As the sun started to rise, Zeke's group gathered at the village gate. Because of Frost's announcement, Ash hadn't hired any workers for the day. The small entrance square was packed with people. A tense silence hung over the scene.
Zeke's group stood apart from the gathering crowd, clearly not intending to join the assault. Zeke hid behind Ash and the others to avoid drawing attention, his face concealed by a cowl. Since their arrival, no one had seen his features, and he wanted to keep it that way. While some might suspect he had survived, he didn't want anyone to gauge his actual condition. The less they thought about him, the better.
Just as the crowd started to get antsy, a rather large group arrived: Frost and his close followers.
Snow's brother was joined by two dozen fierce-looking warriors who were clearly a cut above the volunteers. Despite their presence, the total force was only around a hundred strong—a mere fraction of the troops stationed in the fort. However, Frost seemed unbothered by the meager turnout.
He didn't waste any time as he ascended the stairway leading onto the rampart, turning halfway to address the crowd. He swept his gaze over the gathered people, momentarily pausing on Zeke's group. However, he didn't say anything as his gaze continued after that momentary pause.
"Brave warriors of the Icefang tribe," he shouted in a bellowing voice, "we have hidden ourselves away for too long." His opening statement garnered a few hushed whispers from the crowd, and many agreed with him.
He continued. "Our enemies have reached our doorstep, yet we have done nothing! They feast on our prey, roam our steps, and we continue to do nothing. Let me ask you, is this our way?"
"NO!" the crowd bellowed as one.
Zeke was surprised by the level of fervor he could hear in those voices. It seemed the resentment had been brewing for a while.
"I don't think so, either," Frost said, his tone approving. "However, the elders still refuse to act. They hide away in their little fortress, uncaring of the fate of their people, unwilling to act in the best interest of the tribe!"
The crowd bellowed their approval, and Zeke furrowed his brows. Frost was a far better speaker than he had expected. He knew exactly how to rile up the crowd. After a few words, even the undecided were now firmly on board.
"BUT I WILL NOT AVERT MY EYES FROM THE SUFFERING OF MY PEOPLE!" he yelled. "AND NEITHER WILL YOU! TELL ME, WARRIORS OF THE ICEFANG TRIBE: WHO IS WITH ME?"
His question elicited the loudest reaction yet as the entire group yelled their approval in one voice. Frost nodded at them, his expression fierce. "Good! Then follow me as I lead our people to victory!"
At that moment, the large gate of the fort opened, revealing the coarse mountain pass beyond. Frost was the first to step through, followed by his men and the group of volunteers behind them. After a few moments, Zeke and his group were the only ones that remained on the small plaza.
"That was quite the speech," Ash said after a moment of silence.
Zeke nodded. "He is far better than I expected. However, the outcome won't change because of it. Morale can only get you so far."
"Why are you so certain?" Gravitas asked.
Zeke's eyes turned serious. "The Frostscale Tribe isn't simple. Their strategy—incapacitating the enemy chief and then starving the people—isn't the work of idiots. Do you really think we can break their encirclement with such a half-hearted offensive?"
Nobody replied.
"Besides," he said after a moment of silence, "they must have known that the Icefang tribe was going to attack sooner or later. Most likely, they left one of their outposts undefended for exactly that reason…"
The implication of his statement made the eyes of the Chimeroi widen. "Doesn't that mean… that they are walking into a trap?"
Zeke shrugged.
"Why didn't you warn them?" Vulcanos asked.
Zeke shook his head. "What should I have told them? This is just my speculation. I don't have any proof. And even if I did, do you think they'd listen to us?"
The group fell silent again, prompting Zeke to sigh. Most tribesmen still eyed them with distrust. Speaking out against the plan might have even led to accusations of sabotage. Being right meant nothing if no one would listen.
"Let's go. We have our own mission," he said, breaking the tense silence.
***
Zeke and his group followed behind the advancing warband, keeping enough distance to avoid being spotted. Tracking them wasn't hard, as such a large group left a noticeable trail. After about an hour's march, the terrain cleared up, giving them a clear view of the foot of the mountain.
Three outposts were in sight. The middle one was the largest and most heavily defended, while the right one was a bit smaller, though it would be hard to reach without passing through the larger one. The only apparent weakness of the encirclement was the camp on the left. It was not even half the size of the others and seemed sparsely defended—suspiciously so.
Behind these three, a fair distance into the plains, was a smattering of smaller outposts. They were clearly not fortifications and likely served as hunting outposts and storage areas. However, it was impossible to reach them without bypassing the outposts. The defense layout was rather intricate, causing Zeke to appreciate the mind that had devised the setup. Each of the camps took advantage of the geography, making them hard to assail.
It was just as he thought: the Frostscale tribe was adept at strategy—or at least someone in the tribe was.
As he studied the geography, Zeke spotted a force of about thirty warriors approaching the middle outposts. These had to be Frost's men. They were not even trying to keep their approach secret. Knowing about the plan, his eyes roamed the spot where the rest of the warband were likely to be.
And there they were!
The remaining seventy warriors stealthily approached the outpost on the left, using the rocks and boulders as natural cover. They moved through the mountains with such skill that even Zeke, despite his advantageous position, had trouble spotting them. It was highly unlikely anyone would notice them from below.
Zeke and his group perched on top of a large boulder, observing as the attack unfolded. He had no intention of interfering in the fight, but the outcome would heavily influence his next move.
Just as Frost's decoy force arrived near the heavily fortified outpost, Zeke noticed the changes. Troops left the different smaller outposts, all heading towards the one that was going to be attacked. Even before the assault started, the reinforcements were on their way. It was an efficient response.
