts mostly lived, even if their wealth was concentrated on the forestry outside of the town.


    On the other hand, the Imperial District resembled a government district more and more every day, aided by the fact that most of Mark¡¯s direct reports, like his acolytes, had transitioned straight into roles within his new government.


    Not that anybody complained. The Imperial District was the safest district, and its residents had secure jobs and huge influence in the growing kingdom, making up for the fact that many within the High District were actually wealthier.


    Taverns built into cabins were also increasingly common, selling liquor distilled from rigar bark. Mark knew this could be another source of revenue if he could open more trade routes and bring ales and wines into Winterclaw, but it was too risky to use the throne ships in the current situation.


    His little trade network was working brilliantly and expanding its influence and reach over a larger region every day; however, it had limitations. This region of the Frontier really didn¡¯t have anything much else to offer in terms of resources that Winterclaw didn¡¯t already have. Sure, it could provide additional food, but that was about it.


    Especially with the collapse of fur trading with the Imperium, they had essentially no high-value trade. Even the mine wasn¡¯t expected to bring much wealth into Winterclaw since metal was vitally needed, and Mark would be using much of what they mined for their own ventures.


    Returning to the Imperial District, Mark made his way to his cabin. The ceremony to declare the kingdom¡¯s new fiefs had drawn near, and he had to rest.


    He had already sent out invitations and advised the four soon-to-be nobles what he was offering them, and as expected, they had all accepted.


    Glancing over the preparations one last time, he turned to his bed. The keep was almost halfway through construction, and he couldn''t wait to move into new accommodation. Visits to the Warmandy temple had made him more envious than he had been since arriving in this land, and he couldn¡¯t wait to add some creature comforts to the impressive building he was constructing. However, even once it was completed, there would be much more work required to finish filling out the internals.


    ***


    Close to a hundred people gathered in a large hall on the bottle level of the keep. This was the same room Mark used to knight his knights.


    Both commoners and Imperials were crowded in the hall. Some were from Mark¡¯s own close allies, and others were in service to his new noble vassals.


    Payon had been busy fashioning brooches from gold and silver to be handed down to them, on top of the nails and tools Mark had ordered for their new fiefdoms, keeping the smithy pluming smoke all night long for several days straight. But the smith went along with it happily. More and more apprentices had been placed under his wing. The smithy had already been expanded twice to accommodate additional work, making Payon a very important person himself, leading to him often being treated like a noble.


    Between the crowded onlookers, four people kneeled at the front of an aisle parted between the crowd. Their heads were down as Mark made his way over to them, and they remained still.


    ¡°Winterclaw has to expand its borders if it is going to continue to grow and face the challenges ahead of it,¡± Mark said, talking to the crowd. ¡°These four individuals are people I have chosen not just for the skills and abilities they have shown but for the potential they possess. It hasn¡¯t been an easy decision, but a necessary one,¡± he cleared his throat.


    ¡°Reida. A skilled archer, fletcher, and a former noble of a great clan and proven leader. She has grown her own retinue of loyal followers and multiple successful businesses in and around Winterclaw. For these reasons, it has become clear to me that she is a capable leader and someone who can expand our borders. I grant her the County of Anders. Please rise, Countess Reida.¡±


    Mark clipped one of the brooches onto the chest of the hardy, stone-faced woman.


    ¡°Leonard. An experienced trader and caravan leader, he is skilled with both the sword and commerce. The caravan guards who have worked under him all remain loyal, and I believe he will bring great opportunities to Winterclaw as a builder of economic bridges. For these reasons, I grant him the Barony of Frostwind. Please rise, Baron Leonard.¡±


    The cocky caravan leader rose with a smirk and winked at Mark as he clipped the brooch on.


    ¡°Trayox. A man built like a mountain. He has proven himself as a leader from simple origins, becoming the unofficial head of Winterclaw¡¯s construction. His followers are some of the most loyal in the entire kingdom, and recently, he has proven that his heart is in the right place, saving me and the wedding party in the Warmandy temple from a poisoner. For these reasons, I grant him the County of Dhamhi. Please rise, Count Trayox.¡±


    The large man grunted and bowed his head as Mark clipped the brooch on.


    ¡°And finally. A man most people know very well,¡± Mark said, internally sighing. This had been his hardest decision and one he still wasn¡¯t sure about. But he needed someone strong and competent if it was going to work. The land bordering the foothills wasn¡¯t just dangerous because of the nearby miasma but also because it was the closest region to their Imperial neighbors, and while they needed to expand if they were going to achieve their goals, they also couldn¡¯t afford to send people to their deaths.


