"I wish that I could spare something of value. A battle tactic or technique that could prepare oneself for the worst. The truth, however, is that no one can be truly prepared for the chaos that guides our fates."

Dahlia shivered as winds buffeted against her, the frigidity shaking her to her core. Yet she did her best to hold strong, her back straight as she guided the civilians along the path that led to Yorktown's eastern side. Guardsmen accompanied her, along with Helen, Seamus, and even Lilith, all of whom were clad in guardsmen sashes. Helen and Seamus were the only ones armed with spears; however, Lilith had her axes hitched by her side.

The Frue remembered the times when the short redhead wore only bear furs and a bandage wrap that barely covered her torso. Those were awkward times to think about. Thankfully, Lilith wore warm looking clothing that was lined with fur and wool, her scarf covering the lower half of her face. Her red hair still wavered in the wind, despite being tied in an intricate bun that was… familiar?

'Isn't that–?'

"Dahlia!" Helen called. She was walking over to her, her boots stomping through the thick snow that had settled the night before. "Sorry for the increase in townspeople, Felix thought it would be better that we move more to the east today."

"It's alright," Dahlia said. "How are the defenses holding? I haven't checked in a while…"

"We're all fine," Helen responded with a smile. The Frue could sense a bit of strain within the expression, however.

"I should stay," Dahlia murmured. "Maybe it would be best for us if I did another check on our fronts."

"You're not staying," Helen commanded, her smile falling. She placed a hand on the Frue's shoulder, gripping it tightly. "The people here have no one else to look to. You are their Frue, Dahlia. Act like one and stay with your people. They'll need you."

Dahlia slowly nodded despite her gut twisting within itself. "I understand."

"Good. I'll be sending a contingent of guardsmen to look after the migration," Helen said. "Lilith and Seamus will also be coming, mostly as a precaution. We don't want wolves to start attacking our good townspeople."

Dahlia looked toward the two, who were watching the mass of people walk along the snow. Despite the mundane task, Lilith had a look of concern and grit, her eyes full of determination. Seamus even looked a little on edge himself.

Dahlia just watched along, feeling sick again. She looked back toward the direction of Yorktown, which wasn't in sight due to the dense forest and hazy morning fog. Still, she swore she could hear the sounds of wood being nailed and stone being piled, both guards and orcs furiously working to build defenses.

'Something's not right,' she thought, hand on her chest as she bit her lip. Her old mentor had always given warning to 'gut' feelings, saying that they were born out of stress and should be considered second only to knowledge. 'And yet…'

"I think it's a bit overkill to send all of us at once," Seamus said, hand on hips as he walked over. "Wolves don't warrant a full contingent of guardsmen. Hel, I don't even think there are any wolves left after Horuk's clan of monster hunters moved in."

"Well, I suppose you three should be enough then," Helen said with a sigh.

"Four," a monotone voice called from nearby. Nearly everyone turned to see the shambling corpse that was Marion. She gave them all a scrutinizing look that made Dahlia doubt that she was fully undead. Helen only gave a shrug.

"Fine, four of you should be enough to keep the townspeople in check," Helen continued.

"You're not coming with us?" Dahlia asked.

"No, I have to make sure the defenses on the Southern Front are all in order," Helen said. "I haven't checked up on them in some time, so now's a better time than later."

"I see," Dahlia muttered, a little disappointed.

"Don't give me that look," Helen said with a scoff. "You'll be seeing me tomorrow morning, Dahlia. Promise."

"Of course," Dahlia said. She felt that pit in her stomach grow even more at those words. Something was wrong.

'No. That's just paranoia,' she assured herself silently. With a forced smile, Dahlia bid the veteran farewell, who returned the gesture in hesitance.

"I'll be seeing ya," Helen said after Seamus gave his farewells. "Stay safe until then, alright?"

With that, Helen left, and Dahlia was more aware of the cold than she had ever been in her life.

