Right outside the city of Vadel, General Rothgur's army had established a siege camp, its construction a testament to Frostbane efficiency. Catapults and siege towers were being assembled, their wooden frames looming ominously in the flickering light of countless campfires. Surrounding the encampment was a wall of ice, a signature Frostbane defense, turning the temporary camp into a formidable mini-fortress.
Rothgur moved purposefully through the camp, his sharp gaze inspecting the progress. Soldiers saluted as he passed, their movements precise and disciplined. The rhythmic sound of hammering and the creak of siege engines being hoisted into place filled the air. Frostbane soldiers worked tirelessly, driven by the knowledge that victory here would bring them one step closer to securing the clan’s dominance.
Three Hours Earlier — In the Command Tent
A large map of Vadel lay spread across a wooden table at the center of the tent, illuminated by several lanterns. The flickering light highlighted a circle that had been drawn around a specific point near the eastern gate.
Zack, Rothgur’s aide, tapped the circled area. “Based on intelligence from the villagers of Rabar,” he began, “one of their sons used to smuggle goods through an old sewer tunnel here. Supposedly, it should’ve been sealed years ago, but the smugglers paid off the workers to leave it open.” He traced a line on the map, indicating where the tunnel connected to the city’s drainage system. “It exits near the eastern gate—close enough that a small group could potentially slip inside undetected.”
Rothgur studied the map intently, his brow furrowed as he processed the information. The edges bore markings of city streets, walls, and known guard towers, but much of the interior was still uncertain. “So we’re going to use it,” he said at last, his tone decisive.
Seated around the table were several Frostbane officers, each awaiting their orders. Rothgur turned to Mark, one of his battlemasters. “Mark, I want you to select your best Cohort —ten squads, one hundred men total. Have them infiltrate the city through the tunnel and open the eastern gate from within. The rest of your company will stage a mock siege along the eastern wall. Once the gate is open, flood as many soldiers inside as you can to secure and hold it.”
Mark gave a sharp nod. “Understood, General.”
Rothgur’s gaze shifted to another battlemaster, “Rae, your company will take the western flank and assault the western wall. Use siege towers and create a diversion to force the defenders to split their forces.”
Rae smirked confidently. “They’ll be too busy with us to notice what’s happening at the eastern gate.”
Finally, Rothgur addressed Frez, his most experienced cavalry commander. “The northern gate will be our primary assault point. I’ll personally lead the Lovks and Frezs units in an attack there. Meanwhile, your cavalry will remain hidden in the treeline to the south. As soon as the enemy begins to retreat, you’ll lead your riders in pursuit. Ensure no Blackbear soldier escapes.”
Frez straightened, his armored gauntlet clinking as he saluted. “They won’t make it out alive, sir.”
As the sun dipped below the horizon, casting long shadows across the siege camp, Rothgur stepped onto a raised podium. The sight of their general caused the Frostbane soldiers to gather instinctively, forming a quiet, attentive semicircle around him. The icy walls of their temporary fort reflected the dimming light, amplifying the solemnity of the moment.
Rothgur stood tall, his armor gleaming faintly in the twilight. He scanned the faces of his men—hardened warriors, every one of them, yet united by purpose. When he spoke, his voice carried like a frost-laden wind, cutting through the murmurs and commanding absolute attention.
“Today, men, we face a foe unlike any other. I know many of you yearn to meet the Windstriders on the field of honor, to test your steel against theirs. But today, we confront an enemy far more vile—a horde that knows no honor, no discipline, no mercy.”
His gaze swept over the crowd, piercing and unwavering.
“Today, we do not march as conquerors, as we first set out to do. No, we march as liberators! We have seen the savagery of the Blackbear Clan—their unspeakable horrors, their slaughter of innocents, their vile crimes against women and children. These creatures are not warriors; they are filth, a plague upon this land!”
He paused, letting his words sink in, the air heavy with their weight.
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“These are not opponents of honor. They are not worthy of the air they breathe, let alone the respect of warriors. Let it be known to every man here—this is not just a battle for Frostbane. This is a battle for humanity itself, for the sacred rights granted to us by the gods!”
The soldiers stood in rapt silence, their breaths visible in the chilling evening air.
“Every man here has heard the cries of mourning mothers, has seen the lifeless faces of children who deserved better. These horrors are not distant—they are personal. They cut into the very heart of what we stand for as Frostbane warriors.”
Rothgur’s voice grew stronger, resonating with conviction.
