"Tell me, Lord Frost, do you have any idea what I want from your tribe?" Zeke asked, fully aware that Frost had no way of knowing.
"Aren't you here to support my sister?"
Zeke shook his head decisively. "I'm not. In fact, I don't think your sister needs or even wants my support. In all the time I've known Snow, she's only ever talked about reuniting with her family. If she has any ambitions, she's never shared them with me."
Frost averted his eyes for an instant, a complex look crossing his face.
Zeke let the silence linger. The relationship between the siblings was clearly complicated. Frost seemed to harbor some grievances against Snow, but Zeke understood there had to be more to it than just her capture. It was highly unlikely that the man honestly believed that his sister had been working with the enemy to get their father killed.
However, Frost clearly didn't want to talk about the matter as he simply brushed past it. "What is it that you want?" he asked.
Zeke sighed inwardly but moved on. He had more important things to worry about than their relationship. "There is a plant growing at the top of your mountain. Lightbloom, Snow called it. That is what I am after."
Frost furrowed his brows. "Why do you need them?"
Zeke merely smiled. He would obviously not reveal the reason for his interest in the plant. Any savvy merchant knew better than to reveal their hand, especially in a situation like this. If the tribe knew how valuable the plant was to him, they could charge him a fortune.
Frost seemed to realize Zeke wouldn't answer and shifted his question. "We've had these plants for a long time but never found a use for them. Are they valuable to humans?"
Zeke shook his head. "They're not. I'm confident that I'm the only person who has any use for them."
Frost nodded, slowly absorbing Zeke's words. Sensing an opportunity, Zeke pressed on. "What is it that you want, Lord Frost? From what I see, you're a warrior through and through, someone who cares deeply for his men."
"I do," Frost admitted.
"Then, there should be no reason for a conflict between the two of us," Zeke concluded confidently. "I want a resource that is next to useless to you, and you want to save your people, would that be fair to say?"
Frost nodded slowly, eyeing him with a bit of interest.
"Then, shouldn't we instead talk about how we could help each other?" Zeke questioned.
"No offense, human, but I don't think you can be of much help to me. Even the three warriors you command wouldn't be able to affect the outcome of this war," Frost said. The words weren't spoken with any malice but because Frost truly believed them to be true.
Zeke shook his head, a small smile on his lips. "There you go again. Didn't I already tell you that fighting prowess isn't everything?"
This time, Frost didn't hold back. He seemed to have gotten comfortable enough with Zeke to speak his mind freely, without fear for his men. "There may be exceptions, but war isn't one of them. When the enemy is at your gate, strength is all that matters."
However, Zeke wasn't one to back down, either. "Even then, other factors influence the outcome. Strategy, tactics, fortifications, and supplies always play a crucial role in any battle."
Frost frowned. He might have denied these claims at any other time, but he couldn't do that now, not while his people were starving. "You can help with that?" he asked, a trace of hope edging into his voice.
Zeke smiled confidently. "Come. I want to show you something."
Without another word, Zeke left the room and found Vulcanos standing guard outside. Frost hesitated briefly but decided to follow. They went to one of the newer rooms where the spoils were stored. Upon entering, Frost froze, mesmerized by what he found.
Akasha had already sorted the inventory, neatly arranging each item into distinct piles. Many of these were food, with mountains of meat stacked from floor to ceiling. It was an enormous quantity—enough, in a human village, to feed the entire population for a year.
"This…" Frost stammered before falling silent again. "How?" he eventually asked.
"When you attacked the enemy this morning, me and my people used the chance to pillage their supplies. This was the result," Zeke explained, not hiding that fact.
Frost frowned, looking from the massive piles to Zeke. "How?" he asked again. Though it was the same question, Zeke understood he was asking something different. There was no way his small group could have transported such a large quantity of supplies up the mountain without being noticed.
Zeke grinned. "Magic," he said simply. There was no need to divulge all his secrets, and certainly not before Frost had formerly joined him as an ally. "The only thing you need to know is that I have it and that I will be able to procure more food in the future."
Frost's expression darkened but then relaxed. He probably realized that Zeke wasn't ready to share all his secrets yet and that he was in no position to demand them, especially since he was the one asking for a favor.
"If you have this much, why not share it with the people?" he asked after a moment of silence.
"I would have," Zeke admitted. "My plan was to slowly win them over with food while gradually eroding your hold over the people."
Hearing that, Frost had a weird expression on his face. "You admit that so casually… Aren't you worried I might hold a grudge?"
Zeke shook his head. "The fact that you're here shows your people matter more to you than any bruised ego."
