"They must be fools to believe that we shall back down now," Hagroth said heatedly as they withdrew back towards the command tent. The sentiment was indeed shared, though the reality of the situation was very much apparent. "We will not back out now when we have a chance to victory."

"At least we have a timetable now, captain," Lyse suggested to him, trying to guide him to more productive thinking without stirring up anger. The captain did seem to manage and control his anger, turning to the map that still lied on the table. He seemed more worried than angry at this point. The other officers had returned, as the camp was most definitely in a restless frenzy following the sudden appearance of this messenger. Lyse would be lying if he was not at least a bit shaken seeing one so nonchalant in his mannerisms, staring them down as if he could blow them away with little effort. However, he comforted himself on the thought that if that were at all possible, if they indeed have the power to demolish this camp, they would have done so by now. This warning is just there to scare them into submission. They are well aware of the situation at hand and are hoping for a resolution that will not be as bloody. However, that is not how the Empire operates, unfortunately.

"At the very least, we have a timetable," the captain finally said. "If they indeed find no response to their demands, they will attack soon after. We have until then to mobilize our men and prepare for the battle before they do."

"It is perfect, actually," Edlund said. "We can send someone to distract them now, and we have even more time."

"Perhaps," Lyse said. "But do we want to sacrifice men to buy us just a few more minutes? Is it worth the sacrifice?"

"In this conflict, every single second is worth it. Nevertheless, we can not send out men we may need on that river," he nodded to one of his captains. "Gather some men to act as scouts. That will keep them busy even if they cannot report back. We move on the rise of the sun. This night shall be the last that we may tremble in fear. The might of the empire will crush those who threaten our place. May our mother and Fate be kind."

Reluctantly Lyse nodded. He could not bring himself to disagree with the sentiment. The Frostlanders did initiate this conflict. For them to call for the empire to back down, even if it is in the most disastrous and hopeless of situations, is an insult. They shall stand their ground here till every last man is dead. That is just the way of the empire. Those who are strong survive. Moreover, the coming morning will prove this once and for all.

Moxie's men retreated into the fortress, retrieve their camping supplies from the field, and took the rest of the night to prepare for what was to come. Rali and Tug seemed already to regret their decisions somewhat to come along. Tug had told Lyse that he had some experience with Frostlanders, as he served in the northern territories of the Outlands. However, he never actually saw a Hyperborean. They are a rare race of the Frostlanders who use Ice magic, and having just one on the battlefield can be quite devastating. To say less, sleep visited very little, and Lyse ignored its coming as he stayed up all night, thinking of the possibilities of battle. He gripped the pendent in his tent, huddled away from most others, as pact as they all were at this point, and looked over a map illuminated by its glow. The influence of the pendant, the wisdom of Athena, still flowed through him. He could see the formations of men in ranks moving across the land. He could see their relative strengths, their weakness. The terrain became him, and he could feel the trampling of feet sifting through the snow and ice-covered dirt. He became each and every man, the stinging air filling his lungs as he charged Frostland soldiers that charged over frigid rapid rivers. He became the enemy, who saw every minute flaw in their opponent and could exploit them. Every crack became gaps and opening. The battle was his own, like a game of chess that he could both observe and participate within. He is both the piece and player, the sword in each hand and the officers that command their draw. Every piece of armor and the spear that breaks them. He is the hammer, the shield, the sword, the mace, the arrows into their quivers, and the ground they may walk on. He will use every single part of himself to win this day. There was simply no question to this dilemma.

They agreed on who would go where, and by the turning on the day to the next, they began to round up their men to initiate this glorious plan. Lyse and Edlund stayed within the fortress, along with each of the companies that had agreed to stay behind. The others, drawing forth long furred horses and oxen to pull their cargo up the river's side, led by the captain, Makyra, and moxie's men. the snow was light. The wind ripping, but they could manage. Edlund and Lyse stayed behind with the infantry, who took on their chain shirts and their spears to wait within the walls. As their fellow brothers and sisters left the walls, they somehow saw the walls ten times larger than they were. The marching of feet accompanied them as men formed their ranks, bridges were attached to their beasts, and they heard the shouts of their commanders and officers sure up their men in rough speak. Lyse found Edlund huddled against one of the walls and looking at the last of the men leaving and falling behind Moxie's own gunmen and sailors.