“Though these people were not born Frostbane, today, they are ours. They are under our shield, our protection, and they look to us for justice. How can we ignore their cries for vengeance? How can we turn away from the heinous crimes festering behind those walls? In that city, chaos reigns, and the innocent suffer under the grip of beasts who call themselves warriors. But we are here to end that. Not tomorrow. Not in another lifetime. Today!”
He raised his fist, his voice now a roar of defiance.
“Today, we do not shed blood merely to save Windstrider civilians. No! Today, we fight for the innocent—the helpless who cry out for salvation. We fight for future citizens of Frostbane, for a world where their children can live without fear. We will kill, and we will slaughter the Blackbear Clan—not for glory, not for conquest, but to restore humanity itself!”
The crowd shifted, men straightening their spines, their grips tightening on their weapons as Rothgur continued.
“Their savagery is an affront to everything we hold sacred, and their very existence is a stain upon this land. This is not just about Frostbane’s strength; it is about bringing justice to a broken people!”
Rothgur’s words grew sharper, his tone like a blade honed to perfection.
“Men of Frostbane, today, we carry the weight of vengeance, the torch of justice, and the strength of our ancestors. Today, we do not falter, we do not break, and we do not yield.”
His hand reached for the hilt of his sword, drawing it slowly. The blade caught the fading light, gleaming cold and deadly.
“The Blackbears think their savagery will prevail, but they have never faced a force like ours—a force united in purpose, forged in frost, and sharpened by steel. Raise your blades, and let the frozen winds carry our war cries to the heavens! Let the gods themselves bear witness to our fury!”
He raised his sword high, the edge catching the first glimmer of moonlight.
“Today, the Blackbear Clan will learn that chaos cannot defeat discipline, that savagery will fall to strength, and that Frostbane does not forgive! Now, raise your blades—to victory!”
A deafening roar erupted from the gathered soldiers as they raised their weapons high, their voices blending into a unified war cry that seemed to shake the very ground beneath them. The Frostbane warriors were ready, their hearts ablaze with purpose, their blades hungering for justice. This would be their moment, and Rothgur had ensured they would meet it with unyielding resolve.
In the dying light of the day, the Frostbane army began their assault on the eastern side of Vadel. The disciplined ranks moved forward methodically, shields locked and swords at the ready, their icy breath visible in the chilled air. On the western side, the sight was much the same: Frostbane warriors advancing steadily toward the walls, their resolve as cold and unyielding as their frozen homeland.
But in the center of the battlefield, chaos reigned. Towering siege engines raced toward the BlackBear-held walls, their heavy wheels grinding through churned earth. From the battlements, Blackbear catapults roared to life, hurling fiery boulders into the advancing Frostbane lines. The projectiles exploded on impact, scattering soldiers and leaving charred craters in their wake. Screams and cries of the wounded filled the air, mixing with the shouts of commanders barking orders.
The Frostbane forces retaliated in kind. Their own catapults fired with precision, but these weren’t ordinary siege weapons. The projectiles carried the frigid power of the Frostborn, trailing icy mist as they raced across the darkening sky. When they struck the walls, the effect was devastating: waves of frost rippled outward, freezing stone, Blackbear warriors, and ammunition alike in a solid sheath of ice. Entire sections of the wall became encased, the defenders scrambling to recover as weapons and supplies were rendered useless.
“Forward! Push to the walls!” shouted a Centurion, his voice cutting through the din of battle.
“Shield wall! Protect the towers!” another commanded as Frostbane soldiers closed ranks, raising their shields against a fresh volley of flaming projectiles from the Blackbear defenses.
The Blackbear warriors fought with unrelenting brutality. Archers loosed a hail of arrows, while their infantry hurled spears to disrupt the Frostbane advance. Yet for all their ferocity, they were met with the cold precision and discipline of the Frostbane forces, who pressed on undeterred.
Near the center, the siege towers pushed forward with increasing speed, their Frostbane crews urging them closer to the walls despite the chaos. Blackbear warriors on the ramparts aimed for the advancing towers, sending torrents of flaming arrows down, but Frostbane shields held firm, deflecting the worst of the assault.
Above it all, the Frostbane catapults continued their relentless bombardment. Each icy projectile that struck the walls left more defenders frozen where they stood, their cries silenced as frost overtook them.
The battle was far from over, but the Frostbane warriors showed no signs of faltering. They were a tide of frost and steel, and the Blackbear forces, for all their savagery, would soon realize that even fire could not withstand the relentless chill of Frostbane's resolve.