Frozen Flame of Dawn-Chapter 36 - 17: Blood Red Sunrise_2

The soft creak of the study door opening made him glance up. Prime Minister Varric entered with a slow, steady stride, his expression measured but not without concern.

"Your Majesty," Varric said with a bow, his graying hair neatly combed and his robes perfectly arranged. "Prince Kaelen has departed with the Royal Guard. He should arrive at Farhold by dawn."

"Good," Alaric muttered, folding the report and setting it aside. He sat back in his chair, fingers steepling beneath his chin. "If that Duke is still breathing by the time Kaelen arrives, it will be by Kaelen’s mercy alone."

Varric’s mouth twitched into a small smile. "Then I suspect the Duke should be preparing his last words."

When Alaric answered, "If he’s wise," his eyes lit up with the cold fire of power. "But I don’t think so. Usually, foolish guys don’t realize their foolishness until it’s too late."

Varric stepped closer and looked over the map with his eyes. "Permission to speak, Your Majesty."

Sensing approval his fingers hovered over the province of Farhold, tapping lightly on its border. "We’ve received reports of smaller provinces experiencing similar unrest. They aren’t large enough to warrant a royal intervention, but it may require more of our resources than anticipated."

"Then increase the number of militant recurits from those regions," Alaric said bluntly. "I will not drain the capital’s strength to coddle petty lords who cannot handle their own people. If they fail, they will be replaced."

Varric gave a small nod. "I will see it done."

There was a pause, and in that pause, the tension between them was palpable. Alaric glanced up, his silver eyes sharper than ever. "What is it, Varric? You have something on your mind."

The prime minister hesitated but only for a moment. "The broadcast, Your Majesty."

Alaric leaned forward, his eyes narrowing. "What of it?"

Varric placed his hands behind his back, his gaze distant. "It was too… precise. Whoever made it knew exactly what was coming. They predicted the surge, the collapse of communications, even the changes in animals and beasts. It’s not natural for one to know such things with such precision."

The Emperor’s face was stone-cold, but his eyes flickered with something deeper. "Are you suggesting it was not a warning, but a message?"

"I am," Varric said softly. "Someone with knowledge of the future or source of this cause, Your Majesty, is far more dangerous than the chaos we face now."

Alaric leaned back in his chair, his gaze distant as his fingers tapped against the armrest. "Then we’ll find them, Prime Minister. Every voice has an origin. No one speaks from the void." His eyes flicked toward the glowing embers of the fireplace. "No one."

Farhold Province – At Dawn

The town square of Farhold was in ruins. Broken carts lay scattered, shop windows shattered, and the air reeked of smoke. Cracked cobblestones were littered with debris, and distant flames licked the rooftops of smaller buildings.

The once-proud banners of the Duke fluttered weakly in the night air, torn and burnt at the edges.

A woman with disheveled hair stumbled down the street, clutching a crying child in her arms. She looked behind her every few steps, her eyes darting wildly. They’re still out there, she thought, heart pounding in her chest.

A crash echoed from one of the alleyways. A scream followed.

"Move, move!" shouted a man leading a group of people carrying makeshift weapons—wooden planks, metal pipes, and broken bottles. Their eyes darted in every direction, their nerves frayed to the breaking point.

The sound of footsteps—heavy, uneven—echoed from behind them. A figure emerged from the shadows.

He wasn’t large, but his eyes were wild, glowing faintly green, and his body jerked like a puppet with tangled strings. His hands twitched with barely restrained energy, sparks of green lightning flickering around his fingers.

"Awakened…" the woman breathed, clutching her child tighter. She stumbled backward, her breath coming in ragged gasps.

"Come play," the man crooned, his eyes wide with unhinged excitement. His steps were slow, deliberate, like a predator playing with its prey. "Don’t run. It’s more fun if you don’t run."

"Run, NOW!" one of the men in the group yelled, pushing the others forward.

The woman turned and ran, her feet slamming against the cobblestones. Her heart thundered in her chest, her child’s cries filling her ears. She didn’t dare look back.

The air behind her crackled. The sound of sizzling energy—then a snap.

Her vision went white. Her feet slipped. She tumbled forward, hitting the ground hard, her arms cradling her child. Her ears rang, her vision spinning. The smell of burning stone filled her nostrils.

