Steel & Frost

”We will wipe this northern scourge from the land!" an orator used their magic to bolster their voice in the palace courtyard. Their powerful tone echoed the king’s proclamation. A thousand cheers boomed in response. "A glorious day to serve the crown," the voice cried again. "A glorious day indeed," the crowd responded with a clang of their weapons and shields. After the troops' ringing, there was a long silence. Jonathan’s heart pumped with anticipation for the adventure ahead. He felt more connected to his brothers and sisters in arms than ever before. “Bring them justice and steel. Areandel be with you all,” the king uttered his final words, raising his fist to the sky. He then put it to his heart and bowed. Each soldier did the same in return. “About face!” officers barked to the troops. All the soldiers turned around in unison and began marching out of the palace courtyard. Thousands of citizens cheered them forward as their armor shone brightly in the morning light. Far in the distance, the White Mountains loomed, waiting for their arrival. “I am sick of this,” Baeon shouted as he threw his shovel down in anger. Jonathan wiped his sweaty brow with the back of his frost-covered gloves. He stood up straight to stretch and look at his fellow soldier. He was bent over in a long trench just outside of some northern village of which he did not even know the name. His body ached, and his lungs burned after hours of digging in the icy dirt. Here we go again, he thought. “Back to work, soldier,” a captain from above them barked at Baeon. “Already had enough of the northern reaches after only a week?” another soldier jested. “I thought you all were supposed to be the tip of the spear sent from King Eardred II himself.” “Better than all of your people, Gregory,” Baeon shot back. “When was the last time you all had a real fight?” “Have you even been in a fight, a real fight where someone is trying to kill you? I am not talking about that sparing you fancy boys do in the capital.” Gregory put his shovel down and stepped up to Baeon. The two groups of soldiers stopped their work and took sides, huddling behind either Baeon or Gregory. The northern sentinels and their weather-stained armor against the troops from the capital and their glinting silver that still held a regal shine. Jonathan stood with his company but was uneasy. He was frustrated at Baeon for running his mouth. It was true, they were all green. Recruits ready to conquer the world, but they were inexperienced. The soldiers here were hardened folk that had seen horrific northfolk raids and full-scale battles of the revolution a generation past. They were grown men, war heroes. The anticipation of a brawl beat in the hearts of the troops. Their breath blew in white clouds as they panted and sized each other up. At that moment, a white horse came stomping by with a company of knights. “Captain, get these soldiers back in line before I get someone over here to replace you,” a commanding voice called from the white horse. “Yes, general,” the captain snapped into action. The broad man jumped down into the trench between the soldiers. He shoved Baeon back into his company and came face to face with Gregory. “Quit harassing the new troops. Must I remind you that the only reason we are here is that you lot cannot hold the damned north against these barbarians,” the captain barked. Baeon smirked, but it quickly faded as the captain got into his face. His eyes were a sharp brown, and he had a thick beard and bald head. This, coupled with his large stature and rank, made him a terrifying man. “Boy, you know nothing of the world. It would serve you well to shut up and do as you are told. Respect these soldiers who gave everything so that you could wear that armor,” the captain stuck a finder into Baeon’s breastplate. “Now, back to work!” “Apologies, General,” the captain bowed, and the other soldiers followed suit. The general took off her shining helm, and her brown hair felt in the chill wind. Her eyes were initially cold and hard as she scanned her soldiers. After a moment, she gave a slight smile and said, “The end is almost near. Soon, we will have our chance to stomp out these raiders. Hold faith with me.” “Yes, General,” they all said in unison as she stomped away to the village square. “I just want some action. A chance to make a name for myself. None of this low work,” Baeon grumbled. Gregory put a hand on the young man’s shoulder and gave him a grim smile. “Careful what you wish for; you might just get it.” Jonathan threw himself down against