    ¡°Trumus. The well-known guard captain and owner of several businesses is easily one of the most recognizable faces in Winterclaw. His men have kept the streets safe and make up some of the most skilled warriors within our army. There can be little doubt of the value he brings to Winterclaw, and it is for these reasons that I grant him what is likely the most challenging region the Kingdom of Winterclaw stakes claim to. I, therefore, grant Trumus the March of Eastmarch. Please rise, Marshal Trumus.¡±


    The short, ratty man rose with a salesman¡¯s grin, flashing his teeth as Mark placed the brooch on his chest.


    ¡°Please, make some noise for Winterclaw¡¯s first vassal lords. There will no doubt be more to come as we expand outward and lay claim to this land. We shall strive to bring peace and stability to people who have been through far too much. Let us realize the potential this land has to offer.¡±


    Cheers erupted from the crowd as the four newly minted lords turned to them.


    Mark relaxed, smiling as he scanned the crowd. He knew the risks involved with the people he had elevated, but decisive actions were required if he hoped to pull the Frontier out of its dire predicament.

 83. Spreading Wings

    Dozens of wagons set out early the next day for the four fiefs. Mark could have dropped his people and some of their gear off with his throne ship, but he wanted them to take the task upon themselves. It might have seemed unnecessary, but his lords were picked because he believed they were people who could work and succeed autonomously and aid his kingdom in its growth. The first challenge to achieving that was making their own way to their new settlements, and if they couldn¡¯t do that, he didn¡¯t really see what value there was in delegating so much power. If he needed to fly around constantly to keep them afloat, they might as well remain under his direct command.


    The task ahead of Reida and Trumus was undoubtedly significantly harder than that of the other two. The mine alone would aid in developing a healthy settlement in the north since it was already attracting migration. At the same time, Frostwind had tall walls and the second-largest garrison, which attracted many people.


    Leonard was an unpredictable choice. He had caused issues on multiple occasions. However, not only was Frostwind a majority Imperial, but it was also an important trade hub, and Mark hoped that it would regain that status once the war was over. That meant it was likely to see many Imperials passing through, especially since they would likely be their only external trade partners, assuming they could find peace with the Imperium once they had defeated their enemies. Because of this, Mark had decided Leonard was the man for the job. Although, as with all his vassals, he could rescind his appointments if necessary.


    Close to a hundred people left with the wagons, including dozens of the poorest people who had been offered bonuses to help develop the new settlements.


    Trumus had left one of his lieutenants in command of Winterclaw¡¯s guard, and Mark allowed it. The last thing he wanted to worry about was who was policing the streets when he had an army to build and a war to win, and at least he knew Trumus to be competent.


    These were issues he hadn¡¯t time to worry about with the reports coming from the front.


    His scouts had advised that fewer and fewer Imperials were spotted in the region, and they barely saw a single flyover from throne ships each week now.


    Having the Imperium off his back was a great relief for the long term, but if they fell back to their impenetrable fortress in the mountains or even behind it, that could cause a massive problem in the short term.


    Mark doubted the Clan Federation could defeat the wargs alone, and if they fell, it would be him against the combined forces of the warg armies alone. Not only that, but Mark was becoming more and more convinced that he would have to bring as many of the Eastern clans into his sphere as he possibly could if they were to win their independence long-term¡ªwhich wouldn¡¯t mean much if the clans had their armies crushed by the wargs.


    If the Imperials were really falling back, he would need to find a way to buy some time.


    He doubted the clans would bow to him with the pathetic size of his current army. However, that might change once the Western clans arrived and bolstered his numbers. Until then, he needed to make sure the federation survived.


    Looks like I¡¯ve no choice. I need to get a better understanding of what¡¯s going on down south.


    Mark eyed the reports. His scouts had done well, but they weren¡¯t looking for vulnerabilities to expose, especially not unconventional ones. They simply advised on numbers, positions, and daily operations.


    But just as he was about to fold away one of the reports, his eyes caught something. The scout had detailed how the wargs were stretching their encampment out further and further as they hunted the nearby forests for game. Wargs were exceptional hunters, but armies a few thousand strong ate a lot, and it hadn¡¯t taken them a lot to empty the surrounding lands of their animal populations, and to keep themselves from starving, they had been forced to travel further and further, leading their forces to be quite thinly stretched.


