Elira packed her canvas rucksack in silence. She folded her spare uniform, wrapping it tightly around her cold iron canteen.

  Mira trailed quietly behind her. She kept her heavy robes pulled tight against the freezing morning wind. They walked toward the quartermaster tents to pick up their campaign essentials.

  "Are you okay now?" Mira asked softly. Her voice barely carried over the howling wind. "I know you have a history with Marcelline, but Adrien and Lucien do not look that bad."

  Elira kept her eyes fixed on the muddy path ahead.

  "Let us hope so," Elira replied quietly.

  They reached the distribution area. A long line of soldiers stood shivering in the cold. They joined the back of the line and waited. The mood was grim. A campaign into the frozen north meant half of them would never return.

  They finally reached the front. The logistics soldier handed Elira a heavy burlap sack. It contained hardened rations, tightly wrapped strips of dried, salted meat, and a small pouch of medicinal powder.

  "Here is your assignment," the soldier muttered. His smile was painfully awkward. He kept his gaze firmly fixed on the wooden table, refusing to look into Elira's eyes.

  Elira took the heavy sack without a word. She and Mira sorted their supplies and carried them toward the squad's designated gathering point near the main gates.

  They found Nyx actively tormenting Garrick.

  "So you finally did it, huh?" Nyx grinned. She elbowed Garrick in the ribs.

  Garrick grunted, refusing to look down at her.

  "Were you this shy last night when you two were doing it?" Nyx continued, her shark teeth gleaming with pure amusement.

  Garrick let out a heavy, exhausted sigh. He pressed his palm against his face, rubbing his temples in utter defeat. A few feet away, Sera suddenly found the snowy ground incredibly fascinating. Her cheeks were burning bright red.

  The heavy sound of war horns blew from the central courtyard.

  Adrien walked up the wooden steps of the command platform. His white uniform was immaculate. The gold threading caught the pale morning light. Every soldier in the camp snapped into a rigid, perfect formation.

  Adrien's voice carried across the freezing air. Magic carried his words to the very edge of the encampment.

  "Soldiers of the northern front," Adrien declared, his tone ringing with authority. "For too long, the Holy Kingdom has tested our borders. They have insulted the might of our Empire. But today, we march not to defend. We march to conquer. We march for absolute victory."

  He paused, lifting his chin to let the silence stretch for dramatic effect.

  "You carry the holy duty of the Empire on your shoulders. It is your highest privilege to bleed for this land. Through your courage, we will bring eternal glory to the Valecourt bloodline. We will crush their defenses and remind the world who rules this continent. March with pride. Victory is our right."

  The words were hollow. They sounded exactly like a script rehearsed in front of a warm fireplace.

  The campaign began.

  Elira adjusted the straps of her heavy rucksack. She looked back at the towering stone walls of the defensive line one last time, then turned and started walking.

  The march was brutal. Elira and the squad walked through knee-deep snow and frozen mud. Viktor rode a sturdy warhorse. Adrien and Lucien traveled inside heavily armored, heated carriages equipped with suspension enchantments to smooth out the rocky terrain.

  Night finally fell over the frozen plains. The army halted to make camp.

  Elira sat heavily on a frozen log. She massaged her burning calves. Sera sat down right next to her, grumbling under her breath and rubbing her own aching thighs.

  "My legs are going to fall off," Sera complained, wincing as she pressed her thumbs into her muscles. "I walked less during my entire holy pilgrimage."

  "Get used to it," Elira said, staring blankly at the snow. "We have weeks of this."

  "I should have asked Garrick to carry me."

  Nyx emerged from the dark treeline. She held three dead rabbits by their long ears. She proudly tossed them on the white snow right at their feet.

  "Look at that. Fresh meat," Nyx boasted, crossing her arms and looking down at Elira and Sera. "You two would freeze and starve out here without me."

  Oren looked up from the fire pit he was digging. "A very clean catch, Nyx. You move perfectly in the snow. I did not even hear you leave the camp."

  Nyx puffed her chest out with a wide, smug grin. "Obviously. I am a professional."

  Garrick gathered dry wood and quickly prepared a warm campfire.

  This narrative has been purloined without the author's approval. Report any appearances on Amazon.

  Like them, the rest of the army broke into their own isolated groups. Thousands of small fires dotted the dark landscape.

  Elira and Mira struggled with their assigned tent. The canvas was stiff from the freezing air. Elira simply did not know how the complicated rope and peg system worked. Mira tried to help, but her thick claws kept snagging and tearing the canvas.

  Nyx sat by the fire, laughing loudly at their pathetic attempts. Elira felt a rare flush of embarrassment heat her cheeks.

  Garrick stepped away from the fire. He took the ropes from Elira's freezing hands. With effortless, brutal strength, he drove the iron pegs straight into the frozen earth using only his bare heel. The tent was fully erected in less than a minute. It was painfully small. One person might fit inside comfortably, but imperial logistics had assigned it for two.

  The smell of roasting meat soon filled the air. The hot food eased their bone-deep tiredness. The fresh rabbit was a massive improvement over the salted rations.

  Elira took a bite and nodded. "This is good."

  Nyx grinned, looking incredibly pleased with herself.

