It was the 16th day of winter upon the plains of Serad, meaning that it was the 15th consecutive day of blizzards blowing, dropping snow by the foot each day, and the 15th consecutive day of ferocious winds buffeting the fresh powder all about; not for the first time in his life, Isaac cursed his uncle’s decision to build their shack’s door on the south side of the ramshackle building. Winter winds were almost all northbound to a fault; after all, winter itself was caused by the shift of prevailing winds, which brought up incredulous amounts of snow and an utterly breathtaking- literally- temperature from the glacial seas of Sothwick.

Unfortunately for Isaac, the winter snowstorms could last for several weeks- and in fact, in this particular winter, they already had. Winter was not a set time of year for the people of Serad; rather, it was something that came rapidly, with little to no warning, and with no particular schedule. For this reason, it was not a land of farmers; nay, it was a land renowned primarily for its rich deposits of metals, from iron, to copper, to even gold. Thankfully, the extraction of such metals entailed going underground, and whilst the temperatures were still frigid, at least the miners avoided the snow- unlike Isaac and his uncle.

Isaac’s uncle, Gregor, was the local shopkeep, a general goods merchant, of a kind- though that particular title implied that there were specialized traders as well, which most certainly was not the case. If he couldn’t get something, it was likely that no one in their little community could- aside from, apparently, firewood. After all, Gregor should not have to do such menial chores when, in his own words, he had a “perfectly good nephew to do the housework, since you seem to be loath to do anything besides twiddle your fingers- or mooch my porridge!” As such, Isaac learned from an early age to do the housework- at least, if he wanted to eat, or have a roof over his head. The one time he had protested, during one of the shorter winters, he ended up staying outside in the snow for a little over an hour- long enough to turn into a human icicle.

Fortunately enough, since those days, Gregor had managed to acquire a few greatcoats made from Silverheart Elk hides, one of the few natural denizens of the Forzold Glades- the wide expanse of forests that were due north of the Sothwick Sea, and merely twenty miles south of the plains of Serad. Considering their close proximity to that particular body of water, the Forzold Glades were almost perpetually frozen themselves; as such, anything that lived within those ancient, ice-sheathed glens had to adapt to the temperature, among other things, or perish. The Silverheart Elk was well-known and highly sought after for two primary reasons; aside from the fact that the males’ antlers were made of silver, and in a heart shape, though that was neither here nor there, their pelts were some of the thickest and best-insulated around. This particular type of elk actually had three layers of furs, with air trapped between each- making for some of the highest quality cold weather clothing possible.

Of course, all that amounted to adding another hour, or perhaps two, before the wearer of such fine clothing froze to death, considering the act of skinning the majestic elk, and the subsequent tailoring of an article of clothing caused a great number of imperfections in the pelt, but such issues were impossible to avoid- in the end, it still extended the wearer’s life in such frigid temperatures, and time was still time- and yet there was never quite enough of it, Isaac reflected. To ensure that he and his uncle did not perish to the ever-encroaching frosts, he would have to work nigh-on constantly, bringing in coal and kindling, stoking the fire itself, and, perhaps most annoyingly, digging his way out of the shack, through the vast drifts of snow to the pile outside of the mine a hundred yards away where freshly-dug coal was left - coal that was rapidly running out, he fretted.

Typically, when winter’s grasp struck the Serad Plains, it resulted in a few days of snowfall, perhaps a week at most, yet what men truly feared was the time when it continued unabated. Isaac’s uncle had been more cautious than many others, having dwelt on the plains for decades, knowing its wiles, but even he only had stockpiled two weeks’ supply of fuel- which dwindled far quicker than it should have, considering the overbearingly frigid temperatures in this particular cold spell. As it was, he was lucky- others who were caught unprepared had to drag coal back to their homes since nearly the start of the blizzard.

Come nightfall, Isaac was exhausted, as had become normal during the more severe blizzards. His short, 5 foot 5 inch frame, though well-muscled, simply wasn’t up to the strain of carrying about fifty-pound sacks of coal for twelve hours a day- or at the very least, not whilst battling the snows and the winds. To compound matters, he had missed his mark several times in the ferocious white-out, only realizing he’d passed his uncle’s home once he had reached the rickety old palisade, nearly fifty feet past the shack.

