Frostbound [LitRPG Apocalypse]

Chris

Frostheim

The urge to do many things hit me all at the same time as the messenger relayed what he knew. A large force suddenly attacked the mine under the cover of night. The guards and miners fought back, but they were slaughtered. Fleeing miners were chased into the woods as they escaped.

Only a few made it out, and the one in front of me had run with everything he had to make it back here as quickly as possible.

Every further detail I learned made my face turn harder and harder.

I wanted to run off toward the mine, I wanted to hit something, I wanted to scream, I wanted to rush to Lakeshore, and I wanted to feel my hammer hit something hard.

Admittedly, many of them were rather violent.

Getting news like that was bad on even the best of days, but receiving it while my head was filled with grief and not a small amount of alcohol? Even worse.

The messenger's face was contorted in fear and worry. It was impossible to control my anger while hearing that citizens of mine were slaughtered. My aura had flared strongly and abruptly, with no respite.

"Chris, calm down," Abigail soothed, and for a moment, I had forgotten there were people around me. "We need to think about this rationally."

"Rationally?" I asked when words finally came to me, "There is only one rational option."

"It takes days to reach the mine. If the messenger is only just arriving, the attack is long over." Abigail said like I didn't already know that.

"When I said there was one option, I did not mean running off toward the mine," I said. Still seething, I walked off toward the Castle at a brisk pace.

The fire we had been drinking around only had Hal and Abigail left, excluding myself. The rest had gone off to bed at various points in the night, which left only those two to follow after me.

It took Abigail only a moment to gather my meaning, "No, you don't mean to..."

"I do." I said firmly, and it wasn't only my anger behind the decision, "They were warned, and they did so anyway. They made their choice. It is now time to show them the consequences."

"The city isn't lightly defended," Hal informed, "I've already told you of what they had in place, and they'll likely have more if they did this deliberately."

"It matters little." I said, "One way or another, they will face the consequences. I will make them."

"Chris, now is not the time to be making such ra- large decisions. We should take the night to think about it carefully and come up with–"

"No," I cut Abigail off, "There is no point in waiting."

Abigail got angry at my dismissiveness, "We should take a moment to think about things without resorting to impulsiveness! The only thing we know is that the mine was attacked and nothing else. What if this is a deliberate provocation?! What if this attack is meant to send you raging off toward their city, where an ambush or a trap awaits?! All I'm saying is that we should take more than five seconds before we rashly jump to a conclusion!"

Her words were heard, but I didn't much care. Even if there was an ambush or if this attack was a trap, it was something to face head-on. My reasoning was simple.

"Even if this is all an elaborate trap, it makes no difference. There is still only one path, and that path is forward." I said.

By this time, we had reached the Castle and made it to my destination. In my office, there was a gift from Austin hanging on the wall. At the time, when Austin first gave it to me, he had meant it as a joke.

"If you're diving into this aesthetic, you might as well go in with both feet." He'd said it with a toothy smile while handing it over.

But now, I saw it as something different.

The Wannabe Viking War Horn, he had called it.

The horn was from a D-rank bison Austin had killed himself before he commissioned it carved. The man wasn't one to take half measures, and he had Gabriel enchant it as well. It was a gift I never imagined I would use. It had one purpose and one purpose only. To project sound in as wide an area as possible.

"Did you listen to a word I said?!" Abigail shouted as I picked up the horn from my wall.

"Yes, I did," I said with a calmness that surprised even me, "But you forget something."

Her rebuttal died as she ran through what she could possibly be missing.

"Precedent."

"Precedent?" Abigail asked, confused both at the change of direction and my change in tone.

The story has been illicitly taken; should you find it on Amazon, report the infringement.

"We must set a precedent. We must show everyone what happens when you don't heed my warning. We must show what happens when you attack what's ours. We must show what happens when you kill my citizens!" I said, the anger coming back.

"Provocation? Traps? Ambushes? So what. We will not sit and delay our response, waiting for more information that may or may not come when in the end, we will march on Lakeshore either way."

Abigail assumed I was reacting on impulse. While she wasn't entirely wrong, she wasn't entirely right either. My first impulse was to attack Lakeshore, but it wasn't just my impulse talking.

It was also the future. It was best to be clear, open, and glaringly obvious about our response to such actions. So that anyone who entertains such ideas in the future knows what awaits them. There would be no half measures. No concessions. No talks to diffuse the situation.

No. Diplomacy was offered and rejected at the same time my warning wasn't heeded. Now it was time for everyone to learn that if they chose to poke the bear, they should expect a response.

A disproportionate response.

I held the horn in my hands but didn't raise to blow it hurriedly. Instead, I looked at Abigail. "I will do this with or without you, but I would like to have your support."

I knew I was asking for a lot. Abigail hesitated to make even the smallest decision, and now I was asking her to rush quite a large one. Something this big, she would want hours to think it through, testing all the options she could come up with.

