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“What is the number of Count William’s troops?” Asher inquired softly.

“About 65,000 barbarians, and along with that, his own troops should be about 20,000. That puts us against 85,000 men—over 50,000 of them knights.”

Creases formed on Asher’s forehead. “Without a domain as large as ours, he can’t sustain an army of that size.”

Kelvin shook his head. “The supplies of every clan are brought to the camp and they also raid the villages and towns in Mormont’s domain.”

Asher narrowed one eye. “Then why are they so quiet?”

“Because once a troop is sent into the Wildlands they become trophies for the barbarians. They could only set up keeps to protect their borders.”

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Asher exhaled sharply. “Count William is indirectly giving the barbarians strength and courage. Such an army cannot be controlled for long—they’re bound to bite the hand that feeds them.”

“I see. What about Ark White’s request? Funding the town’s development will affect the resources needed for the war.”

Kelvin quickly asked the moment the thought popped up.

Asher blinked. “It’s done.”

“What?” Kelvin was confused.

_____

Days later, a lone man on horseback halted before the tall azure walls made entirely of ice, his pupils trembling.

Silverleaf’s wall had grown to a staggering 20 feet, reinforced by thick, rectangular pillars that held it in place.

The wall’s size alone was intimidating and just above the thick steel gate—the only steel gate of such size in the county—a black flag fluttered on top of the wall as the wind billowed.

The soldiers, once clad in simple leather armour, now stood in steel plate armours, gripping the finely crafted steel spears.

‘My Lord!’

The rider’s pupils trembled heavily.

_____

Count Naaman Ira rode into a sprawling camp filled with tents, horses and rowdy barbarians. The air was thick with loud voices, consistent banter resulting in wrestling matches and the constant neighing of restless horses.

The remnants of once-towering trees–now reduced to a few inches of stumps, one would easily realize that this vast field was once covered with tall trees.

Unfortunately, they had to be cut down for the camp to be prepared. These camps were hidden inside a forest, using it as a cover to avoid Ashbourne scouts’ prying eyes.

Coin Ira’s eyes narrowed as he passed a grisly display—the sight of corpses impaled on stakes. The sight of their torn attire made the count know that these men were scouts from Ashbourne County.

These were the ones that were caught, killed and put on display. A show of their dominance, the barbarians called it.

“A disgrace.” The chief guard rising beside Count Ira muttered. “Count William allowed such a dishonourable act on knights?”

“He can’t transform the barbarians completely,” Count Ira replied. “Letting them keep trophies is a small price for their loyalty, especially to alleviate the pain of losing over 30,000 men.”

The chief guard frowned deeply. “But these are men… Knights no less. It is disrespectful to strip them off their armor, and desecrate their bodies in such a manner!”

The chief guard struggled, his voice wavering with barely controlled anger.

“Watch your tone,” Count Ira warned. “This should teach you never to fight those above you. This is the price that a prideful count such as the White Wolf has to pay.”

As they got closer to the biggest tent, Count Ira dismounted. He smiled at Count William who stood outside the tent, both of his hands clasped, his expression unreadable.

At Count Ira’s approach, Willian freed his hands and the two men embraced.

“It’s been a while.” Count William said.

“Truly.” Count Ira replied with a small smile.

“What news do you bring this time?” Count William asked as they entered the tent and sat before a round table draped with animal hide.

“Good news.”

Count William raised an eyebrow, clearly doubting.

“I assure you, my friend,” Ira continued, “it’s good news.”

Count William tapped his finger on the wooden table, his gaze piercing yet calm. “Then let me hear it”

Count Ira’s lips curled into a malicious smile. “He’s out.”

Hearing this, Count William narrowed his eyes. “The Ashbourne boy?”

Count Ira clicked his tongue, his eyes gleaming with excitement. “Correct. You were right. He was clearly in hiding but with the pressure on his domain increasing with each passing month, he couldn’t stay hidden forever.”

“I see.” Count William’s expression sharpened. He had suspected that Asher wasn’t dead because things in the Ashbourne domain had remained far too orderly.

That was why he had chosen the strategy of attrition. If Asher was truly dead, he wouldn’t appear, even when his subordinates inevitably turned on each other because of their conflicting ideals.

But if he was alive…

He would appear.

“So he is alive.”

“My sources confirm he is on the move to the Great Dividing Wall, bringing the entire county’s forces with him.”

“He reacts like a child.” Count William spat coldly.

Count Ira smiled. “It’s an opportunity to bring an end to the man who made your daughter mad and ruined your relationship with the Archduke. Ah, before I forget… the Archduke sent a word.”

“What was it?” Count William leaned back, his expression colder than before as Count Ira’s words brought back old memories.

“Bring him Asher Ashbourne’s head and he shall forgo everything—including the death of his favourite son.”

Count William slowly rose to his feet, his towering frame casting a shadow over Count Ira.

“Consider it done.”

_____

Deep inside a dark Cavern with candles flickering their orange warm light, heavy footsteps along with deep breathing could be heard as a jotunn, a blue-skinned being that looked like the evolved version of an orc—walked through.

A helmet adorned his head, adorned with the tusks of a mammoth. Unlike the design of other helmets, the tusks in this helmet were made face-downward so that they were before his rock-hard chest.

He stopped before a pitch-black void, from which a piercing chill emanated, and dropped to one knee.

“I greet the Great Dark One. The man you seek, Asher Ashbourne, has resurfaced. He is heading to the Great Dividing Wall to battle your birth father, Count William Tigris.”

“Is that so?”

A cold, feminine voice cut through the darkness. A woman covered in a black cloak emerged from the darkness, her beautiful face marred by scars, and her prominent scarlet eyes gleaming.

Her lips curled up into a slow, enchanting smile. “I see why I loved him at a young age. He gave me the freedom to do as I pleased.”

Her gaze darkened. “And this time… I want his head.”

A mere glare from her made the jotunn exhale sharply, his breath turning into mist in the chilling air.