A chilling wind scoured the peaks of the Frost-Spine mountains. Kael stood exposed, a lone figure against the white fury. Light leather stretched over his muscled frame, providing scant protection. Still, the brutal cold failed to register. His gaze, distant and melancholic, pierced the vast, featureless expanse of the Shattered Expanse. He was simply *there*, absorbed by the profound quiet. "What contemplation holds you?" A voice, bright and utterly unfazed by the arctic gusts, sliced through the air. Lyra approached from behind, her ash-gray hair whipped by the wind, matching his sparse attire. Head tilted, she regarded him with genuine curiosity. "Just taking in the panorama," Kael replied, not shifting his gaze. "Why the need to calm your spirit?" Lyra persisted. "Spirit is weary. Exhausted, in fact. Quit interrogating me, you unburdened barbarian." Kael finally turned, a flicker of irritation in his ash-gray eyes. "Your spirit feels tired?" She cocked her head again, utterly perplexed. "How does a spirit get tired? Not the body, just the spirit? I don't grasp this concept." "Ugh, forget it," Kael sighed heavily, running a hand through his wind-tossed hair. "Agreed to take first watch, remember? What brings you here? Trouble brewing?" Kael's expression tightened, annoyance etched across his features. "Again? Warned them against consuming those things. Promised death, specifically. Less than a week gone, and they defied me *again*?" Lyra's smile was bright, unsettling. "Considered it a proud challenge. Quite impressive, their tenacity." "Damn it." Kael swore under his breath, another deep sigh escaping him. "Leave the bodies undisturbed. Will handle them when I return. Don't go 'snacking' during the mourning rites. Don't end up dead yourselves." Hesitation touched Lyra's face. "But..." "Eat them, and I'll end you myself," Kael snapped, a sharp click of his tongue following. "A-alright. Won't touch them. Promise." Lyra shivered, though not from the cold, and darted away, a swift, agile blur against the snow. Watching her disappear, Kael sighed again. Could not stop a fresh curse from forming. "Damn, ignorant barbarians." Consuming the Void-Grubs didn't scare them. Despite certain death, they faced it. Yet, his simple threat sent them scattering. Truly foolish people, Kael mused. He resumed his trek, form dissolving into the swirling snow. --- Pure white stretched out, an unending canvas of snow and ice. Slowly, a small convoy of carriages made its laborious way across it. "Ugh. Gods, it's brutal out here." Joric, one of the outriders, yanked his fur hat lower, attempting to shield his face. Misty breath instantly froze, a cloud of frost that fractured and fell. His eyebrows, stiff with ice, felt ready to snap off. "More fur, or you'll join the frost-sculptures." Commander Thorne, leader of the mercenary guard, spoke with grim stoicism. His words spurred the other guards to clutch their collars tighter, their faces etched with suffering. Clattering teeth formed their replies. Forward they pressed, a grinding crawl. Wagon tracks and footprints marked the pristine snow for only moments, swallowed swiftly by relentless, driving flakes. Joric glanced around, nervous tremors making him shiver despite the furs. "Commander, the reward tempts, truly, but this is sheer madness." Thorne scanned the horizon. Ahead, behind, left, right—only white. They presented the only color, a tiny smudge against the colossal blankness. "How are we to traverse the Shattered Expanse? This defies sense." Joric pleaded, trying to sway his captain. "Silence." Thorne's voice rang out, sharp as ice. "Everyone agreed to this venture." "Then quiet. We approach the Boundary." A muttered curse escaped Joric. He fell silent, energy for idle talk all but gone. Speaking meant drawing frigid air into protesting lungs, a searing pain. Heavy silence descended once more as they resumed their slow progress. Inside a carriage, well-appointed despite the hostile environment, Master Lorien clicked his tongue. Long white beard, elegant robes—he projected an image of refined worry. "Lady Elara, are you well?" "Yes." Elara Vespera nodded, her azure hair swaying gently. Dark eyes met his concerned gaze. "I am fine, Master Lorien." "Such a lamentable necessity, this personal journey..." Master Lorien sighed deeply, his worry palpable. "No, I must be present," she stated firmly. "Part of my compact with my father." "If asked, your father possesses an unyielding harshness. He ought to appreciate your efforts to preserve the family line..." "Damn it! Freezing my damned gonads off out here!" A crude cry from outside the carriage ripped through the air. Master Lorien's concerned words died in his throat, replaced by a sour expression. "Such ill-mannered individuals..." "Oh, please don't be too severe with them. They were the sole company willing to escort us across the Shattered Expanse," Elara said, her tone gentle. "Well, that may hold true, but..." "By the way, could they not come inside? They suffer terribly from the cold." Against the biting chill, the carriage shuddered, a soft groan escaping its timbers. Even the protective arcanic barrier, shimmering faintly, strained under the intense cold. Imagining the torment outside, Elara voiced her concern. Master Lorien, however, rejected her suggestion with a firm shake of his head. "No, Lady Elara. You