The Thaw Begins
The first signs of spring came subtly: water released from icicles at noon, the compaction of snow beneath its own weight, birds returning from wherever they'd hidden through the worst of winter.
Thornhaven stirred with the season, its population now approaching three hundred. The structures built through winter stood solid, combining southern timber with northern ice-packing in ways that would confuse traditional builders. Fields were being prepared for planting, though everyone knew the real question was whether they'd survive to harvest.
Lioran stood at the northern gate of the settlement, where scouts had reported movement. Not Crane's forces—the banner colours were wrong, and the approach was too disciplined, too organized.
Then he saw them.
Two hundred soldiers marching in perfect formation, their armor gleaming with frost that never melted. At their head rode Captain Valdis, her white hair streaming behind her, ice-sword at her hip catching the weak spring sunlight.
"The Frost Guard," Renn breathed from beside Lioran. "She actually sent them."
The ember pulsed with something complex: gratitude mixed with the awareness that Evelina had just publicly committed her kingdom to their cause. If Thornhaven fell, the Frost Kingdoms' reputation fell with it.
Valdis stopped her army outside the gate, dismounted, and strode forward with the easy confidence of a woman who'd never doubted she'd be welcomed.
"Dragon Lord," she said, her head inclined in respect rather than subservience. "The Queen sends her greetings and her best soldiers. Try not to get us all killed."
"I'll do my best," Lioran said, a pull of a smile tugging at his lips despite the tension. "Welcome to Thornhaven."
"It has grown since the stories reached us," Valdis said, perusing the settlement. "More organized than expected. Less desperate." She glanced at him. "The Queen will be pleased. She invested in potential, not charity."
"How is she?" The question escaped before Lioran could stop it.
Valdis's expression turned knowing. "Anxious. Though she'd freeze me solid if I told you that. She maintains this is purely strategic interest in protecting northern trade routes." She paused. "But she reads your letters more times than strategy requires."
"Letters?"
"The reports Bjorn sends. She says she's just monitoring the situation. But I've served her eight years. I know when the Queen is personally invested versus professionally interested." Valdis shouldered her pack. "Now, show me your defenses. We have perhaps three weeks before Crane marches. That's not much time to prepare for what's coming."
...
Integration
Two hundred northern soldiers weren't fitting into Thornhaven's already formulated network.
The Frost Guard were professionals—trained, disciplined, experienced in siege warfare. They looked at Thornhaven's fortifications with barely concealed skepticism.
"These walls won't hold against proper siege equipment," said one Frost Guard lieutenant, eyeing up the timber palisade. "And your gate is a weak point. Three good rams and it's kindling."
"Then help us strengthen it," Kaelen said, his southern knight's pride stinging but his tactical mind recognizing truth. "We have three weeks. What can we actually accomplish?"
Valdis spread maps across the council table, detailed siege plans developed over centuries of fighting crusades in the Frost Kingdoms.
"Your advantage isn't walls," she said. "It's terrain. You're positioned at the junction of three valleys with marshland to the east and forest to the west. An army of ten thousand needs clear approach routes and supply lines. We make those as difficult as possible."
"Guerrilla tactics?" Torven asked.
"Coordinated harassment. We can't stop them from reaching Thornhaven, but we can bleed them the entire way. Slow them down. Force them to expend resources before they even arrive." Valdis pointed out specific locations. "Ambush points here, here, and here. Small teams, hit and retreat. We're not trying to win battles—we're trying to win time and morale."
Serra leaned forward. "I know these tactics. Crane used them during the eastern campaigns. The problem is they require mobility and the willingness to abandon fixed positions. If we spread our forces too thin—
"We maintain a core defense here," Valdis interrupted. "Fifty Frost Guard, fifty of your best warriors. The rest operate in mobile units. When Crane's vanguard arrives, they find walls defended but not overwhelmed. When his main force arrives, they're exhausted from constant skirmishing."
"It could work," Kaelen said. "But it takes trust. Southern fighters taking commands from northern commanders, northern soldiers understanding southern terrain."
"Then we train together," said Lioran. "Three weeks. We learn each other's methods, build coordination. No time for traditional rivalries."
The council agreed, and the work began.
.....
Training
Over the next two weeks, Thornhaven became a military camp that was, paradoxically, also a refugee settlement.
Frost Guard taught southern fighters the basics of ice-magic: not full mastery, but enough to cause slippery ground, freeze weapons, and survive in cold environments. In turn, southern warriors taught northern soldiers forest movement, starting fire without using magic, and surviving through terrain that the north never faced.
Children were present, watching every move in wide-eyed wonder, as if it were performance art. Parents pretended it was education, not preparation for war.
Lioran had trained like anyone else, denying any special status. The ember quieted during winter; it stirred with an approaching conflict. It did not demand violence, but readied itself.