"Today is the day?" he said as Lyse came upon him. "The night has fallen, and now we face an enemy we were told as stories when we were mere children."

"Indeed," Lyse said. "Are you as excited as I am?"

"Excited," he repeated to himself. "Yes. Excited. However, also a little scared, to be honest."

Lyse placed a gloved hand on his shoulder. "We will make it out of here, brother. We have faced terrors that men shall not see, and we have survived the plight of gods."

"Yes," Edlund said. "How unlucky we are."

"Want to prove Fate was wrong then?" Lyse placed a helmet on his head. "We will do it out there, on the battlefield."

Edlund sighed but returned the smile and placed his helmet on his head. He pounded his fist against the shield, the crest of the empire on its round surface. Lyse did the same to his kite shield, and they watched as carefully the men made their way east.

Makyra looked back momentarily. She had that feeling once more when she allowed them to go off into Hath alone to meet Lizbeth. She placed a gauntleted hand on where the feeling was coming from. She need not worry about them. They are knights. She could trust them, should she? Lyse was certain that he could handle himself, especially with the aid of the gods around his neck. Nevertheless, that did him little justice when his hands were severed from his wrists before. Time and time again, she has placed her trust in these godslayers, and every time they fail, she fails. Maybe Celia was right. She puts far too much burden upon her shoulders. However, if she cannot protect people, if she cannot save the ones she cares about, then why even be here at all. She might as well still be that foolish innocent girl who had witnessed the atrocities of war. When the Frostlanders first made their attack. She focused on that. She was going to face the terrors that haunted her life till now. She still had dreams, and she still had memories of their crescent-faced helmets, those blue-skinned Hyperboreans turning men into ice. Who orphaned her. . .

"You look thrilled to be out here," Moxie said, riding up beside her. Somehow she convinced someone to give her one of the grey stallions. The thick coated horse spurted against the cold as Moxie stroked it's mane.

"I am not so keen on leaving those two back there," she said.

"Well, you are not their babysitters," she told him. "Besides, when was the last time we guardians were on a battlefield."

Makyra raised an eyebrow at her. "Did not fancy you the warmonger Moxie."

"I fancy myself a purveyor of thrill," she said. "It is true that I have never met the sweet thrills of battle like the rest of my men. However, maybe that is why I do not fully understand them. Of all the things to share with them, seeing the horrors that trouble them in their sleep makes me a better captain."

Makyra's eyes widened a bit, but she chuckled. "My my. Did not take your for the sentimental type."

"Am I suppose to be another lifeless soul like John or that hopeless Diamond?" she shook her head in mock pity. "Sorry, I think I'll keep to my roots. Besides, we will see just the type of people we are, won't we?"

The Captain strode past them. He and his officers were leading the charge just behind the bridges. Makyra did not like the feel of him. He seemed a good captain, honest and pretty standard for the empire. However, something made her feel strange around him. He seemed familiar, but perhaps she met his face in some distant past. But still. He looked over to Moxie and frowned. Her red hair and wardrobe painted her as foreign, and he seemed a little off-put by her familiarity with a Thirian.

"What exactly does a merchant have use of . . . um," he looked back to the mercenaries chatting amongst themselves and even other soldiers. He nodded to himself "Yes, mercenaries?"

"I am a very shrewd woman in her trades captain," she said, puffing out her chest with pride.

"A shrewd merchant," he noted. "With enough firepower to demolish a sizable town. Interesting."

"The seas can be quite dangerous," she said. "Monsters and pirates. You would be the greatest of the lower fools not to arm yourself?"

"The lower fools?" he asked her. "What is that?"

