“Arms Master,” an acolyte saluted as he stepped to Henric's side on the wall.

“Do you have news from our barbarian scouts?”

“Yes, several groups have returned from our surroundings,” the boy nodded.

“Out with it.”

“It’s not good... there's more than just the bodies they found earlier. Ferals keep talking about sightings–giant, man-sized furred creatures stalking in the woods. Watching. And that's just the cautious ones. Most openly claim they've seen wargs. There were a few stubborn homesteads dotted around, but they've all been deserted now. The last hangers-ons have either gone south now or have been found dead. The scout captain tells me that it's safe to assume any ferals still living in the wilderness are loyal to the cultists and the wargs.”

“I assumed as much.” Henric sighed. “Dismissed, Acolyte.” Henric turned his gaze across the wall. That wire the Imperator had ordered was more impressive than he had expected. He had a couple of men test it, and they quickly found themselves caught. Even with their armor, they had opened several small wounds requiring Mira’s assistance. But even so, he couldn’t deny that he wanted their leader to return. Not that it was particularly strange to want an Imperator suit backing them up with a powerful enemy clawing at their walls. But this feeling was different. Henric's stubborn resistance against the man’s tactics waned, and he desired his help navigating their unusual allies. The threat of growing diplomatic tension and Imperator's ability to defuse it was perhaps even more valuable than the powerful suit he wielded.

Please, just return before these furred bastards reach our walls.

It wasn’t just the wargs that worried the veteran Arms Master. He saw the way that man swaggered about the fort. His confidence had been growing with the Imperator gone. Henric still wasn’t sure if Trumus was a real threat, but he knew there would be less to worry about with Atlas in the fort. Because even though the Imperator was an Imperial, the barbarians trusted him. If someone like Trumus decided to try and turn the barbarians against him and the other Imperials, Henric knew there was little he could do. Without Atlas, the fort would likely crumble in days if not hours, and the inner walls would be taken over. They just didn’t have the manpower to resist the number of barbarians growing daily–especially not now that they were armed half decently with bows and spears. But the Imperator was an image of hope. Someone these barbarians believed had the power and vision to see them through the coming cataclysm.

**Imperator**

Flying back over the ocean, Mark led them back to Xaarn. They needed a stop to make the flight back across the sea anyway, and as a major trading port, he figured they might get a chance to trade some of the pelts they had saved by not needing to sell them for healing. With any luck, they would find useful goods to purchase that could help defend Fort Winterclaw.

Walking the busy seaside marketplace, it didn’t take Mark long to find something that interested him. A ship loaded with giant pumps was destined for a huge forge on the other side of the world. Apparently, these oversized pumps had been custom-built for some sophisticated factory-like building far away. A couple of sailors stood by their ship, calling out. They said the order had been overfilled, and they had spares, although Mark figured it was probably just as likely that they tried to sell a couple along the way if they managed to get the right price. Things always went missing during long voyages, and it was easy enough to write off.

Eyeing the impressive devices, Mark noted his plans for them. Pumping out this much air would create a huge amount of pressure—enough to spit a viscous substance he had mixed considerable distances.

Furs were in high demand in Xaarn. Many nations could be reached from its port, and furs would sell for a good price anywhere that had a decently cool winter.

It took a little haggling, but in the end, Mark managed to walk away with four huge pumps, which he barely managed to load into the throne ship.

Passing back through the Market, Mark also picked up a few additional bellows with the spare crowns he had loaded in the ship.

It was a little bit of a gamble. He no doubt could have purchased some decent weapons, but he needed to gamble if he was going to see them through this. He needed to be extraordinary.

Returning home was bittersweet. A reminder of the Frontier’s constant bite of cold sent a shiver down his spine as snow blanketed the ground, speeding beneath them. But it was replaced by excitement as the fort came into view.

It almost looked like something out of the world wars. Multiple lines of barbed wire were rolled around spike-laden trenches encompassing the entire fort. Additional towers had been added to the outer walls. The towers weren’t much; they were basically just platforms built beside the wall with ladders attached to them, but they would give their archers one more advantage against an attacker. What’s more, there were so many people. There were more cabins, and huddled straw huts filled the spaces between them. It looked as if ferals fleeing the surroundings had disassembled their homes and thrown them back together within the walls.

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Based on the sprawl below, Mark guessed that the population might have grown as high as five hundred.

Hundreds gathered, pointing to the sky in the narrow alleys and within the Imperial district as the ship pushed through the foggy cloud cover and descended into the fort. Mark even spotted a few of their flags waving.

Shakily bringing them down into the fort, Mark jumped up from his seat in a hurry, not waiting for the acolytes as he bashed on the exit button.

