Winter Haven

  Brenna Skywind's Safehouse

  The room reeked of herbs, ink, and warm firelight. Brenna Skywind stood in the center of her war table, the room lit only by flickering sconces and a soft glow from a lantern nestled in an iron cage overhead. Charts, missives, and wax-sealed letters were strewn across the table’s surface, constellations of secrets drawn in ink and blood.

  The room itself was buried deep beneath the surface of the city. Layers of enchantment muffled all noise and bent scrying eyes away. Even the most curious of Black Ledger’s mages would find nothing but cobwebs and shadows here.

  She held a sheet of parchment in her hand. The ink was still wet. This was Gavrin’s work, one of her best runners. He had returned just moments ago, breathless and scraped, boots still dusted with ice crystals from the Hollow Quarter.

  Across the room, Mirian, her most trusted intelligence clerk, waited with pen poised above parchment. “Do you want it recorded in the day ledger or the midnight files?”

  Brenna’s sharp eyes never left the page. “Midnight. This is black ledger business.”

  She read aloud, voice even but sharp.

  Mavikundi has claimed the blade. The guardian golem fell after prolonged combat. Its final words warned of unsealing ancient power. The Black Ledger envoy confirmed their part of the bargain and urged immediate action against rival factions. Mavikundi agreed. They mean to strike within the week.

  Her eyes flicked up. “So it’s done. The Blade of Endless Winter is no longer myth.”

  Mirian’s face paled, and she set her quill down. “If that thing is half as dangerous as the old stories say...”

  “It’s worse,” Brenna interrupted, folding the message. “The frost giants of old froze half of GreyEarth's northern hemisphere with it. Mavikundi has ambition. The Black Ledger has logistics. Together they’ll march through Winter Haven like an unstoppable storm.”

  The door creaked open. Sorn, a silent, dark-eyed scout, entered with a bow. He was lean, hawk-faced, and wore the uniform of a Black Ledger courier, stolen just hours prior.

  “I overheard part of their march orders,” he reported. “They plan to seize Guldspar Keep first. It’s the gate to the merchant’s quarter. If they control that, they bottle the whole west side of Winter Haven.”

  Brenna gave a bitter smile. “That explains why so many Black Ledger swordsmen have disappeared from the local taverns. They’re consolidating.”

  She turned back to the table, fingers tapping at the edge of a map.

  “We have to move faster than them.”

  Mirian stepped forward. “Do we engage or sabotage?”

  Brenna looked at her. “Both. Get word to the Mercer’s Guild. If the Black Ledger plans to cut off Guldspar, the merchants will fight. Their coffers are fat, and fear of ruin makes even bookkeepers into warlords.”

  “And the others?” Mirian asked.

  “I want all our friends alerted. Tell them the Black Ledger plans to sweep through the southern catacombs. They’ll want to defend their turf.”

  Mirian nodded and left without another word.

  Brenna turned to Sorn. “Has any of our people met with their contact in the palace yet?”

  Sorn nodded. “As of dawn. The crown doesn’t believe a strike is imminent but the dwarf prince is listening.”

  “Good.” She turned to a sealed satchel by the door. “Prepare it. We’ll send a full dispatch to Tannis, Maevis, and Thor.”

  She paused.

  “…And Loki. I want to know what has happened to them. They are taking too long for my liking.”

  Sorn raised an eyebrow.

  “You think the trickster will stay with us long?”

  Brenna smirked. “No. But he’ll want to see how this plays out. And right now, he’s just dangerous enough to be useful.”

  She strode back to the war table and leaned over the map, voice low but crackling with energy.

  “They think Winter Haven will kneel. But this is my city. And they’ve given me just enough time to bury daggers in every alley.”

  The firelight reflected in her eyes. Calm, calculating, unyielding.

  The chamber fell silent after her last command, leaving only the low crackle of the fire and the faint scratching of quill on parchment. Brenna stood still, eyes tracing the old war map of Winter Haven, fingers lightly brushing over the corners of the parchment.

  Frost giants. The Black Ledger. Damn them both. They think Winter Haven is just another random city they rape and pillage, she thought. Another pawn in the black ledger’s long game of domination. But it’s more than that. Winter Haven was old. it had stood the test of time. It was a crossroads of worlds, a heartbeat of trade and magic know throughout GreyEarth. And it’s mine. My home. I won’t let it fall. Not to Mavikundi. Not to black-cloaked accountants playing conquerors. Not to anyone. She knew now that in order to survive the coming battles, the guilds and many factions of this great city would had to put aside some thier differences and make a concentrated effort to resist.