Harris admired the card in his hand. It depicted the Knight of Embers, a warrior who was revered over a hundred years ago. Said to represent the willingness to risk one's life to protect many. A true, noble calling for Harris. If only the damn card wasn't upside down.

He still thought it was weird that this card was created like this. Perhaps the creator turned it by mistake when he drew it. Then again, why would it be in the deck in the first place? Harris decided that it would be a question for another time when he and Elaine got some time to themselves. Perhaps a date, if fate would be so kind?

'I wonder if she likes cooked silverhead,' he thought idly as he stood up from his post, his legs groaning in protest. This had been a long morning for Harris. For one, he had to go help with the evacuation of Yorktown. And during hallowed hours, for Freyja's sake. Surely a Shaman would know not to traverse outside during then?

'Ah, but she's a Frue now,' Harris recalled, spear on his shoulder as he walked on the raised stairs behind the walls that surrounded Yorktown. He yawned a little, his eyes moving to watch the empty harbor and shops that lay beyond the wall.

Not everything was protected behind the wooden palisade. Due to the lack of resources and time, some of the harbor's buildings were left outside the protections of their new protections. Some of them were even scrapped for extra wood and stone.

Coils of that barbed wire also lined the outside of the palisade, the small clumps of razor-like barbs glinting in the light of the torches. Beyond them, Harris couldn't see much. The sun's light was barely becoming apparent, the horizon beyond only a light purple. As he watched, he noted something… off.

'Is it me,' Harris thought. 'Or are those ships much closer than they were the other day?'

Horns sounded out from the northern side of the blockade. Harris turned in that direction, heart dropping.

"Was that…?"

Another sounded out from the south. Then, horrifyingly, the ships to the west blew one of their own. Harris stared at the blockade of ships, their lanterns giving light to their moving crew. He could barely make out what was happening, but it became clear as glass once he saw their blackened flags lower in turn for crimson red ones.

'Oh gods.'

"We're under attack!" Harris screamed as he scrambled off of the walkway. He shoved past a couple of confused guardsmen, who only looked on in horror as the horns sounded out again. Harris kept running, hoping to reach the main longhouse before sunrise.

"Attack!" he shouted once more, voice hoarse as he ran through the streets. "Prepare the defenses! Alert the Marshal! We need to prepare!"

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Harris ran and ran, until he finally made it to the longhouse. Where he found out that they truly had no time left.

Kira loved the snow.

She loved the biting cold of the breeze, the flakes of ice peppering against her face as she stood high upon the longship's ravensnest. Her cloak flapped in the wind, exposing her stuffy black jacket and trousers, not a single inch of skin exposed. At the sight of them, Kira's good mood slowly died down. She couldn't help but feel more than a little miffed at her lack of style in these clothes.

Sure, they were warm. But they weren't exactly going to catch any eyes.

'Isn't that the point?' her rational side asked. Kira sighed at that and leaned back against the mast, her black hair whipping behind her, free as the wind.

Yes, her rational side did have a point. These were the clothes of someone who needed to be as inconspicuous as possible whilst also blending in with the dark. And as much as Kira disliked it, she had her uses in the dark. Sneaking around in the shadows didn't invoke as much excitement as it once did, but that was never the point. Not even killing that scout the other day had done much to brighten her mood.

'I was given these Blessings for a reason,' Kira thought as she focused on the air above her. Her left eye flared a little, the illusions covering their glow faltering in response. She ignored it and only focused on that specific point above her. At a moment's notice, Kira grabbed at it, feeling the solidness of the sword she had formed. She grinned with excitement.

The Blessing of Blades was something that wasn't exclusive to the sharp blades she threw around. It was something else, something much more complex than simple conjuration magic. Kira wasn't sure of its exact science. Not even Eilif knew much of it. But Kira knew that there was something more.

