“A tomb now suffices him for whom the world was not enough.

[Alexander's tombstone epitaph]”

- Alexander the Great

The dawn greeted them with bright colors as the sun rose over the canopy of the silent trees bathing everything in gold and red. Vivienne who had the last watch stretched uncomfortably and hissed as a scab tore on her wrist where a branch had scratched her. Give her a ship, or the empty coast but not those overgrown woods! Her eyes roamed over the campsite and she saw a flash of amber eyes as Zhira vanished between the trees. Tapping her lips thoughtfully she gave a mental shrug and leaned against a tree rubbing her frozen hands together.

The tents had been erected in the shadow of great chestnut trees, trunks overgrown with moss, standing at the edge of a small clearing. In the middle, a depression housed a frozen pool blinking in the early sunlight like a puddle of diluted blood. The corner of Vivienne’s mouth rose slightly at the thought. Playing with a light breeze she carved pictures into the snow erasing them again with a gesture. Yrgos was capricious, jealous, and moody. He was also powerful and his servants were few but able. Whispering a short prayer she resumed her vigil.

Shifting cloth and a low, pained moan grabbed her attention. Walking up to a tent, she lowered herself and looked within. Alyssa was tossing in the grip of a nightmare; dark energies played beneath her skin, outlining faint runes. The illusion that had been crafted around her frayed and her left eye seemed like a lightless hole leading deep into some unnamed dimension.

Fascinated, the half-elf tilted her head. The young human's hands clenched the bedroll desperately, knuckles whitening. “...don’t! I won't take it...dust…kill me...”

Tiring of the scene Vivienne softly shook her friend awake. “Wake up! It’s only a nightmare.”

Amethyst eyes full of tears opened and for a moment stared sightlessly at the sagging tent-cloth overhead before Alyssa drew a shuddering breath and looked at the face of the green-haired girl. The light from behind made it difficult to make out the expression but the tone was warm. “It’s nearly time, and you were having a bad dream. I thought you could maybe help me with breakfast?”

“Thank you.” The quilts rustled as Alyssa extricated herself. The cold hit her right arm, and she shivered.

After she had cleaned herself with a cantrip she gathered the frozen logs they had tried to dry the day before and lit them with another application of household magic. Her thoughts flashed to a different time when her mother was holding her on her lap while pointing at the magic primer. Shaking her head she pushed the logs closer, hoping to get them warm enough to use.

Down by the pool stood the ethereal form of Asandria staring at the frozen water. Patting the snow from her knees Alyssa stood up and walked up to the sorceress. “What are you thinking?”

‘In the far north the winter is endless and the ice eternal. There are pools like this one polished by the hands of snow-fay containing the light of dead stars preserving the splendor even as those that once cast that light have already guttered out in the farthest reaches of the outer dark.’

“A somewhat morbid musing for such a bright day?” Alyssa smiled feebly. “But it fits the dreams I had.”

‘Keep yourself busy. Idle thoughts often turn to old regrets.’

The camp came alive as the sisters woke and complained to Annabeth, who quickly began to make tea.

After finishing breakfast, they gathered their gear and set off again. Soon they reached a mostly frozen stream leading north and followed that for a few hours.

Wood creaked as a branch was pushed to the side and amid falling snow, several armed figures strode from between the trees to face them. A sturdily built brown-haired man in the colors of Nordmark looked them up and down and called, “Well met; I take it you are one of the student groups? The names Cal Mieran. The army requested the aid of the duchies forces, and here we are.” He grinned disarmingly and rubbed his oft-broken nose.

“First I hear of that.” Philias looked at him suspiciously. “Do you have written orders?”

“That I do.” Cal pushed his hand into his vest and rummaged for a bit before producing a wrinkled piece of parchment. “Who wants to have a look?”

The lieutenant strode forward and grabbed the document before unfolding and skimming it. “Mh. That seems to be in order. Do you know why the commandant requested aid? When we left there was no news of any significant troubles.”

“I hear the tribes are moving, and there is talk of war. But I am only a small sergeant. What would I know?” He raised his hands helplessly. “But because of that, we made a camp a bit further ahead to gather the students, away from any possible fighting. Wouldn’t want them to be hurt wouldn’t we?”