    However, this could be misinterpreted as a vulnerability since, at full running speed, the wargs could move at a similar speed to light cavalry, quickly reinforcing a weak point where needed.


    But Mark wasn¡¯t planning to attack a weak flank. Reading the reports, he realized they had gotten lucky with their battle against the mutants, and he doubted the wargs would let them get away with that again.


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    If we could affect their ability to find food, that would force them to spread even thinner and distract them from destroying the clans.


    Mark had his people fill barrels with his Greek fire and load several wagons. He ordered them to go to several spots throughout the forests surrounding the warg positions. They were to tar the trees with the substance and then light it.


    In the blistering cold, Mark didn¡¯t expect to start a forest fire, but the flames he had created were remarkably resistant. If they set enough trees alight, they might be able to convince the wildlife that there was a wildfire and, with any luck, send them fleeing from the area.


    His plans didn¡¯t have to land a killing blow to the wargs. He just needed to make their lives more difficult. Give them things to think about. Problems to solve that would slow their march.


    On top of this, he had his people make pellets using a combination of rigar, ground-up root vegetables, and hemlock.


    He had noticed the dried, tiny white flowers hanging in Mira¡¯s cabin previously, and after asking her if they were what he thought they were, he requested that she ground them up and add them to the pellets he was making.


    Mira had been concerned about using the poisonous plant. After all, she was a healer, so Mark ordered her to hand the plants over to someone else to do it for her.


    Once the poisonous pellets were prepared, he had them scattered across the wilderness near the warg encampments and ordered that hunting in these regions was strictly prohibited.


    Even if the pellets simply poisoned and killed the wildlife, that would be acceptable, as it would achieve his goal. However, with any luck, he would take out a few hungry wargs in the process, as the poison was likely to remain in the bodies of whatever it killed.


    The third part of his plan was to help the clans. Conventional weapons weren¡¯t much use since most of the clans were still more established than Winterclaw and had weapons of equal or greater quality. But Mark had things they didn¡¯t.


    He planned to start supplying them with the grenades they had been making with Greek fire, but a serious clay shortage hampered that idea.


    His people did mine the stuff, but with the river beds frozen over, that was no easy task. In the end, he had people create fires over empty gullies and dig into the dirt to collect the clay, diverting some of the manpower from his keep for the project.


    It was a distraction he didn¡¯t need, but making sure the clans didn¡¯t fall was far more important than finishing the keep.


    ***


    Stepping into the keep¡¯s cellars, Mark waited for a guard to grab a torch and lead him into the below cells.


    ¡°This way, me lord,¡± the man said, leading him down a damp, spiral staircase.


    It was impressive how far the place had come, though it only took one look outside to see how much work remained for the above-ground levels.


    A metal shortage meant that none of the cells had iron and were instead just enclosed by windowless stone walls and a single timber door.


    Passing several cells, they reached one at the far end of the lowest level. The guard standing to the side of the cell turned and unlocked the door, pulling it open for Mark.


    Inside, the two giant brothers who led the mutant army were chained to opposite sides of the wall, with several untreated wounds across their bodies beginning to fester.


    ¡°Raise yer stinking heads for the King, ye bastards,¡± one of the guards barked.


    The two brothers groggily raised their heads toward him, clearly having seen better days.


    ¡°You two don¡¯t look too great.¡±


    ¡°Look ¡®ere brother, we got ourselves a smarty.¡±


    ¡°Hey, be respectful,¡± one of the guards said and kicked the giant man.


    ¡°I haven¡¯t come to taunt you. I have come to offer you redemption.¡±


    ¡°What redemption, Mr. King, man? Yous gone and humiliated us when you should have just killed us on the battlefield.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m so sorry,¡± Mark rolled his eyes. ¡°Tell me, you are human, aren¡¯t you?¡± Mark raised a brow as he studied the expressions of the Neanderthal-like brothers and waited for a reply.


    ¡°Partially,¡± one of them grunted.


    ¡°Don¡¯t want ta know what me moms was,¡± the other smirked.


    ¡°I¡¯ll take your word for it. But you are part human, at least. So, why not be part of a human victory?¡±


    The brothers chuckled.


    ¡°What¡¯s so funny?¡±


    ¡°You think because ye beat us, ye can win? Funny little man.¡±


    ¡°Tell the puny bugger, brother.¡±


    ¡°You don¡¯t understand anything¡ªpuny man. Me and me¡¯s brother didn¡¯t even sit at the table with the other lords. We¡¯s the scum of the warg army. Leaders of them scums nobody wants to lead. We¡¯s the leader of meat-bags for the slaughter. Nothings more.¡±


    ¡°Aye, brother. We¡¯s the scum of the scum.¡±


    What an absolutely delightful bunch.