As it was, he appeared to be some sort of apparition, or perhaps some undead wight, come to terrorize the little mining village, considering the absurd amount of snow encrusted upon his body. Nowhere could a speck of clothing or skin be seen, aside from his eyes- piercing green eyes that had to be both squinted and shielded in order to see anything in the snowstorm outside. As he gradually peeled off the outer layer of clothing, Isaac hung the discarded pieces in a corner of the shack, near the fireplace, where they could, at least hopefully, dry overnight.

He took a moment to survey the room; while their house wasn’t particularly large, it was at least enough for both Isaac and his uncle to have their own rooms, one to either side of the central common room, which was larger than both of the other rooms combined. As far as furniture went, it was relatively sparse- five chests lined one wall, serving as storage for his uncle’s shop. A short, square table with a chair for each side occupied the center of the room, with dirty dishware left atop it- another chore for Isaac to do. To finish off the otherwise spartan furnishings was a large, stuffed armchair near the fire, along with a nightstand in easy reach from the chair.

Once Isaac’s whitened garments were removed, an overlarge figure spoke up from the armchair near the fireplace; one of the few luxuries they afforded, the chair was both large and plush, and, Isaac reflected, far softer than his own “bed,” if a few planks with blankets atop could qualify as such- and Gregor filled it quite well, to say the least. While Isaac’s uncle may have been in relative physical fitness, it was quite clear that he cared a bit too much about his food.

“That the last of it then, boyo?” Gregor inquired.

Isaac smiled and nodded, moving over to the fireplace to tend the flames. “Let’s just hope this snow spell ends afore the winds collapse the place, uncle.”

“Oh, have no fear of that. It may be old, and drafty to boot, but it’ll take a whole lot more than a breeze to take this ole place down,” Gregor responded. “Besides, I swear the snow does more to hold the place up than the struts themselves!”

“True enough, true enough,” Isaac chuckled. The flames were now roaring mightily, so he grabbed a pot from the mantle. “Soup tonight, uncle?”

“Whatever you feel like cooking, boyo. I’ve to finish up the order list for the shop, here,” Gregor said, gesturing to the thick ledger he held. He was already planning ahead for once the snows ended; after all, a successful merchant must have what his customers needed, and it was an art that Gregor had perfected decades before- a successful merchant indeed!

Later that night, Isaac turned and tossed about on what passed for his mattress. The wood wasn’t comfortable, yet it was still far better than the frozen ground. Even so, he still contemplated dragging his bedding out in front of the fire, in hopes of thawing his frosted limbs. The mountainous snow drifts had an igloo effect, to be sure, but it hardly changed the fact that the outside temperature was far below freezing.

With a sigh, Isaac turned on his side yet again, listening to the shrieking winds outside, and occasionally, the distant thumps and thuds of snowdrifts falling from rooves. Yet, something seemed off- those distant thuds and thumps were far too rhythmic, far too steady to be mere snow falling. Straining his ears, Isaac brought his head up to a crack in the frigid wall- in order to get fuel for the fire, he had to dig out a path around the side of the house, the side his room was on. It meant that his room was far colder than the rest of the house, yet it also meant that the noise-dampening effect of the shell of snow was removed.

Sure enough, he could hear the sound far more clearly. It halfway sounded like the miners were at work, close to the entrance of the mine, for whatever reason, yet surely that could not have been the case- it was the dead of night, after all! As he listened, Isaac realized the pace of the dull thumps had redoubled- surely that meant another had joined the first, yet he still couldn’t tell what they were doing in the first place. Slowly he backed away from his place at the wall; there was only one way to find out what was going on, after all. Shaking the haze of exhaustion away, Isaac started pulling on his various pieces of clothing.

It took Isaac perhaps ten minutes to pull on all of his clothing, and quietly slink out of the house; forcing the door back against the foot of snow that had accumulated was no easy task, let alone doing it quietly, but he managed well enough. Finally standing outside, he perked his ears up again; the noise was almost a constant now, more frequent even than the terrible winds. That was not the only change, however; no longer was it some dulled sound, but rather the volume of it astounded Isaac- how could he have been the only one out looking to see what happened? It was not only more frequent than the shrieking winds, it was immensely louder as well! Yet, it certainly wasn’t from the mines… rather, it sounded to be from the direction of the palisade. Isaac nervously started towards the town wall, frequently stumbling over the snowdrifts.