One afternoon, he sparred with Valdis - fire against ice in carefully controlled combat that drew crowds of observers.
"You've improved," Valdis said, circling each other. "The Queen's training stuck."
"She's a good teacher," Lioran replied, sending a controlled stream of fire that Valdis deflected with an ice shield.
"She's more than that to you." Not a question.
Lioran hesitated, and Valdis pressed her advantage, ice-sword flashing. He barely blocked, fire meeting frost in a shower of steam.
"The Queen doesn't share her personal seal lightly," Valdis continued, striking in rhythm with her words. "Doesn't send two hundred of her best soldiers for trade protection. Doesn't stay awake reading reports about some southern settlement."
"What are you saying?"
"That she cares." Valdis's sword stopped an inch from Lioran's throat, the duel won. "And when Evelina cares about something, she protects it fiercely. Which means you have a responsibility not to die."
"I'm trying not to," Lioran said.
"Try harder." Valdis lowered her weapon. "The Queen plays at being ice through and through. But I have seen her heart. It's human. And it's vulnerable. Don't break it."
Before Lioran could respond, horns sounded from the southern watch.
.....
The First Response
A rider approached under a flag of truce—not Crane's colors, but a noble house Lioran vaguely recognized from Bjorn's distribution list.
Duke Aldren's personal envoy, fashionably but practically attired, dismounted and sought audience with the Dragon Lord.
The council convened quickly. The ambassador bowed formally, then produced a document—one of their testimonies.
"Duke Aldren received this three days ago," the envoy said. "He's read it. Multiple times. And he has questions."
"What kind of questions?" Elara asked, cautiously.
"The sort that speak to curiosity rather than aggression," the emissary returned. "The Duke has struggled against the Church's overreach for years. Your testimonies speak to. another paradigm altogether. He would like to know whether what you transcribed is authentic, or shrewd propaganda."
"It's real," Lioran said. "Every word was freely given by people who live here or have benefited from what we've built. You're welcome to speak with any of them."
"The Duke expected that offer." The envoy smiled slightly. "He's two days behind me with an escort of fifty knights. He wants to see Thornhaven for himself before the crusade arrives. To determine if this cause is worth supporting."
Silence fell upon the council.
"Supporting how?" Kaelen asked.
"The Duke commands three thousand soldiers and significant political influence. If he commits to your defense." The envoy let the implication hang.
"If he committs," Lioran finished, "Crane faces not just Thornhaven but a coalition. The crusade becomes civil war."
"Exactly. Which is why the Duke must be sure. He will not stake his house on propaganda and failed idealism.
Renn spoke up. "When does he arrive?"
"Tomorrow at noon. He requests accommodations for his party and liberty to inspect your settlement, question your people, examine your governance." The envoy's face was carefully neutral. "He also requests the Dragon Lord's personal guarantee of safe passage, regardless of his conclusion."
All eyes turned to Lioran.
The ember pulsed hot-this was vulnerability, this was risk. If Aldren proved hostile, if he was Crane's spy or simply gathering intelligence.
But this was also an opportunity. A strong noble willing to question the crusade, a would-be ally capable of changing everything.
"He has my guarantee," said Lioran. "Safe passage, open access, honest answers to all questions. If Duke Aldren wants to see what we've built, let him see it all—the successes and the struggles."
The envoy bowed. "The Duke will be grateful. And Dragon Lord? He specifically asked me to tell you something. He said 'if what I've read is true, this isn't heresy. It's hope. And hope is scarcer than gold in these times.'"
.
That Night
As the darkness deepened, Lioran stood at the southern wall of Thornhaven, where he watched the campfires of the Duke's party as it approached.
Mira joined him, wrapping a shawl against the evening chill.
"Tomorrow changes everything," she said. "Either we gain an ally who can help us survive, or we expose ourselves to someone who might betray everything to Crane."
"I know."
"Are you afraid?"
Lioran thought about that. The ember pulsed, but it wasn't fear—it was anticipation. "No. For the first time in months, I'm not afraid. Whatever happens, we're ready. We've built something real, something that can withstand inspection because it's based on truth rather than lies."
"And if the Duke doesn't see it that way?"
"Then we face the crusade with the allies we have instead of the ones we hoped for." He looked at her. "But we face it together. That matters more than numbers."
Mira smiled, squeezing his hand. "When did you become wise?"
"Somewhere between burning everything and learning not to."
Above them, stars appeared as night deepened. In the Frost Kingdoms, Evelina would be looking up at the same sky, waiting for reports on how her investment fared.
The next day, a duke was to decide whether their revolution merited support. In three weeks, a crusade would test whether any of it mattered. But tonight, Thornhaven prepared, its people unified by shared purpose rather than commanded by power. And the ember pulsed steady and sure. Let them come. All of them. Thornhaven would be ready.