a fallen tree in a row of exhausted soldiers. He let out a heavy sigh and let the nearby bonfire reach its warm embrace against his face, and he inhaled the comforting smell of the crackling wood. “Hard work makes the end of the day better,” Baeon sighed as he passed a bowl of stew to Jonathan. “Ain’t that the truth,” a woman agreed as she put her bowl down and sighed. “Greta, your company got the fun job,” Baeon jested. “You all were able to patrol today. We had to dig the trenches.” “More dangerous work for more dangerous soldiers while the grunts dig,” Greta shrugged with a smile. “Why do we even need the trenches?” Jonathan asked as he rubbed his left shoulder. “I thought we were supposed to be hunting Northfolk raiders.” Baeon punched him in the arm. “There he is! Even the quiet guy has an issue with this. We are better armed, better organized. Let’s go get them.” “Foolish children,” a rough voice laughed from behind them. The group around the fire turned to see Gregory and a few of his northern companions walking over to them. They each had a pint of ale as they took their place in the warm glow. Jonathan studied each of them. Their skin was leathery and scared. One had an eyepatch over their right eye. The long years of terrible deeds had worn heavily on them. Both in the way they carried themselves and by their appearance. “Where did you get that?” Baeon said, eyeing the ale. “Never mind that,” Gregory said as he patted the young man on the back. “You will get some when you prove yourself up here.” “How can we prove ourselves by digging trenches?” Jonathan asked. “They cannot be for defense. We are a cavalry people. The trenches would be more of a hindrance to us.” “Look around, do you see any horses?” another one of the soldiers cut in. “They do not work this far north off the main roads. They may have helped us beat those golden buckets and gain our freedom down south. Those grassy seas are perfect for our kind. Up here among the gnarled roots and dense forests, they are no good.” “Then why the trenches? Why don’t you just go out there and take the fight to them?” Baeon said eagerly as he slammed his fist into the frozen dirt. Gregory shook his head. “That will not work. If you ever get to face these barbarians, you will find their initial charge to be the most terrible thing you could imagine. They are faster, stronger, and more savage than any of us. One thing that they do not have is armor. We make a trench and line up behind it; they need to come to us or risk being cut down by our archers. The trench breaks up their charge before they get to us.” “As for mobilizing to get them,” the other soldier cut in. “They move around all the time, and they know this terrain better than any of us. That is why you newbies have been stationed all across our border. We will organize and move up slowly to expand. Armies greater than ours have tried to cut right through the wilderness, but they are always lost to this ancient wood.” “The lost army of gold,” Greta said ominously. “What is that?” Baeon asked. “You did not pay attention in your studies, did you?” Greta rolled her eyes. “Hundreds of years ago, Vaelor had the same problems we are having. They sent an army thousands strong to the White Mountains. Once they were through the mountain pass, near the Ruins of Garnloban, they were ambushed. None made it back.” “Reports say that some of their bones and equipment is still strewn about the path up that way,” Gregory sighed. “But that is why we stay here at the villages.” “Because these are so important,” Baeon scoffed. “Just a bunch of huts in the ice.” “A bunch of huts that have deep mines that pull out gold, silver, and many other metals out by the wagon.” Baeon shrugged and threw a stick into the fire. “I still wish we had some action,” he said. “I suspect we should get some soon enough,” Gregory smiled grimly. As the man spoke, a horn called out in the darkness. It summoned the older soldiers to their feet. “That is our call for the watch,” Gregory said. “Time to let the children sleep.” The group was laughing as they walked away while the others rolled their eyes. “Northerners,” Baeon scoffed. “They are right,” Jonathan sighed. “We have much to learn.” After some time around the fire, each of them retired to their tents nearby. Jonathan slumped down into his bedroll with a few grunts. The day had taken its toll as he stretched out and finally got into a comfortable position. As he lay there, he could still hear the fire crackling away. Sleep was taking over his body, and he gladly succumbed to it. Right