    Sighing, Mark shook his head. ¡°Damn, if you two aren¡¯t depressing. Look, work for me, and make something of yourselves. Hell, you might even be able to elevate yourselves to something above scum. Come on, It would be a shame to waste your strength rotting away down here.¡±


    ¡°And what¡¯s to stop us from ripping them heads off ye puny guards and escaping?¡±


    ¡°Shut up, brother. We¡¯s got a chance.¡±


    ¡°Oh, I dunno. Maybe the fact that my puny guards that will be looking after your sorry asses are trolls?¡±


    ¡°Trolls?¡± The two brothers said in unison, turning their monobrow faces to look across at each other. ¡°How dids weak little man make trolls his servants?¡±


    ¡°Perhaps I¡¯m not so weak, and perhaps our chances of defeating your precious wargs aren¡¯t so low. So, what do you say? Ready to get to work, or would you rather remain down here rotting away?¡±

 84. New Powers

    Mark could hardly believe his eyes as he watched wounds evaporate under the power of Mira¡¯s blessing.


    He had seen similar power before from the priests of the Archbishopric but not from Mira. He wondered where this power had come from and why now.


    From his understanding, Star Maidens were numerous within the Imperium. He learned that they once possessed god-given powers like those Mira displayed but had disappeared hundreds of years ago. Thus, the order became glorified healers relying on questionable medicines.


    Not that he was in a position to complain. He needed healers, and the priest lent to him from the Archbishopric was hardly someone he wanted to rely on. Not because he had an issue with the man but because he was ultimately loyal to a foreign lord.


    Not only that but the way Mira spoke of her god and their relationship with the Imperium had always struck Mark as strange. It wasn¡¯t direct obedience, not like the other masters of the Imperium. There was animosity¡ªa divergence of thought and beliefs. But perhaps his god, the Lightning God, and Winterclaw, under Mark¡¯s command, could foster a healthier relationship between these two orders.


    He was getting ahead of himself; Mark realized as he watched from the corner of Mira¡¯s cabin as she healed another man. His hand had been mutilated during a work accident, but within minutes of the cooling glow from Mira¡¯s hands, the damage had been repaired.


    Maybe a new alliance between his people and the Star Maidens could be achieved, but that was a task for another day, far away.


    ¡°Thank you for letting me watch, Mira. Your work is truly amazing.¡±


    ¡°Of course, my lord,¡± she bowed softly. ¡°Feel free to return whenever you desire.¡±


    ¡°Thank you. And citizen, it looks like you¡¯re in good health. Take it easy out there. Taking a little longer to finish our work and avoid injury is perfectly okay. Don¡¯t feel the need to be reckless.¡±


    ¡°Yes, me lord,¡± the man bowed. ¡°I¡¯ll remember your words.¡±


    ¡°Okay, I must be off now,¡± Mark waved and left.


    Preliminary reports had returned from the two new settlements. It would be a while before they contributed to Winterclaw in any meaningful way, but it sounded like things were moving along smoothly.


    They had begun erecting small palisades and temporary accommodation. Once the semblance of a settlement was completed, the could get to harvesting raw materials to be processed in Winterclaw.


    Mark was using the same strategy as he had in the fort itself. His goal was to keep Winterclaw at the top of the value chain and have his vassals and auxiliary settlements become feeders for its economy. This way, the town could rid itself of more tedious, manpower-expensive tasks and focus on efficiency. It would also solidify Winterclaw as the heart of wealth and industry within the Frontier.


    Despite all his victories, Mark knew that he was still new and unfamiliar in the eyes of many. This could be dangerous if left to chance. He had already made lords and helped empower their own bases with his decisions, and if he wasn¡¯t careful, Mark knew this could come back to haunt him, which was precisely why he needed Winterclaw to be a step above everything else. There could be no competitor to its wealth and fame within the Frontier.


    However, there were undeniable problems with that plan. He wanted to plan more steam engines to increase the industrialization of the town. But he needed both iron and fuel.


    It was increasingly clear that timber, whilst plentiful, was less than ideal. His people traveled further and further for the fuel, and it had so many other usages. What he needed was a readily available alternative that was densely located for extraction and exploitation.


