Once the dead had been put to rest, and the group had rested up, the Frontsmen marched once more. Celesta volunteered to carry the unconscious around; she’d have to sit out the assault on Steenburg because of it. Victor thought she was out of her mind. The helmet and breastplate were heavy enough as was.

“Everyone doing well?” asked William.

“About as well as you can get out here. Damn snow.”

“Don’t know, sitting around a pile ‘o twigs makes me tired. ‘Least the town should be warm.”

“We’re fine, by the looks of it,” Celesta said, balancing the weight on her back as best she could. “But we should hurry. I don’t know how long I’d last with these fools strapped to my back. Best to not find out.”

Victor licked at his cheeks. “Come, let’s go already. The days are too short.”

Past the hillock, the Frontsmen got back into formation, now asymmetrical thanks to their losses. Victor peeked over his shoulder; the two markers under the tree already appeared weathered by the snow. Shaking his head, he turned his eyes back to the path. It was best to leave it for what it was.

Winds kicking up the snow, the formation marched past stretch after stretch of pale woodlands. The cold hadn’t gotten any worse, but that was a low par to pass. Stale faces, hair thrown into chaos, gradually everyone’s resistance fell apart. Mere skin didn’t last long against the frost.

They passed a small, frozen lake. Perhaps in the summer, it would’ve been a splendid sight, the type one would daydream about on a tedious day. The warmth of the sun beaming down upon their chest, as they sat enjoying the afternoon outside of a cottage. But it was all nothing more than a mirage of the mind. In reality, there was nothing but shredding winds, grey clouds shedding their frozen blood, and an exhausting slog.

Victor eyed the men around him. Even in their thick coats, they were shivering. Neither him nor Celesta could say the same: both appeared as energetic as that morning. Aside from a tinge of cold, the red dragon and the lavender were doing fine. But both had their own struggles; one had to lug six adult humans around on their back, and the other’s mind was once again running wild.

I wonder how we’d fare if everyone was like us. Then no one would have to suffer from the cold… and no one would have to worry about dangerous animals, either. But- no, of course they wouldn't be afraid. You can't be afraid when you're the monster, right?

“Are you alright?”

Victor almost bit down on his tongue. “Wha-” his eyes met with those of Celesta, “-eh, yes. I’m fine, thank you.”

“You look awfully under the weather, I must say. Are you sure-”

“We don’t have time for this...” Victor said, his voice having dimmed down to the boundaries of reasonable.

“Alright, but the door’s open. Don’t you worry about that,” Celesta whispered back.

Victor erratically tilted his snout towards Celesta’s ear, his eyes pressed as far rightward as his body would tolerate. “Just… not while we’re out here, okay. Especially not with all these crazed peasants around.”

One of the Frontsmen beside Victor sneezed in a manner very reminiscent of a scoff. Victor found himself putting more effort into his breathing. “Don’t worry, Victor. I won’t,” Celesta said, before finally dropping the matter. The red dragon breathed out softly.

Why is it that this always happens at the worst of times? When I least expect and want it, I get questions shoved into my ear. Gods almighty I swear, I’m one of these moments away from being utterly destroyed. I can hear the cackling all around me... and from above too. Eric's probably trying to get the last laugh in. I can't blame him. He'll probably get it, too...

His mood soured, Victor pressed on with a lowered head and selective senses. Deep down, he knew it wasn’t the brightest idea, what with the enemy still unaccounted for. For all he knew, they were just around the corner, bows drawn and swords at the ready, and pikes prepared to carry his head. Then again, it wasn’t as if it would be a huge loss. For the Draconists, maybe, but if there were anyone whose toes he wouldn’t mind stepping on, it would be them. They were the ones who had turned him into a monster, after all. As time went by, the envy he had of others was painful to feel. Even the Frontsmen he was now stuck with.

Alas, a few minutes turned sunshine into a snowstorm. The footprints of the imperial forces were long buried, and they weren’t nearby. The loudest, rudest sniff revealed nothing. Sighing, Victor pressed on, muttering under his breath about the weather, which provoked a response from the Frontsman next to him.

“Pfft, could say that again, red. Why the abyss you scaled bastards thought fighting in the snow was a good idea, ‘vinity knows.”

Victor groaned. “Wasn’t like I had much of a say in it. It’s a few at the top making these decisions.”

The Frontsman grumbled. “Tsk. Sure you hadn’t. Everyone knows you’re the son of the Gold One. You could have at least tried to convince him.”

“Ugh, could you just shut it, Johan? You’re not making this any easier.”

“What? Can’t a man blow off some steam, ‘specially when dealing with this shit?”

A growl sent Victor’s ears flat against his head. “Shut it.”

The frontsman shaked his open hands at the lavender dragoness, whose brows were firmly depressed. “S-sorry, madam.”

“You better be,” Celesta said. “Enough of this. Now put your eyes forward, before we get ambushed.”

Victor gulped. Celesta was no laughing matter. A faint trail of red ran down her claws stil. All the jovial behaviour when she was around him made it easy to forget that she could easily rip someone’s head off. It was unlike anything he’d known from his twenty years of life; strange, alien, unsettling. Chills crawled down Victor’s spine. Hoping that they wouldn’t be seen, he slowed down a tad.

