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The Crime Lord Bard - Chapter 136: Frosthell
🕑 Added 2025-07-11 00:00:07 +0000 UTCThe clash with the Remorhaz had left the soldiers bruised and battered, but victory was theirs. Maria and Jamie, although not hurt, were tired from the fight.
"We're down to one carriage," Maria announced, her voice firm yet with signs of exhaustion. She stood amidst the soldiers, her breath forming pale clouds in the air. "We'll need to redistribute the provisions among the remaining carriages. As for personnel, we'll have to alternate. We'll switch shifts every three hours. One out of every three shifts will walk alongside the carriages."
"Yes, ma'am," the soldiers replied in unison.
"Those who are uninjured will take the first shift," Maria continued, striding toward the rearmost carriage. Her footsteps crunched over the snow. "If any of the horses are too wounded to continue, set them free. Otherwise, reassign them between the two remaining carriages."
Shaking off his own weariness, Jamie joined the others in assisting with the reorganization.
Soon, the caravan was ready to move once more. Jamie climbed into one of the carriages, the interior cramped with supplies and companions. The wooden walls groaned as they settled in, and the carriage lurched forward.
Outside, the muffled sounds of hooves trudging through snow provided a rhythmic backdrop. Jamie could hear the crunch of ice and the labored breaths of the horses as they pushed onward.
'It will only become more difficult,' he thought, gazing out at the desolate expanse.
Each passing minute seemed to stretch longer than the last, the carriage's movement growing sluggish as the snow piled higher.
Despite the confines of the carriage and the constant jostling, a heavy drowsiness began to overtake Jamie. The adrenaline of battle had long since faded, leaving fatigue in its place. He could feel his limbs growing heavier, his mind drifting.
He let his eyelids close, surrendering to the soothing sway of the carriage. The voices around him became distant murmurs, blending with the wind's whispers.
Sleep claimed him gently, drawing him into its embrace. Outside, the world continued its relentless march into the depths of winter, but for a moment, Jamie found solace in dreams.
--
As Jamie stirred from his slumber, he felt a firm but gentle shake on his shoulders. Eyes fluttering open, he blinked away the sleep to find Maria leaning over him. "Come on," she urged softly yet insistently. "It's our turn."
Nodding, Jamie drew a deep breath of the frigid air and swung his legs over the edge of the carriage. As his boots touched the ground, he was met with the biting chill of snow that rose halfway up his calves. The cold was sharp, immediate, and it jolted him awake.
A relentless wind whipped down from the mountain peaks, carrying icy particles that stung his cheeks and blurred his vision. Despite the fierce weather, a silhouette emerged on the horizon. They could see a vast fortress against the snowy backdrop, their destination drawing near.
Jamie, Maria, and the soldiers began to trudge alongside the carriage, their figures hunched against the gale. They raised gloved hands to shield their faces, pulling hoods tighter around their heads in a attempt to ward off the cold.
"This isn’t usually so bad," a voice remarked.
Jamie turned his head, squinting against the flurry of snowflakes. Perched atop the first carriage was Jay, his golden fur ruffled and dotted with specks of white. The cat’s ears were flattened against his head, and his eyes narrowed to slits.
"Even though it's called FrostHell, it's lower on the mountain than FrostWatch," Jay meowed, his tone carrying a hint of disbelief.
Making his way closer to the carriage, Jamie struggled through the deepening snow to reach his guardian. "Have we run into a blizzard?" he called out, his voice nearly snatched away by the wind.
"Blizzard? No," Jay replied, shaking snow from his whiskers. "If this were a blizzard, we'd be buried up to our necks. But something's off. The weather isn't normal."
He nodded slowly, unsure of how to respond. Instead, he cast his gaze forward, focusing on the imposing structure that lay ahead.
FrostHell loomed in the distance, anchored at the base of the mountain like a colossal gray stone bridging two immense peaks. Its walls were towering ramparts of granite. Massive towers that seemed to challenge the mountains around them. The fortification seemed as much a part of the landscape as the mountains themselves, an unyielding bastion against both man and nature.
Surrounding the stronghold, pine forests stretched out, yet seemed insignificant beside the fortress’s size.
Despite the fortress’s stern, gray exterior, its upper reaches were blanketed in pristine white. Snow clung to every rooftop, softening the hard lines of stone.
To the south of the fortress, a great drawbridge spanned a deep ravine. The bridge was lowered. It was the sole passage into FrostHell, a gate that determined who might enter and who would be left to the mercy of the elements.
For hours they had journeyed, the crunch of snow underfoot and the biting wind their constant companions. At last, just before the sun dipped below the horizon, they stood before an immense stone archway that marked the entrance to the city.