Alyssa frowned. Nordmark and safety were not words she would usually associate. Gritting her teeth, she leaned toward Mireille and whispered, “That will not end well. We must be on our toes.”

“Mh.” Mireille nodded and looked at Alea to her right. Alyssa took pains not to walk with her left side toward people if she could help it when a careless brush could injure.

Alea stood motionless, only the clockwork spider rotated its body to better survey the scene before them. She took a step behind Mireille and nodded.

Cal looked them over, and his gaze lingered nearly imperceptibly on Alea and her friends before he gestured. “Good that we have found you early otherwise you would have wasted a lot of time only to have to go back. Follow me.”

Leaving the stream, they entered the forest again, and after another hour, they stopped for a short rest and ate a bit of trailbread.

“This stretch of land does not have the best of reputations.” When Zhira had come back, no one had noticed, but she had quietly joined the group during the journey and sat with Alyssa, Alea, Mireille, and the half-elf siblings.

“Why do you say that?” Mireille broke off a piece of bread and frowned when her teeth stopped on the crust despite her best efforts.

“When Margrinar expanded its influence in the early years of the Settling, they came to Hundred-Streams and wanted to take it for their king. The tribes who did not have such a clear definition of land ownership at first ignored the rust-men from the south. But when they grew more and more greedy, Ajnar Splitclaw of the Moonrise tribe united several of the scattered clans and resisted. Because the kingdom at first underestimated the ‘Savages’, they suffered severe losses, but with better organization and planning as well as powerful magic, they drove the tribes back. In low-lying moors and wetlands, the more mobile wolf-kin regrouped and finally fought Margrinar to a standstill. With the marriage of a Windrunner daughter to one of the first nobles given land here, an uneasy peace was established. But the kingdom and the tribes always thought differently about where exactly the border was.”

“Thanks for telling us. But why is the land not good around here?” Mireille mumbled around the still stubbornly resisting piece of bread.

“The war and its first great battles were around here, and many men and wolf-kin died and bled on this ground. There are unblessed and unburied dead all around, and some of that death still remains.”

As they walked further, Alyssa saw old void residues and the outlines of corpses shimmering darkly beneath the soil. A skull gleamed whitely beneath some barren bushes. To her eyes, the old bones were burning, radiating cold instead of light and heat. Interestingly enough, Roberta shuddered as she passed an old buried corpse. Perhaps there was a bit of sensitivity to void in her blood.

Alyssa racked her brains as they got closer to wherever the Nordmark soldiers were taking them. Simply flee as soon as no one was looking? But would they really escape or simply suffer for a bit in the winter woods before being caught back? And the suspicion that would garner would make every other action they wanted to take more difficult. But should they really play their game without knowing the rules?

….

Lars von Nordstrom looked up at the light cloud cover and shrugged philosophically. Winter, what can you do? The commander, Franz von Ehrenbrecht was his name, tapped impatiently on his sword's hilt belted at his left side. They both stood on the platform of the southern sentry tower guarding the fort. “Summer was much too short this time around. What a stupid idea to wage war in winter.”

The younger noble grinned and grabbed a flask from inside his coat offering it to the older man at his side. “Here, best mead this side of Kronenburg.”

“That’s not saying much, is it?” The commander raised an eyebrow but grabbed the flask, twisted open the cap, and drank deep. “Ah. That hit the spot.” Coughing, his grin became wider, “Where did you get that? I fear it will put hair on my chest!” Patting his chest and coughing twice, he laughed.

“It's an old recipe from the Nordstrom holdings. Keep it.” Lars von Nordstrom pushed back the hand that wanted to return the flask. “I got more where that came from.”

Down below, in front of the fort, the men were assembling on an expanse of trampled snow long since cleared of bushes and trees.

“Mh. Good thing we were available. Did you always have so few men guarding the north?”

“No. A few weeks back, with the death of the king, some of my troops were recalled to pacify the coastal cities. And with good reason, sadly. No one knew we would get into trouble here when it's been generations since the last real skirmish, much less a war.”

“Let's wait for what the tribes have to say. Possibly we can come to an understanding.”

“Sometimes you have to make an example so that the lesson sticks. I’m not optimistic about the chance for a peaceful resolution.” The old commander took another swig of the flask.

The thick syrupy liquid rolled down his throat, and then he felt warmth igniting in his stomach, making all the aches and cold go away.