before he drifted off, he thought he could hear a wolf howling at the night sky. Jonathan shook awake amidst shouts and clanging of weapons. He shot up in his tent and scrambled around for his gear. Once he had his sword, the young man looked up at the opening to his tent. His heart was pumping, and he noticed that he was shaking as he tried to steady his breath. In the distance, he heard the general's horn as she shouted, “Charge!” Jonathan felt a surge of courage, and he burst out of the tent. All around him, fires leapt up. Right in front of his face, a soldier was on the ground with a Northfolk on top of him. With instinct driving his action, he unsheathed his sword and plunged it into the attacker's back. The Northfolk fell limp onto the soldier. Jonathan pushed the body off of his companion to reveal a man gripping at his stomach. To Jonathan’s horror, the man was stabbed a multitude of times and was dying. Blood rushed as he tried to hold it back in panic. Jonathan looked around as if he would find some magical item to heal him. “Help me,” the unfamiliar face writhed in pain and pleaded to Jonathan. The young man did not know what to do, but he knew that he could not save the man. Without thinking, he did all he could. Jonathan grabbed the man and held him close. “I got you, I got you,” he repeated over and over. “I-I’m cold,” the man whimpered. “We will get you some help. Just look at me,” Jonathan said. All around them, disheveled lines clashed, and fires danced in the darkness as a light snow fell. None of that mattered, only the man who desperately clung to life. As Jonathan looked into the man’s dark brown eyes, he was thrown back. A hulking figure was on top of him, grunting and fighting with him. Then, the figure clasped both hands and began to beat Jonathan. The thuds of the figure’s fists beat into Jonathan, making him dizzy with pain. As the figure raised their hands again, the soldier of Hailgalad raised one hand and blocked them. Then, he reached down with the other and unsheathed a knife. He quickly drove it through the side of his attacker. One single grunt, and the figure flopped to the side, dead. Jonathan scrambled to his feet and found the injured man. He was already dead, with his hands crossed on his stomach. His eyes were closed as he slept in eternal peace. Before Jonathan could shed a tear, he was hit on the back of his head with a heavy club, and he saw no more. "Get up," a deep voice grunted as a heavy boot slammed into Jonathan's stomach. The young soldier coughed as all the air flew from his lungs. As Jonathan woke, he found his mouth and throat to be bone dry, and half of his face was frozen in the snow. He tried to struggle, but his hands were bound. After a while of squirming and Northfolk around him laughing at the sight, he used his hands to push himself upright. Jonathan found himself surrounded by at least fifteen of his fellow Hailgaladrian soldiers. They were all bound, and many of them were missing pieces of armor and were bloodied. “What is the meaning of this?” a proud voice called out. Jonathan looked over to see it was the captain from the trenches. One of his eyes was swollen shut, and he was stripped of his armor. The proud man sat there shaking in his bloody tunic as he tried to stand up to his captors. “You lost the battle,” a large man shouted. “Lucky you didn’t lose your life.” There was a chorus of laughter at this. Jonathan looked around and saw that they were in the middle of a camp. Animal skin tents surrounded them as Northfolk milled about. Some were sharpening weapons, and others were preparing food over meager fires. “W-what are you going to do with us?” another voice chirped. Jonathan looked to see an unfamiliar face. She had a nasty gnash on her face as she looked around at her captors. It was clear that she was frightened as she stared at one of the Northfolk’s imposing figures standing over her. “We take you to our village. It is not far. We can sell you for supplies we need,” the large man grunted. “Hailgalad will never negotiate with you. Might as well just kill us now,” the captain spoke up as he got on his knees and thrust his shoulders out proudly. Jonathan rolled his eyes at the captain. He was so desperate for an honorable death, too proud for his own good. As the young man scanned the group huddled around him, he saw a face. It was not the face of a Northfolk savage; it was the face of a woman. A woman with long, flowing hair that was deep brown. Here, grey eyes flashed as they caught his in the morning light. As their gazes locked, his