A dozen acolytes were lined up with Henric to greet him, and even a couple of armed Imperial men he didn’t recognize were standing with them.

More mercenaries, huh? They've been busy.

“Imperator,” Henric saluted, and the acolytes followed in well-rehearsed unison.

“Good to see you, Henric.”

“You’re one to speak,” the gruff man’s lips curled, almost as if he were smiling. “I was starting to think you’d leave me to deal with this situation alone.”

“Have some faith in me and get the acolytes to unload my cargo. I’ve brought with me something a little special.”

***

Mark, Henric, Payon, and Elowen—with a map in her hands—paced the Lower District walls.

“We’re going to need fires to boil the substance within the airtight pots at strategic positions along the walls,” Mark said as they walked. “We’ll also need some of the long pipes you’ve crafted, Payon, for delivery. Most of this is already completed, but I’ll also need you to try your hand at crafting valves.”

“Valves?” Payon said with a confused look.

“I’ll show you what I mean after. The purpose is to pump out the boiling, flammable substance I created through the tube with high pressure. A flame will be present at the end of this pipe, setting it alight and shooting it toward our enemies. We’ll start with four, one on each corner of the fort. If we manage to complete these in time, we can consider throwing together smaller ones if we have the equipment to pull them off. Now, does everyone understand what needs to be done?”

Nods and agreements echoed around the group.

“Good, now get to work. Winter has come, and the wargs could be among us anytime. I think our walls won’t penetrate easily, but this fire should bring our defenses to the next level. Now, get to work, everyone. Our lives depend on it.”

“You really think this is going to work?” Henric said as the others cleared out.

“Yeah. I think I’m confident,” Mark nodded.

"that didn't sound overly confident," Henric gritted his teeth.

“Well, it's not wise to be overconfident. But If these contraptions we’re building work, I think our enemies will be in for a very nasty surprise when they attack.”

“I sure hope so.”

“Alright then–”

“One thing, Imperator.”

“Yes?”

“The ferals–I mean–commoners, they are–”

“Speak freely, Henric.”

“It’s just that we’ve taken in a lot since we opened our gates. How can we possibly rely on their allegiance? I mean, it was one thing when we were saving their daughters from the wargs, but these people,” Henric threw a hand in the direction of the low quarter. “They can’t be relied upon."

“You’re right. That would be utterly foolish. Our enemy has almost certainly infiltrated us. But I’ve noticed something, Henric. Their allegiances are porous. They are built upon fear, and the moment that fear is removed, they will come crumbling down. That is why we must prove to them that if anybody is to be feared, it is us.”

“Need I remind you that we’re up against an entire army?”

“Precisely why we need to make a showing of it. When we set the enemy's armies alight with flames that will not die, even when they roll in the snow, they will see something much different. They will see these mighty beasts and warriors that they fear so greatly helplessly trying to put themselves out. You see, Henric, it’s not just about winning; it’s about putting the fear of the God-Lord in their hearts. However, we also need to remember that we’re not like them. We offer more than that. More than just fear. We offer hope. We offer a world led by humans for humans. This will be a powerful message once we rip away the fear our enemies hold on them.”

Henric nodded thoughtfully. “You think it’ll work on all of them?”

“All? Probably not. But we don’t need it to. We just need most of them. That’s why the gates are open. The commoners know just as well as we do that cultists and their allies sneak into our fort every day. We’re showing them that we’re not afraid; now, we just need to back that up. We need to show them why we weren’t afraid in the first place.”

“And until then? What if they attempt something?”

“Like opening the gates? Attacking us from inside? I understand your fears; they are valid. This is where someone like Trumus comes in handy. We need him and his men to keep an eye on everything. Nobody should be able to move in the Lower or Upper quarters without him knowing.”

“And you trust that man?”

“Trust is complicated. Do I trust that his goals are altruistic? No, that would be foolish. But I do trust that his interests lie within keeping this fort standing. He has a power base of his own now, and I think his greed is enough that he will fight to keep that at all costs. Coupled with the fact that he is undeniably competent and his loyal followers grow daily, he is a valuable asset. And we need every asset we can get.”

“But–”

“I understand,” Mark raised a hand. “His power within the Upper Quarter should be managed. But I don’t want him restricted within the Lower, not now, at least. Our real threat is the wargs and anybody allied with them. We have no other choice right now. We need to rely on Trumus and the many eyes he commands to keep our enemies within the walls in place. Once we defeat our attackers, I am confident their support will crumble. Once that happens, we can deal with any potential threats from within. Now, we just need to follow the plan. Understood, Arms-Master?”

“It is, sir,” Henric nodded. “We’ll win this day together.”

“Good, because our time is dwindling precariously low. Now, I must be off. There are still many preparations that need to be completed.”

"Yes, sir."