After the altercation, the group fell silent. A few more stretches of empty woodlands came and went, still no sign of the enemy, still no sign of life. Just stretch after stretch of pale woodlands. Victor felt something stir in the pit of his stomach. It was as if they had been going in circles. Matters which weren’t helped by William’s insistence to change route every so often. All around, it was nothing but the same stained bark, the same evergreens, the same snowed-over plants, everywhere one would look.

I’ve heard Western Lokahn was barren, but this…

The path to the east winded on. Whatever regrets one might’ve had about entering this frozen abyss, there was no turning back. So the trek continued, over hills and through woods, past lakes and solid bogs, with the same repetitive sights. All that could be done was pray for light at the other side.

But instead of light, they were greeted by smoke. A thin trail of it crawling up the horizon, that was. The skies camouflaged it perfectly; were it not for his nostrils, Victor would’ve never noticed. “Does anyone else smell smoke?”

Celesta pointed her snout towards the air, her passengers’ limbs flopping around unnaturally in the process. “I do. It smells like… a campfire.”

An infantryman cleared his nose. “Huh? Don’ smell nothin’.”

“Now that I think about it, that looks an awful lot like smoke over there, doesn’t it?” Jim pointed to the plumes rising across the horizon. “They’re just ahead. Wait a minute, I’ll go check it out.”

“Jim, wait-” William’s order fell on deaf ears. Jim ran ahead like a fawn whose curiosity was bound to be fatal someday. The captain sighed, and dropped onto his knees. No one cared to check up on him, their eyes squarely placed on the fool ahead, hands on the hilt of their weapons. All they needed now was a signal.

Jim returned, his back now hunched over. “Get down,” he said, gesturing like a madman to the bumpy terrain. To some chagrin and groans, the Frontsmen either crouched or laid down on their bellies. Both dragons opted for the latter.

“Yep. Steenburg’s just ahead. The fire’s a campsite in the town’s middle. There’s about fifteen of the bastards loitering about, looks like. They’re plannin’ on retreating or something, saw a cart being loaded up with crates. If we hit ‘em fast enough, the loot’s ours.”

“Well what’re we waitin on then, let’s go!!”

William scrambled to his feet.“Holdon holdon holdon, we’re not charging in blind. Not a chance.”

“C’mon, we can’t just sit around waitin’. They’re packing, let’s go already-” Suddenly, the man recoiled, pulling a face of disgust as a spatter of saliva ran down his uniform.

“Shut it, Clyde. Don’t get us all killed because you can’t sit still for two minutes,” Jim said.

“Jim, what the-”

“Shut it, Clude. I won’t say it again. We got plenty of rope still, and plenty of trees to tie your ass to. Shut it and listen.”

Clyde pulled on his unkempt, beard, growling and punching himself in the stomach. Victor sighed. This day can’t end quickly enough, ugh.

“Now then, we’ll have to approach this carefully. I’d hate to have to dig more graves for any of you, especially if it’s not even needed. Jim, did you see anything else in Steenburg that might be useful?”

Jim cleared his throat. “Most of their attention’s on the road out of town. Got a cloudburster set up there and everything. Think they’re expectin’ us to come from there.”

William gulped. “Cloudburster… right, that’s something. And you said there were fifteen of the fools there, correct?”

“Correct. Well, that’s the amount of lads near the entrance. Might be a few more straddled around the village, but none that I could see. Looked pretty scared, really. Could smell the fear comin’ off of ‘em. They’re putting all their hopes into us coming from the north, looks like.”

William clicked his tongue. “Good. I suggest we hit them from the south. We have to hurry before they can point that cloudburster our way. So, lads, we’ll be swinging from here to over there, into the village. Do not make any noise whatsoever. Do not straddle too far from the formation. Stick to the plan. All clear?”

The Frontsmen replied with long nods. “Good. Victor, you’re best off running ahead, see if you can get the jump on the cloudburster before they get the chance to turn that thing around.”

Victor nodded. “Sure, but I’ve heard those cloudbursters can be really dangerous. Are you sure it’s a good idea for me to take it on alone?”

“Let’s put it this way, red.” Jim crawled his way up to the red dragon to tap him on his claw, “That thing’ll never let go of you the moment you’re spotted. One bolt of that thing hits you, you’re toast. End of story.”

The red dragon squeezed his eyes shut as a spasm forced its way through his body. There’s no chance in the abyss I’ll be able to face this thing. Not a chance. How can they expect anything from me, when I was too scared to fight an hour earlier? How? “Understood.”

Celesta grunted. “Alright. I’ll stay here and keep watch over these sorry fools,” she said as tilted her head backwards for a moment, “They’re not looking the greatest, but that’s no concern. If I’m ever needed for whatever reason, I’ll be here. My knowledge of healing is not the greatest, but I will do what I can. Good luck out there,” she said, smiling and winking at Victor much as his own mother did.

“Alright, I hope all of you are prepared. Here goes nothing, and remember, no noise.” William rose to his feet. “Follow me.”