  She inhaled deeply, eyes sharp with focus. We’ll outmaneuver them. The old way. Secrets, blades, and shadows. This was her hope. And the fact that two gods of Asgard were currently prowling about, she knew now that her first objective would be to woo Thor and Loki to her side. Or lese their cause would be fighting an uphill battle.

  Just then, the heavy wooden door creaked open.

  “Hope we didn’t keep you waiting,” came Loki’s unmistakable voice, smooth as velvet and twice as smug. Brenna hated it. Well...disliked. Brenna had grown wise over the years. Hardships and failed relationships had hardened her into the woman she was now. But despite the words of wisdom ringing in her head, she had to confess in her heart that the Lie Smith was very pleasing to look upon. He strolled in first, his cloak only slightly dusted with frost, behind him the unconscious hulk of a floating frost giant, Hulgrun who drifting along like an oversized balloon behind the handsome trickster god.

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  Brenna arched an eyebrow. “Well. I was just starting to enjoy the quiet.”

  Thor ducked through the doorway next, dragging in a large iron great club as though it were a toy. “That was a fine little scrap,” he declared. “But I must say, I expected more. Here take it as a gift. There are some rubies embedded in it. I'm sure that would be payment enough. ”

  “You always expect more,” muttered Maevis, already slipping a few small bags from her belt and tossing them toward Brenna. “Payment. Your services earned them. You've proven your worth once again, Brenna.”

  “Not bad,” Tannis added, flicking a few silver rings across the table. “Oh, and don't forget this. One of the golem's control seals. Worth a fortune to the right mage or random dwarf I should expect. Are we even now?”

  Brenna smirked and caught one of the rings midair. “I’ll take it as a down payment. You still owe me dinner.”

  “Make it two,” Maevis said dryly. “Tannis likes to look all smug and confident while I do half the work.”

  Tannis playfully blows his long time partner in crime Maevis a kiss.

  Loki waved a hand toward the floating Hulgrun. “Our dear friend here is Mavikundi’s right hand man. He’s…still waking up. But with the right encouragement, I think he’ll be very talkative. Wouldn't you all agree?”

  Thor cracked his knuckles. “I prefer talking with fists. There's nothing more conductive to bringing out the truth than pain. I've learned this from experience.”

  “No doubt, Wodinson you speak the truth.” Brenna said. “But let's start small. Allow me to do it my way first. May I?”

  Thor thought for a moment and then nodded in understanding. He liked this Brenna Skywind. Confident. Self made.

  They circled around the giant’s hovering form. With a flick of her wrist, Brenna produced a tiny vial from her inner coat pocket. The liquid inside shimmered faintly blue, cold alchemical fire designed for one purpose.

  “This is a very rare and special concoction,” she said, uncorking it with a twist. “Expensive. Rare materials. And very effective. Works only on frost giants. Mind doesn’t even know what it’s doing until all the recipient's deepest most buried secrets have been vomited up and by then its too late.”

  Loki let out a low whistle. “My, my. Where did you acquire such a delicate treasure, Lady Skywind? You must tell me everything you know. Who sold it to you? How was it made? Where? It's materials. I'll pay any price. Only name it.”

  "Forgive me, Wodinson but I never reveal my secrets. Nor the source of my tools. I trust you understand. Discretion is the first law of business."

  Loki was about to protest further but Thor put a hand on his shoulder and that put an end to it. Loki tried not to pout. Maevis smiled upon catching it.

  Brenna leaned forward, letting a single droplet fall into Hulgrun’s mouth.

  A moment later, the giant’s eyes fluttered open. Cloudy at first. Then aware.

  Tannis stepped forward. “Hello there. We're your new friends. You’re going to tell us everything.”

  Hulgrun scowled. “I’ll die first, gutter scum.”

  Maevis stepped beside the floating tied up frost giant, sliding a dagger beneath his left toenail. “That can be arranged. But first, we start with your toes. How do you like them apples, huh?”

  Pain flared in the frost giant’s eyes, and then something changed. The potion took hold.

  His shoulders slumped. A strange calm fell over him.

  “They’re going to raze the city,” Hulgrun said slowly. “The Black Ledger will infiltrate the guard, poison the food supplies, and start riots in the poor districts to stretch your forces thin. Then Mavikundi comes in through the streets and alleyways with his private warband. Not just frost giants. But ice hounds, shard casters. The blade is real. It sings to him. Calls to the mountains. He’s going to bring glory back to SnowEarth.”

  He paused, a hint of manic joy rising. “And you’ll all die freezing, choking on snow and regret.”

  Thor’s eyes went wide with fury. “You dare mock us? While dreaming of slaughter? Die like your men! Join them in the underworld!”