Zeke's eyes narrowed as he watched with intense focus. This was his first taste of war.
The fight for Undercity had been more of a brawl than a battle, with no fortifications, tactics, or formations—just raw violence. Now, he was keenly interested in seeing the difference a well-trained army could make. Yet, he was sorely disappointed. The attacking group didn't even dare to approach the outpost. Instead, they merely picked up rocks and threw them at the enemy encampment.
Well, Zeke couldn't really blame them for their unwillingness to get close. They were supposed to be a decoy, but he still wondered if the enemy would fall for such a halfhearted attempt. To him, it seemed blatantly obvious that they were unwilling to commit to the assault. He was certain any halfway decent commander would see through this farce in an instant.
To his surprise, the enemy's troop movements did not change, and the reinforcements were still heading toward the middle outpost. Had Frost actually managed to trick the opponent?
The man in question seemed to think so as his troop, who had been waiting in ambush, finally began to move. They had gotten fairly close to the enemy camp and were only waiting for the right time. Moments later, they were already at the wall.
Frost, who was leading the charge, raised both hands, and a white fountain erupted. Crystalline powder shot in the air, reaching higher than the walls of the encampment. A moment later, the glittering cloud solidified. The frozen construct took the shape of a ramp that led straight to the top of the wall that ringed the outpost. With a bellowing roar, he took the lead, dozens of warriors on his heels.
Zeke had to admit that the ambush was well executed. From the covert approach to the timing and method, everything had been expertly done. His brows furrowed as he watched the warband slaughter their way through the camp. The lack of resistance they faced made it clear that they had caught their enemies unprepared.
This was the first time Zeke had seen the members of the Icefang tribe fight, and it was not what he had expected. Unlike a battle between Mages, the Chimeroi relied exclusively on their strong bodies. They moved with supernatural speed, pouncing on their unsuspecting victims with feral ferocity.
They were like a pack of wolves tearing through a herd of prey.
The only magic on display was in their weapons. Each member of the tribe had used their ability to conjure ice to create dagger-like claws on their hands, extending their reach. Otherwise, they fought completely barehanded.
Only Frost stood out in that regard. The Pureblood used his ability far more liberally, freezing swaths of enemies before shattering them with a savage punch. Zeke was inwardly shocked. The man was far stronger than he had anticipated, and he didn't think that any of his own followers would be Frost's match.
Meanwhile, the decoy team had abandoned their assault. Frost's opening move had signaled them to fall back. Now, they stood between the two outposts, holding off reinforcements. Zeke noticed many of these men were part of Frost's inner circle. Despite being outnumbered, they managed to stall the enemy.
Zeke frowned. The plan seemed to be going smoothly—too smoothly. If nothing unexpected happened, Frost would be able to retreat with all his men, having scored a decisive victory.
Could he have been wrong?
Ash, Gravitas, and Vulcanos kept glancing at him with strange expressions. They had fully trusted his predictions, but it seemed he had been wrong about everything.
Just then, Frost reached the center of the village. It was the place where the overseer of the camp was located. So far, the man hadn't decided to show himself, even when his followers were being slaughtered, resulting in the death of nearly every person in the camp.
The soldiers spread out, encircling the ramshackle structure and cutting off any path of retreat. Frost yelled something, though Zeke couldn't make out the words at this distance. However, it was clear what he had said when a man emerged from the building a few moments later.
This person was an old man with long gray hair, a narrow face, and thin lips. He stood bent, leaning heavily on a cane. Every movement seemed to be laborious as he hobbled out. Yet, Zeke's eyes narrowed as he looked at this geezer. There was something about this person that made him incredibly uneasy.
Zeke wasn't the only one who reacted strangely to the old man's appearance. Frost's already pale face grew even paler. He took a single step back before freezing up. The old man said something, his voice too quiet to make out, but it seemed to snap Frost out of his daze. He visibly tensed before yelling a single command with all his might.
"RUN!!"
His voice was so loud that it echoed off the mountains and reverberated through the battlefield, which had become deathly still at the old man's appearance.
With that one word, all hell broke loose. Any composure or military discipline was forgotten as Frost's men ran for their lives. They scampered up the ramparts, climbed over buildings, and ran as fast as their legs would carry them. It was a chaotic scene.
The old man merely smiled at the sight. A moment later, he waved his hand, and from that single motion, hundreds of illusory snakes were born. They looked and acted like normal snakes, but they moved at an unimaginable speed, chasing after the escaping soldiers.
It didn't take long for the first soldier to be caught. A snake pounced, and the moment it made contact, it vanished into his body. Nothing seemed to happen at first, but after a few steps, the warrior halted. His balance failed, and he fell to the side, unmoving, as if he had been frozen stiff.
Many more followed, and only a fraction of the warband ever made it over the walls. Yet, some managed to escape the ambush, with Frost among them. At the moment, he was leading the remnants of his troops up the mountain in a desperate scramble.
The old man had not moved from his spot, and there still was a small smile on his face. Then, he took a single step forward. It was unhurried as if he had all the time in the world. Yet that single step took him all the way to the wall. His next step saw him outside the outpost and the one after already halfway up the slope.
Zeke's back drenched in sweat. A perfectly executed plan had been undone in an instant. The arrival of a single person had turned everything upside down. No amount of planning or scheming could counter this.
What was power? This was power!
Zeke clenched his fists, suppressing the yearning in his heart. If he wanted to reach such heights one day, he would only get there by taking one step at a time. He turned his head, only to find the Chimeroi already looking at him, the fear clear in their eyes.
Zeke didn't blame them; they were right to be afraid. Heck, he was afraid, too. However, he wouldn't allow that fear to stop him.
"It is time," he said.