In recent decades, the activity of demons and aberrations in the northern Frostlands had significantly diminished. A few attempt to pass the border, but Kaldur's pass, a mountain range bordering the far north, holds the continent's second largest fortress city besides Ciceli, named, "The Mountain Frontier, Kaldera".
The mountain range of Kaldur's pass stretches across the northern end of the continent, creating a natural wall, separating the north from the rest of the continent. At its center, the mass of mountains is split in the middle, revealing an unnatural, clean-cut pass, hence its name. Historical accounts state that the pass was named after Kaldur, a member of Aria Ciceli's party. It is said that Kaldur split the mountain range as he saw it inconvenient and "annoying" to maneuver around. With a single strike using all his might, he split the mountains in half, cleaving a straight path to the other side. From then on, Kaldur's pass was used to funnel and defend against the continued assault of hostile forces.
Kaldera is neutral territory with no lord, but is overseen by an alliance of the empire, and neighbouring kingdoms, housing various knight orders from each. Kaldera has large military training facilities, but is also a bustling city for trade and a frequent, often permanent residency for adventurers. Furthermore, the city also houses members of the "Holy Order, Heaven's Hand", the strongest knight order sent by the empire, significantly bolstering its defensive strength.
The monitoring and patrols of Kaldur's pass is constant, rotating schedules of different orders manning the walls, gates, and forward stations found in intervals along the pass. Many travel into the Frostlands for their own agendas, be it glory for their order, or adventurers seeking treasure from the many ruins in the far north. To reduce risk of a large-scale attack, and increase safety of general ventures, efforts to reduce hostile numbers are made via expeditions hosted by the alliance, sending seasoned adventurers, knights, paladins, battle sisters, combat priests, and volunteer expeditioners into the deepest, most dangerous parts of the north. The expeditions normally happen thrice a year, adjusting frequency based on hostile activity. Each expedition is treated as a festival, aptly named, "The Culling Festival" celebrating continuous victories and success with little to no casualties suffered.
Today was the eve of one such festival. The cityfolk gathered in the plaza for the formal announcement. A well dressed man in black, draped with a red sash stepped onto a stage, unfurling a scroll.
"Hear ye! Hear ye! I bring great tidings, my word is to be treated one with that of the alliance!" He spoke loudly, turning to the crowd, confirming their interest and understanding.
"The emperor, in accordance with the alliance, has permitted the expedition once more! However, tomorrow's expedition will only consist of 50 members!" He announced, to the dismay of many.
"Fear not! This expedition will be treated as a forward party, soon to be reinforced after five nights post-departure from Kaldera, by another expedition, 300 strong, led by an additional 30 personnel under the banner of the Holy Order, Heavens Hand!" He hastily added, the crowd erupting in cheers.
"Their objective! Secure a foothold to the south of Frostburrow and stand their ground until reinforcements arrive!" He declared, the crowd cheering even louder knowing the implications.
Frostburrow was once a mining village located in the northeast region of the frostlands, and was now a nest for demons. Tomorrow, the continent joins forces to begin retaking lost land.
As dusk arrived, festivities had already been long underway. People began organizing, making their last preparations for the coming expedition. Totalling a force of 380, and the support of many knight orders, most were already convinced of their success. After hours of continuous celebration, the city had finally gone silent, a courtesy for those that were to depart the morning after. As dawn broke, the city's large iron gates opened, and the forward force of the expedition departed.
The expedition passed through multiple stations along the pass, receiving praises, donations of rations, and words of encouragement for the upcoming mission.
They were 50 people strong. Consisting of three mages, four battle sisters, led by a combat priest. 10 highly reputable adventurers in parties of five, and 32 knights from varying orders. With two carriages filled with rations and materials for a makeshift base, and three transport carriages, they were extremely confident in fulfilling their objective.
Over the course of three days, they trekked through harsh conditions, the weather worsening each day. The Frostlands were brutal, with dangerous paths, cliffs, piled snow, blizzards, and the threat of an attack from the woods. These conditions were nothing they couldn't handle, most of them had settled in Kaldera for many years already, the mages and sisters providing them with ample heat using magic, giving them comfort, making the cold easily bearable. Curiously enough, they hadn't encountered a single hostile creature. A few wolves had observed them from afar but made no actual moves. There were noises from the woods, a normal occurrence when venturing in the Frostlands, but no actual threat. Even as they closed in on their destination, there had been nothing that interfered.
After a while, they set up their base, their tents erected, and campfires burning bright. They began unpacking, the knights surveying the surroundings. Once everything had been properly laid out, they began to erect wooden walls, the knights gathering lumber from the nearby forest. Despite the noise, nothing had come. To the expeditioners, it brought them relief knowing they could establish a base without trouble, completing their mission without any issues. Regardless of how smooth the expedition seemed to be going, they couldn't help but exercise caution. They were only a couple of miles away from Frostburrow and letting their guard down at the wrong moment could spell their doom.
…
A day had passed, still nothing. A few thrill seeking knights were getting impatient.
"This isn't the expedition I signed up for… " One of them began conversing.
"The last expedition said they encountered hundreds of demons in a single day."
"Isn't that just an exaggeration?"
"I doubt it. The expedition before that said the same thing."
"Then doesn't that mean they exterminated everything in the area?"
"Can't be. There's usually a couple thousand in larger nests. They multiply like crazy. Hell, we don't actually know where they're even coming from." Another knight joined in, taking a seat near one of the campfires.
"What if we went to Frostburrow? It's only about a few hour's walk."
"Too risky. Besides, the captains wouldn't permit it." A mage chimed in.
"Just wait for orders, the captains are reporting it in."
"How much longer will the next group take?"
"Around two more days I believe."
"Getting bored already?" One of the knight captains asked, leaving one of the tents.
"N- no… It's just… It's not what we expected."
"Well, let's go get your kicks. We're moving out. Orders from high up let us survey." The captain added, throwing the knight his sword.
Taking a mage, two sisters, five adventurers, and eight knights led by their captain, they rode on horseback, headed to Frostburrow.
…
On their way on a trail to Frostburrow, they came across disemboweled corpses of wolves, bears, and demons. Traces of battle were evident with the fallen trees, and scattered blood painted onto the snow. The group glanced at each other, showing concern. They rode faster despite the weather picking up, following the massacre of demons, and the trail of blood. Many different kinds of demons were scattered across the trail, some had limbs dismembered, some had their entire heads seemingly ripped from their body, one of them was crudely split, vertically in half.
When they reached Frostburrow, they saw bodies upon bodies of demons, piled upon the snow. A trail of blood leading to a person(?).
The trail led to what looked like a human female. She was covered in torn rags and a poorly put together cloak made of fur. She held a small demon by the neck, high above the ground, snapping its neck, twisting its body, savagely splitting it, tearing it with ease. She held it over her head, dousing her face in its entrails.
Her cloak's hood falls, revealing a beautiful woman with pale, porcelain-like skin, an unmoving, expressionless face, wide crimson eyes, and long flowy white hair. The sight is paradoxical, someone doll-like, fragile, yet was able to rip a demon like paper.
She finally notices the group's presence, dropping the demon's body, eerily turning her head towards them. Snow falling, a blizzard forming, her crimson red iris piercing the snow, eyes on their group. They raised their swords, prepared for battle. She walked slowly, leaving footprints on the ground…
A trail of red snow…