The road to Ashreach stretched before us like a worn ribbon, weaving through frost-bitten plains and scattered groves of leafless trees. The cold still lingered, but the air felt different as we moved south—less biting, more bitter.

The Freeholds were changing with the seasons, though the fractures within them ran as deep as ever. Lady Serin’s reluctant cooperation had been a step forward, but the next piece of this puzzle—Darnell, the merchant prince of Ashreach—would be harder to secure.

“Let’s go over it again,” Jessa said as we trudged along the uneven path. She was a few paces ahead of the group, her tone sharp and commanding.

“Darnell runs Ashreach like a business,” she continued. “Everything he does is calculated. He doesn’t care about loyalty, honor, or tradition—only profit. If we can’t convince him this alliance is in his best financial interest, he’ll never join us.”

“So, what’s the plan?” Farron asked, kicking a loose rock down the path. “Offer him a coupon? Maybe a buy-one-get-one-free deal on Ecclesion-free trade routes?”

“We show him what Ecclesion will take from him,” Jessa said. “And what he stands to gain by opposing them.”

The journey was uneventful, though the tension in the group was palpable. Toren and Ryla remained at the front of the pack, their Frostblade instincts sharp as ever. Orin stuck to the rear, his hand never far from his knife, while Farron alternated between lighthearted banter and uncharacteristic quiet.

“You’ve been awfully silent,” I said to Farron as we walked.

“Just thinking,” he said, shrugging. “Darnell’s a wild card. Guys like him don’t care about people like us. We’re just another investment to them.”

“Maybe,” I said. “But investments can pay off.”

He smirked. “And sometimes they crash and burn.”

By the time Ashreach came into view, the sun was low on the horizon, casting a golden light over the sprawling city. Unlike Frostford’s fortress-like design, Ashreach was open and sprawling, its streets bustling with activity even as the day wound down.

The city was built on trade. Colorful banners hung from shopfronts, and the streets were lined with stalls selling everything from exotic spices to intricate jewelry. The scent of roasted meat and fresh bread wafted through the air, mingling with the clamor of merchants haggling over prices.

“It’s loud,” Ryla said, her tone tinged with annoyance.

“It’s lively,” Farron corrected, his grin returning. “I like it.”

“Stay focused,” Jessa said. “We’re not here to shop.”

The keep at the heart of Ashreach was less imposing than Frostford’s but no less impressive. Built of smooth stone and adorned with intricate carvings, it was a testament to the wealth and power that flowed through the city.

Guards in polished armor flanked the entrance, their expressions sharp but uninterested as we approached.

“We’re here to see Darnell,” Jessa said, her tone firm but respectful.

“Lord Darnell,” one of the guards corrected.

“Lord Darnell,” Jessa repeated without missing a beat. “We have urgent business to discuss.”

The guards exchanged a glance before one of them nodded. “Wait here.”

We were led into a lavish hall, its walls lined with tapestries depicting scenes of trade and prosperity. The floors gleamed with polished stone, and the faint scent of incense lingered in the air.

At the far end of the hall sat Darnell himself.

He was a man of average height but commanding presence, his dark hair streaked with silver and his robes embroidered with gold thread. A thin smile played on his lips as he regarded us, his sharp eyes taking in every detail.

“Ah, the Chosen One,” he said, his voice smooth and measured. “And his merry band of revolutionaries. What brings you to Ashreach?”

“We’re here to discuss Ecclesion,” Jessa said, stepping forward.

“Of course you are,” Darnell said, gesturing for us to sit at the long table before him. “Everyone’s talking about Ecclesion these days. But please, enlighten me—why should I care?”

I took a deep breath, meeting his gaze. “Because Ecclesion won’t just stop at the Freeholds. They’ll take Ashreach, your wealth, your trade routes—everything.”

Darnell’s smile widened, but it didn’t reach his eyes. “A dire prediction. And yet, I’ve managed to thrive despite countless threats over the years. What makes this one different?”

“Ecclesion doesn’t negotiate,” Jessa said. “They don’t trade. They take. They’ve already established outposts in the Freeholds, and they’re moving to control key trade routes. If you think they’ll spare Ashreach, you’re wrong.”

“And you offer what in return?” Darnell asked, leaning back in his chair.

“A chance to stop them,” I said. “If we unite the Freeholds, we can push back against Ecclesion’s expansion. But we need your support to do it.”