    Mark thought back to the history of Earth¡¯s industrialization. Unfortunately, those thoughts troubled him. Winterclaw didn¡¯t have many of the assets that those famous cities had. There was no river, no coal¡ªat least as far as he was aware¡ªand no readily available workforce.


    There were a few gullies and shallow rivers frozen over nearby, but nothing he could build into a canal way. With engines, he could potentially alleviate this issue, but the resources, time, and manpower required to develop some kind of train system seemed far too out of reach to even consider.


    It dawned on him that Winterclaw might be limited in what it could achieve as the capital of this tiny kingdom he was building. Maybe it had no future as a hub of industry, and he would need to look elsewhere.


    Sighing, Mark pushed his thoughts away. He felt himself building up this land on an unsteady foundation, but ultimately, there wasn¡¯t a lot he could do until they dealt with their immediate threats.


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    **Warg Army**


    ¡°Let him speak,¡± a warg lazily waved from the cushioned center of a grand hut, surrounded by his pampering wargs and armored guards.


    ¡°Thank you, Great Warg,¡± the young man said, falling to his knees as the guards let him pass. ¡°Please, listen to what I have to say.¡±


    ¡°I am. But I bore quickly,¡± the warg hissed and narrowed its sharp, yellow-eyed gaze.


    ¡°The Imperial to the north of here. The one that has defeated your arm¨C¡±


    ¡°What of him?¡± Roared the warg, rising to its feet.


    ¡°Sorry, Great Warg,¡± the man held his hands out. ¡°I-it¡¯s just that I was there. I witnessed him and his ingenuity, which allowed him to destroy my uncle¡¯s army. We underestimated him, and because of that, we lost against stupid odds. I come here to beg you not to do the same.¡±


    ¡°The same? You consider me the same as your pathetic race and uncle, me, the Great Warg?¡±


    ¡°N-no, that¡¯s not what I meant, Great Warg. But he is unconventional. Using tactics and weapons I have never seen before. I fear that leaving him to his own up north is a grave mistake. If he grows too strong, who knows what he will be capable of.¡±


    ¡°My scouts tell me that he cannot raise even a thousand warriors. His arms are of below-average quality, and so is the training of his army. Fools have fallen to him; you¡¯re correct. But what of the clans we face? Even if the Imperials truly have retreated back behind their walls, as the reports suggest, they still possess an army of over ten thousand. We don¡¯t even possess that many warriors anymore, not after the failures of your uncle. Thankfully, each of my wargs is worth ten men on the battlefield. Still, underestimating a real army and allowing them to regroup while I chase down some vagrant fool pretending to be a king sounds like the height of stupidity. And now I stand here wondering what incompetence led my advisors to recommend raising you to the rank of captain?¡±


    ¡°Please, Great Warg. Even half your force could crush him. I can help. I can lead them and deal with this problem before it grows out of hand.¡±


    ¡°Silence! I will not break my army apart, so you may use it to fulfill a vendetta. You¡¯re a failure and a fool. And I hereby strip you of the rank of captain. Be gone from my sight, priestling, and make yourself useful lest I decide to punish you further.¡±


    Sensing that another word was unwise, the man bowed and hurried out from the grand tent.


    He ran through the snow and to the edge of the warg encampment by the dense forest nearby. He knew that his uncle''s failure had doomed them. Now, the Great Warg saw him as a parasite not to be trusted. But he knew the threat that man possessed.


    The clans might have a stronger army now, but they weren¡¯t getting any stronger. In fact, their flayed alliance was weakening by the day as clan leaders tussled with one another for power.


    The Wolf Priest doubted that the Federation of Clans would last out the winter, even if left alone. And now that the Imperials had fled back behind their walls, there was no urgency he could see in defeating the Clans in the current situation. But the wargs had been scorned. Their armies, which they had praised as unbeatable, had been stopped. Their marches were halted by the men they saw as beneath them, and they needed revenge for that dishonor.


    ¡°Who of us is actually chasing down a vendetta?¡± he muttered beneath his breath. ¡°Fools. You¡¯ll see¡ªthe lot of you. When the flames douse your furs.¡±


    The man shook his head and turned to the forest. Following the Seven-Headed Wolf God and his pups¡ªthe wargs¡ªhad been his entire life. It was all he knew. But he couldn¡¯t continue this madness.


    His respect for their leadership had been compromised, and he no longer wanted to die for this. It was time to find a new path. It was time to leave.