"Ah, too slow," the man’s voice echoed, his footsteps growing louder. "See, now you’ve gone and hurt yourself. Let me help."

She scrambled to her feet, eyes wide with terror. Her body trembled, muscles sluggish from the impact. "Please," she whispered, her voice barely audible. "Don’t…"

A sudden CRACK rang through the street.

The man froze mid-step. His eyes flicked toward his chest—where the head of an arrow jutted out, its shaft vibrating from the impact.

His mouth opened in shock. He looked up.

Crown Prince Kaelen stepped from the shadows, bow in hand, eyes sharp and cold. His Royal Guard filed in behind him like a wall of steel and iron.

"Go ahead," Kaelen said, his tone calm, his gaze unyielding. "Take one more step. I dare you."

The man’s wild eyes flickered with confusion, then rage. He reached out, sparks of green lightning forming in his hands—but a second arrow struck him in the throat.

He crumpled like a rag doll.

Kaelen lowered his bow, his expression cold as he walked past the body. He stopped next to the woman and knelt. The child in her arms looked at him with wide, teary eyes.

His expression softened as he announced, "You are now secure, my guards will take you to shelter."

While crying, the woman hurriedly nodded and held her child closer.

Rising to his feet, Kaelen turned to face to the unit’s captain. "Get the square secured, Captain Voss. Around every block, I want to see patrols."

"Yes, Your Highness," the captain replied, signaling to his men.

Kaelen’s eyes turned toward the heart of Farhold. "We find the Duke next," he said, his voice carrying the weight of the Emperor himself. "And if he’s still sitting in his manor while his people bleed, I’ll drag him to the capital myself."

Inside the Safe House

As Amira moved, fully geared—black tactical armor molded to her figure, utility belts lined with pouches and knives, and her reinforced combat boots thudding with each step.

Her sleek gloves tightened as she flexed her fingers, mentally going over everything she would need for the mission ahead.

When she approached the control room, she spotted Sally just ahead, carrying a tangled mess of wires slung over her shoulder.

The younger woman’s auburn hair stuck to her forehead with sweat, and her face carried the look of someone who’d been running on three hours of sleep—at best. She nearly bumped into Amira before catching herself.

"Captain?" Sally stopped, blinking in surprise. "You’re already up?"

"Rest isn’t on the schedule today, Sally," Amira replied coolly, tilting her head at the wires draped over her shoulder. "What’s with the mess of spaghetti you’ve got there?"

Sally let out a tired laugh, wiping her brow with the back of her hand. "Setting up a short-range transmitter," she said, motioning behind her with a thumb.

"We’ve established a one-kilometer coverage radius around the safe house. Smooth comms between us and the patrol squads. Working on extending it a few more kilometers, but—" she gave a tired shrug, "—we’ll need another half hour."

Amira nodded once. "Make it fast. I’m not waiting if something comes up."

Sally gave her a mock salute, her grin lopsided. "Aye-aye, Captain. I’ll work my magic."

As Amira turned to walk away, Sally glanced at her again, hesitating. "Hey, Captain—mind if I tag along this time? I’ve been stuck in here for too long, and I could—"

Amira stepped closer, lifting a hand, and gently but firmly pressed her fingers to Sally’s forehead. "No. You finish the task first." Her tone was firm but not unkind. "We need comms more than an extra set of hands right now."

Sally pouted like a child denied dessert. "Fine, fine. But will be tagging along next time."

The Restaurant – Safe House Dining Hall

The smell of cooked eggs, fried bread, and fresh stew filled the dining hall. Despite the tension in the air, people still found time to eat. Soldiers, scouts, and fighters sat at metal tables, shoveling food into their mouths like it was their last meal.

Some were in full gear, helmets resting on the table next to plates, while others were still strapping on armor as they ate.

Amira stepped into the room, her eyes scanning the crowd. Outside, a group of mechanics and soldiers were inspecting the armored jeeps lined up along the concrete platform, checking fuel lines, tightening bolts, and reinforcing the metal plating.

The sun had barely risen, but the air was already buzzing with movement.

