Forged in Frost

Another Path

When dawn light spreads its grey fingers through Lockmire, men are already loading supply crates into wagons, saddlebags on horses, and hastily eating bread in front of the training centre. None are particularly well-rested—not with the day's dangers ahead. Unknowingly shared by many, the dread of death looms over them. Will this be the last time they see inside Lockmire's walls?

Something Evelyn did not expect to see were all the women and families who came to say goodbye. Dozens bidding farewell to their sweetheart, their sons, brothers, fathers—all with tearful kisses and hugs. It's odd to see a girl's arms wrapped around Edwin's neck, or a child wrapped around each of Rutwig's legs as his wife kisses him goodbye. She's never heard of Rutwig's wife, or ever imagined Edwin had a sweetheart. Many didn't have time to warn loved ones of this trip, and so have no one to see them off.

Caius and Asher are the two with neither family nor loved ones in Lockmire. They organize the supplies and men as best they can while the goodbyes are said. Evelyn's group will remain mostly on foot, with ten on horseback to carry supplies or scout ahead if necessary. Evelyn ensures her boots are properly laced, taking one last look back at the castle before—

"Countess!" Evelyn breathes, as Ilvara races down the castle hill. Murmurs spread through the men at the sight of the countess so undignified.

She throws her arms around Evelyn's neck. "Gods, child," she hisses. "You must warn me when you are going to set off. I almost missed you."

"It's all right. We'll be all right," Evelyn promises, gripping her tightly.

"You don't know that. Do you have any idea where you're going?"

"It's just a scouting trip around the Pond."

Ilvara pulls away, looking fiercely into Evelyn's eyes. "And if you run into enemies? What then?"

"Then we kill them," Evelyn says.

Ilvara hugs her again, tighter, as if trying to strangle her. "Are you sure about this, Evelyn? Really, really sure?"

"This is what I've trained for, Mama," Evelyn whispers. "This is why I volunteered."

"To be true, I had hoped the war would be over before any fighting started. I hoped we could come to some agreement. I hoped, I hoped... Gods, what's it matter now?" She seems distraught and shaken. "Just promise me you'll be careful, all right? You'll stay close to the others, not venture ahead, not doing anything stupid?"

"I promise."

"If you don't come back, I don't know what I'll do," Ilvara says, gripping her shoulders now. "I shouldn't have let you join."

"My lady, this is too much," Evelyn implores, unable to see her so worked up. "To lay down my life for you would be an honour, please know that."

"I don't want you laying down your life for me."

"Ilvara," Count Hadrian's voice breaks into their bubble of intimacy.

Ilvara separates from Evelyn slightly, turning to her husband who parts the crowd. His expression says enough, stern, cold, scornful. As if in defiance, Ilvara embraces Evelyn once more, tightly, kissing her cheek before she releases her.

"All the very best of luck," she says to Evelyn, tearful. "Gods be with you."

"And with you, my lady," Evelyn responds, giving one last look at Hadrian before joining her troops. The crowd sweeps her up, blocking Ilvara from view until they leave the city.

For the journey to Prynveil, the whole of the army will stay together. The mood of the group is full of tense excitement, quiet uncertainty, hope. Evelyn has no reason to be nervous yet. They're still in Lockmire's territory. The enemies would never come this far south.