    **World¡¯s Edge Citadel**


    Legate Athriel sighed and waved his messenger in as he stood patiently by the door of his massive, stone-walled chamber.


    ¡°What is it now?¡± He asked, turning in his chair to look out through the grand windows that watched over the courtyards of his impenetrable fortress.


    ¡°News from the capital.¡±


    ¡°Let me hear it,¡± Athriel exhaled.


    ¡°They request more throne ships and Imperators. The build-up on the Eastern Front has increased. It appears our enemies are in alliance now. Their armies grow bigger by the day, and the College of Legates believes war is inevitable.¡±


    ¡°And what of us?¡±


    ¡°In his address to the princes and the college, the Emperor said that he has confidence that no matter what is brewing within the Frontier, it will never pierce through the strong walls of World¡¯s Edge Citadel.¡±


    ¡°So, he does plan to leave us here stranded. Watching over this place like prisoners of the very prison we have been asked to warden?¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s one way of putting it,¡± the man nodded.


    ¡°We won¡¯t even be able to feed ourselves if they keep taking our throne ships. See to it that a suitable number of people are ferried back with the ships. We will have to run on a skeleton crew, it seems.¡±


    ¡°I don¡¯t believe that will be an issue, sir.¡±


    ¡°Huh?¡± Athriel¡¯s brow rose.


    ¡°No, you see, Legate. It¡¯s worse than that. The Imperators and masters that the College has requested will already reduce our numbers enough that supplying ourselves shouldn¡¯t be an issue.¡±


    ¡°Come again,¡± Athriel swung around to face the messenger. ¡°What are we being left with?¡±


    ¡°All but four of our Imperators. They also request all of the Imperators from across the Frontier.¡±


    ¡°How exactly do they intend to do that after they take our ships? Am I to march out and collect them myself?¡±


    ¡°The Imperators have been ordered to march here and await a ferry to the Imperium at your convenience.¡±


    ¡°At my convenience?¡± Legate Athriel roared as he shot up from his chair. ¡°I will be left to rot here with a couple of Imperators and their acolytes? This disrespect, it¡¯s beyond me,¡± he fell back into his chair.


    ¡°Sir¡­¡±


    ¡°Order them to do as the College demands,¡± Athriel let out a defeated sigh. ¡°It seems they have forsaken this place and left it to the wolves. So be it. I was never one for politics. What point is there in arguing with those men in the capital? That¡¯s why I¡¯m here, after all.¡±


    ¡°Yes, sir,¡± the man bowed and left the high-ceiled, gothic office.


    ¡°It¡¯s just you and me now, World¡¯s Edge,¡± Athriel muttered as he turned back to the window to watch his people as they organzied and loaded throne ships. ¡°Just you and me.¡±

 85. Calm before the Storm

    ¡°You think he¡¯s going to say anything?¡± Erin said, staring at the ceiling of the knights¡¯ shared accommodation.


    ¡°Don¡¯t ya think we would have already?¡± Callum said from the bed across from her.


    ¡°Maybe he¡¯s just waiting for the right moment,¡± Clay added. ¡°And once King Atlas has decided, then¡ª¡±


    ¡°You three weaklings are gonna give yourselves ulcers worrying so much. What¡¯s done is done. We¡¯re alive, aren¡¯t we?¡± Radic shrugged.


    ¡°He¡¯s got a point,¡± Callum said. ¡°We¡¯re alive. Not only that, but the priests and their students made it back alive. Why are we dwelling on this?¡±


    ¡°Maybe because we¡¯re supposed to be like special knights or whatever, and we needed to be rescued on our first mission?¡± Erin countered.


    ¡°Do I need to remind you it was against Wargs? Who else would have done any better.¡±


    ¡°No,¡± Erin huffed. ¡°But still. Why did he even make us knights? We¡¯re just a bunch of kids.¡±


    ¡°I¡¯m with Erin on this,¡± Clay said.


    ¡°Well, I¡¯m leaving,¡± Radic said. ¡°You three are too depressing. There''s Gotta be something better to do around here than listening to you whine.¡±


    ¡°Wait up,¡± Callum bounced from his bed. ¡°I need to get out of here, too.¡±


    ¡°Those two hanging out?¡± Erin said as she watched them leave together. ¡°Seriously, what has happened to this world?¡±


    ¡°Maybe we¡¯re already dead?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, that actually makes a lot of sense, Clay. More sense than those two being friends, at least.¡±


    ***


    Passing out from their room, the two young knights ducked under timber scaffolding and walked along a timber bridge.


