FL - Chapter 66: Marching Out

Louis stood on an open stretch of ground at the edge of the camp and surveyed the assembled troops.

Twenty Elite Knights, fifty Formal Knights, one hundred and three Apprentice Knights, and four hundred infantrymen.

This was the full force he would take to Clearfeather Ridge.

The soldiers and knights of Crimson Tide Territory needed no explanation. They were well trained and eager for battle.

After months of careful leadership, their average loyalty toward Louis had reached one hundred and fifty percent.

Jon's troops were surprisingly orderly as well.

His light armor, trimmed in bright silver, stood out among the ranks. Behind him waited a well-equipped formation of knights and infantry.

Count Harvey had clearly invested heavily in his youngest son. He had no desire to see Jon die an unexplained death in the Northlands.

Several unfamiliar faces stood among the troops.

Viscount Webster had inserted them into the force. One glance told Louis what they were.

They wore no house crests, but their bearing revealed origins among the old northern nobility.

Their true assignment wasn't merely to provide support. They were there to watch Louis.

An Elite Knight named Bond drew most of his attention.

The man was taciturn and cold-faced, and his hand never strayed far from his sword.

Unfortunately, he was rather ugly and looked nothing like 007.

His appearance was unremarkable, but the Daily Intelligence System had revealed his identity. Bond was a secret envoy from the Governor's office.

If Louis committed anything that could be interpreted as treason, Bond had the authority to execute him first and report afterward.

Louis quietly instructed Lambert and the other Elite Knights to watch him, in case Bond suddenly decided to cut off their lord's head.

While Louis inspected the formation, Jon sidled closer.

He waved away the nearby soldiers and lowered his voice. "Boss, why did you volunteer for Clearfeather Ridge?"

Louis had no intention of revealing the Daily Intelligence System.

"Why?" He considered the question, then decided against inventing an excuse. "Intuition. I felt there might be a chance to earn military merit."

"I understand..." Jon wore the solemn expression of a man who believed he had uncovered a secret. "You really planted an informant among the Snowsworn, didn't you?"

Louis blinked. "What?"

"Think about it. You knew where to find me that day, didn't you? Then you knew Haskell would pass through the canyon, and now you've chosen Clearfeather Ridge."

Jon grew more excited with every word. "That's my Boss! You managed to plant a spy among the Snowsworn. Incredible."

Louis stared at him, at a loss for words. He didn't bother explaining.

Jon thumped his chest. "I might get to share in another great achievement this time."

The preparations neared completion.

The troops formed four columns. Iron helmets gleamed beneath the sun, and Battle Aura shimmered faintly through the air.

The horn sounded.

Louis mounted his horse, looked over the ranks, and swept one hand forward.

"Move out. Destination: Clearfeather Ridge."

...

Before dawn, dense snow-mist covered the Northlands in gray-white haze.

The Snowshadow Highlands lay silent beneath it. Snowsworn from all three strongholds had gathered there.

A twisted black totem pole stood at the center of the barren ground.

Barnes stood upon its platform, draped in an Ice Wolf pelt. Crimson battle markings ran from his forehead to his chest, and a Frozen Abyss battle-axe rested at his feet.

He descended from one of the old Snow Kingdom's surviving noble lines.

Barnes had witnessed the night Imperial cavalry trampled the Snow Capital and fire consumed the snowfields.

All his siblings died in the Imperial purges. He alone escaped.

He became one of the Snowsworn's founders and one of its eight Elders.

Now he commanded the Snowsworn operating within Snowpeak County.

His loyalty to Hiro was absolute. Barnes saw him as the final hope of the old royal bloodline.

Hiro had personally ordered Barnes to commit every available warrior to the attack on Snowhawk City. Failure wasn't permitted.

Barnes looked over the thousands assembled below.

They were no rabble. Every warrior was a veteran who had survived the slaughter on the snowfields.

Some wore crude hides, others cold iron plates. No two sets of armor matched, but every piece bore the marks of long combat.

A shield-and-spear formation stood in the front ranks, their long weapons bound with beast bone and gleaming through the mist.

Behind them waited wolf riders. Massive snow wolves stood motionless on the frozen earth, their blue eyes glowing.

Most fearsome of all was the Mad Wolf Unit.

Black cloth and bone shards covered their bodies. They carried short blades and painted the blood-seals of the Ancient God of the Frozen Abyss across their faces.

They were the elite among the Snowsworn elite.

The army carried no banners and used no unified signals, yet an intrinsic order held it together.

They waited.

One command would send them over Snowhawk City like an avalanche.

Frozen Abyss priests knelt before the totem and chanted in an ancient tongue.

Their voices crossed the barren land and entered the mind like nightmares.

In the old language of the Snow Kingdom, they cursed the Empire and recounted their nation's destruction.

"They burned our homeland. They slaughtered our brothers..."

The warriors beat their chests and roared, their voices rising in waves.

Barnes held up the broken remains of an old emblem.

"You all know this," he said. "It is the crest of the Snow Kingdom."

He raised it high, then released it to fall upon the frozen earth.

"We once had a nation, a Snow Capital, a royal court, and a name.

"The Ironblood Empire destroyed it all. They burned our homes, killed our families, and crushed our dignity beneath iron-shod hooves."

He paused, his eyes cold.

"We are the Snowsworn. We aren't rebels, but the remnants of a murdered nation.

"Now the southern barbarians have gathered their armies to wipe us out."

"Good."

Barnes lifted the Frozen Abyss battle-axe and pointed its blade south.

"This time, we strike first. We will take Snowhawk City.

"Blood will be repaid with blood."

The warriors cut their fingers and scattered blood across the ground before the totem, swearing themselves to the Empire's destruction.

Then the true sacrifice began.

Several Imperials—nobles and knights by their clothing—hung upside down above an altar of ice.

Rags filled their mouths, allowing only muffled groans to escape. Blood dripped from wounds across their bodies and ran into grooves carved into the altar.

A Frozen Abyss priest approached and brushed a hand over the cold stone while chanting an ancient incantation.

"Ancient God of the Frozen Abyss, grant us your blessing."

The earth trembled. A wet, indistinct sound stirred beneath the ice altar.

Mist condensed, and the air seemed to drain from the world.

The prisoners' bodies withered as an unseen force drew out their blood. Black fluid seeped from their eyes, ears, noses, and mouths until only shriveled remains were left.

An eerie blue flame ignited atop the totem. A low, alien rumble rose from deep underground.

The priest raised his voice to translate the ancient god's message.

"The God has granted His favor."

The warriors erupted in savage cheers that tore through the frozen silence.

Barnes raised his battle-axe and pointed toward Snowhawk City.

"Move out."

No banners. No drums.

A black tide advanced through the wind and snow toward Snowhawk City.