heart fluttered. His body became limp, and a slight smile came to his face. The woman, in turn, squinted at him. She rushed over as the captain negotiated with a Northfolk leader, and she kicked Jonathan with a swift move. “What are you staring at?” she asked sharply. “I-I,” was all the young man was able to muster. “Seems like they don’t teach ya to speak down south,” she scoffed. “Keep your eyes to yourself.” Another kick sent him to his side. Jonathan coughed and tried to get his breath back. As he did, he saw her give him another look. It made Jonathan’s heart skip a beat as he gazed at her out of the corner of his eyes. “I am telling you now, the general would rather hunt you down than pay for us,” the captain continued. “We go north,” the Northfolk leader responded. “Get them up and get them moving.” “Come on, you,” the woman dragged Jonathan to his feet and pushed him forward to a path that led toward the icy daggers that pierced the sky: the White Mountains. The group was pushed hard by their captors through late in the day. Jonathan’s head throbbed with pain as he staggered forward. His feet shuffled up the rocky path, and he tried to keep his balance with his hands still bound. He looked to his left and saw a wall of ice reaching high into the sky. To his right, a ridge plunged to a ravine where a river ran a hundred feet below. “Is this all necessary?” one of the Hailgalad soldiers shouted. All the prisoners' hands were bound to one another on a long chain. Some were badly wounded and continued to fall, slowing the group down. “We keep moving as you are,” one of the Northfolk that had the grab of a leader shouted. “I thought you lot were stronger than this.” “How are you keeping up, I-I?” the woman elbowed Jonathan from behind. Even in pain, Jonathan cracked a slight smile. He looked to his right and saw her face. Instantly, he was lost looking into her eyes. He did not know why, by all rights, he should hate her. He should hate her for all the pain and death they caused his people. But as he looked at her, he did not feel hatred. He only felt affection for the woman who walked beside them. “We have names, you know,” he said. “And what name is that?” she asked as she stared at him curiously. “Jonathan,” the young man said. “Do not speak with these savages,” the soldier in front of Jonathan sneered as he yanked their bindings to pull him forward. Just then, the earth started to shake. A shriek pierced the sky, and all the prisoners fell low in fear. The Northfolk all drew their weapons as a creature crashed through the ice on the ridge above them. Jonathan saw a massive spider-like figure barreling down on the caravan. It stumbled down and screeched at an ear-piercing frequency. Its front legs came down and impaled two Northfolk. Then it ran through the column of people and pushed half of the Hailgaladrian soldiers off the ridge. One by one, the people tethered to Jonathan fell down the ridge. Right before the man before him fell, an axe swung down in front of him. It severed the binding as that man fell screaming and trying to grab hold of the edge. Jonathan looked to see the woman was the one who had cut him free. She looked deep into his eyes, and that brief moment felt like a blissful lifetime to the young man. “This way, do you want to die?” she shouted as she yanked him onward. Jonathan and the other prisoners shuffled forward as the Northfolk tried to form a line and drive the creature back. Jonathan looked back and saw them throwing spears at the beast. It was like nothing he had seen before in real life or any book. As they ran up the ridge, the creature spotted them and charged. It stuck one of the Hailgaladrians near the back. Jonathan saw that it was the captain right before he was crushed. “Give me a knife, or we are all going to die,” Jonathan pleaded with the woman. “Not a chance,” she said nervously as she gripped her axe. “I do not want to kill you, I just want to live. Give me the knife, or we all die, and you will not get a ransom for us,” he pleaded. The woman sighed and tossed him a knife. He grabbed it and quickly cut his bonds. Then, he turned to the one behind him and helped her cut them, and they passed the knife down the line. “Follow me,” she shouted, and they all ran up the ridge. The spider followed them with unquenchable ferocity. Jonathan looked over at the woman who stood her ground with her axe in hand. She would not move, and the creature was not holding back. Without a thought, the young man leapt at her and tackled her out of the way of the spider’s attack. The two