Behind him, the young noble nodded in satisfaction.

Everything was going smoothly.

“Halt!”

Calvin rubbed the back of his head and squinted against the bright snow before he saw the men standing at the edge of the forest looking down at the bank of the Sleepy Green he and the girls were following.

Wary and annoyed that he had not seen them earlier, the wizard subtly readied his staff and called back, “Good sirs, we are looking for shelter for the night. Do any of you know where we might find it?”

A lean blonde man walked a few steps in his direction, a bow, and arrow in his hand, while his companions stood in the shade of the trees, most of them armed similarly. A badge denoting his status as a scout in the king's army shone on his left breast. “Who are you, and what are you doing in these woods?”

“We are but travelers and hunters. We sought a shortcut but got lost along the way. Is this forest forbidden for ordinary folk?”

“You look anything but ordinary, and your companions too.” The man snorted. “We will take you with us, and then you can explain to the captain what you were doing here.” He gazed at the staff vigilantly. “And no tricks!”

After gesturing with his head, two of his men took position behind the group of three, and the other four led the way.

“Mh. What’s the army got to do with us?” Gina asked while Kira was silent.

“I think we will be told if we want to or not.” Calvin looked alert but somewhat pleased. ‘They should have a messenger ready to go, and then Magister Illimen will have to deal with this mess.’ At the thought of this, the corner of his mouth ticked up.

“Pleasant thoughts?” The leader turned a questioning gaze on the wizard.

“Ah, I’m only grateful that you found us and thought of the possibility of finally having some hot food. A man can dream, can’t he?”

“Strange fellow.” One of the soldiers muttered behind him, just loud enough for him to hear.

“Who would walk the woods in winter but for a strange fellow?” Calvin retorted, crossed his hands behind his head, and looked at the pale blue sky overhead.

The rocky depression between three hills was nearly bare of plant growth. One part might be the stones and the sparse earth, but another was most certainly the bustling camp that used every scrap of wood as fuel for the campfires. As they walked down toward the tents, they saw a troop carrying logs of different sizes, some with branches still attached toward a storage area.

From afar, they could see an area of the camp sporting the academy colors.

A Nordmark soldier pointed, “Over there is the camp for your sort. I hear there are some teachers or something organizing everything. If I were you, I would see to it you get home quickly. I hear it's going to be unpleasant around here soon.”

Cal looked at him with a displeased expression. “Keep your thoughts to yourself. The decision, what will happen to the fine young lords and ladies, is with the officers and not with our rank and file scum. Understood?”

“Yes. Sergeant.”

“Good.”

They walked on in silence only broken by the unceasing wind and crunching snow.

The peaks of the nearby hills contrasted sharply with the clear white-blue sky making the snow especially brilliant.

Soon they reached the first sentries, who greeted the returning soldiers with weary disinterest.

“Seems like we are by far not the first to come here.” Vivienne looked around.

Valens nodded thoughtfully.

Cyrus turned his sinuous neck and flicked his barbed tail nervously. He was at an awkward stage where flight was still laborious and walking even more so. Sometimes Alyssa would hug him and carry him for a while, but his increasing weight and size made that impractical at best.

Snapping pennons flew over rows of tents showing their allegiance to the different noble houses comprising the Nordmark duchy.

Alyssa stumbled, put her left hand to her eye, and rubbed her smarting forehead. All around, buried in the rocky ground, gleamed bones and rusted armor.

Zhira frowned; she had joined the group around Alea as was her wont for the last day or two and muttered softly. “Here it was that the first attack of the tribes happened, and here they slaughtered the invading troops nearly eight in ten. I would not camp here if it were my choice.”

Dark fires leaped from the crevices and burned in ancient eyesockets nearly indistinguishable from the pale stones and buried in the snow. Alyssa felt the void caressing her arm, and the jewel embedded in her forearm shone with energy.

Then she felt an arm circling her shoulders and looked up to see Mireille looking at her concernedly. “Everything alright?”

Her friend had grown lean muscles over the months with all the ‘Sword One’ training and her penchant for physical activities; sometimes, she didn’t realize how much they all had changed since she met them.

“No, it’s only a small headache.”

As she answered, her steps passed a twisted corpse, mouth wide open, screaming an endless scream just beneath the snow.