Frost scoffed but didn't deny the claim. There was a moment of silence. Zeke wanted Frost to fully understand the implications of what he was offering. Now that he considered the man an ally, he was curious to see how Frost's approach would shift now that his people's immediate crisis was over.
"Even if I allied with you," he said after a while, "I don't think we could stop my sister from taking over. Polaris, that is."
Zeke furrowed his brows. He was aware that Frost's sister Polaris was the head of a different faction inside the tribe, but he hadn't expected the situation to be this bad. "Why do you think so?"
Frost sighed, a look of defeat on his face. "I lost today—and badly at that. My sister will not miss this chance to strengthen her position. I don't think I will be able to stand up to her after this. The people are beginning to lose trust in me."
Zeke stroked his chin, deep in thought. He had anticipated some backlash after this failure, but not to this extent. The people's trust was the foundation of Frost's leadership. Early on, Frost had rushed to the front to protect them, earning their support. If he lost that trust, the situation could quickly spiral out of control.
The question was, what should he do about this situation?
The only thing he knew for certain was that he could not allow Polaris to take control of the troops. Her idea of negotiating with the Frostscale tribe was absurd. Any compromise reached would certainly end with their father dead. There was no way the snakes would let the strong Chimeroi leave if he was as powerful as Snow had claimed.
Zeke pondered his options, rubbing his chin—a habit he always fell back on when faced with a difficult problem. Today felt different, though. He could feel the first traces of stubble emerging. Annoyed by the sensation, he conjured a thin thread of blood and used it to shave the unwanted hairs.
"When will your sister act?" he asked.
Frost shook his head. "The messenger just told me to expect a visit," he admitted. "But I wouldn't be surprised if she was already planning her move. My guess would be tomorrow morning."
Zeke frowned. He only had tonight to act, and turning around Frost's faltering reputation in such a short time seemed daunting. While he was confident he could improve it given a few days, doing so overnight was a tall order, even for him.
He could heal Frost's people, but that alone wouldn't be enough to change the public's opinion. Once trust was broken, it was incredibly hard to repair. The attack had been a disaster, and the belief that they couldn't win was likely taking hold in the minds of the people. Zeke had expected that, to some degree, but he hadn't anticipated Polaris to act so decisively. It was ruthless of her to immediately undermine Frost's position the moment he faltered. He had clearly underestimated her.
Zeke began to pace, rubbing his clean-shaven chin more vigorously. Was there really nothing he could do? Should he try to bribe the people? No, that wouldn't work with so little time. Should he downplay the loss, making it seem less devastating? No, that wouldn't work either; the number of dead spoke louder than any words he could come up with.
But what else was there? He refused to accept that there was no way out of this. Suddenly, a thought came to him, rooting him to the spot. He couldn't downplay the loss, but maybe he could reframe the context of the battle…
His eyes lit up as a plan began to solidify in his mind. After a moment of absolute silence, he turned to Frost, a wide smile on his face. "I'll take care of it," he proclaimed.
"Of what?" Frost asked, clearly in a sour mood.
"Your sister," Zeke clarified. "I'll handle her for you."
Frost stared at him in disbelief before shaking his head with a wry expression. "She is not somebody who can be handled so easily."
Zeke's eyes grew serious as he infused his body with a bit of Draconic Essence. Frost immediately recoiled, creating a large distance between them. He stared at Zeke with wide eyes, a hint of fear on his face.
"Neither am I," Zeke proclaimed, the air vibrating with power. "Nations, a thousand times grander than your tribe, still fear my wrath. There is not a single man, woman, or child on the continent who does not know of Ezekiel von Hohenheim, heir to Maximilian von Hohenheim, the greatest magical genius who ever lived."
Zeke paused, infusing even more strength into his voice. "So, if I say that I will handle your sister, then I will handle her. Do you understand?"
Frost nodded meekly, not even daring to meet his eyes anymore.
"Good," Zeke said in a much softer tone. "I need you to send all the injured to me, and it has to be tonight. Can you do that?"
Frost nodded again.
"Then go. And don't worry about your sister; tomorrow, she will get a taste of her own medicine," Zeke promised as he sent the man away.
The moment Frost left, Zeke's imposing presence faded, leaving him feeling drained. No matter how much he pretended, he was not a Dragon, and his body couldn't sustain such a state for long. Still, he didn't regret his choice. It was necessary to display a bit of strength. He didn't mind Frost looking down on him, but the lack of confidence in his abilities was starting to bother him. He would rather Frost overestimate him than underestimate him.
This way, he at least had expectations to meet. A truly competent person never feared obstacles, only their absence. Zeke's golden eyes started to shine, glinting with a crafty light. It would be a long night, but he knew exactly what to do.
He would turn Frost into a hero.