She sighed. "It is a Hathan tale. The Lower fools were the crew of a merchant captain, you see. The captain isn't important, but while the man was brilliant, his crew had the collective mental might of feathers. Every plan he made, every smart sell was somehow ruined, and every barter was revealed for their lies. Any trouble that came upon their ship, those dullards were to blame. Each was a fool in their own rights, though. The Fool of the coin often lost gold once given to him. The Fool of knots always got the wind direction wrong. The fool of lies could not stop lying, and the fool of truths told the truth too often. They are a nice little lesson for those who fail to see their foolery."

"I see," he said slowly. "So the fool who needs an army at their beck."

"The fool of the sword, yes," she said. "He was the captain before the captain, but he lost half the crew cause he thought a pirate's flag meant a friendly invitation."

"How curious," he said, then looked to Makyra. "You hold interesting company, knight."

"Yeah, well, I doubt much comes along this far north," she said, a bit more biting than he originally intended.

"Well, it has been a while, I suppose," he sighed, looking ahead of them towards the horizon. "I have been in these Fate cursed frozen fields for nearly four years now. And I feel every minute of those years I must say."

"Where are you from?"

"Northern Aetos," he said longingly. "My how the years have gone. I rarely receive word from my house without prompt."

"Well, you will have a lot to write about after today," Moxie said. "Any advice for these Hyperboreans or whatever whatever?"

"Keep your distance," he said. "And pray that they will not choose you to aim their frustrations. Their methods are quite . . . excruciating."

They were coming close to the location of the assault. The area was quite clear of vegetation, perfect for making a rather wide formation along the river. The bridges were set down along the bank, half in the river but not yet set into place. The horses skittered as the freezing water met their fur. Men formed ranks, Moxie's men armed with their firearms near the back with archers upon a small mound of earth. However, Moxie could not help but feel a pit in her stomach. Was she really going to give both herself and her men's lives to the hands of another godslayer? He has convinced her that he was different; he has never lied to her yet. However, even still, she has somehow put much faith in that man. She hopes that it will not all fall upon Fate's deaf ears this time. She promised herself never again will she suffer for what is right.

The sky was still dark, but they could see the creeping oranges of the sun crawling their way up. Soon the comfort of night shall be met with a bloody day. Anticipation was already so high for what was to come. In the far distance, Makyra, with her supreme eyesight, could see a group of frostland scouts ride off back west, presumably to their camp. The ride would be at least an hour, more than long enough for Lyse to get his men across and be on their way here. She hopes that Fate is kind to them this day. A worry shared amongst them all.

Captain Hagroth shouted at orders, trying to get the formations to be as imposing as possible; long lines, but not too thin. Cavalry would be upfront with as many spears and pikes to decorate the front lines. Without infantry, these pikemen would be his bread and butter for the fight till Lyse returns with his forces, if the lad returns anyway. He had convinced himself that Lyse was what they needed. He seemed a smart man and capable. A knight. However, he kept strange company. Something about the Thirian knight was strangely familiar, and the Hathan woman was what one would expect from the lot. Though he tries to hold judgment till he actually sees her in combat, that will prove many things. But this enemy. He can admit that he dreads this fight and wish not the outcome in his heart. His chests feel like bursting, and his feet as if they wished to depart from his legs and run away. He closed his eyes and counted his breaths, trying to still his beating heart. He was a captain, and he should act like it.

Makyra transformed into her wolf form, the traditional armor of Thirians melding with her form and creating suitable armor, metal claws razor sharp.

"Today will prove many things," he said. "It will prove that Fate can be kind, at least once."

(X)

Lyse watched them disappear over the horizon. A solid hour rides away from the fortress, at least. There were only a few men still walking along the fortress walls, giving at least the illusion that they were not completely defenseless or at the very mot abandoned. What he waited for was the signal. They already had the riding times for the enemy scouts down, so they knew when they would have an interval to begin moving. Over 750 men waited on their heels, pikes and swords and shields pressed into the snow as Lyse headed them off. The bridge was to be carried by Edlund, who was in front. The ox and horses had to be used to carry the others, but for a knight, it was little effort expended. However, that meant that he was going to act as a point and possibly have to confirm that the other side was in deep okay for them to cross.