Amira walked over to one of the larger tables, where Bella was laughing, mid-bite, her plate piled with bread, sausage, and fruit. Her eyes lit up as she saw Amira approach.

"You arrived early I thought it will take half hour more," Bella said with a grin, wiping her mouth with her sleeve.

"Don’t get too comfortable, Bella," Amira replied, pulling up a chair. "You’re staying."

Bella paused, her grin vanishing. "What?"

"You heard me," Amira said, grabbing a piece of bread from Bella’s plate. She took a bite, chewing slowly as she locked eyes with her. "Pick one hundred of the best. Patrol the perimeter. Keep the safe house secure."

Bella groaned, slumping forward like a child who’d been told to do homework. "Why me, though? You always give me the babysitting jobs."

"Because you don’t lose your head under pressure," Amira replied, her tone sharp. "And if something happens, I need someone I trust watching over everyone else’s families."

Bella stared at her for a moment, her lips pressing into a thin line. She looked like she wanted to argue, but instead, she leaned back with a loud sigh. "Fine. But I’m taking the good gear this time."

"Take whatever you want," Amira said, wiping her hands clean. "Just get it done."

Bella stood, stretching her arms with exaggerated flair. "You hear that, everyone? I’m queen of the babysitters again." She grabbed her helmet, slapping it on her head as she stomped toward the recruits.

Amira shook her head, a faint smirk tugging at her lips. She’ll complain all day, but she’ll do it perfectly.

After sometime, Two hundred member for the unit stood in formation, armored jeeps lined behind them. Each soldier stood straight, weapons ready, faces hardened with quiet resolve. Amira paced in front of them, her voice sharp as steel.

"We’re heading to Nakaris village 200 km from here," she called out, her voice carrying over the engine hums. "We secure the route from here to the village. Once there, we’ll build a temporary station and transfer families there safely. If the villagers need help, we give it. If they’re safe, we keep moving."

Her eyes moved across each face, locking with each soldier’s gaze for just a second before moving to the next.

"From Nakaris, we push toward the town in Icelorn Basin. There’s a military warehouse there. We take it. We fortify it. It becomes our stronghold."

"YES, CAPTAIN!" they cried out in unison.

"Let’s depart," Amayra directed.

Everyone moved as one, climbing into the jeeps. Amira climbed into the lead jeep, her eyes locked on the eastern horizon.

Along the road, the sound of engines could be heard. As they went by, dust kicked up behind them and made a hazy path. With one hand on the grip bar and her eyes on the treeline, Amira sat in the front.

The driver, a young soldier named Ralph, glanced at her. "Quiet ride so far, huh, Captain?"

"Don’t jinx it," Amira muttered.

Then, like fate answering the call, the treeline exploded.

A giant horned elk charged out, eyes glowing with bright green fire. Its antlers shimmered like crystal, jagged and sharp. It barreled toward the second jeep, hooves slamming into the ground with thunderous cracks.

"CONTACT!" someone shouted.

The second jeep swerved just in time as the elk’s antlers pierced through the side of the vehicle, its body twisting the frame like it was made of tin. Sparks flew. Soldiers inside shouted, one of them dragging a wounded comrade from the wreck.

"TAKE IT DOWN!" Amira roared.

Gunfire erupted. Bullets peppered the elk’s side, but its toughened hide deflected most of them.

"Shoot the legs!" Amira shouted, yanking a bolt-action rifle from the seat beside her. She opened the window, leaned out, and took aim.

Exhale. Steady.

CRACK!

Her shot struck the beast’s left hind leg, sending it crashing to the ground with a thundering roar. The soldiers swarmed it, unloading bullets into its chest until it stopped moving.

"Status check!" Amira barked, eyes scanning the convoy.

"Two injured!" someone called back. "Minor fractures, but we’re good to go."

"Get them patched up," Amira said, eyes still on the forest. They’re watching.

"Captain?" Ralph asked, glancing at her.

Amira ’s eyes remained locked on the treeline. The shadows moved. More red eyes glowed in the distance, watching.

"They’re testing us," she muttered. "Next time, they won’t just send one."

Her grip on the rifle tightened as the jeeps rumbled back to life.

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Let them come, she thought, her eyes like steel. They’ll wish they stayed in the woods.