'The air bends to my command. Sharpens to a level unknown to normal swords,' Kira thought as she swung the invisible sword around. It was almost weightless, its size also fixed. She couldn't make it bigger once it was formed, and after half a minute…

Kira's sword disintegrated back into the air, her hand grasping around nothing by the time she swung it a third time. Still, she could see firsthand the damage it inflicted. Kira smiled at the snowflake she had sliced in half, its two ends whittling down to the floor of her watch post.

With a sigh, Kira recast her illusions, hiding her star-shaped irises and their glow. As annoying as it was to keep them hidden, she knew better than to expose their nature so openly. Being one of Master's favorites did not excuse one from the rules.

Once that was done, Kira tried her best to get comfortable in her watch post. Before she could, horns blew out from a distance. She turned, eyebrow raised as more horns sounded. They were coming from the nearby orc ships, the ones that were part of the blockade that surrounded the island.

Three distinct horns. Kira could feel a sense of excitement as their flags were changed out, replacing the pitch-black fabric with bloody red. She stood up in her watch post and looked down at the longship's deck. Blood still stained the wood, a remnant from when Eilif and her had cleared this vessel of orc presence days ago. It hadn't been too hard for Kira. Orcs were stupid enough to trick and clumsy enough to take out with ease.

Now, maintaining the illusion that covered this ship? That had been quite difficult for Kira despite her Blessings. Thankfully, the neighboring ships didn't seem too keen on investigating the seemingly silent longboat that drifted nearby. Luck had been favoring the young woman these past weeks.

"They're raiding, aren't they?" Kira asked as Eilif emerged from beneath the decks. He stood up by the ship's bow, goggles facing the blockade as another set of horns blew. Kira could feel herself getting a little excited. If the orcs were choosing to raid now, then it meant that her part in all this would come to fruition soon. She smiled broadly, her heart racing as she turned to the island before her. The island where Seamus Halvorson was surely preparing himself to defend.

How would he react? Would he stand his ground, defending the frontlines like a warrior from those old stories? Or would he cower in the rear, fearful for his own life? Kira would find out today. That was certain.

"Calm yourself," Eilif called from below, his brass goggles now transfixed on her. "This is only the first wave. We will wait for now. Once an opening shows itself, then we will go in for the kill."

"Well that's not fair," Kira said with a pout.

"It's not supposed to be," Eilif responded curtly. "If what you said about him is correct, then we know little of Seamus and his skill. Eli's death alone proves that we must move carefully against him."

Kira didn't say anything more. She knew that this immortal had a point. Seamus was an unknown piece in this grand game. His sudden appearance and survival were enough to throw everything off balance. Her Master had explicitly mentioned that it was vital that they finish what Eli and Sirius had failed to do.

"Just hold out for me," Kira whispered, almost to the winds. "I still want to glimpse into that head of yours, Halvorson."

Like many times before, Felix's life seemed to fall apart around him. The longhouse was filled with murmurs and panicked whispers of scribes, some nearby guardsmen shuffling nervously as the reports of raiders were received. Elaine stood nearby, hand fiddling with her lute as she tried to stay calm.

Felix looked to his right, where Harris, Kate, and Dirk all stood, alongside other squad leaders that were in charge of the wall bordering the harbor.

"Squads Seven, Eight, and Nine," he called. "You are to defend nodes Three and Four. Take the bowmen with you to support. We are to make sure the orcs are kept out of the wall. Squads One to Three, you are all on Nodes One and Two. It's narrower than the northern sections, so be prepared for the barricades to fall. If it does, then form a shield wall like you've practiced."

The leaders of the squads all nodded their heads before they moved out of the longhouse.

"Squads Ten to Fifteen," Felix continued, "You're on reserves for now. Gather up your squads and have them set up base around the town center." He turned to Kate, who stiffened up at his gaze. "As for Squads Four to Six, gather spears and shields from the armory and start distributing them to anyone willing to fight. We must prepare for the event if the walls break."

