Chapter 20: Blood on the Snow

The convoy appeared beneath the storm just before dusk.

From the northern watchtower, the distant movement could barely be seen through the falling snow, several dark shapes moving slowly across the frozen road while harsh winter winds swept endlessly across the plains surrounding the frontier fortress, but despite the low visibility, the guards stationed along the walls immediately recognized the signal lantern patterns carried by the approaching riders.

Friendly.

Returning.

The outer gates began opening shortly afterward.

Inside the fortress, preparations had already started the moment the scouts confirmed the convoy’s identity, because Lucas Marcus had ensured that the workers purchased from Karhold would not enter through the main public districts where attention and rumors spread fastest.

Everything had been planned carefully.

The arrivals would be processed quietly.

Separated immediately.

Then transferred toward temporary holding quarters beneath the western section of the fortress before eventual relocation toward the hidden mountain valley once construction preparations fully began.

Efficient.

Controlled.

Invisible.

At least—

That had been the plan.

High above the gate walls, Lucien stood watching the approaching convoy silently beside Gandalf and several loyal knights while snow struck against heavy cloaks and armor continuously beneath the darkening evening sky.

"They made good time," Lucien said calmly.

Malen stood nearby with his arms crossed.

"Cedric pushes hard during travel."

A pause.

"He wouldn’t stop unless necessary."

Lucien nodded slightly.

The convoy itself became clearer as it approached closer toward the fortress.

Several supply wagons.

Mounted escorts.

Groups of chained laborers walking between armed riders.

Cold.

Exhausted.

But alive.

Cedric rode at the front.

Despite days of travel through brutal winter terrain, the knight’s posture remained steady as he guided the convoy toward the gates with practiced discipline, though Lucien immediately noticed something else.

Cedric looked tense.

Not physically.

Alert.

The kind of alertness soldiers carried after prolonged danger.

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Malen noticed immediately.

"What is it?"

Before Lucien answered—

Cedric raised one arm sharply.

The convoy halted.

Instantly.

The atmosphere changed.

Every knight along the walls straightened.

Malen’s expression hardened.

Because military escorts did not stop outside secured gates without reason.

Cedric shouted upward through the snow.

"Close the gates!"

The words hit like a blade.

The guards reacted immediately.

Heavy mechanisms groaned loudly as the fortress gates began shifting back into closing position while archers moved toward defensive placements almost instinctively.

Lucien’s gaze sharpened.

Then—

He saw it.

Movement behind the convoy.

Fast.

Several mounted figures emerging through the snowstorm far behind Cedric’s position, partially obscured by the weather yet moving with enough speed and coordination that their intentions became obvious instantly.

Pursuers.

Malen stepped forward immediately.

"How many?"

Cedric’s voice answered from below.

"Unknown!"

Another pause.

"They stayed beyond visibility most of the journey!"

The riders behind the convoy continued approaching rapidly.

Too organized for bandits.

Too disciplined for random raiders.

Lucien understood immediately.

Karhold.

Someone there had noticed the purchases.

Or worse—

Someone had become curious enough to follow.

The gates continued closing.

But the convoy still remained outside.

And the pursuers were getting closer.

Malen’s hand moved toward the hilt of his sword.

Finally—

The Peak Knight smiled.

A cold smile.

The kind soldiers only showed before violence.

"Open the smaller gate."

Several nearby guards blinked slightly.

"My Lord Commander—"

"Now."

The smaller reinforced side gate shifted open immediately afterward.

Malen stepped toward it without hesitation.

Lucien spoke calmly behind him.

"Alive if possible."

Malen glanced back briefly.

"If they allow it."

Then—

He moved.

The moment the gate opened fully, Malen exploded forward into the snowstorm with terrifying speed, his massive frame crossing the frozen ground far faster than seemed physically possible while dense aura pressure spread outward from his body hard enough to distort the falling snow around him.

The approaching riders noticed him immediately.

Too late.

Malen reached them before they fully understood what they were facing.

The first pursuer drew his weapon instinctively—

A mistake.

Malen’s sword moved once.

Only once.

The mounted rider was launched completely from his horse, crashing violently across the snow while his weapon shattered apart mid-impact from the sheer force behind the strike.

The remaining riders reacted instantly.

Formation shifted.

Professional.

Definitely not bandits.

Several crossbows fired simultaneously through the storm.