    Dozens of men, both mutants and trolls, worked, heaving stone via a system of levers and pulleys. A bucket of something passed over their heads, sliding up toward the top along a rope.


    ¡°How long do you think it¡¯ll take?¡±


    ¡°All this?¡± Radic shrugged. ¡°Who knows? I¡¯m just glad I¡¯m not lugging all this stone up.¡±


    ¡°It¡¯s a good workout,¡± Callum said, eyeing a mutant as he pulled a crate of rocks up via a lever. ¡°I can¡¯t help but feel a little slack lately. Too much thinking. It¡¯s rotting my brain.¡±


    ¡°Slack?¡± Radic tilted.


    ¡°Yeah, like, not training. I used to never go a day without doing something. Ever since that battle, I have barely lifted a finger.¡±


    ¡°Then what are you waiting for, slacker?¡±


    ¡°Slacker, me?¡± Callum pointed at his chest. ¡°I don¡¯t see you doing jack shit.¡±


    ¡°That¡¯s because I¡¯m naturally talented.¡±


    ¡°Yeah, right,¡± Callum scoffed. ¡°That¡¯s why I keep beating you then, is it?¡±


    ¡°You got lucky. That¡¯s it,¡± Radic pointed.


    ¡°Lucky? You don''t know the meaning of that word. Just face it, Radic. I¡¯m better than you.¡±


    ¡°Like the dead god¡¯s asshole, you are. I challenge you, any weapon, any style. I¡¯ll kick your ass.¡±


    ¡°Alright then. You got yourself a deal and a sword duel.¡±


    ¡°Alright then,¡± Radic nodded. ¡°Bring it on, little guy.¡±


    ***


    Standing opposite each other in one of the training grounds, Radic¡¯s nostrils flared as he glared at Callum, both hands wrapped around the hilt of his oversized sword.


    Standing to the side, his profile thin, Callum stood calmly with his sword pointed out toward Radic from the side.


    Dozens of commoners, mostly warriors who had been training just before, gathered around, chanting the two boy¡¯s names. The order of knights hadn¡¯t really proven itself yet and lacked the prestige it had been awarded with. However, most knew that the two boys were skilled warriors, so they easily gathered a crowd.


    Both dressed in plate armor but standing in completely different stances and exuding different energy, the two boys stared each other down and awaited the signal to begin.


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    ¡°Fighters ready,¡± a scruffy man said between them and stepped backward. ¡°Begin!¡±


    ¡°RAAGH!¡± Radic roared and charged forward, wildly swinging his two-hander in broad arcs, cutting through the air mercilessly.


    Callum stood still, but the moment Radic neared, he lunged forward, stepping into range and pressing his blade against the boy¡¯s neck.


    ¡°W-wha¨C¡±


    ¡°I think you mean I win.¡±


    ¡°H-how did you,¡± Radic shook his head in disbelief as he lowered his sword.


    ¡°It¡¯s all about timing. Now, who¡¯s a better swordsman?¡±


    ¡°You have to teach me,¡± Radic said, his tone suddenly shifting in a softer way that Callum had never heard. ¡°Please.¡±


    ¡°You want to learn from me?¡±


    ¡°Why wouldn¡¯t I? That was something else¡­¡±


    ¡°Fine, but you still have something to say to me.¡±


    Growling, Radic¡¯s gaze fell to his feet. ¡°You¡¯re the better swordsman¡­ for now, at least.¡±


    ¡°Well, good enough. I suppose.¡±


    ¡°So, are we training then.¡±


    ¡°Sure, why not.¡±


    ¡°Okay,¡± Radic nodded and took a step backward, raising his sword.


    ¡°What, you want to train now?¡±


    ¡°Yeah, why not, slacker?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re back to calling me a slacker after I just humbled you?¡±


    ¡°You¡¯re the one that doesn¡¯t want to train. Or have you changed your mind?¡±


    ¡°Oh, Radic,¡± Callum shook his head. ¡°I¡¯m gonna make you hurt for that.¡±


    ¡°I wanna see you try.¡±


    ¡°Ain¡¯t gonna be no trying,¡± Callum cracked his shoulders and limbered up. ¡°You have no idea what you¡¯re getting yourself into, big guy.¡±


    **Trayox**


    Since arriving at the mines in the north, Trayox and his men had got to work. First, they built a simple palisade and then additional cabins. His loyal followers had been the core of Winterclaw¡¯s construction crew, and they put together log cabins at an envious speed.