Darnell was silent for a long moment, his fingers tapping lightly on the polished table.

“Unity is a lovely sentiment,” he said finally. “But it doesn’t pay the bills. If I’m to risk Ashreach’s prosperity for your cause, I need assurances—proof that this alliance won’t be a wasted investment.”

“What kind of proof?” Jessa asked.

Darnell’s smile returned, sharp and calculating. “There’s a caravan of mine due to arrive tomorrow, carrying goods from the southern Freeholds. Ecclesion has been targeting my shipments for weeks, and I have reason to believe this one will be attacked as well. Protect it, and I’ll consider your request.”

Outside the keep, the frustration was palpable.

“Another caravan,” Farron muttered, shaking his head. “What is it with these people and caravans?”

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“It’s leverage,” Jessa said. “Darnell wants to see if we’re worth the risk. If we fail, he loses nothing. If we succeed, he gains a protected shipment and proof that we can deliver.”

“Sounds like a win-win for him,” Orin said.

“It is,” Jessa replied. “But it’s also our best shot at securing his support.”

We spent the night preparing for the mission. Darnell’s caravan was set to arrive from the south, traveling along a well-worn trade route that passed through a dense forest.

“Perfect spot for an ambush,” Ryla said as we studied the map in the dim light of the inn.

“Then we make sure it doesn’t happen,” I said.

The next day, we left Ashreach early, following the trade route toward the forest. The air was heavy with anticipation, every rustling branch and distant bird call putting us on edge.

When we reached the forest, we found the caravan exactly where we’d expected it—stationed at a clearing, the wagons surrounded by a handful of nervous-looking guards.

“They’re vulnerable,” Jessa said, scanning the area. “If Ecclesion’s going to attack, it’ll be here.”

“Then we make sure they regret it,” I said, gripping my dagger tightly.

The ambush came just as the sun began to dip below the horizon.

Ecclesion’s soldiers emerged from the trees, their armor gleaming in the fading light. The clash of steel and the shouts of battle filled the air as we moved to intercept them, fighting to protect the caravan.

Farron’s arrows flew true, each one finding its mark with deadly precision. Ryla moved like a shadow, her blade striking fast and silent. Jessa and Orin fought back-to-back, their movements perfectly synchronized, while Toren’s axe cut through the enemy ranks like a storm.

I activated Shadow Veil, the hum of the ability heightening my senses as I darted through the chaos, targeting the soldiers’ leader.

When the last of Ecclesion’s forces fell, the clearing was silent save for the labored breathing of the caravan guards.

“We did it,” Farron said, lowering his bow.

“Barely,” Orin muttered, wiping blood from his blade.

Jessa turned to the caravan leader. “Get moving. We’ll escort you the rest of the way to Ashreach.”

When we returned to the city, Darnell was waiting for us in the keep, his expression one of cautious approval.

“You’ve succeeded,” he said, nodding slowly. “Perhaps there’s merit to this alliance after all.”

“Then you’ll help us?” I asked.

Darnell smiled, his sharp gaze meeting mine. “You’ve earned my cooperation. But remember—Ashreach values results. Don’t give me a reason to regret this.”

As we left the keep, I let out a breath I hadn’t realized I was holding.

“That’s two,” Jessa said, her tone even.

“Two down, one to go,” I said.

“And the next one won’t be this easy,” Orin added.

“Nothing ever is,” I muttered.

Tomorrow, we’d head to Redspire.

The streets of Ashreach were quiet as we left Darnell’s keep, the cold evening air carrying the faint sounds of distant merchants packing up their stalls. The glow of the city’s lanterns illuminated the narrow streets, their warm light casting long shadows that flickered as we walked.

The victory over Ecclesion’s ambush felt hollow, though. We had secured Darnell’s cooperation, but it was clear that his trust was conditional at best. His sharp gaze and calculated words lingered in my mind, a reminder that our alliance with Ashreach was built on shaky ground.

Farron broke the silence as we approached the inn. “Well, I think we can all agree that was the most fun we’ve had in days. Nothing like dodging arrows to get the blood flowing.”

Jessa gave him a flat look. “If that was your idea of fun, you’re welcome to volunteer for every ambush going forward.”

“Oh, absolutely,” Farron said, grinning. “I’ll even bring snacks next time.”

Inside the inn, the common room was empty except for the innkeeper, who nodded to us as we entered. We took seats around a small table in the corner, the dim light from the hearth casting an orange glow over our faces.