"You got it," Harris said with a nod alongside Dirk. They both headed out, leaving behind Kate. The young woman watched the longhouse shift into motion, scribes and guards running to fulfill their duties. Felix watched as she approached, clearly concerned.

"We're not even on reserves?" she asked, her voice barely audible in the rising cacophony. "We're not rooks at this, Felix. We can help."

"You're technically the best we have, outside of Squads Nine and Ten," Felix murmured back. Those were led by men who had experience being swords for hire. James hired them not long after Midsommar, his reasoning being that they'd probably pass on their skills and habits to their squads. Felix wished they could've hired more, but their funds were basically being strained to the very last silver scrap.

"Best you stay close to the longhouse, just in case any of the other Fronts fall and we're facing attacks from behind," Felix said before he turned to some nearby scribes. "Get me some messengers around the Yorktown wall, now! We're running blind without crystal communications."

Felix then turned to Kate, who still stood nearby with a face full of clear anxiety. He faltered a bit, realizing that he hadn't ever seen the guardswoman with such an expression.

"Rowan," he said softly, his shoulders losing tension. He knew what she was feeling. Felix had been through something similar back when the marauders had set their eyes on his home. The feeling of helplessness, accompanied by the idea that you were useless. He knew it very well. "Trust me for this, please. Go gather who you can."

Kate stirred for a moment, unsure of her movements. Then, without a word, she turned and headed out. Felix watched her go, his hand gripping the table. For a moment, he felt like he was back in that first siege. Back when he was nothing more than a useless archer who had nothing more to lose.

He shook that memory away. It wouldn't do him good to steep in his misery.

Silas stared fate in its eyes, his body tense as he watched those ships dock as close as they could to the beaches. Despite being so far away, the wind carried the sounds of gleeful shouts and war cries. Silas wrinkled his nose as their stench blew by, tainting the natural salty air.

The day of reckoning had come for Yorktown, and Silas had found himself in an unlikely spot of a defender rather than a raider. He looked to his forces, a healthy mix of seasoned orcs and prepared humans. Despite their experience and willingness, Silas could still sense their hesitation and uneasiness. They knew that the chance of survival was slim. He could sympathize with their plights, as he had never faced such daunting odds before.

'Daunting odds or not, there is little we can do to change the circumstances. We must seize the chance to fight back.'

"Prepare spears and bows!" Silas shouted to his forces. They perked up at his call, some snapping out of their stupors. Many grabbed at the spears that were stacked by the battlements, ready to throw them as practiced. Some readied bows that they trained with, their arrows varying in size. The humans got their normal bows, which were supplied by Yorktown's armory, of course. The orcs, however, had something else in mind.

Silas had found out a long time ago that normal bows were practically useless in the hands of his people. That was until he found out about a peculiar type called a War Bow. Adopted from those madmen in Areno, the orc's version of the War Bow was several times the size of a half bow and could support a thousand pounds of draw weight. Its projectiles were also changed out, favoring a spear-like arrow that could punch through unenchanted steel like nothing.

It had been the orc leader's pride and curse, his greatest and yet worst invention. For he knew that the raiding force would have War Bows of their own, a remnant from when Silas had been Blood-Irk's closest comrade.

Silas looked down at his personal War Bow, the wood new and the string made from the sinew of a dead leviathan the Monster Hunters had killed. For a moment, he could recall his old one, its wood made of a certain flexible tree from Atrox and its string crafted from a special silk from the damned continent.

He still remembered the old carving that was on its grip, the words bearing his old and deaden name.

'Blood-Rok, the Destroyer.'

Silas took a deep breath and closed his eyes for a moment. A heartbeat later, he raised his bow and grabbed one of its arrows from the sheath that hung off the back of his belt. He focused on the gravel beach ahead of him, the waters beyond peppered with the hulking figures of the orcs he had once called brothers.

He now saw them as monsters.

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