    However, they still remained around the mine¡¯s mouth. Its natural elevation and the rocky ascent toward it made it an extremely difficult place to attack. But Trayox¡¯s eyes often settled on the ruins beneath the mine. Most of them had been timber buildings that had long-degraded into nothing besides carvings in the ground, where foundations had been dug. However, several stone buildings still stood in a dilapidated state.


    He knew that it wouldn¡¯t take much to repair them, and stone structures were a rare oddity in the Frontier. Having such buildings in his domain would naturally grant it prestige among the wild people who lived out here and likely draw immigration toward his settlement.


    The mine itself was still under the king''s direct control, so he couldn¡¯t rely on extracting wealth from it, although he had suspicions about the chief and his guards. However, he had been instructed to worry about his own task and not get involved in the mine¡¯s business, so he turned the other cheek.


    He first put his men to work, building a few tiny hunting cabins in the nearby forests to encourage the people to spread out. This would allow the hunters and rigar bark gatherers to sleep closer to their work and normalize living outside the safety of the palisade.


    It would take a little while to complete, but if any luck, his people would start to spread out, and he could work towards his goal of settling the old town.


    **Reida**


    King Atlas had sent scouts and even a few of his warriors alongside Reida. She was, after all, taking command of a strip of land that lay between Winterclaw and their enemy, the wargs.


    Mark decided not to call this land a march, even though it might have made more sense than the territory he gave Trumus. However, he had every intention of defeating the wargs, and once he did, this would be a very central parcel of land within his growing kingdom.


    Immediately, the hardy female barbarian warrior set the troops to build some basic fortifications and the scouts to patrol the surrounding lands.


    There wasn¡¯t anything particularly special about the land here. Just more trees. But that was perfectly okay for Reida.


    She needed to get rigar harvesting operating as quickly as possible. She doubted their king would leave them out here to starve, but the deal was simple. Provide raw output, and you¡¯ll be given processed goods in return. That was a deal she was happy with. It would keep her people fed and allow them to grow.


    But the master archer had bigger plans in mind. They had plenty of timber out here and far fewer uses for it than back in Winterclaw. If she could monopolize it for her bow crafting, she could drastically reduce the cost of making her bows and then have them transported to Winerclaw and elsewhere for sale.


    She was already making good coin with her store in Winterclaw and had left a few of her apprentices behind to keep it running, but if she would spread across the Frontier, then that would be a completely different matter.


    But it wasn¡¯t wealth. She had a grudge to settle with her clan. They had kicked her out, and she wanted vengeance.


    Bow crafting had long been a skill converted and hoarded by the clans of the Frontier with knowledge of it, resulting in very few having access to bows despite how readily available the resources to craft them were. If she were to flood the market with her own bows, the blow to her former clan would be immense, even if they weren¡¯t of the same quality. And she knew they weren¡¯t, but they were good enough. Good enough to send her clan into a rage as their hoarded power gets eroded.


    **Imperator**


    Clay production was increasing steadily but still far from what Mark needed to start arming his people with more of his flaming grenades.


    The warg army had begun to march on the Clan Federation again. Unable to match or outrun the wargs on open ground, the clans had moved to a fortified hilltop and dug in.


    The scouts had advised Mark that the clans held a numerical advantage, and it seemed the wargs were taking that seriously. They surrounded the hill and took their time to organize an attack as they sieged it down.


    No only did this mean that he likely wouldn¡¯t be able to get weapons to the clans to support their defense, but that even if the wargs chose not to attack, they could likely starve them out. After all, human armies had no chance of outrunning an army of wargs.


    All he could do now was prepare his own forces as well as he could and await the warriors from the west.


    But the entire situation made Mark uneasy. It put pressure on him to make quick decisions. When his reinforcements arrived, he wouldn¡¯t be able to sit back and take his time planning their next move. If they were able to survive that long, he would need to march south and break the siege.


    But that was only half of it. He expected a few thousand warriors to come to his aid but doubted even with his current forces, he would muster half of what the Clan Federation had, and if they were afraid of meeting the wargs in open combat without the Imperials helping them, then what chance would he have?


    Mark knew he would need an ace up his sleeve and likely pray on the clan armies breaking their siege to attack the wargs once he did. That wasn¡¯t something that could be left to luck. He needed to be assured of their assistance.


    I guess I had better pay them a visit beforehand.


    Mark turned from his maps and notes and headed for the door, grabbing his coat. It looked like he would need to take a little flight south.