  With a sudden roar, Thor slammed his hammer down onto Hulgrun’s skull.

  Crack. The frost giant’s body twitched once and was still. The floating spell dissipated, and the body crashed to the stone floor with a dull thud.

  The room went silent.

  “I was going to ask a few more questions,” Brenna muttered.

  Loki, standing at the far wall, gave a half-nod. “What's done is done. Besides...he said what mattered. Now we must decide on a course of action.”

  He began to hum softly to himself, folding his arms and staring up at the old rafters. “So. The blade is real. The plan is in motion. And the ice is coming. Now...do we stay and fight? Or do we run?”

  He turned to the others, awaiting thier replies.

  Winter Haven

  Western Wall

  Guldspar Keep, the Merchant’s Gate

  The stillness before the strike was shattered by the shriek of a horn. From the alleys and sewer mouths came frost born horrors, their pale eyes burning in the mist. Behind them marched the disciplined steps of the Black Ledger swordsmen. Hooded, silent, and relentless.

  Above them, perched high on the walls of Guldspar Keep, the banner of the Mercer's Guild flapped violently in the wind.

  Mavikundi stood atop a rise of black ice conjured by his blade. Cloaked in dark armor, his presence crackled with cold magic. In his hand, the Blade of Endless Winter shimmered with blue fire, frost trailing behind every motion like ethereal smoke.

  “Burn the books. Break the vaults. Freeze their blood,” he commanded, voice like gravel poured over steel.

  With a thunderous roar, his army surged toward the gate.

  But the gate did not break.

  Instead, iron shutters slammed down, sealing the path. From slitted windows, crossbow bolts whistled, cutting through the charging frontlines. Alchemical fire exploded among the frost giants, burning blue and white as it clung to armor and flesh.

  “Ambush!” snarled one of the Black Ledger captains, just before a ballista bolt impaled him, pinning him to a cart.

  From the rooftops and surrounding buildings came mercenary archers in green scarves. These men where in the employ of the Mercer’s Guild and were excellent enforcers. Cloaked in shadow, they rained death upon Mavikundi’s troops with lethal precision.

  In the chaos, blades clashed and screams echoed as the Black Ledger’s forces faltered. Frost giants bellowed in confusion as warded glyphs ignited beneath their feet, freezing them mid-charge. Even the ice hounds whimpered, their paws blistering from holy ash scattered across the cobblestones.

  “They were ready for us!” cried one frost giant before an axe buried into his collarbone.

  But Mavikundi was past strategy now. He felt it, the blade pulsing, hungry for death. It whispered to him. Called for ruin. Demanded blood.

  He raised the sword and howled.

  “Die!!!”

  He leapt from the ice ledge, crashing down into a group of guild spearmen. They shattered like pottery beneath the blade's frozen edge. With each swing, the air turned brittle, flesh cracked, and armor snapped like brittle glass. Those who died did not bleed, they shattered, limbs torn away by elemental violence.

  His cloak whipped around him like a storm cloud, his skin glowing faintly with blue veins of power. The Blade of Endless Winter screamed with him, howling cold fury into the hearts of all who dared resist.

  “MERCERS! MEWLING, COIN-COUNTING SCUM!” Mavikundi roared as he tore through a barricade with a single strike. “YOUR GOLD CAN’T SAVE YOU FROM THE ICE!”

  Black Ledger troops died by the dozen, but Mavikundi did not care. His eyes were glazed with madness, lips cracked from frost. He laughed as a volley of arrows struck him, the shafts snapping against frozen aether armor conjured by the blade.

  Even as his army fractured under the mercenaries’ ambush, Mavikundi pressed forward, cutting a path toward the inner courtyard.

  “They thought to trap me,” he whispered. “Let them watch their trap freeze around them.”

  He stabbed the blade into the stone of the street.

  CRACK.

  A spiderweb of ice exploded outward, coating walls, stairs, even corpses in thick frost. Mercers screamed as the cold devoured their lungs, crossbows froze solid, and one of the inner towers cracked, its foundation shattered by rime.

  Still, more defenders came.

  Still, Mavikundi advanced.

  Behind him, the battlefield was a storm of chaos. Crushed frost giants. Fallen Ledger swordsmen. Mercenary dead in the dozens. The street had become a grave of broken steel and frozen gore.

  And yet, the gate to the Merchant’s Quarter still stood.

  Mavikundi, breathing hard, glared at it.

  You’ll fall next, he thought. And once the west side is bottled up…we bleed this city from the inside out.

  With blood dripping from his lips and fire in his veins, he turned to his remaining warriors.

  “Hold the line,” he growled. “The Gate will fall by nightfall. Or we die with our blades frozen in their guts.