recall what dwells within this frozen expanse." "You mean... the creatures?" Monsters of the Shattered Expanse were legends, unfathomably horrifying. "While encounter odds remain low, vigilance is paramount. For this, we retain these sellswords as our guardians," Master Lorien explained. "Right. But..." Elara gazed out the window. Nothing but white, an endless blankness. "Anyone truly survives out there?" "That's merely a legend. No human could persist in such a place." "Yet, a credible legend." "Well..., yes, that is factual." Master Lorien did not outright dispute her point. Long ago, in ages almost forgotten, Emperor Veridian's dominion stretched across Aethelgard, from sun-baked shores to whispering forests. Still, it left the Shattered Expanse untouched. This vast wilderness, covering more than half the known world, lay at the very heart of his empire. A realm of frozen hell, from which none returned. Yet the Emperor, relentless in his ambition to control all, sought to conquer the Shattered Expanse. He led his mightiest warriors and legions into its depths. Years later, long after his empire crumbled, his name all but faded from memory, the Emperor returned. He had lost countless soldiers and champions, emerging alone, aged far beyond his years. Like a man maddened, he muttered of monsters: Frostwyrms devouring glaciers, Glacier-Grizzlies shaking the earth, Skitter-Rats tainting the seas. However, he claimed, the most perilous inhabitants of the Shattered Expanse were not its beasts. "Old Emperor Veridian spoke of ash-gray haired barbarians with scarred chests, correct?" Elara inquired. Indeed, barbarians lived in the Shattered Expanse. "A mere delusion, surely," Master Lorien replied dismissively. "But the Emperor's accounts have proven accurate. Many of his described monsters were later discovered." After Veridian's demise, numerous adventurers dared the Shattered Expanse. Most vanished without a trace. A few returned, their harrowing tales matching the Emperor's descriptions. "Still, no reports of the barbarians have emerged," Master Lorien countered. Every survivor's account lacked any mention of these elusive people. "Likely just the Emperor's ravings, Lady Elara. Nothing for us to concern ourselves with." Elara fell silent, agreeing with Master Lorien that such matters were beyond their immediate worry. Just then, a sharp rap echoed on the carriage wall. "Approaching the Boundary, I believe, Lady Elara," Master Lorien announced, his voice tight. "I see," Elara responded, her own tension evident. Both Master Lorien and Elara tensed. Not all sections of the Shattered Expanse were equally perilous. Countless sacrifices had, over generations, charted the regions where monsters truly lurked. Crossing into those zones dramatically increased the likelihood of an encounter. Mercenaries' faces tightened, their already quiet footsteps becoming almost imperceptible. "Boundary proximity does not guarantee an encounter," Commander Thorne spoke, calmly, attempting to bolster morale. "Careful movement can avoid trouble. Even if we do meet something, most monsters here are manageable." "But if we meet the unmanageable ones," Joric asked, voice trembling, "we all perish, correct?" "That, I'm afraid, is the risk. Yet, hope remains. Proceed slowly." Wheels creaked softly as they inched forward, each mercenary coiled, muscles taut with anticipation. Each hoped desperately to avoid any flicker of color, any break in the monotonous white world. Fate, however, had other plans. "Everyone, halt." Commander Thorne stopped abruptly, hand raising. "Something is here." "Difficult to discern." The intense cold blurred vision, allowing only a vague, shifting shape to register. "Good news, bad news," Commander Thorne murmured, squinting into the swirling snow. "Damn it, just spit it out!" "Good news: it's small." Countless creatures roamed this place, some as large as mountains. A human-sized threat at least offered a fighting chance. "Bad news: it's moving toward us." Commander Thorne knew evasion was impossible. Curses mingled with the rasp of drawn blades as each mercenary braced for battle. Inside the carriage, Master Lorien and Elara clenched their fists, knuckles white. In the biting wind, their foe slowly, inexorably drew closer. Finally, through the frigid mist, the shape resolved. Commander Thorne, poised to strike, froze mid-action. Within the carriage, Elara's eyes widened in utter shock. The figure before them was no monster. "A... human?" Elara whispered, disbelief lacing her tone. Ash-gray hair billowed against the stark white backdrop. An imposing physique, perfectly sculpted, bore an impressive scar, as if his chest had ripped open then healed. He wore only a light leather vest, seemingly oblivious to the brutal chill. "A... barbarian?" someone breathed, a collective realization dawning. Watching them in silence, the barbarian at last spoke, his voice clear despite the wind, carrying a distinct, weary amusement. "Just out for a stroll, truly. Hoping to avoid returning to *that*. But look at my luck." For a moment, they doubted their senses. The very symbol of savage legend, standing before them, spoke with articulate ease. His ash-gray eyes met theirs, a knowing glint within them. "Pleased to make your acquaintance," the barbarian declared, a faint, wry smile touching his lips.

Frost-Kissed Welcome