“We should head to Redspire tomorrow,” Jessa said, pulling out a map and spreading it across the table. “The sooner we deal with Gerrik, the better.”

“Gerrik,” Ryla said, her tone sharp. “The Ecclesion puppet.”

Jessa nodded. “He’s dangerous. Unlike Darnell, he’s already aligned himself with Ecclesion. Convincing him to switch sides might be impossible.”

“And if we can’t convince him?” I asked, though I already suspected the answer.

“Then we deal with him another way,” Jessa said, her voice cold.

Farron leaned back in his chair, folding his arms behind his head. “So, assassination is officially on the table now? Good to know. I’ll keep my dagger polished.”

“This isn’t a joke,” Jessa snapped, her eyes narrowing.

Farron raised his hands in mock surrender. “I know, I know. But come on—this whole thing feels like we’re walking into a trap. Ecclesion’s not just going to let us waltz into Redspire and have a friendly chat with their guy.”

Toren, who had been quietly sharpening his axe, spoke without looking up. “Farron’s right. Redspire is Ecclesion territory in all but name. If Gerrik’s aligned with them, they’ll have soldiers stationed throughout the city.”

“So, what’s the plan?” I asked, leaning over the map.

“We need to get close to Gerrik without drawing attention,” Jessa said. “Find out where he stands, what he wants, and whether there’s any chance of turning him. If there’s not... we act accordingly.”

“‘Act accordingly,’” Farron repeated. “Nice euphemism.”

Jessa ignored him, turning to Ryla. “What do we know about Redspire’s defenses?”

“Not much,” Ryla admitted. “The city’s well-fortified, but Ecclesion’s presence there is subtle. They’ve been working through Gerrik, keeping their soldiers hidden unless absolutely necessary.”

“Sounds like we’ll need to keep a low profile,” Orin said.

“Exactly,” Jessa said. She looked at me, her expression serious. “This is going to be dangerous, Ash. More dangerous than anything we’ve done so far. If Gerrik suspects we’re a threat, he won’t hesitate to act.”

“I understand,” I said, though the weight of her words pressed heavily on me.

The conversation drifted into silence as the reality of our situation sank in. Redspire wasn’t just another city—it was the heart of Ecclesion’s operations in the Freeholds. If we failed there, it wouldn’t just cost us Gerrik’s support; it could cost us everything.

“I’m heading to bed,” Jessa said finally, standing and folding the map. “We leave at first light.”

The rest of us followed suit, the exhaustion of the day catching up to us.

Sleep didn’t come easily. I lay awake in the small, drafty room, staring at the cracked ceiling and replaying the events of the past few weeks in my mind.

We had come so far—fought so hard—and yet the road ahead felt longer and darker than ever.

The Frostblades. Lady Serin. Darnell.

Each alliance we forged came with a cost, and the burden of those costs weighed heavily on my shoulders.

I glanced at the dagger resting on the small table beside the bed, its faint hum a constant reminder of the power I carried—and the responsibility that came with it.

Redspire was next.

Gerrik was waiting.

And Ecclesion was watching.

The next morning, the city of Ashreach was shrouded in mist as we prepared to leave. The streets were quieter than they had been the night before, the hustle and bustle of trade replaced by the subdued stillness of dawn.

The journey to Redspire would take several days, cutting through the southern plains and skirting the edges of Ecclesion-controlled territory.

As we set out, the tension in the group was palpable.

“Think Gerrik will listen to us?” Farron asked, breaking the silence as we moved along the dirt road.

“No,” Orin said flatly.

“Great,” Farron muttered. “Love the optimism.”

“He’s probably right,” Jessa said, her tone grim. “Gerrik’s already made his choice. If we can’t find a way to change his mind, we’ll have to deal with him—permanently.”

Farron sighed dramatically. “Fine, but if we’re going to start assassinating people, I’m charging extra.”

“From who?” Ryla asked, raising an eyebrow.

“Good point,” Farron said, smirking. “Guess I’ll settle for snacks.”

The conversation lightened the mood, but only slightly. The road to Redspire was long and uncertain, and the stakes had never felt higher.

As the city loomed on the horizon, its towering red walls stark against the pale sky, I tightened my grip on the dagger at my side.

This was the next step in our fight.

The next challenge in a war that seemed impossible to win.

But we had to try.

And as the gates of Redspire grew closer, I steeled myself for what was to come.