"Stay warm," Lyse said to them all. The sun rises, and the enemy wishes to smolder the flame of the sun. Stay diligent, for we are the sons of the forests, the might of the earth, and the strength of the empire."

The quote was from a myth his father told him of a knight who could control the elements. He said this very same thing to his men as he slew a group of giants that had threatened villages in a distant land. They responded well to his words but kept their cheering to a minimum. As one of the wall guards turned and quickly raised a blue flag, the flag of attack, they sprung into action then and there. They burst through the gates and immediately ran towards the river. Edlund stopped to throw off the tarp for the bridge and lifted the front section over his shoulders, allowing the wide wheels to roll across the dirt. They formed around him, making their way quickly down the descending hill and finally making their way towards the banks. Men stepped aside, carefully eyeing the other side as if it may come alive to end them. In the meantime, Edlund heaved the bridge over. With Lyse's help, they both lifted the large frame by hand and allowed it to fall to the other side. The bridge was just barely long enough to be steady as the water buffered it. However, it was more than enough for the rest of them. Lyse drew his sword, and Edlund unhooked his mace as they made their way across as quickly as they could, followed by the army. They were prepared for anything.

Lyse and Edlund leaped across, shields prepared for the worst as they were now across enemy lines. Men followed, shields raised as they made their formations. Lyse waited a few moments before finally giving them the signal to march forward. If they times this correctly, they shall arrive before the Frostlands decide to freeze the river once more. However, as Lyse made a step forward, he heard what sounded like rumbling beneath his feet.

(X)

There they were. Like a tide of silver, they crested the far hill, formed their ranks as hurried as they could. The early morning had grown colder in their presence, and the snow fell far more. this was the armies of the Hyperboreans. their blue skin hidden within their armor, their swords gleaming, and their ice magic ready to demolish whatever bridge that may have fallen. However, much to their surprise, the bridges laid idle, as the men of the empire only launched curses and promises across the waters. They were in a state of confusion, not sure whether or not to charge or resume the battle. Truth be told, it would only take a word for this to commence. However, from the neatly formed ranks of the Frostlanders, one man pushed his way forward. He was armored now, but Hagroth recognized that face from the messenger who arrived not the night before.

"What is the meaning of this," he shouted. Hagroth signaled his men to silence themselves, which they reluctantly did."

"The meaning of this?" Hagroth said. "The Empire rarely bends to powers, not their own, Frostlander. You should comprehend this by now."

the Hyperborean frowned. "I would have thought you have realized your situation and pled for surrender. I would not have thought the empire be men made of fools."

"Well, I guess we shall show you the type of fool we are, you blue-skinned bastard," Hagroth pulled on his helmet and turned to his men to cry out war hymns.

The Frostlanders seemed taken aback by this. The shouts and hollering of the empire shook the snow, it seemed, bated the winds and buffeted the snowfall. Were they fearless? No. They shivered in their boots and metal armor. Their swords felt heavy, and the cold bit them harder in retaliation. However, they were still there, as ready for a battle as if they outnumbered the frostlanders two to one. The Hyperborean narrowed his eyes, then shook his head, turning to the army that had formed behind him and ordering their tighter formation. If the Empire even attempted to cross the river, they shall retaliate. Negotiations proved to be false hope of conclusion. The hyperborean shouted his orders and then raised his hands. Makyra saw as blue energy was being gathered around it like aura had become thin slivers of ice and snow to form around his person. This was the magic of the hyperboreans. They commanded all aspects of winter and held the secrets of the ice within them. The hyperborean slammed his hand against the rapid water. In an instant, this aura of frost covered the entire river as far as the eyes could see. Moreover, it froze in motion, the water no longer able to move.