I had given her the time it took to walk here.

Still, she nodded, "You have it. Always."

"Good." I said, and looked at Hal, "How many blasts for War?"

While I was the nominal head of the City, I wasn't actually involved in every detail. It was Hal and his scouts who had come up with the horn system and how many blasts meant what.

"Four." He said, "Four means muster for War."

So be it. I raised the horn to my mouth and blew.

Elliot

Order of the Bear Headquarters, Frostheim.

Hooooooooooooooooooooong.

Elliot woke with a start, jumping out of bed in one solid leap that sent sheets and covers flying in all directions. He'd been peacefully sleeping off a few drinks from the tavern when his sleep was so rudely interrupted by an ear-splitting blast of sound.

The vibration was so deep and strong that he felt it in his bones. The sound felt physical, as he felt it reverberate through him.

What in the blazes was that?!!

Hooooooooooooooooooooong.

Another blast just as deep and just as rattling. Sleep evaporated as his mind understood what was happening. It was a war horn.

One blast for enemy spotted. Two for friends returning. Three for under attack.

The system he'd drilled into his Order came to his mind swiftly after the second blast, his heart hesitated to beat as we awaited a third. Any blast past two was bad and required immediate action. Whether that be throwing on armor for an attack or something else.

Hooooooooooooooooooooong

Three.

Fuck.

Elliot ripped the sheets off and dressed quickly. His underclothes were already on, thankfully, and all he had to do was put his armor on atop it. The metal flowed as it reshaped to make dressing easier.

One of the key perks of his affinity. He didn't have to bother with all the clasps and straps like most Warriors. As it was halfway formed around him, he stopped.

Hooooooooooooooooooooong.

Four? The first two were common occurrences, and hearing one or two blasts happened weekly. Three was for drills and tests, to practice for when an attack actually happened.

There had never been four before. It took an extra second to remember what four meant. The rhyme felt like ash now.

Muster for War.

Elliot's face turned grim. The urgency he felt at potentially defending the walls against a beast or other sudden attack fell away as dread and anger bubbled up in its place.

Dread, for only something seriously bad would prompt such a response. Anger, for the dead that were no doubt the cause of it.

Elliot wouldn't claim to know Christopher for a long time, but the years they had spent together felt longer. Fighting side by side made connections that were only a few weeks old feel like lifetimes.

Over the time he'd spent with the man, there were only a few things he'd seen him truly get mad over. For the most part, he was an affable and easy-going person to get along with. Unless you pushed his buttons.

The one thing that always set him off, enough to call to war in the middle of the night, was if someone died.

He didn't allow the emotions to slow him, his armor formed around him quickly, and he moved on to preparing a bag. Muster meant bringing weapons, armor, and supplies for a march.

He had to ready quickly, as his next action was to take charge of his Order, as there was inevitably some chaos among them right now.

Lakeshore. Elliot thought, it has to be.

Chris

I lowered the horn from my lips and clipped it onto my belt.

It was done.

The entire city was kicked awake as the horn was even more impressive than I assumed. Loud was the first impression, then the next was deep, as the note it held was a low bass that rattled the bones.

"Abigail, inform and gather the family. See which of them will march with us." I said, "Hal, see to your Order."

Both nodded and left. I suspected those of the family who would come were the same as those who went South for the test, but we would see when the time came.

Alone in my office, there were only a few things I had to do. I had woken everyone up and kicked them into motion, but the rush was for those readying mounts and wagons. Those packing food and sundries into carriages.

I passed through the door to my forge in the adjoining room, as nearly everything I needed was in there. My armor, a new set I had made, sat on a stand ready to be put on. Every clasp fastened or strap tightened as I dressed in its comforting weight solidified what I had to do in my head.

The decision to attack wasn't something I took lightly, but it was the only option left. Killing my fellow man was never fun, and I much preferred to keep my killing to monsters, but if needs must...

Sophia came rushing into the room looking frazzled. Her appearance looked like she jumped straight from bed and rushed here. Her nightclothes showed under the heavy furs she was wearing, and her hair was a mess compared to the usual professional bun she kept it in.

"Pack a bag, if you would. One that will last a few months." That was all I needed to say before she was off. It was nice to have a helper.

After dressing in my heavy metal armor, I walked to the corner of the room where my hammer sat. I stopped and took a breath before hefting it. It slid around and stuck to my back through a new magical addition. The ice I used to stick it to my back wasn't necessary anymore, as I finally worked out the enchantment for it.

The hammer added to an already heavy weight on my shoulders. My weapon and armor carried an additional weight, other than the metal, leather, and ice that made it up. A foreboding weight.

Something told me I wasn't going to like what I was about to do.

The weight didn't stop or even slow me.

I would do what I must.