Like a Lynxspider skulking through the night, Victor followed William towards the perimeter of the village. There were no walls nor trenches to speak of; just strange, sour smells coming from behind the homes making up the small town. Victor’s fears had dulled significantly, for reasons he couldn’t explain. But it wasn’t anything to worry about. Yet.

Slowly, they crept between the wooden homes, watching their step for stray twigs or household items scattered about. Everyone got into position, weapons unsheathed, hands steady. Victor peeked around the corner. Ten odd imperial soldiers stood guard at the entrance, oblivious to what was taking place behind. The cloudburster was positioned further back from the entrance; it had a clean shot over the road for fields ahead, and its operator was secure and well behind several wooden boards. Had they come down the road, they would’ve been obliterated.

Victor pulled his head back, and breathed in. He couldn’t help but be in awe. It was ingenious, this ‘cloudburster’. Mobile, enough punch to get through city walls, it was no wonder how the Justitians were capable of conquering all of Lokahn so easily. And now he had to face one of these engineering goliaths on his own. Licking at his lips, he readied his legs.

“One, two, three… GO!”

As lightning did strike from the heavens, the Frontsmen charged headfirst at the imperial line. Victor jumped from behind the boxes he’d hidden himself by, charging with teeth clenched at the cloudburster. The operator turned his head, his mouth flying open as he spotted the red charging straight at him. Visibly panicking, he rotated his weapon as fast as his hands would allow.

“AH!”

A gasp sprung out of Victor’s throat. The weapon had rotated halfway already; one click, and he was gone. He kicked his hindlegs into the snow with all the strength he could muster, throwing his entire body straight at the operator as the cloudburster was making its final movements. His claws connected with both shoulders, and his sides scraped by a bolt holding the ballista together.

Man and dragon cried out in pain as they landed on the snow. Both had to groan. Victor rubbed his now aching side. It felt as if he’d received the brunt of an explosion. Then, the operator yelped: his legs had gotten stuck under Victor’s body. He hurriedly scrambled for something on his belt. Victor’s eyes lit up: a knife.

No… don’t you!

The dragon pressed his claw down on the man’s head, before swiftly tapping him on the nape. The knife fell from his hands. Victor breathed out in relief. He’ll be out for a while… but he should-

A sword hacked at the air in front of him, close enough to feel the vibrations in the air. Victor reflexively hopped back just in time to dodge another; a soldier in full leather armor stood face to face at him, eyes filled with a blazing hatred fiercer than anything Victor had ever seen.

With a fierce battle cry, the soldier came right at him, his sword carving through the air like a hot knife through butter. Victor panted; there wasn’t the slightest opening in the soldier’s defenses, lest he had no qualms about having his neck sliced open. The soldier was like a raging bull, an indomitable force capable of unleashing strike after strike, forcing Victor backwards blindfolded. His heart tugged at his ribs. Every flash of that blade sent him further into a storm of panic, every close call made the blood flowing within his veins flare red hot. His mind raged with every emotion under the grey sky, until he couldn’t reasonably think things through any longer.

“....ngh!”

Victor lashed out. He no longer had a choice. An odd, gelatinous feeling brushed against his claw for a second, before it was back on the floor. The shining blade no longer came.

“Nnghr!”

Victor raised a claw to his forehead, and fell onto his belly. For a second, his body glowed white hot, before returning back to the way things were. Victor’s head spun; angry yells bombarded his ears from all around, pressing and throbbing deep into his mind. They were without meaning; mere noise, with no purpose other than to disorient, it seemed.

Nggh, my head… what happened to my head? Am I…

Victor’s blue eyes flew open when a noxious stench filled his nostrils. He was greeted by the sight of his wide open claw dangling in front of his face, coated in red. His heart sank, and his jaws opened slightly as he looked beyond the gap between his talons. Deep down, he prayed desperately that it was nothing but smoke and mirrors. That it was all a terrible dream, and he’d awaken with cold sweats back in his bed soon.

But Victor hadn’t forgotten what had transpired on that fateful day, in the belly of the Snowcap. Hope was a fool’s gambit. For no thoughts and prayers could change the fact that right before him, lay the soldier. Eyes bulging wide, the skin on the face vibrated as the final breath exited the torn lungs, and his chest had been soaked red. Three enormous gashes ran from one end to the other.

Victor… did nothing. He didn’t speak. He didn’t move. He couldn’t. His feet felt as if they had rotated backwards, and his mouth tasted of glue. All he contemplated was the sudden pressure upon his entire body. From head to tail, an invisible hand pressed him down against the floor, and pried his eyes and ears open. The undefined noise was now crisp and clear.

“No, please, I swear, my parents, my family’s poor and I’m trying to help them, I’m not here to-”

“Should’ve thought twice before selling your country down the river, traitor.”

“AARGH!!”

Steenburg had become engulfed in a nightmare. Men, no, boys were crying as they were being put to the sword, nary given the chance to surrender before they were cast into the abyss. In the corner of his eye, Clyde was sitting on the ice, arm shielding his chest, his face bearing a deep sadness. And the sounds, the sounds tore at Victor’s very soul. Every cry made him want to cry himself. To be as far from here. To not have his own claws stained with guilt.