Malen did not evade.

He walked forward.

The bolts struck his aura and shattered apart before touching armor.

Lucien watched silently from the walls.

Because this—

Was the true terror of a Peak Knight.

Not flashy destruction.

Absolute battlefield dominance.

Another pursuer attempted flanking movement from the side.

Malen disappeared.

Then reappeared beside the rider almost instantly.

His armored fist slammed into the horse’s side hard enough to send both mount and rider tumbling violently through the snow.

The remaining enemies finally hesitated.

Not from uncertainty.

From fear.

Because now they understood.

They had encountered something far beyond ordinary military escorts.

One of the riders shouted.

"Retreat!"

Too late.

Malen moved again.

This time his aura expanded visibly outward in a dense wave of crushing force that tore through the surrounding snowfield like an invisible explosion, knocking multiple riders completely from their mounts while horses panicked violently beneath the pressure.

Several tried escaping immediately.

Malen allowed two to flee.

Intentionally.

Lucien noticed.

Information spread faster through survivors than corpses.

The rest—

Were dealt with quickly.

Brutally.

Efficiently.

Within less than two minutes—

The snowfield became silent again.

Broken bodies lay scattered across the frozen ground while several surviving pursuers groaned weakly beneath shattered limbs and collapsed mounts.

Malen stood at the center of it all like an unmoving fortress beneath the storm.

Then calmly wiped blood from his blade.

Above the walls, several soldiers stared silently.

Even those already loyal to Lucien felt their breathing tighten slightly after witnessing the sheer difference in power.

Because now they understood why kingdoms feared individuals at the Peak Knight level.

One person like that—

Could decide battles alone.

The fortress gates reopened fully shortly afterward.

Cedric guided the convoy inside immediately while guards moved quickly to secure the captured pursuers and separate the workers from the military sections of the fortress.

Lucien descended from the wall soon after.

Cedric dismounted immediately upon seeing him.

"My Lord."

Lucien nodded once.

"You handled it correctly."

Relief flickered briefly across Cedric’s expression before disappearing again.

"We noticed them two days ago," the knight reported calmly. "They avoided direct engagement and maintained distance."

"Karhold?" Lucien asked.

Cedric nodded.

"Most likely."

Another pause.

"They disguised themselves well, but their coordination was too structured."

Lucas Marcus arrived shortly afterward alongside several administrators already beginning logistical processing of the newly arrived workers.

"How many survived travel?" Lucas asked immediately.

"One hundred and three," Cedric answered.

The administrator nodded once.

"Acceptable."

Not cruel.

Practical.

Because long-distance winter transport always caused losses.

Lucas turned toward the workers afterward, his sharp eyes already categorizing professions and physical conditions almost instinctively.

Meanwhile—

Malen approached dragging one of the surviving pursuers behind him through the snow.

The man’s armor was damaged heavily.

But intact enough to reveal something important.

No insignia.

Professional concealment.

Lucien crouched slightly before the wounded man.

"Who sent you?"

The pursuer remained silent.

Blood visible near his mouth.

Lucien’s gaze remained calm.

"You followed a frontier labor convoy through winter terrain."

A pause.

"That means someone considered this important."

No response.

Malen rested one hand upon the hilt of his sword again.

The wounded man finally laughed weakly.

"You people..."

Blood spilled from his mouth.

"...have no idea what you’re building."

Lucien’s eyes narrowed slightly.

Interesting answer.

Not denial.

Recognition.

Before further questioning could continue—

The man suddenly convulsed violently.

Then stopped moving entirely.

Gandalf stepped closer immediately afterward.

"Poison."

Malen frowned.

"Suicide?"

The old mage nodded slowly.

"Prepared beforehand."

Silence followed.

Because that meant organization.

Professional organization.

Lucien stood slowly while snow continued falling around them beneath the dark northern sky.

Karhold had noticed something.

Maybe not everything.

But enough to send observers.

Which meant one thing clearly.

Time—

Was becoming more important.

Because eventually curiosity would become investigation.

And investigation—

Would become threat.

Lucien looked toward the western mountains barely visible beyond the distant snowstorm.

The headquarters needed to begin construction immediately now.

No more delays.

No more preparation phases.

The world had already started noticing movement beneath the surface.

And soon—

It would begin asking dangerous questions.

End of Chapter 20