tumbled down off the ravine. The two rolled a ways down the side of the ravine. After a while, they fell. Jonathan was sure they were plummeting to their death, but they landed on a rocky surface. They rolled together down a short slope and into what seemed to be a shallow cave. Once they stopped rolling, Jonathan still held her close and clenched his eyes. As he slowly opened them, he saw her face close to his. “Idiot! What did you do?” she pushed him away from her and got up. “I saved your life,” Jonathan protested. “That thing was going to kill you.” “You are a coward, running from danger. I should have let you die,” she scowled. Jonathan rubbed his neck. His back was sore from the fall, but they were alive. Above them, he could hear the creature being slowly driven off by a unison of shouts and spear thrusts by the northfolk. “We were lucky to catch this outlet in the rocks,” he said softly. The woman only scoffed as she poked her head out of the cave. She was trying to find a way back up. “Hey, you attacked us, if you remember. We would not be in this mess if it were not for your people,” he said. “My people?” the woman turned and shouted. “My people are in a fight for survival. We have been pushed to the brink, driven from our homes. My people are simply trying to exist in the wake of your people.” “What do you mean?” Jonathan asked in a confused tone. “Those villages you were protecting, who do you think lived in those parts before Hailgaladrians moved in? They were our lands, and we were pushed off,” the woman said. Jonathan shook his head as he came up to a seated position. “When we took over the kingdom, it is said that all people from the southern border with Kaboutia to the northern reaches were welcome to join in our prosperity and freedom.” The woman scoffed and stepped towards the man, “What would that sound like to you if a kingdom conquered Hailgalad and told you that? We were forced to join your people and bend the knee to your king or move north. Well, we moved north.” Her words stung Jonathan. He always saw himself as fighting for the righteous cause. The young man thought Hailgalad could do no wrong. Was it possible that he was in the wrong? “No, there had to have been another way. Didn’t your people negotiate with our lords? We could have struck a compromise,” he said. The woman sighed and sat on the ground. “No,” she said softly. “Another tribe went on a raid of a northern village. The Hailgaladrians struck back, and several tribes banded together and tried to take Frostwatch. My people were not with them, but they lumped us all in together. We were and are the enemy, so why fight it? We raid for our survival. Ransoming your company could have given us enough supplies to provide for our tribe for a season. It seems like that is all lost now.” “It is not too late to change course,” Jonathan said, looking deeply into her eyes. “We could find a way for peace.” The two stared at each other for what felt like a long while. Jonathan’s heart quickened as his eyes danced with hers. He had never felt this way about someone, and he wondered why here of all places he felt this way. After a time, the woman pulled away. “It will be dark soon,” she said as she cleared her throat and got up to look out of the cave. “Worse things creep about in the dark around here. We fell a good ways, and in your condition, it would take a while to get back to the road, and my people are probably already gone.” “What is the plan?” Jonathan asked. The woman came over and took out a binding. She started to tie his hands together tightly. “We sleep here and regroup with what is left of my tribe in the morning,” she said. “Is this really necessary?” he laughed and held up his hands. “I plan to live for many more years,” she laughed as she huddled up in a corner of the cave. “I will not risk that by letting you smother me in my sleep. Not that you could if it were a fair fight.” She smirked and leaned her head back against the wall. Jonathan stayed where he was in the middle of the floor. “What are you doing?” she asked. “First time sleeping outside in the cold?” “Yes,” Jonathan grunted as he tried to get comfortable on the rocky shelf. “We travel with tents in the royal army.” “Get over here so we can keep each other warm,” the woman said as she shook her head. Jonathan squirmed over to her corner. When he got there, she pulled him next to her. “Now, get some rest. Stay still and quiet. I want to keep you alive for the payment, but if you wake me up with any of your whimpering, I might have to rethink that,” she laughed and