White

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Mulled by wine and steel the suffering has been stifled and weakened. The blacksmiths have abandoned their crafts at long last. With their wives and children they set forth to the neighbouring kingdom of Villarosa where our hope awaits and defends. Along with warriors and rogues, thieves and fools alike, we march. Although, I understand, it was never intended to be easy.

There were innumerable obstacles in store for us.

Weather. The frozen tundras were the only way forward and we had no option but to move along. The extreme chill pierced through our skin and left half of the people in agony and gloom. There was no talking along the way, everyone's teeth were preoccupied in rattling. Not to mention the rabid mammals who were lurking behind the icicles with their eyes intent on making dinner made of human flesh. The blanched bears and silver wolves hunted us as if we were prey, and we were at that moment vulnerable. I had to stand up and defend my people from countless creatures of nature. I felt my body was beginning to frail and collapse, but alas the fighting got me all worked up and warmed up at the very least. I slew them all. We have found rations at long last, but the air still remained unfriendly. We kept walking and walking for six days at the most, the air getting worse the farther we go. The thick snow killed off half of our manpower, and they began to blame me for the loss. I blame me for the loss as well.

It was only the beginning of the trials we had undergone.

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