As the first of Maria's soldiers stepped beneath its shadow, the group was surrounded by a contingent of guards. Their in armor was adorned with the emblem of FrostHell, a snowflake engraved on dark metal. they moved with practiced precision, weapons at the ready.
"Halt! State your business in FrostHell," commanded the eldest of the guards, stepping forward with the authority of one used to obedience. His eyes were sharp beneath a fur-lined helm, and a silvered beard spilled over the collar of his cloak.
Maria advanced with measured grace.
"I am Maria von Hafenstadt," she declared, her voice clear and unwavering. "I come at the invitation of the Lord of FrostHell to engage in negotiations." From within her cloak, she produced a crafted medallion bearing the crest of her house.
The guard accepted the emblem, scrutinizing it with a practiced eye. Jamie, observing from a few paces behind, doubted the man could truly verify its authenticity. The scrutiny was as much a display of authority as it was a precaution.
After a moment, the guard returned the medallion with a curt nod. "Your credentials appear to be in order," he acknowledged. "You and your party may enter the city. However, a member of the Lord's family will meet you shortly to verify your purpose and accompany you during your stay."
He gestured toward an open gateway flanked by high stone walls, which led to a spacious courtyard set back from the main road. "You will wait there until they arrive."
"Thank you," Maria replied, offering a polite inclination of her head. She turned to her companions, signaling them to follow.
The party made their way through the archway, the soldiers fanning out to form a loose perimeter along the courtyard. Some leaned against the cold stone walls, while others stood vigilant.
Jamie and Maria paced anxiously. Maria's unease was apparent; her fingers clenched and unclenched at her sides as she cast glances toward the staircase on the far side of the courtyard. Jamie, equally restless, scowled at their surroundings. He hated the feeling of being a prisoner.
As he turned to make another pass, Jamie caught sight of someone descending the staircase. "Finally," he muttered under his breath. The man was rotund, each step causing his ample girth to wobble beneath an extravagant fur cloak that trailed behind him. The fading light of the setting sun gleamed off his bald head, rendering it almost luminous. But what drew Jamie's attention most was the luxurious, ornate staff clutched in the man's gloved hand.
"Lovely. This is perfect," Jamie spoke sarcastically, eyeing the newcomer with thinly veiled disdain. He leaned toward Maria, his voice low as he nodded in the man's direction. "Your wedding is going to be delightful," he quipped.
Maria shot him a sharp look, her eyes flashing with irritation and disgust. "Be quiet," she hissed, her composure slipping enough to reveal the tension beneath. Steeling herself, she smoothed her features into a mask of polite neutrality and stepped forward to greet the lord.
Together, they ascended the steps to meet the man halfway. Maria offered a graceful curtsy, the movement practiced and refined despite the circumstances. "My lord," she greeted him, her voice steady.
The man grinned, revealing a set of yellowed teeth. "A pleasure to meet you, Maria von Hafenstadt," he boomed, his voice carrying across the courtyard. "You're even more charming than your uncle described."
Jamie bristled at the lord's overt familiarity and the way his gaze lingered on Maria. From the perimeter, the soldiers exchanged uneasy glances. It was unusual, if not outright disrespectful, for the lord to address her so informally in such a public manner. Yet none dared to voice their discomfort; the delicate nature of their mission demanded restraint.
"Thank you, Lord Varic Frosthell," Maria replied, forcing a polite smile. Her eyes flickered with a hint of something colder as she maintained her facade.
"Come along, then," Varic declared, turning with some effort to continue up the staircase. "Let's retire to the manor."
As he labored up the steps, his guards fell into formation behind him. Maria and Jamie followed, accompanied by their own retinue. The ascent was steep, each step broad and worn from centuries of use.
Reaching the summit, Jamie and Maria emerged onto a sprawling terrace that overlooked the fortress's central courtyard. The scene that greeted them was unexpectedly vibrant. Music drifted through the air, a lively melody carried by the strains of fiddles and flutes. Clusters of people danced in spirited circles, their laughter ringing out. Long tables laden with steaming dishes and pitchers of wine lined the edges of the square, where others gathered to eat and talk.
At the heart of the festivities stood a towering pyre, flames crackling and leaping toward the heavens.
Maria raised an eyebrow, casting an inquisitive glance at Varic. "Is there a special celebration tonight?" she asked.
Varic's smile widened, though it did little to soften his hardened features. "Indeed," he replied, a note of satisfaction in his voice. "Today was the trial of my wife."
Jamie felt a chill that had nothing to do with the northern air. His stomach twisted as realization dawned. He followed Varic's gaze to the pyre, his eyes searching the blazing structure. Amidst the roaring flames, he could discern the charred remains bound by chains to the central pillar. It was a grim silhouette against the infernal flames.