turned her back to his. Jonathan smiled and shook his head. As he lay here, he assessed his body's aches. His feet were sore after a full day of walking. His back ached from the fall. Perhaps worst of all, his head still lightly throbbed from the blow he took in the battle. He thought that the pain would be too much for him to sleep as the cold wind bit his face, but sleep quickly took him over, and he drifted off. “Come on,” a voice coaxed Jonathan out of his slumber. The man opened his eyes, and the woman threw him a piece of dried meat. He looked at the unappetizing breakfast uneasily. “Eat it. You will need your strength,” she said as she came over and cut his bindings. He caught her gaze one more time as she stood up and smiled. “Lena,” she said. “What?” Jonathan asked, and he stood up and stretched. “You told me your name, and now I am telling you mine. It is Lena,” she said, still smiling. “Pleasure to meet you properly,” he extended his hand while munching on the dried meat. “How formal,” she laughed and grabbed his hand and shook it. She had a firm grip that took Jonathan by surprise. On the one hand, she looked as beautiful and a lady of the king and queen's court, but at the same time, she was as hard and as rigid as the northern guards from the village. “Come on,” Lena said as she pulled him to his feet. “It is time to get moving.” Lena made it up the steep rocks rather quickly. She scaled the side and was on the top before Jonathan was even halfway. His arms shook as he pulled himself up. Heavy armor weighed him down considerably, and where he had grown up, there were no mountains at all. There were only grassy fields as far as the eye could see. “We don’t have all day,” the woman jested as he struggled. Before Jonathan could come up with a witty remark, a rock gave out from under his right foot. The man started to slide down, and he scrambled to get a hold of something solid. All around him, he only found loose gravel to grab at. He finally found a rock, but it snapped loose, and he slid even faster. “Help,” he shouted. Lena had already sprung into action. She slid down on her side and grabbed Jonathan’s arm. Then, she dug into the ground and gained a footing. The two were soon on stable ground. The young man looked down and saw the river a hundred feet below. They were not far from the drop-off of the cliffside. He clung back on the rocks as he struggled to find his breath. “You lot are helpless, aren’t you?” she laughed. “There are no mountains where I am from,” he panted. “Maybe you all should stay back to where you are from,” she said grimly as she began to climb again. After a good deal of struggle, the two made it back to the road where they were attacked. Jonathan looked around for survivors, but he saw no one. Only tools and weapons scattered around. “Where is everyone? Even the dead are gone,” he asked. “Like I said, there are worse things that prowl about in the dark,” she replied. “Come on, the camp is not far.” The two walked for the better part of an hour until they came to a final, icy hill. Cold wind whipped up in their faces as Jonathan tried to shield himself with his arm. “Just over this hill, and we are there,” she said through her labored breaths. In that moment, Jonathan heard what sounded like the clang of steel and shouting. It was faint over the wind but seemed very real. Without a word, the woman started to run up the hill. “Lena!” he shouted and tried to follow, but she was too fast. Jonathan struggled up the hill after her. Everything was growing dark under the clouds and building flurries of snow. Just as his lungs were about to burst, he made it to the top, and he saw the source of the clash of metal. The remnants of Jonathan’s companions were in a fierce battle with the Northfolk. From the looks of it, the Hailgaladrians had gotten reinforcements and were overwhelming the camp. Tents leapt up in flames, and people were strewn about in the field of battle. The young man looked down and saw the woman pick up a weapon and join the fray. Jonathan slid down the embankment and ran after her. As he ran into the mess of people, he dodged blows and bodies that were thrown to the ground. Then, a man slammed into him. “Jon?” the voice shouted. He looked and saw it was Baeon. The man was holding his side and wincing. It was clear he had been injured. Jonathan uncovered his hand and saw that it was not bad, but he helped put pressure on it. “What are you all doing here?” he asked frantically as the battle raged around them. “The general said we needed to save our people. There was