  After the meal, they sat close to the flames. Oren tuned his lute and began singing a soft, slow melody. It was a rare, fragile moment of peace in a world made entirely of violence.

  A high, piercing scream shattered the music.

  Oren’s hand slammed flat against the strings. The squad moved instantly. Instincts took over. Elira dropped her wooden bowl and rushed toward the sound, pushing her way through the rapidly forming crowd of soldiers.

  They reached a small clearing near the edge of the camp.

  Ivan lay on the frozen ground. He was beaten into a bloody, unrecognizable pulp. His jaw hung at a sickening angle.

  Two royal guards stood over him. Their upper bodies were completely bare, despite the freezing wind. They were casually buckling their belts and adjusting their uniform pants. There was barely a single scratch on their heavily muscled torsos.

  Katya lay a few feet away in the snow.

  Her thick fur coat was gone. Her clothes had been violently ripped apart. She lay curled on her side, desperately trying to cover her exposed skin and her remaining dignity with her bruised arms. Tears streamed down her pale, terrified face.

  It was clear what had just happened.

  Elira gritted her teeth. The cold, empty hollow inside her chest suddenly ignited with blinding fury. She took a step forward.

  Sera grabbed her wrist. The grip was shockingly tight.

  Elira turned back, glaring at Sera. "Why did you stop me."

  Sera did not say a word. She pointed a finger toward the opposite side of the clearing.

  The crowd of soldiers parted immediately.

  "Wow. I did not know the frontline had this kind of entertainment."

  Lucien stepped into the clearing. He completely ignored Ivan’s broken body. His dark eyes roamed slowly up and down Katya’s exposed, shivering form. He showed absolutely zero concern for the horrific situation.

  Viktor walked two steps behind Lucien. His jaw was clenched so tightly a muscle ticked in his cheek, but he kept his hands locked firmly behind his back.

  "She is one of the disposable assets," Viktor said. His voice was rigid and perfectly controlled. "I would like to know what happened here."

  Adrien arrived a second later, flanked by four more royal guards. He looked at the scene with mild distaste, as if someone had spilled wine on his carpet.

  The two half-naked guards immediately snapped to attention and began telling their fabricated story.

  "It was the girl, Your Highness," the first guard said smoothly. "She approached us near the treeline. She attempted to seduce us to gain access to the royal encampment. When we refused her advances, the red-haired boy ambushed us from the shadows. We suspect they are spies from the Holy Kingdom."

  Adrien looked at the two bleeding bodies on the ground. "Is this true?"

  Katya sobbed, shaking her head violently. "No. No. They dragged me into the trees while I was walking back to my tent."

  Adrien did not look at her. He turned his gaze to the tiny, faint scratch on his guard's shoulder, then back to Ivan’s ruined face.

  "This is unacceptable," Adrien said flatly. He looked at Viktor. "These men are in charge of my personal safety. Do you understand what it means if they were injured?"

  It was a rhetorical question. It was a brutal declaration of value. The royal guards mattered. The disposable assets did not. The truth of the assault was completely irrelevant to the political reality of the camp.

  Viktor gripped his hands tightly behind his back.

  "I am terribly sorry about this, sir."

  The other royal guards immediately stepped forward. They grabbed Katya by her arms and hauled her roughly to her feet. They locked her arms behind her back, leaving her bruised, naked body completely exposed to the freezing wind and the staring crowd.

  Lucien whistled at the scene.

  "If the guards like her that much, why not give her to them as a reward," Lucien suggested with a lazy smile. "Actually, I would like a turn first."

  Adrien frowned at Lucien. "This is war, Lucien. Do not be too relaxed. Discipline must be maintained."

  Adrien turned to the guards holding Katya. "Execute her."

  The guards followed the order without a single second of hesitation.

  One of them drew his heavy steel broadsword and raised it high.

  "NO! PLEASE! NO!" Katya screamed, tears running down her cheeks.

  The blade swung down in a smooth, practiced arc, cutting clean through her neck.

  Katya's head hit the frozen snow with a dull thud. Her body slumped forward, blood spraying wildly across the white ground.

  The surrounding soldiers stood in absolute silence. They only moved their eyes, sending silent messages to one another.

  "Tsk. What a waste," Lucien sighed. He shook his head in disappointment and turned around, walking slowly back toward his heated tent.

  "NGFHFH!"

  An incomprehensible, guttural scream tore from Ivan’s throat. His face was beaten so badly he could no longer form words. Elira could see that all of his teeth had been shattered. He dragged his broken body across the dirt, crawling desperately toward Katya’s corpse.

  "Khh... khh..."

  His broken mouth tried to form a name.

  "What should we do with him?" a guard asked, pointing his bloody sword at Ivan.

  Adrien looked down at Ivan.

  "He is too noisy," Adrien said flatly. "Cut his tongue off."

  From the edge of the crowd, Elira stood completely frozen. Her body trembled. She gripped her own hands so tightly that her fingernails pierced her palms. Warm blood dripped down her fingers, falling silently onto the snow.

  A massive shadow stepped behind her. Garrick placed his huge, calloused hand over Elira's eyes, gently pulling her head back against his chest.

  He stopped her from watching the gruesome scene unfold. But he could not stop her from hearing the wet slice of steel, or the horrific, unending screams that followed.