The Frost Elf horn, full of arrogant malice, echoed again, closer this time. The mood at the outpost shifted instantly from exhausted relief to cold, focused preparation.
Steven was barking orders. The remaining handful of original soldiers, plus the strongest of the newly freed people, were scrambling to reinforce the simple wooden palisade. They were not building Dwarven stone walls yet; they were putting up scare tactics.
Cedric stood atop the highest point he could reach—a makeshift platform constructed by the Stone Crew using rough lumber. He wore heavy furs and looked out across the snow, feeling the deep, internal hum of his Cryo-Mage magic.
Lord Kaelen was predictable. He thought Cedric was a weak commander who had simply stolen some slaves. He wouldn't expect a real defense, and he certainly wouldn't expect an Ice Mage who commanded the very element he relied upon.
"Lysandra!" Cedric called out. She was already moving, leading the two best young trackers who had just been given their new Adamantine-laced Hunting Bows from the Dwarves. "Where are they?"
Lysandra had positioned herself a mile out, using the snowy terrain for cover. Her reply came through a small, magically enhanced obsidian slate, direct only to Cedric.
[Lysandra Report: Kaelen is moving fast. He didn't send a full army, just a striking force. Fast archers and a few armored core units. They are closing the distance rapidly. They see the lack of smoke and know the slave camp is empty. They will reach the perimeter in under an hour.]
"Under an hour," Cedric muttered. He looked down at the outpost. The perimeter was a patchwork mess of wood and half-finished trenches dug by the civilians. It was not ready.
He focused on his goal: Delay Kaelen, protect the Dwarves, and prove his power.
"Steven! Get the civilians inside the main hall. Seal the doors. They must not see combat; they must only hear that we are fighting for them," Cedric commanded. "Thoric needs more time. Tell him to put the finishing touches on the ram tips and forget the schematics for now—we need the weapons."
Cedric descended and walked to the main gate, where the perimeter was weakest. He stood there, waiting. He felt the cold biting at him, but he welcomed it.
A few minutes later, the first visual confirmation arrived. Through the swirling snow, he saw them—the Frost Elves. They moved with unnatural grace, their ice-like armor shimmering faintly, their movements too swift for the heavy snow. And leading them was Kaelen, taller than the others, with that terrible white hair and eyes that looked like blue shards of ice.
Kaelen stopped fifty yards out, raising a long, slender hand, freezing the air between them.
"Surrender the property, Lord Cedric!" Kaelen's voice was clear, cutting through the air easily. It was powerful, older magic than Cedric's, smoother and clearly more practiced. "You have no army. You have stolen my laborers. Relinquish the resources, and I will let you freeze to death quietly."
Cedric stepped out from behind the weak wooden barrier. He stood alone in the snow, his hands open at his sides, projecting an image of calm defiance.
"Lord Kaelen," Cedric called back, making sure his voice carried the weight of his new title. "You claim what is not yours. You trespass on the lands under the protection of the Winter Lord."
Kaelen laughed, a high, cold sound that made the few nearby guards shiver despite their Elven nature. "Winter Lord? You are a mere novice, boy. I am the winter here."
Kaelen made the first move. He didn't send his troops forward. He launched a direct magical attack—a massive, silent wave of concentrated cold, designed to instantly drop the temperature to a lethal level, flash-freezing any living thing caught in the blast. It was a Massive Frost Attack, a technique that should have instantly neutralized a single, isolated human mage.
Cedric didn't dodge. He stood his ground and poured nearly all his remaining Mana into his defensive skill.
"[Frost Shroud]!"
A dome of shimmering, crystal-clear frost erupted around Cedric, meeting Kaelen's wave head-on. The impact was incredible. The air cracked like a whip. For a terrifying second, the two fields of ice magic wrestled—Kaelen's ancient, deep-blue frost meeting Cedric's newer, slightly chaotic, brighter blue power.
The ground where they met instantly turned into a rough, ugly field of fractured ice. Cedric felt the Mana drain hit him like a physical blow, pulling the energy right out of his core.
[Mana Warning! Critical Level Reached. MP: 50 / 250]
But the shroud held. Kaelen's attack was dispersed, turned into harmless, swirling snow that fell around Cedric. The attack had failed to breach his defense.
Kaelen stared, his face finally showing shock. "Impossible! That power... it's unstable, yet strong enough to meet mine!"
This was Cedric's opening. He couldn't launch an attack, but he could create a diversion. With the last bit of control he had, Cedric didn't attack Kaelen. He attacked the ground behind the main Elf force, where the snow was softest.
He slammed his foot down and sent a sharp, concentrated pulse of freezing magic deep into the earth. It didn't just freeze the surface; it flash-froze the damp ground underneath, turning the soft dirt into a slab of slick, uneven ice.
The few Elf units trying to flank him instantly lost all footing. They crashed down, their ice armor clattering loudly as they slid uncontrollably into one another. The controlled chaos was enough.
"Lysandra! Now!" Cedric yelled, though the scouts were already in position.
A volley of three silent, perfectly weighted Adamantine-laced Arrows whistled through the air—the first official use of the Dwarven craft. They didn't aim for the Elves' bodies, but for their snow-skis and the ropes holding their supply packs.
The arrows struck true. The skis shattered, and the supply packs—likely containing vital warming charms or food caches—were ripped away, scattering uselessly into the wind.
Kaelen roared, realizing his entire scouting force was now tangled, stuck, or running after lost supplies. His surprise attack had utterly failed. He looked at the small figure standing unharmed in the center of the chaos.
"You are a fool to challenge me, boy!" Kaelen shrieked, gathering his magic for a second, full assault.
Cedric smiled, utterly drained but triumphant. "I am the Winter Lord," he said, his voice barely a rasp. "And this is my winter."
He staggered back toward the makeshift wooden gate, knowing his Mana was nearly empty, but the demonstration was complete. Kaelen now knew this opponent was not a helpless human lord, but a dangerous anomaly.