OPEN | Blood And Ice

[northcliffpass]

Civil Blood

I. News from the West

The story of why gets twisted and distorted between its departure from the Crags and its arrival in Northcliff Pass, but the town criers maintain consistency on a few points: Althea of House Jessamy, Duchess of Black Rock, has at last thrown down the gauntlet against the Duke of Cliffside, and has called on her vassals to rally their bannermen. It seems there will be war within the borders of Maireglenne for the first time in a hundred years.

Given the state of the roads leading through the pass, it is understandable that the news is a few weeks’ stale by the time armed soldiers sporting Duke Galein’s colours march (or gallop, if they are astride a horse) past the village walls and garrison themselves on the festival grounds. Anyone objecting to this new arrangement is encouraged by the soldiers to bring their objections to the garrison commander (who, rumor has it, personally oversees the flogging of objectors himself).

Like it or not, the regiment is here to stay, at least until they receive orders instructing them otherwise. On the bright side, the soldiers did the hard work of clearing the pass for the season; travel between Northcliff Pass and the city of Cliffside just got a heck of a lot easier this winter.

II. Cold Snap

And it’s highly likely that those orders will be as delayed as the news, for the regiment has hardly been within the city walls a week before the temperatures plunge to dangerous lows. This is not the seasonal frigidity accompanied by blustery blizzards that encourage snowball fights and a bit of ice fishing down by Sands Creek, but a cold so biting and bitter that any prolonged period spent outside in it runs the very real risk of hypothermia and death. This is the kind of cold that leaves the air clean and clear, with nothing to impede the watery white light of the sun for the few hours it spends above the horizon each day before setting again; it cuts the lungs when inhaled and bites straight through to the bone. Many of the village’s poor are brought within the sturdy walls of the Town Hall and the chapel, because the alternative is finding them frozen solid in the streets.

The silver lining to this development is bare indeed; avoiding the cold means that, for a time at least, the village residents and soldiers are too preoccupied hunkering down to endure the cold to be at cross purposes.

III. A Howl in the Night

On the third night of the deep freeze, an animal’s piercing howl shatters the oppressive silence that has settled over the village.

It’s not a wolf’s howl; it is far too shrill and keening, and comes from a great distance away, that much is clear. The few villagers brave enough to risk exposure to the cold will find nothing of immediate danger within the city walls--but should they lift their eyes and look to the gossamer clouds near the summit of Gods’ Reach, they will glimpse the dark silhouette of a massive winged beast circling the mountaintop in search of a safe place to roost.

Comments

II

[ragweed]

It is Kit who answers the door, albeit only after a lengthy pause and some muted conversation from the other side of the door. For a brief moment when he cracks the door open, only one dark, assessing eye is visible. Then he seems to relax, flips the latch, and pulls the door open more fully.

"Room in front of the hearth, anyway," he says, then glances over his shoulder once as though to verify with Ben that yes, this is still the case.

[engravitas]

Ben is inside, seated at his workbench and detailing a chair's legs, and he looks up when Colin enters. Although there's no friendly smile or hello to greet the man, he does offer a nod of acknowledgment, clearly having given his blessing (or what amounts to such) for this person in particular to share their space.

A little fish stew goes a long way.

[keenly]

That is the least-unhappy look Ben has given him in greeting ever. Sort of amazing, really. He gives a smile and a wave as he shuffles in with his things.

"Sorry. The oven's not quite doing it anymore, cold as it is."

[ragweed]

Kit shuts the door behind Colin as soon as he's across the threshold, then crouches down to stuff a cloth along the gap between the door and the ground. He and Ben may own a house and a workshop, but it's hardly a fortress against the cold. They make do.

"Can't guarantee this'll be an improvement," he says as he straightens up, rolls his shoulders, then heads over to the hearth. "Coffee or tea?"

[engravitas]

Ben has given his greeting (such that it is), and seems content to listen silently as Kit does all the talking.
The detail he's putting on the chair legs is decidedly lovely: a carefully swirling vine pattern, each leaf and blossom meticulously etched.

[keenly]

"Tea, thank you," Colin says to Kit as he finds a spot to set down his things. He'd ordinarily refuse anything, but it's so cold. "Do you need any help with anything?"