Love Beneath The Moon

Chapter 27 - Maynard

The snow fell relentlessly, a soft, suffocating blanket that pressed down on the land. It rose higher with each passing hour, burying the ground until it reached waist high. Maynard and most of his men had dug in, creating makeshift camps to wait out the storms. A few men were sent to scout ahead, but their reports were always the same: here and there, patches of pavement or cobblestone paths where the snow hadn’t yet gathered, offering brief moments of ease, though they never lasted. Soon, the snow would fall again, and they would be forced to pause, to endure its endless weight.

On the first evening, when the men’s spirits were still unbroken, the heavens mercifully held their wrath. The frontlines were ordered to carve a path through the snow, alternating every half hour, their tired hands cutting through the cold, white silence.

Yet as the day wore on, the scouts returned with dark tidings. The Iceborns had struck, leaving behind only ruins and silence. Entire villages, reduced to ash, lay buried beneath the thickening snow. Coldroots was one of them, the village where he first found Aurora was now in desolation. Maynard had walked through the ruins in the quiet of the night, the blackened stones and charred remnants of homes standing as mute witnesses to the cruelty. There was nothing left but the cold and silence.

Maiari, that goddess who Aurora worships, disgracefully watched from the heavens. How dare? Maynard thought as his eyes set upon the moon. This is your people's doing! He thought as he walked the grey snow where the ashes mixed. Earlier when they had first arrived at Coldroots, Maynard got a glimpse of burnt and frozen bodies being dragged away for proper burial by his men. They deserved as much dignity as anybody else after all. But for those Iceiders, they deserve to die like that.

"These are my people!" Maynard yelled into the silent night. He could feel his heart burning inside him. It could almost melt the snow. This was the village he visited before he found Aurora on his coach. These are the people he laughed and ate with on that circus.

"How dare they!!" He continued to yell. "I'll have you all killed for this!"

Snow fell in mournful silence, softening the edges of ruin. Trees bowed as if in grief, their splintered limbs clawing at the gray sky. Far away, Maynard could see the charred skeletons of houses standing in solemn rows, their shadows stretched long and thin in the dim light. The bitter scent was heavy in the frozen air, the smoke rising up into the heavens like the path of dead prayers.

Soon he found himself kicking fallen logs and stone remains. It was a mild kick at first, then he went harder, then harder, then harder. This was good. I will do this to those savages! Maynard began screaming from the bowels of his soul. He could feel the cold streaks of his tears cascading down his cheeks. "I'll have you killed!!!"

In an instant, he felt a warm embrace closed around his arms. "Easy now, my Lord," The voice belonged to Dell.

Maynard resisted for a moment, but he stopped when Dell tightened his hug. "We'll have our people avenged, Maynard," He said. "Easy now. You're about to ruin these beautiful houses."

"They can't do this to us!" He said. "They can't!!"

"They won't enjoy doing this for long, my Lord." Dell said as he let him go and held him by the shoulders. "Vistarion have gathered up against them."

"They've killed my people! They've burned my villages! They've destroyed Old Icestones! Those savages will pay!!" He jerked away from Dell.

"There is hope, my Lord," Said Dell.

Hope? When the word landed on his ears, the image that came was Aurora's face. She betrayed me!

Maynard burst into tears. Despite the cold, he felt as though he could ignite into flames. He is the Lord but he could not even deal with that savage woman. She betrayed him and he does nothing. How could he? He's weak. He'd let all those brave men die on the Mother Mountains just because he wanted a vacation. He had abandoned his seat. If he hadn't left for the mountains, he would've been the one to held the parley with that traitor.

"It should've been me!" He said through all his mourning. "I should've been the one to die!!" He wept more severe. "Those soldiers didn't have to die! My people didn't have to die!! My Aunt didn't have to die!!!"

Dell Thauvin did not say a word after that. He simply patted his back softly. He could now hear his own sobbing. He could taste his salty tears. His nostrils freezing with each heavy breaths. He was kneeling upon the snow looking at his hands as if he didn't know what they were.

"It should've been me..."

"It's not your fault, my Lord." Dell said.

Soon, he could feel the eyes of his entire host upon him. The combined armies of Old Icestones and Icesteps. All of them watching him weep like a child. Snow began to fall once more, soft, innocent flakes slowly covering this cruel world. Maynard and the rest of his battalion retreated for the night.

The march resumed the following morning, though the mood was somber. As Maynard’s host pressed deeper into Old Icestones, her wounds were made known. What had once been thriving villages were now lifeless husks, covered in layers of ash and snow. No one dared to speak, everyone kept the search a solemn affair. A few Villagers hiding in cellars were rescued and some joined the march.

The first sight of the ruins each time was the same: a black mound where smoke kept rising. As they approached, each detail grew clearer. The crumbled walls rose like jagged teeth, empty houses stood like decaying corpses, and the hearths shivering from the falling snow. In some places, the soldiers found half-buried bodies clutching toys with their little hands. At one ruin, Maynard picked up a small wooden bird, its wings scorched. He held it in his hands for a moment, wondering if it had the chance to fly, before tucking it into his cloak.

The snow seemed endless, swallowing everything in its path, but not enough to erase the horrors. In one town, the blackened frames of a chapel still stood, its bell sitting down the pavement. The soldiers whispered prayers as they passed, but Maynard doubted the Great Shepherd will listen. If He cared, He wouldn't have allowed this.

Days passed like this, each one colder than the last. The snowstorms grew fiercer, turning their progress into a slow, grueling battle against nature itself. Food was scarce, and the fires they lit at night barely cut through the chill. Still, they marched—what else can they do?

One night, few scouts returned claiming to have seen a camp of Iceiders resting far south. Lord Sebastian and his Captains formed a plan to surprise them for the night. Maynard wanted to join the fray but his Lords advised him to remain in the Camp. They can't risk to send the young Lord into proper battle yet.

Maynard did little to protest. That very same night, his host descended into the Iceborn camps with the fire and fury of thousands of Vistari soldiers. The battle was over before the sun had risen, the Iceborns melting from their fiery wrath. They sent the scouts again to seek for more.

As the Lord Sun sat upon his heavenly throne, Maynard watched his soldiers celebrate their first victory, his hands hung limp at his sides, his fingers feeling strangely light. The snowflakes came drifting down again, covering the battle ground, the dead Iceborns already fading beneath its cold white shroud. We won, Maynard thought as he walked away, his chest searching for something he couldn’t quite name.

The next day, the scouts returned bringing news that they've found his Uncle Joseph leading the western front of Old Icestones. Maynard quickly led his host toward there, reminded once more of his Aunt's passing. The snow swallowed their march, and as the ruins faded behind them, Maynard wondered if Joseph marched for vengeance or for something darker. As the snow thickened, the path ahead seemed as uncertain as the man he would soon face.