to be no ransom. They needed to pay for what they did. Thank Areandel you are alive,” Baeon said with a smile. “You will not be if you do not get out of here,” Jonathan urged him. “What do you mean? If I am to die, let it be in glory, fighting evil on the battlefield with my general,” he protested and tried to get up. “These Northfolk are not evil,” Jonathan said angrily. “There does not have to be any more bloodshed if we can just speak instead of using a sword.” Baeon pushed Jonathan away. “What did they do to you? You are not the man I know.” “I have to stop this,” Jonathan said, but he did not know how as he looked around helplessly. Just then, a club hit his back and threw him to the ground. He grabbed a shield to block the next blow, but it was instantly shattered. “Look who is still alive,” said a deep voice. It was the Northfolk chieftain. “We have to stop this,” Jonathan yelled to him, but the Northfolk man charged. The Hailgaladrian soldier scrambled and found a sword. He danced around, deflecting the heavy blows from the man. He ducked under his attacker and was able to slice his thigh. The large man grunted and fell to his knees. Jonathan had an opening for a finishing blow, but he did not take it, and he hesitated. “Weak,” the chieftain swept Jonathan’s legs out from under him. The young man fell hard against the frozen ground. He looked up and saw the bruising figure standing over him with his club held high. Just before he swung down, a sword pierced through him from his back. The man dropped his club and fell to the side to reveal Baeon. He also fell, clutching at his side. Jonathan caught him and laid him gently on the ground. “Thank you,” Jonathan said through his panting. “We are brothers of Hailgalad,” Baeon grunted. Behind him, Jonathan heard a shout. He turned to see his general fighting several Northfolk. She cut down two in quick succession and was locked against another. To the young man’s terror, the other Northfolk was Lena. “I have to go,” he said, turning to Baeon. “Go,” he said as he struggled to his feet. He scanned the horror taking place around them and sighed, “Stop this mess if you can. I will be alright.” Jonathan nodded and ran toward Lena and the general with a sword in hand. As he ran, he saw the general gain leverage and stab Lena in the arm with a small blade in her offhand. “No!” Jonathan screamed as he lunged forward and blocked the general’s finishing blow with his blade. All went silent after this. Everyone was in shock at the scene. The general had a look of surprise and anger as she pushed down on Jonathan’s sword. The young man stood between the general and Lena, who lay on the ground and held her arm. “What is the meaning of this?” the general barked. "These are your enemies.” “They are just trying to survive, like us,” Jonathan shouted in return. “Aren’t we sick of all this fighting?” Everyone was silent for a long while. Then, Gregory, who stood nearby, threw down his sword. “I, for one, am,” he said firmly. “I fought for our independence. I keep fighting for it. When does it stop? If they are willing, there has to be a better way.” Many Hailgaladrian soldiers and northfolk threw down their weapons in response. After a long, icy stare, the general too took a step back. “What do you propose, soldier?” the general said flatly. “Invite some of the northfolk chieftains to Frostwatch. Try to broker a peace agreement. I am sure we can all help each other to better the lives of us all,” Jonathan said. The general stared at her troops, then at the northfolk. She took some time in silence as she considered the proposal. After a time, she finally spoke. “Very well,” the general said. “Soldiers, stand down.” The young man was dizzy as the soldiers of both sides backed away from each other. He was not sure what he had said. He was too nervous to think, only to act on instinct. After he came back to his senses, he turned to the woman. “Lena,” he said as he dropped to his knees next to her. “You are a mad idiot to do something like that,” she said as she winced and held her arm. “It worked, didn’t it?” he shrugged. “Are you alright?” “No, I am not alright,” she yelled. “Your general stabbed me in the arm! But I'll live, and I suppose I have you to thank for that.” “I do not know what is the matter with me,” Jonathan said. “I barely know you, but I could not stand the thought of losing you.” He instinctively grabbed her and hugged her close. She pulled away and looked into his eyes with a smile. “I think I have an idea why,” she said as she pulled him in close and kissed him.